Hero Tales and Legends of the Serbians
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Title: Hero Tales and Legends of the Serbians
Author: Woislav M. Petrovitch
Vuk Stefanović Karadžić
Author of introduction, etc.: Cedomilj Mijatovic
Illustrator: Gilbert James
William Sewell
Release date: January 14, 2012 [eBook #38571]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/38571
Credits: Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ for Project
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HERO TALES AND LEGENDS OF THE SERBIANS ***
Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
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Gutenberg (This file was produced from images generously
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HERO TALES AND LEGENDS OF THE SERBIANS
By
WOISLAV M. PETROVITCH
Late attache to the Serbian Royal Legation to the Court of St. James
With a preface by
CHEDO MIYATOVICH
Formerly Serbian Minister to the Court of St. James
And thirty-two illustrations
In colour by
WILLIAM SEWELL & GILBERT JAMES
To that most Eminent Serbian
Patriot and Statesman
His Excellency
Nicholas P. Pashitch
This book is
respectfully inscribed
by the author
PREFACE
Serbians attach the utmost value and importance to the sympathies of
such a highly cultured, great, and therefore legitimately influential
people as is the British nation. Since the beginning of the twentieth
century there have been two critical occasions [1]--the annexation of
Bosnia and Herzegovina by Austria and the war against the Turks--when
we have had opportunities to note how British sympathies, even when
apparently only platonic, can be of great practical importance for
our nation. It is quite natural that we should desire to retain and
if possible deepen and increase those sympathies. We are proud of our
army, but we flatter ourselves that our nation may win sympathy and
respect by other than military features of its national character. We
wish that our British friends should know our nation such as it is. We
wish them to be acquainted with our national psychology. And nothing
could give a better insight into the very soul of the Serbian nation
than this book.
The Serbians belong ethnologically to the great family of the
Slavonic nations. They are first cousins to the Russians, Poles,
Czechs, Slovaks, and Bulgars, and they are brothers to the Croats
and Slovenes. Since the Church has ceased to be the discordant and
disuniting element in the life of the nations, the Orthodox Serbians
and the Roman Catholic Croats are practically one and the same
people. But of all Slavonic nations the Serbians can legitimately
claim to be the most poetical one. Their language is the richest and
the most musical among all the Slavonic languages. The late Professor
Morfill, a man who was something of a Panslavist, repeatedly said to
me: "I wish you Serbians, as well as all other Slavonic nations, to
join Russia in a political union, but I do not wish you to surrender
your beautiful and well-developed language to be exchanged for the
Russian!" On one occasion he went even so far as to suggest that the
future United States of the Slavs should adopt as their literary and
official language the Serbian, as by far the finest and most musical
of all the Slavonic tongues.
When our ancestors occupied the western part of the Balkan
Peninsula, they found there numerous Latin colonies and Greek towns
and settlements. In the course of twelve centuries we have through
intermarriage absorbed much Greek and Latin blood. That influence, and
the influence of the commercial and political intercourse with Italy,
has softened our language and our manners and intensified our original
Slavonic love of what is beautiful, poetical, and noble. We are a
special Slavonic type, modified by Latin and Greek influences. The
Bulgars are a Slavonic nation of a quite different type, created by
the circulation of Tartar blood in Slavonian veins. This simple fact
throws much light on the conflicts between the Serbians and Bulgarians
during the Middle Ages, and even in our own days.
Now what are the Serbian national songs? They are not songs made by
cultured or highly educated poets--songs which, becoming popular,
are sung by common people. They are songs made by the common people
themselves. Up to the middle of the nineteenth century the Serbian
peasantry lived mostly in agricultural and family associations called
Zadrooga. As M. Petrovitch has stated, the sons of a peasant did
not leave their father's house when they got married, but built a
wooden cottage on the land surrounding the father's house. Very often
a large settlement arose around the original home, with often more
than a hundred persons, men and women, working together, considering
the land and houses as their common property, enjoying the fruits of
their work as the common property too. All the members of the Zadrooga
considered the oldest member of such family association as their chief,
and it was the usual custom to gather round him every evening in the
original house. After questions of farming or other business had been
disposed of, the family gathering would be enlivened by the chieftain
or some other male member reciting an epic song, or several such songs,
describing historic events or events which had lately happened. At
the public gatherings around the churches and monasteries groups of
men and women would similarly gather about the reciters of songs on
old kings and heroes or on some great and important event.
In Hungarian Serbia (Syrmia, Banat, Bachka) poor blind men often make
it a lucrative profession to sing old or new songs, mostly on old
heroes and historical events or on contemporary events. But in other
parts of Serbia (Shumadiya, Bosnia, Herzegovina, Montenegro, Dalmatia)
very often well-to-do peasants recite the hero songs to crowds of
listeners of both sexes. It is a curious fact noticed already by Vouk
S. Karadgitch that the reciters of the heroic songs are hardly ever
young men, but generally men of middle age, and still more frequently
old men. It is as if old men considered it their duty to acquaint the
young generation with the principal events of the nation's history
and their principal heroes. You may find still many an illiterate
person in Serbia, but you will not find one who would not be able to
tell you something about Stephan Nemanya, the first king of mediaeval
Serbia, about his son St. Sava, Tsar Doushan, his young son Ourosh,
King Voukashin, the Royal Prince Kralyevitch Marko, Tsar Lazar, and
the heroes who fell in the famous battle at Kossovo (1389). It can
be said that the Serbian peasants wrote their own national history
by composing and reciting it from one generation to another in the
rhythmical ten-syllabic blank verse. The gooslari and the monks kept
the national political consciousness and the national Church fully
alive through the five centuries in which they were only Turkish Rayah,
a mass of common people doomed to be nothing better than slaves to
their master, the Turk. We would to-day not have known anything about
the persistent guerilla war, which the best and boldest men of the
nation were relentlessly carrying on against the nation's oppressor
since the beginning of the sixteenth century until the first rising
of Shumadia under Karageorge in 1804, if we had not the so-called
Haidoochke Pesme (the Songs on Haidooks). Long before the history of
The Resurrection of the Serbian National State had been written by
Stoyan Novakovich, the learned President of the Serbian Academy, the
bard Vishnyich described that resurrection in songs of great beauty
and power. And the victories of the Serbian army over the Turks and
Bulgars in the war of 1912-13 are already sung by the improvized
bards in the inns and at the great gatherings of the people at the
village fairs and around the churches on great church festivals. Of
course, a Serbian who has heard on hundreds of occasions national
songs recited learns to recite them himself, although he may not be
able to accompany his recitation on the goussle. Nor does he find
it difficult, by using many stereotyped lines of old and well-known
songs, to tell the story of a recent event. When in 1873, as Minister
of Finance, I was defeated in the Budget debate at the Skoupshtina,
my defeat was recited to the people in blank verse the same evening,
and the next day.
Besides the songs which relate, more or less accurately, actual events,
many a national song relates a legend or a tradition. They have been
created, no doubt, under the influence of the priests and monks,
and are appropriate recitations to the crowds who come to the church
festivals. I am glad to see that M. Petrovitch has included in his
collection the song which is probably the oldest among all Serbian
songs. It is called "The Saints partition [or divide] the Treasures,"
and it gives expression to an evidently very old tradition, which
remembers a sort of catastrophe which befell India, and which probably
was the cause of the ancient ancestors of the Slavs leaving India. It
is most remarkable to find an echo of an Indian catastrophe in the
national songs of the Serbians.
