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 n.o.ble 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, n.o.bler 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 pa.s.sing travellers.

In the front he threw his golden tablets, Doff'd his vest of green, and spread it calmly On the gra.s.s, 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 pa.s.s'd, and saw the hero,-- Saw him lying by the public path-way; And while pa.s.sing 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 cla.s.ses and desiring little but a chance to get on her feet and walk alone. For this she needed s.p.a.ce to expand in, s.p.a.ce 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 Const.i.tution patterned on theirs. Regular work was hard for her, but she worked diligently and saved a little, though disinclined to h.o.a.rd. 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 n.o.body.

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 ma.s.sacres 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. a.s.sa.s.sination and exile had led also to the pa.s.sing of the old n.o.bility. 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 ma.s.sacre of the most eminent Serbs in the country, all Serbs who could were fleeing to the mountains.

The rumored ma.s.sacre 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 a.s.sembly. 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 pa.s.ses 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 G.o.d 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 circ.u.mstances often compelled severity. A glance at his portrait shows his n.o.bility 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 a.s.sembly 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.