That the Serbians had national songs in which they described the
exploits of their national heroes was noted in the fourteenth
century. Nicephoras Gregoras, sent by the Byzantine Emperor on a
diplomatic mission to Serbia, relates having heard the Serbians sing
their national songs on their heroes. The records of several diplomatic
missions, going from Vienna or Buda to Constantinople during the
sixteenth century, relate that the members heard people sing heroic
songs. In that century we have the first attempt to reproduce in
print some of those national songs, as, for instance, by the Ragusan
poet Hectorovich. In the eighteenth century fuller efforts were made
by the Franciscan monk Kachich-Mioshich and by Abbe Fortis. But it
is to the self-taught founder of modern Serbian literature, Vouk
Stephanovitch Karadgitch, that the greatest honour is due, as has
been shown by M. Petrovitch in his Introduction and elsewhere.
M. Petrovitch must have experienced what the French call embarras
de richesses. It was not so easy to select the songs for an English
translation. But he has given us some of the finest Serbian epic
songs as samples of what the Serbian national poetry is capable of
creating. I regret only that he has not included a few samples of
what the Serbian village women and girls are able to produce in the
way of lyrical poetry. Perhaps on some other occasion he will make
an amende honorable to our countrywomen.
I wish to add yet a few words to what M. Petrovitch has said about our
greatest national hero, the Royal Prince (Kralyevitch) Marko. As he
has pointed out, Marko is a historical personality. But what history
has to say about him is not much, and certainly not of the nature to
explain how he became the favourite hero of the Serbian people. He
was a loyal and faithful vassal of the Sultan, a fact hardly likely to
win him the respect and admiration of the Serbians. Yet the Serbians
throughout the last five centuries have respected, admired, loved
their Royal Prince Marko, and were and are now and will ever be proud
of him. This psychological puzzle has stirred up the best Serbian
and some other historical students and authors to investigate the
matter. It is evident to all that most of the songs on Marko must have
been composed under the mighty influence of his personality upon his
contemporary countrymen. Dr. Yagich, Dr. Maretich, Professor Stoykovich
and St. Novakovich all believe that his athletic strength and personal
appearance were responsible for much of the impression he made. All
agree that his conduct in everyday life and on all occasions was that
of a true knight, a cavaliere servente, a chevalier sans peur et sans
reproche. Even his attachment and unfailing readiness to serve the
Sultan was counted in his favour, as proof of his absolute loyalty of
character. Probably that very loyalty was appreciated by the Sultan
and enabled Marko not rarely to appeal to the Sultan in favour of his
people, especially when some prisoners or slaves were to be liberated
and saved. He was certainly the protector of poor and suffering men
and women, and went to their rescue at all and every personal risk
and cost. He must have given real proofs of his devotion to the cause
of justice; that is what endeared him to his generation as well as
to the generations which followed. He must have been known during
his life for his fear of God and his respect and tender love for
his mother. The Serbians painted him from the model which his own
personality and his actual deeds offered to the nation. One of the
most beautiful features of his knightly character as described by
the national bards is his love of and pity for suffering animals. I
regret that my friend Petrovitch did not give a sample of the songs
which glorify that feature of our national hero, as, for instance,
the song "Marko and the Falcon" (Vouk. ii. 53), or "Marko and the
Eagle" (Vouk. ii. 54), in each of which it is described how when once
Marko fell ill on a field, an intense thirst tormenting him and the
scorching sun-rays burning his face, those birds out of gratitude for
the kindness Marko showed them once, brought to him water in their
beaks and spread their wings to shade his face against the sun.
By far the best study on the Serbian national hero has been written
by the Russian professor M. Halanski, who explains the puzzle by the
natural sympathy of the people for a 'tragic hero.' The historical
Marko was certainly a 'tragic hero.' Nothing proves that better than
his last words before the battle of Rovina began (1399), and which
M. Petrovitch quotes in the text.
I ought to add that there is also a theory that the Serbian nation,
so to say, projected itself in the Royal Prince Marko, depicting its
own tragic fate, its own virtues and weaknesses, in the popular yet
tragic personality of Marko. No doubt Marko must have been in some
way the representative type of a noble Serbian, otherwise he could
not have found the way to the soul and heart of his people. Yet that
theory is hardly modest, for my taste.
It may interest our British friends to know that a relation of the
dynasty of which Marko was the last representative, a certain Prince
John Mussachi, in a historical memoir stated that Marko's father, King
Voukashin, was the descendant of a certain nobleman named Britanius
or Britanicus! [2] We should be proud if it could be proved that
the ancestors of our national hero were in some way connected with
the Britons.
Chedo Miyatovich
Member of the Royal Serbian Academy of Sciences
Belgrade
June 28, 1914
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
Introduction xvii
I Historical Retrospect 1
II Superstitious Beliefs and National Customs 13
III Serbian National Epic Poetry 54
IV Kralyevitch Marko; or, the Royal Prince Marko 59
V Banovitch Strahinya 119
VI The Tsarina Militza and the Zmay of Yastrebatz 129
VII The Marriage of Maximus Tzrnoyevitch 134
VIII The Marriage of Tsar Doushan the Mighty 150
IX Tsar Lazarus and the Tsarina Militza 170
X The Captivity and Marriage of Stephan Yakshitch 177
XI The Marriage of King Voukashin 186
XII The Saints Divide the Treasures 195
XIII Three Serbian Ballads
1. The Building of Skadar 198
2. The Stepsisters 206
3. The Abduction of the Beautiful Iconia 210
XIV Folk Lore
1. The Ram with the Golden Fleece 213
2. A Pavilion neither in the Sky nor on the Earth 220
3. Pepelyouga 224
4. Animals' Language 230
5. The Stepmother and her Stepdaughter 235
6. Justice and Injustice 240
7. He who Asks Little Receives Much 243
8. Bash Tchelik or Real Steel 247
9. The Golden Apple-tree and the Nine Pea-hens 267
10. The Bird Maiden 280
11. Lying for a Wager 283
12. The Maiden Wiser than the Tsar 287
13. Good Deeds Never Perish 291
14. He whom God Helps no one can Harm 300
15. Animals as Friends and as Enemies 305
16. The Three Suitors 316
17. The Dream of the King's Son 322
18. The Biter Bit 328
19. The Trade that no one Knows 340
20. The Golden-haired Twins 353
XV Some Serbian Popular Anecdotes 362
Glossary and Index 371
INTRODUCTION
More than once in the following pages I have lamented my inability
to translate into English verse the spirited ballads of our national
bards; never until now have I realized the error involved in the
dictum of my teachers of literature--true as it may be from one point
of view--that beautiful thoughts are to be more freely expressed in
prose than in a poetic form, which is necessarily hampered by rules
of prosody and metre. Undoubtedly, good prose is worth more than
mediocre verse, but how if the author be a master poet?
Serbian epic poetry undoubtedly deserves the attention of the English
literary world, and I venture to express the hope that some day another
English poet will be attracted as was Sir John Bowring by the charm
of our ballads, and like him will endeavour to communicate to readers
of English the alluring rhythmic qualities of the originals.
In the first half of the nineteenth century various German poets
transversified some of our national ballads, and I cannot but boast
that among the number was even Goethe himself. Alas! he was compelled
to use Italian versions, for he was ignorant of the Serbian language,
unlike his worthy countryman Jacob Grimm, who, after having learnt
our musical tongue that he might acquaint himself with the treasures
written in it, wrote: "The Serbian national poetry deserves indeed a
general attention.... On account of these ballads I think the Serbian
will now be universally studied."
A Tcheque [3] writer, Lyoodevit Schtur, speaking of the Slav poetry,
wrote: "The Indo-European peoples express each in their own manner what
they contain in themselves and what elevates their souls. The Indian
manifests this in his huge temples; the Persian in his holy books; the
Egyptian in pyramids, obelisks and immeasurable, mysterious labyrinths;
the Hellene in his magnificent statues; the Roman in his enchanting
pictures; the German in his beautiful music--the Slavs have poured
out their soul and their intimate thoughts in ballads and tales."
I think that it is not too much to claim that of all the Slavs,
Serbians have most profusely poured out their souls in their poetry,
which is thoroughly and essentially national. So much could not safely
be said about their tales and legends, which, to my mind, seem less
characteristic. Indeed, by their striking analogy with the folk lore
of other nations they help to demonstrate the prehistoric oneness
of the entire Aryan race. For example, it would be ridiculous for
any nation to lay exclusive claim, as 'national property,' to such
legends as "Cinderella" [4] and certain others, which are found more
or less alike in many languages, as is well known to those who have
any considerable acquaintance with European folk lore.
From time immemorial the Serbian has possessed an exceptional natural
gift for composing heroic ballads. That gift was brought from his
ancient abode in the North; and the beautiful scenery of his new
surroundings, and contact with the civilized Byzantine, influenced
it very considerably and provided food for its development, so that
it came to resemble the Homeric epic rather than any product of the
genius of the Northern Slav. The treasure of his mental productions was
continually augmented by new impressions, and the national poetry thus
grew opulent in its form and more beautiful in its composition. The
glorious forests of the Balkans, instinct with legend and romance, to
which truly no other forests in Europe can compare; the ever-smiling
sky of Southern Macedonia; the gigantic Black Rocks of Montenegro
and Herzegovina, are well calculated to inspire even a less talented
people than the Serbian inhabitants of those romantic regions for
the last thirteen centuries.
The untiring Serbian muse pursued her mission alike upon the
battlefield or in the forest, in pleasant pastures amid the flocks,
or beneath the frowning walls of princely castles and sacred
monasteries. The entire nation participated in her gracious gifts;
and whenever a poet chanted of the exploits of some favourite
national hero, or of the pious deeds of monk or saint, or, indeed,
of any subject which appeals closely to the people, there were never
lacking other bards who could make such poetic creations their own and
pass them on with the modifications which must always accompany oral
transmission, and which serve to bring them ever more intimately near
to the heart of the nation. This characteristic of oral transmission
explains the existence of varying versions of some of the most
popular songs.
Through many centuries, and more especially during the blighting
domination of the Turk, Serbian national literature was limited to
a merely oral form, save that the untiring monks, inviolable within
the sacred walls of their monasteries, spent their leisure, not
in inscribing the popular ballads and lyric songs of their nation,
but in recording the biographies of other monks or of this or that
princely patron.
Those Serbians who could not endure the oppressive rule of the
Ottoman, and who in the seventeenth century emigrated with their
Patriarch Arsen Tcharnoyevitch to the level fields of Southern
Hungary--there to adopt in the course of the two subsequent centuries
the pseudo-classicism of the West--considered it infra dignitatem to
write about such vulgar subjects as popular poetry and tradition. The
gifted descendants of those lamentable slaves of the cunning Austrian
and Pan-Russian influences wasted their talents in vain and empty
imitation of pseudo-classic productions from Italy and France, and,
by conjugating zealously the Serbian and Old-Slavonic verbs in the
Russian fashion they created a monstrous literary jargon which they
termed Slavyano-Serbski (i.e. Slavo-Serbian). And if any Serbian
author should have presumed to write in the melodious and genuine
Serbian as universally spoken throughout his fatherland, he would have
been anathematized by those misguided Slavo-Serbian 'classicists' who
fondly believed that by writing in a language hardly comprehensible
even to themselves, because of its utter inconsequence and arbitrary
changes, they would surely become distinguished in the history of
their nation's literature.
The 'classicists' received their deserts in the first half of the
nineteenth century, when they were overwhelmed by the irresistible
torrent of the popular movement headed by the self-taught Serbian
peasant, Vouk Stephanovitch-Karadgitch, whose name will remain for
ever great in the history of Serbian literature. Karadgitch has been
called justly "the father of Serbian modern literature." His numberless
opponents, who began by heaping upon him every opprobrious epithet
which their pens or tongues could command, ended, after more than
fifty years of fruitless resistance, by opening wide their arms to him.
Karadgitch framed a grammar of the popular Serbian language, banishing
all unnecessary graphic signs and adapting his thirty-lettered
alphabet to the thirty sounds (five vowels and twenty-five consonants)
of his mother tongue--thus giving it an ideal phonetic orthography,
and establishing the golden rule, "Spell as you speak and speak as you
spell." [5] He also travelled from one village to another throughout
Serbia, zealously collecting and inscribing the epic and lyric poems,
legends, and traditions as he heard them from the lips of bards and
story-tellers, professional and amateur.
In his endeavours he was powerfully seconded by the Serbian ruling
princes, and he had the good fortune to acquire the intimate
friendship of those distinguished philologers and scientists of the
last century, Bartholemy Kopitar, Schaffarik, and Grimm. Helped by
Kopitar, Karadgitch succeeded in compiling an academic dictionary of
the Serbian language interpreted by Latin and German equivalents. This
remains to this day the only reliable Serbian dictionary approaching
to the Western standard of such books. His first collection of Serbian
popular poems was published in Vienna in 1814. It contained 200 lyric
songs, which he called zenske pyesme (i.e. 'women-songs'), and 23
heroic ballads, and the book created a stir in literary circles in
Austria, Serbia, Germany, Russia, and other countries. Seven years
later Karadgitch published at Leipzig a second edition in three
books. This contained 406 lyric songs and 117 heroic poems. From this
edition Sir John Bowring made his metrical translation of certain
of the lyric and epic poems, which he published in 1827 under the
title Servian Popular Poetry. He dedicated the book to Karadgitch,
who was his intimate friend and teacher of Serbian.
I have reproduced three of Bowring's ballads in this book that
English readers may have a better idea than they can obtain from a
mere prose rendering of the original verse. As to the poetic merits of
these metrical translations I will not presume to offer an opinion,
but I may be permitted to say that I have not seen a more faithful
translation of our national ballads and lyric songs in English or in
any other language. Considering the difficulties to the Anglo-Saxon
student of any Slavonic language (more especially Serbian) it is
surprising that there should be so few defects in Bowring's work. Sir
John must have possessed an uncommon gift for acquiring languages,
as he has also translated from each of the other Slavonic tongues
with--so I am informed--similar accuracy and precision.
The third edition of Karadgitch's work appeared in Vienna at intervals
between the years 1841 and 1866. It had now grown to five volumes and
contained 1112 lyric songs and 313 heroic ballads. It is from this
edition that I have selected the hero-tales in this book; and if I
should succeed in interesting a new generation of English readers in
the literature of my country it will be my further ambition to attempt
the immeasurably harder task of introducing them in a subsequent
volume to our popular lyric poetry.
It remains only to tender my most grateful acknowledgment to my
esteemed friend M. Chedo Miyatovich for his invaluable advice and
encouragement, and for his generous willingness to contribute the
preface which adorns my book.
W. M. P.
CHAPTER I: HISTORICAL RETROSPECT
The Coming of the Serb
Prior to their incursion into the Balkan Peninsula during the
seventh century, the Serbians [6] lived as a patriarchal people
in the country now known as Galicia. Ptolemy, the ancient Greek
geographer, describes them as living on the banks of the River Don,
to the north-east of the sea of Azov. They settled mostly in those
Balkan territories which they inhabit at the present day, namely,
the present kingdom of Serbia, Old Serbia, Macedonia, Bosnia and
Herzegovina, Montenegro, Dalmatia, Batchka, Banat, Croatia, Sirmia
and Istria. The ancient inhabitants of those regions, Latins,
Illyrians, Thracians, Greeks and Albanians, were easily driven by
the newcomers toward the Adriatic coast. Their Emperor, Heraclius
(A.D. 610-641), unable to oppose an effective resistance, ceded to
the Serbians all the provinces which they had occupied, and peace
was thus purchased. The pagan and uncultured Serbian tribes now came
into constant intercourse with the civilized Byzantines, and soon
were converted to Christianity; for it is an almost invariable fact
that when one people conquers or subjects another people, the more
civilized of the two, whether the vanquished or the victorious, must
necessarily impose its civilization and customs on the more barbarous.
But the Serbians only embraced Christianity to any large extent with
the beginning of the ninth century, when the two brothers Cyrillos and
Methodius--the so-called Slavonic apostles--translated and preached
the teaching of Christ in the ancient Slav language, then in common
use among all southern Slavs of that time.
Early Struggles
As the Serbians, during the seventh and eighth centuries, were divided
into tribes, they became an easy prey to the attacks of the Byzantines,
the Bulgars and the Francs, although they never were subjugated by
any of those neighbours. The Serbians, however, were forced to realize
that only by concentration of their power could they offer resistance
as a nation, and a serious effort was made to found a State on the
banks of the River Morava, with Horea Margi (now called Tyoupriya)
as its capital, in the early part of the ninth century. Owing to
Bulgarian hostility, however, this proved abortive.
A fresh attempt to form an independent State was made by the Djoupan
(Count) Vlastimir, who had succeeded in emancipating himself from
Byzantine suzerainty. This province was called Rashka and extended
around the Rivers Piva, Tara, and Lim, touching the basin of the
River Ibar in the east and that of Vrbas in the west. But in the
very beginning of its civil life there were dissensions amongst the
leaders which facilitated the interference of the Bulgarian Tsar
Simeon. Tchaslav, the djoupan of another Serbian tribe, though he
possessed no rights to it, claimed the throne, and was supported
by Simeon, who successfully invaded Rashka. The Bulgarians retained
possession of the country for seven years (924-931), when Tchaslav
succeeded in wresting from them a new state which comprised,
together with Rashka, the territories of Zetta, Trebinye, Neretva
and Houm. After his death, great disorder reigned in this principality.
In the course of the next century the Byzantine Empire, having
again brought the now enfeebled Bulgaria within its rule, also
overpowered Rashka, whose Grand Djoupan fled. The ruler of Zetta,
Stephen Voislav (1034-1051), son of Dragomir, djoupan of Trebinye,
took the opportunity of declaring himself independent of his suzerain
the Grand Djoupan of Rashka, and appropriated Zahoumlye (Herzegovina)
and some other regions. His son Michaylo (1053-1081) succeeded further
in bringing Rashka under his authority, and obtained the title of
king (rex Sclavorum) from Pope Gregory VII in the year 1077. Under
the rule of King Bodin, the son of Michaylo, the Serbia of Tchaslav
was restored; furthermore Bosnia was added to his state. But after
Bodin's death new disorder ensued, caused mainly by the struggles
amongst the several pretenders to the throne.
Internecine Strife
Internecine strife is an unfortunate feature to be noticed throughout
Serbian history, and constantly we see energy wasted in futile
dissensions among various members of ruling families, who criminally
and fatally neglected national interests, in pursuit by legitimate
or illegitimate means of their personal ambitions. This has at all
times hindered the Serbian nation from becoming a powerful political
unit, although efforts were made by many of the rulers to realize
this policy.
In 1169 a dynasty destined to rule Serbia for more than two centuries
(1169-1372) within ever-changing political boundaries, was founded
by the celebrated Grand Djoupan Stephan Nemanya (1169-1196) who was
created Duke (grand djoupan) of Serbia by the Byzantine Emperor after
he had instigated a revolution, the result of which was favourable
to his pretensions. By his bravery and wisdom he succeeded not only
in uniting under his rule the provinces held by his predecessors,
but also in adding those which never had been Serbian before, and he
placed Ban Koulin, an ally, upon the throne of Bosnia. Furthermore he
strengthened the orthodox religion in his state by building numerous
churches and monasteries, and by banishing the heretic Bogoumils. [7]
Feeling the weakness of advanced age, and wishing to give fresh proof
of his religious faith to his people, the aged Nemanya abdicated in
1196, in favour of his able second son Stevan, and withdrew into a
monastery. On his accession in the year 1217 Stevan assumed the title
of King of Serbia.
When the crusaders vanquished Constantinople, Sava, Stevan's youngest
brother, obtained from the Greek patriarch the autonomy of the Serbian
Church (1219), and became the first Serbian archbishop.
Stevan was succeeded by his son Radoslav (1223-1233), who was dethroned
by his brother Vladislav (1233-1242), who was removed from the throne
by his third brother Ourosh the Great (1242-1276). Ourosh increased his
territory and established the reputation of Serbia abroad. In his turn,
he was dethroned by his son Dragoutin (1276-1281), who, owing to the
failure of a campaign against the Greeks, retired from the throne in
favour of a younger brother Miloutin (1281-1321), reserving, however,
for himself a province in the north of the State. Soon afterward
Dragoutin received from his mother-in-law, the queen of Hungary,
the lands between the Rivers Danube Sava and Drina, and assumed the
title of King of Sirmia. Dragoutin, while still alive, yielded his
throne and a part of his lands to Miloutin, and another part remained
under the suzerainty of the King of Hungary. Miloutin is considered
one of the most remarkable descendants of Nemanya. After his death the
usual discord obtained concerning the succession to the throne. Order
was re-established by Miloutin's son, Stevan Detchanski (1321-1331),
who defeated the Bulgarians in the famous battle of Velbouzd, and
brought the whole of Bulgaria under his sway. Bulgaria remained a
province of Serbia until the Ottoman hordes overpowered both.
Doushan the Powerful
Stevan Detchanski was dethroned by his son Doushan the Powerful
(1331-1355), the most notable and most glorious of all Serbian
sovereigns. He aimed to establish his rule over the entire Balkan
Peninsula, and having succeeded in overpowering nearly the whole of
the Byzantine Empire, except Constantinople, he proclaimed himself,
in agreement with the Vlastela (Assembly of Nobles), Tsar of
Serbia. He elevated the Serbian archbishopric to the dignity of the
patriarchate. He subdued the whole of Albania and a part of Greece,
while Bulgaria obeyed him almost as a vassal state. His premature death
(some historians assert that he was poisoned by his own ministers)
did not permit him to realize the whole of his great plan for Serbia,
and under the rule of his younger son Ourosh (1355-1371) nearly all
his magnificent work was undone owing to the incessant and insatiable
greed of the powerful nobles, who thus paved the way for the Ottoman
invasion.
Among those who rebelled against the new Tsar was King
Voukashin. Together with his brother and other lords, he held almost
independently the whole territory adjoining Prizrend to the south of
the mountain Shar. [8]
King Voukashin and his brother were defeated in a battle with the
Turks on the banks of the River Maritza (1371), and all Serbian lands
to the south of Skoplye (Ueskueb) were occupied by the Turks.
The Royal Prince Marko
The same year Tsar Ourosh died, and Marko, the eldest son of King
Voukashin, the national hero of whom we shall hear much in this book,
proclaimed himself King of the Serbians, but the Vlastela and the
clergy did not recognize his accession. They elected (A.D. 1371) Knez
[9] (later Tsar) Lazar, a relative of Tsar Doushan the Powerful, to be
the ruler of Serbia, and Marko, from his principality of Prilip, as a
vassal of the Sultan, aided the Turks in their campaigns against the
Christians. In the year 1399 he met his death in the battle of Rovina,
in Roumania, and he is said to have pronounced these memorable words:
"May God grant the victory to the Christians, even if I have to perish
amongst the first!" The Serbian people, as we shall see, believe that
he did not die, but lives even to-day.
Knez Lazar ruled from 1371 to 1389, and during his reign he made
an alliance with Ban [10] Tvrtko of Bosnia against the Turks. Ban
Tvrtko proclaimed himself King of Bosnia, and endeavoured to extend
his power in Hungary, whilst Knez Lazar, with the help of a number
of Serbian princes, prepared for a great war against the Turks. But
Sultan Amourath, informed of Lazar's intentions, suddenly attacked
the Serbians on June 15 1389, on the field of Kossovo. The battle
was furious on both sides, and at noon the position of the Serbians
promised ultimate success to their arms.
The Treachery of Brankovitch.
There was, however, treachery in the Serbian camp. Vook (Wolf)
Brankovitch, one of the great lords, to whom was entrusted one wing
of the Serbian army, had long been jealous of his sovereign. Some
historians state that he had arranged with Sultan Amourath to betray
his master, in return for the promise of the imperial crown of
Serbia, subject to the Sultan's overlordship. At a critical moment
in the battle, the traitor turned his horse and fled from the field,
followed by 12,000 of his troops, who believed this to be a stratagem
intended to deceive the Turks. This was a great blow to the Serbians,
and when, later in the day the Turks were reinforced by fresh
troops under the command of the Sultan's son, Bajazet, the Turkish
victory was complete. Knez Lazar was taken prisoner and beheaded,
and the Sultan himself perished by the hand of a Serbian voivode,
[11] Milosh Obilitch.
Notwithstanding the disaster, in which Brankovitch also perished, the
Serbian state did not succumb to the Turks, thanks to the wisdom and
bravery of Lazar's son, Stevan Lazarevitch (1389-1427). His nephew,
Dyourady Brankovitch (1427-1456), also fought heroically, but was
compelled, inch by inch, to cede his state to the Turks.
The Final Success of the Turks
After the death of Dyourady the Serbian nobles could not agree
concerning his successor, and in the disorder that ensued the Turks
were able to complete their conquest of Serbia, which they finally
achieved by 1459. Their statesmen now set themselves the task of
inducing the Serbian peasantry in Bosnia, by promises of future
prosperity, to take the oath of allegiance to the Sultan, and in
this they were successful during the reign of the King of Bosnia,
Stevan Tomashevitch, who endeavoured in vain to secure help from the
Pope. The subjugation of Bosnia was an accomplished fact by 1463, and
Herzegovina followed by 1482. An Albanian chief of Serbian origin,
George Kastriotovitch-Skander-Beg (1443-1468), successfully fought,
with great heroism, for the liberty of Albania. Eventually, however,
the Turks made themselves master of the country as well as of all
Serbian lands, with the exception of Montenegro, which they never
could subdue, owing partly to the incomparable heroism of the bravest
Serbians--who objected to live under Turkish rule--and partly to the
mountainous nature of the country. Many noble Serbian families found
a safe refuge in that land of the free; many more went to Ragusa as
well as to the Christian Princes of Valahia and Moldavia. The cruel
and tyrannous nature of Turkish rule forced thousands of families to
emigrate to Hungary, and the descendants of these people may be found
to-day in Batchka, Banat, Sirmia and Croatia. Those who remained
in Serbia were either forced to embrace Islam or to live as raya
(slaves), for the Turkish spahis (land-lords) not only oppressed the
Christian population, but confiscated the land hitherto belonging to
the natives of the soil.
The Miseries of Turkish Rule
We should be lengthening this retrospect unduly if we were to describe
in full the miserable position of the vanquished Christians, and so
we must conclude by giving merely an outline of the modern period.
When it happens that a certain thing, or state of things, becomes
too sharp, or acute, a change of some sort must necessarily take
place. As the Turkish atrocities reached their culmination at the
end of the XVIIth century, the Serbians, following the example of
their brothers in Hungary and Montenegro, gathered around a leader
who was sent apparently by Providence to save them from the shameful
oppression of their Asiatic lords. That leader, a gifted Serbian,
George Petrovitch--designated by the Turks Karageorge ('Black
George')--gathered around him other Serbian notables, and a general
insurrection occurred in 1804. The Serbians fought successfully,
and established the independence of that part of Serbia comprised
in the pashalik of Belgrade and some neighbouring territory. This
was accomplished only by dint of great sacrifices and through the
characteristic courage of Serbian warriors, and it was fated to endure
for less than ten years.
Serbia again Subjugated
When Europe (and more particularly Russia) was engaged in the war
against Napoleon, the Turks found in the pre-occupation of the Great
Powers the opportunity to retrieve their losses and Serbia was again
subjugated in 1813. George Petrovitch and other Serbian leaders left
the country to seek aid, first in Austria, and later in Russia. In
their absence, Milosh Obrenovitch, one of Karageorge Petrovitch's
lieutenants, made a fresh attempt to liberate the Serbian people
from the Turkish yoke, and in 1815 was successful in re-establishing
the autonomy of the Belgrade pashalik. During the progress of his
operations, George Petrovitch returned to Serbia and was cruelly
assassinated by order of Milosh who then proclaimed himself hereditary
prince and was approved as such by the Sublime Porte in October
1815. Milosh was a great opponent of Russian policy and he incurred the
hostility of that power and was forced to abdicate in 1839 in favour of
his son Michel (Serbian 'Mihaylo'). Michel was an excellent diplomat,
and had previously incorporated within the independent state of Serbia
several districts without shedding blood. He was succeeded by Alexandre
Karageorgevitch (1842-1860) son of Karageorge Petrovitch. Under the
prudent rule of that prince, Serbia obtained some of the features
of a modern constitution and a foundation was laid for further and
rapid development. But an unfortunate foreign policy, the corruption
existing among the high dignitaries of the state and especially the
treachery of Milosh's apparent friends, who hoped to supplant him,
forced that enlightened prince to abandon the throne and to leave his
country. The Skoupshtina (National Assembly) restored Milosh but the
same year the prince died and was succeeded once again by his son
Michel (1860-1868). At the assassination of this prince his young
cousin, Milan (1868-1889), ruled with the aid, during his minority,
of three regents, in conformity of a Constitution voted in 1869.
The principal events during the rule of Milan were: the war against
Turkey (1876-1878) and the annexation of four new districts; the
acknowledgment of Serbian independence by the famous Treaty of Berlin;
the proclamation of Serbia as a kingdom in 1882; the unfortunate war
against Bulgaria, which was instigated by Austria, and the promulgation
of a new Constitution, which, slightly modified, is still in force.
After the abdication of King Milan, his unworthy son, Alexander,
ascended the throne. Despite the vigorous advices of his friends and
the severe admonishments of his personal friend M. Chedo Miyatovich,
he married his former mistress, Draga Mashin, under whose influence
he entered upon a period of tyranny almost Neronian in type. He went
so far as to endeavour to abolish the Constitution, thus completely
alienating his people and playing into the hands of his personal
enemies, who finally murdered him (1903).
King Peter I
The Skoupshtina now elected the son of Alexander Karageorgevitch,
the present King Peter I Karageorgevitch, whose glorious rule will
be marked with golden letters in modern Serbian history, for it is to
him that Christendom owes the formation of the league whereby the Turk
was all but driven from Europe in 1913. But, alas! the Serbians have
only about one-half of their lands free, the rest of their brethren
being still under the foreign yoke.
Brief as is this retrospect it will suffice to show the circumstances
and conditions from which sprung the Serbian national poetry with
which we shall be largely concerned in the following pages. The
legends have their roots in disasters due as much to the self-seeking
of Serbian leaders as to foreign oppressors; but national calamities
have not repressed the passionate striving of a high-souled people
for freedom, and these dearly loved hero tales of the Balkans express
the ideals which have inspired the Serbian race in its long agony, and
which will continue to sustain the common people in whatever further
disappointments they may be fated to suffer ere they gain the place
among the great nations which their persistence and suffering must
surely win in the end.
CHAPTER II: SUPERSTITIOUS BELIEFS & NATIONAL CUSTOMS
General Characteristics
The Serbians inhabiting the present kingdom of Serbia, having been
mixed with the ancient indigenous population of the Balkan Peninsula,
have not conserved their true national type. They have mostly brown
visages and dark hair; very rarely are blonde or other complexions
to be seen. Boshnyaks (Serbians inhabiting Bosnia) are considered
to be the most typical Serbians, they having most strongly retained
the national characteristics of the pure Southern-Slavonic race. The
average Serbian has a rather lively temperament; he is highly sensitive
and very emotional. His enthusiasm is quickly roused, but most emotions
with him are, as a rule, of short duration. However, he is extremely
active and sometimes persistent. Truly patriotic, he is always ready
to sacrifice his life and property for national interests, which he
understands particularly well, thanks to his intimate knowledge of the
ancient history of his people, transmitted to him from generation to
generation through the pleasing medium of popular epic poetry composed
in very simple decasyllabic blank verse--entirely Serbian in its
origin. He is extremely courageous and always ready for war. Although
patriarchal and conservative in everything national, he is ready
and willing to accept new ideas. But he has remained behind other
countries in agricultural and industrial pursuits. Very submissive in
his Zadrooga [12] and obedient to his superiors, he is often despotic
when elevated to power. The history of all the Southern Slavs pictures
a series of violations, depositions, political upheavals, achieved
sometimes by the most cruel means and acts of treachery; all mainly
due to the innate and hitherto inexpugnable faults characteristic of
the race, such as jealousy and an inordinate desire for power. These
faults, of course, have been most apparent in the nobles, hence the
decay of the ancient aristocracy throughout the Balkans.
Paganism and Religion
There is available but slender material concerning the pre-Christian
history of the Southern-Slavonic races, and their worship of Nature has
not been adequately studied. Immediately after the Slavonic immigration
into the Balkan Peninsula during the seventh and eighth centuries,
Christianity, which was already deeply rooted in the Byzantines, easily
destroyed the ancient faith. The last survivors of paganism lived
in the western part of the peninsula, in the regions round the river
Neretva, and these were converted to Christianity during the reign of
Basil I. A number of Croatians had been converted to Christianity as
early even as the seventh century, and had established an episcopate
at Agram (Zagreb). In the course of some thousand years Graeco-Oriental
myths and legends, ancient Illyrian and Roman propaganda and Christian
legends and apocryphal writings exercised so great an influence upon
the ancient religions of the Southern-Slavonic peoples that it is
impossible to unravel from the tangled skein of such evidence as is
available a purely Southern-Slavonic mythology.
The God Peroon
Of Peroon, the Russian God of Thunder, by whom the Russian pagans
used to swear in their treaties and conventions concluded with the
Byzantines during the tenth century, only a few insignificant traces
remain. There is a village named 'Peroon' near Spalato; a small number
of persons in Montenegro bear the name; [13] and it is preserved
also in the name of a plant, 'Peroonika' (iris), which is dedicated
to the god. There is hardly a cottage-garden in the Serbian villages
where one does not see the iris growing by the side of the house-leek
(Tchuvar-Koutchye). The Serbians say that the god lives still in the
person of St. Elias (Elijah), and Serbian peasants believe that this
saint possesses the power of controlling lightning and thunder. They
also believe that St. Elias has a sister 'Ognyena Maria' (Mary the
Fiery One), who frequently acts as his counsellor.
The God Volos
From the Russian God of Cattle, 'Volos,' the city 'Veless' has obtained
its name; also a village in the western part of Serbia, and there
is a small village on the lower Danube called 'Velessnitza.' But
the closest derivative appears in the Serbian word 'Vo,' or 'Voll'
(in the singular) 'Volovi' (in the plural) which means 'Ox.'
The Sun God
Other phenomena of Nature were also personified and venerated as gods.
The Sun god, 'Daybog' (in Russian 'Daszbog,' meaning literally 'Give,
O God!'), whose idols are found in the group of idols in Kief, and
whose name reappears as a proper name of persons in Russia, Moldavia
and Poland, is to the Serbians the personification of sunshine,
life, prosperity and, indeed, of everything good. But there have
been found no remains of idols representing the god 'Daybog' among
the Southern-Slavonic nations, as with the Russians, who made figures
of him in wood, with head of silver and moustache of gold.
The Veele
The Serbian legends preserve to this day interesting traces of the
worship of those pagan gods and of minor deities--which still occupy
a considerable place in the national superstition. The "nymphai"
and "potami" mentioned by the Greek historian Procope, as inferior
female divinities inhabiting groves, forests, fountains, springs
or lakes, seem to have been retained in the Serbian popular Veela
(or Vila--in the singular; Veele or Vile--in the plural). There
are several fountains called "Vilin Izvor" in Montenegro (e.g. on
Mount Kom), as also in the district of Rudnik in Serbia. During
the Renaissance the Serbian poets of Ragusa and other cities of
Dalmatia made frequent reference to the nymphs, dryads, and oreads
beloved by them as "veele." The Serbian bards or troubadours from
the early fourteenth century to our day have ever glorified and sung
of the veele, describing them as very beautiful and eternally young,
robed in the whitest and finest gauze, with shimmering golden hair
flowing down over snow-white bosoms. Veele were said to have the most
sweet voices and were sometimes armed with bows and arrows. Their
melodious songs were often heard on the borders of the lakes or in
the meadows hidden deep in the forests, or on high mountain-peaks
beyond the clouds. They also loved to dance, and their rings are
called 'Vrzino (or Vilino) Kollo.' In Mount Kom in Montenegro,
there is one of these rings which measures about twenty metres
across and is called 'Vilino Kollo.' The Treaty of Berlin mentions
another situated between Vranya and Kuestandil, through which ran
the Serbo-Bulgarian frontier. When veele were dancing nobody dare
disturb them, for they could be very hostile to men. Like the Greek
nymphs, veele could also be amicably disposed; and on occasions they
assisted the heroes. They could become the sisters of men and of women,
and could even marry and have off-springs. But they were not by any
means invulnerable. Prince Marko, the favourite hero of the Serbians,
was endowed with superhuman strength by a veela who also presented
him with a most wonderful courser, 'Sharatz,' which was, indeed,
almost human. A veela also became his possestrima (Spiritual sister,
or 'sister-in-God') and when Marko was in urgent need of help, she
would descend from the clouds and assist him. But she refused to aid
him if he fought in duels on Sundays. On one occasion [14] Marko all
but slew the Veela Raviyoyla who wounded his pobratim (brother-in-God)
Voivode Milosh. The veele were wise in the use of herbs, and knew
the properties of every flower and berry, therefore Raviyoyla could
heal the wounds of Milosh, and his pierced heart was "sounder than
ever before." They believed in God and St. John, and abhorred the
Turk. The veele also possessed the power of clairvoyance, and Prince
Marko's 'sister-in-God' prophesied his death and that of Sharatz. [15]
Veele had power to control tempests and other phenomena of nature; they
could change themselves into snakes or swans. When they were offended
they could be very cruel; they could kill or take away the senses of
any who threatened them with violence; they would lead men into deep
waters or raze in a night magnificent buildings and fortresses. [16]
To veele was attributed also the power of deciding the destiny of
newly born children. On the seventh night after the birth of a child
the Serbian peasant woman watches carefully for the Oossood, a veela
who will pronounce the destiny of her infant, and it is the mother
only who can hear the voice of the fairy.
Predestination and Immortality
The Serbians believe firmly in predestination, and they say that
"there is no death without the appointed day" (Nema smrti bez soodyena
dana). They believe universally in the immortality of the soul,
of which even otherwise inanimate objects, such as forests, lakes,
mountains, sometimes partake. After the death of a man, the soul delays
its departure to the higher or lower spheres until the expiration of
a certain period (usually forty days), during which time it floats in
the air, and can perhaps enter into the body of some animal or insect.
Good and Evil Spirits
Spirits are usually good; in Montenegro the people believe that each
house has its Guardian-Spirit, whom they call syen or syenovik. Such
syens can enter into the body of a man, a dog, a snake, or even a
hen. In the like manner every forest, lake, and mountain has each
its syen, which is called by a Turkish word djin. So, for example,
the djin of the mountain Riyetchki Kom, near the northern side of
the lake of Scutari, does not allow passers-by to touch a branch or a
leaf in the perpetually green woods on the mountain side, and if any
traveller should gather as much as a flower or a leaf he is instantly
pursued by a dense fog and perceives miraculous and terrifying visions
in the air. The Albanians dread similar spirits of the woods in the
region round Lurya, where they do not dare touch even the dry branches
of fallen firs and larches. This recalls the worship of sacred bushes
common among the ancient Lithuanians.
Besides the good spirits there appear evil spirits (byess), demons,
and devils (dyavo), whom the Christians considered as pagan gods,
and other evil spirits (zli doossi) too, who exist in the bodies of
dead or of living men. These last are called vookodlaks or Vlkodlaks
(i.e. vook, meaning 'wolf,' and dlaka, meaning 'hair'), and, according
to the popular belief, they cause solar and lunar eclipses. This
recalls the old Norse belief that the sun and moon were continually
pursued by hungry wolves, a similar attempt to explain the same natural
phenomena. Even to-day Serbian peasants believe that eclipses of the
sun and moon are caused by their becoming the prey of a hungry dragon,
who tries to swallow them. In other parts of Serbia it is generally
believed that such dragons are female beings. These mischievous
and very powerful creatures are credited with the destruction of
cornfields and vineyards, for they are responsible for the havoc
wrought by the hail-carrying clouds. When the peasants observe a
partial eclipse of the moon or the sun, believing that a hailstorm is
imminent, they gather in the village streets, and all--men, women,
and children--beat pots and pans together, fire pistols, and ring
bells in order to frighten away the threatening monster.
In Montenegro, Herzegovina, and Bocca Cattaro the people believe that
the soul of a sleeping man is wafted by the winds to the summit of a
mountain, and, when a number of such has assembled, they become fierce
giants who uproot trees to use as clubs and hurl rocks and stones at
one another. Their hissing and groans are heard especially during the
nights in spring and autumn. Those struggling crowds are not composed
merely of human souls, but include the spirits of many animals, such as
oxen, dogs, and even cocks, but oxen especially join in the struggles.
Witches
Female evil spirits are generally called veshtitze (singular,
veshtitza, derived obviously from the ancient Bohemian word ved, which
means 'to know'), and are supposed to be old women possessed by an evil
spirit, irreconcilably hostile to men, to other women, and most of all
to children. They correspond more or less to the English conception of
'witches.' When an old woman goes to sleep, her soul leaves her body
and wanders about till it enters the body of a hen or, more frequently,
that of a black moth. Flying about, it enters those houses where there
are a number of children, for its favourite food is the heart of an
infant. From time to time veshtitze meet to take their supper together
in the branches of some tree. An old woman having the attributes of
a witch may join such meetings after having complied with the rules
prescribed by the experienced veshtitze, and this is usually done by
pronouncing certain stereotyped phrases. The peasants endeavour to
discover such creatures, and, if they succeed in finding out a witch,
a jury is hastily formed and is given full power to sentence her to
death. One of the most certain methods used to discover whether the
object of suspicion is really a witch or not, is to throw the victim
into the water, for if she floats she is surely a witch. In this case
she is usually burnt to death. This test was not unknown in England.
Vampires
The belief in the existence of vampires is universal throughout the
Balkans, and indeed it is not uncommon in certain parts of western
Europe. Some assert that this superstition must be connected with
the belief generally held in the Orthodox Church that the bodies of
those who have died while under excommunication by the Church are
incorruptible, and such bodies, being taken possession of by evil
spirits, appear before men in lonely places and murder them. In
Montenegro vampires are called lampirs or tenatz, and it is thought
that they suck the blood of sleeping men, and also of cattle and other
animals, returning to their graves after their nocturnal excursions
changed into mice. In order to discover the grave where the vampire
is, the Montenegrins take out a black horse, without blemish, and
lead it to the cemetery. The suspected corpse is dug up, pierced
with stakes and burnt. The authorities, of course, are opposed to
such superstitious practices, but some communities have threatened
to abandon their dwellings, and thus leave whole villages deserted,
unless allowed to ensure their safety in their own way. The code of
the Emperor Doushan the Powerful provides that a village in which
bodies of dead persons have been exhumed and burnt shall be punished
as severely as if a murder had been committed; and that a resnik, that
is, the priest who officiates at a ceremony of that kind, shall be
anathematized. Militchevitch, a famous Serbian ethnographist, relates
an incident where a resnik, as late as the beginning of the nineteenth
century, read prayers out of the apocrypha of Peroon when an exorcism
was required. The revolting custom has been completely suppressed in
Serbia. In Montenegro the Archbishop Peter II. endeavoured to uproot
it, but without entire success. In Bosnia, Istria and Bulgaria it
is also sometimes heard of. The belief in vampires is a superstition
widely spread throughout Roumania, Albania and Greece. [17]
Nature Worship
Even in our own day there are traces of sun and moon worship, and
many Serbian and Bulgarian poems celebrate the marriage of the sun
and the moon, and sing Danitza (the morning star) and Sedmoro Bratye
('The Seven Brothers'--evidently The Pleiades). [18] Every man has
his own star, which appears in the firmament at the moment of his
birth and is extinguished when he dies. Fire and lightning are also
worshipped. It is common belief that the earth rests on water, that
the water reposes on a fire and that that fire again is upon another
fire, which is called Zmayevska Vatra ('Fire of the Dragons').
Similarly the worship of animals has been preserved to our times. The
Serbians consider the bear to be no less than a man who has been
punished and turned into an animal. This they believe because the
bear can walk upright as a man does. The Montenegrins consider the
jackal (canis aureus) a semi-human being, because its howls at night
sound like the wails of a child. The roedeer (capreolus caprea) is
supposed to be guarded by veele, and therefore she so often escapes
the hunter. In some parts of Serbia and throughout Montenegro it is
a sin to kill a fox, or a bee.
The worship of certain snakes is common throughout the Balkans. In
Montenegro the people believe that a black snake lives in a hole
under every house, and if anybody should kill it, the head of the
house is sure to die. Certain water-snakes with fiery heads were also
considered of the same importance as the evil dragons (or hydra) who,
at one time, threatened ships sailing on the Lake of Scutari. One
of these hydras is still supposed to live in the Lake of Rikavatz,
in the deserted mountains of Eastern Montenegro, from the bottom of
which the hidden monster rises out of the water from time to time, and
returns heralded by great peals of thunder and flashes of lightning.
But the Southern Slavs do not represent the dragon as the Hellenes
did, that is to say as a monster in the form of a huge lizard or
serpent, with crested head, wings and great strong claws, for they
know this outward form is merely used as a misleading mask. In his
true character a dragon is a handsome youth, possessing superhuman
strength and courage, and he is usually represented as in love with
some beautiful princess or empress. [19]
Enchanters
Among celebrants of the various pagan rites, there is mention of
tcharobnitzi (enchanters), who are known to have lived also in
Russia, where, during the eleventh century, they sapped the new
Christianity. The Slavonic translation of the Gospel recognized
by the Church in the ninth century applies the name 'tcharobnitzi'
to the three Holy Kings.
To this same category belong the resnitzi who, as is apparent in
the Emperor Doushan's Code referred to previously, used to burn the
bodies of the dead. Resnik, which appears as a proper name in Serbia,
Bosnia and Croatia, means, according to all evidence, "the one who
is searching for truth."
Sacrificial Rites
From translations of the Greek legends of the saints, the exact
terminology of the sacrificial ceremonies and the places where they
had been made is well known. Procopius mentions oxen as the animals
generally offered for sacrifice, but we find that calves, goats,
and sheep, in addition to oxen, were used by the Polapic Slavs and
Lithuanians, and that, according to Byzantine authorities, the Russians
used even birds as well. In Montenegro, on the occasion of raising a
new building, a ram or a cock is usually slaughtered in order that a
corner-stone may be besprinkled with its blood, and, at the ceremony of
inaugurating a new fountain, a goat is killed. Tradition tells of how
Prince Ivan Tzrnoyevitch once shot in front of a cavern an uncommonly
big wild goat that, being quite wet, shook water from its coat so that
instantly a river began to flow thence. This stream is called even
now the River of Tzrnoyevitch. The story reminds one of the goats'
horns and bodies of goats which are seen on the altar dedicated to
the Illyrian god, Bind, near a fountain in the province of Yapod.
It is a fact that Russians and Polapic Slavs used to offer human
sacrifices. Mention of such sacrifices among the Southern Slavs
is found only in the cycle of myths relating to certain buildings,
which, it was superstitiously believed, could be completed only if a
living human being were buried or immured. Such legends exist among
the Serbians and Montenegrins concerning the building of the fortress
Skadar (Scutari) and the bridge near Vishegrad; with the Bulgarians
in reference to building the fort Lidga-Hyssar, near Plovdiv, and the
Kadi-Koepri (Turkish for 'the bridge of the judge') on the river Struma;
and again among modern Greeks in their history of the bridge on the
river Arta, and the Roumanians of the church 'Curtea de Ardyesh.' It
seems very likely that certain enigmatic bas-reliefs, representing
oval human faces with just the eyes, nose and mouth, which are found
concealed under the cemented surface of the walls of old buildings
have some connexion with the sacrificial practice referred to. There
are three such heads in the fortress of Prince Dyouragy Brankovitch
at Smederevo (Semendria), not far from Belgrade, on the inner side of
the middle donjon fronting the Danube, and two others in the monastery
Rila on the exterior wall close to the Doupitchka Kapiya.
Funeral Customs
During the siege of Constantinople in the year 626, the Southern Slavs
burnt the bodies of their dead. The Russians did the same during the
battles near Silistria, 971, and subsequently commemorative services
were held in all parts of Russia, and the remains of the dead were
buried.
The Slavs of north Russia used to keep the ashes of the dead in a
small vessel, which they would place on a pillar by the side of a
public road; that custom persisted with the Vyatitchs of southern
Russia as late as 1100.
These funeral customs have been retained longest by the Lithuanians;
the last recorded instance of a pagan burial was when Keystut,
brother of the Grand Duke Olgerd, was interred in the year 1382,
that is to say, he was burnt together with his horses and arms,
falcons and hounds.
There are in existence upright stones, mostly heavy slabs of stone,
many of them broken, or square blocks and even columns, which
were called in the Middle Ages kami, or bileg, and now stetyak or
mramor. Such stones are to be found in large numbers close together;
for example, there are over 6000 in the province of Vlassenitza,
and some 22,000 in the whole of Herzegovina; some can be seen also in
Dalmatia, for instance, in Kanovli, and in Montenegro, at Nikshitch;
in Serbia, however, they are found only in Podrigne. These stones
are usually decorated with figures, which appear to be primitive
imitations of the work of Roman sculptors: arcades on columns, plant
designs, trees, swords and shields, figures of warriors carrying
their bows, horsemen, deer, bears, wild-boars, and falcons; there
are also oblong representations of male and female figures dancing
together and playing games.
The symbol of the Cross indicates the presence of
Christianity. Inscriptions appear only after the eleventh century. But
many tombstones plainly had their origin in the Middle Ages. Some
tombs, situated far from villages, are described by man's personal
name in the chronicles relating to the demarcations of territories,
for example, Bolestino Groblye (the cemetery of Bolestino) near Ipek;
Druzetin Grob (the tomb of Druzet). In Konavla, near Ragusa, there
was in the year 1420 a certain point where important cross-roads met,
known as 'Obugonov Grob.' Even in our day there is a tombstone here
without inscription, called 'Obugagn Greb.' It is the grave of the
Governor Obuganitch, a descendant of the family of Lyoubibratitch,
famous in the fourteenth century.
Classic and Mediaeval Influence
When paganism had disappeared, the Southern-Slavonic legends received
many elements from the Greeks and Romans. There are references to the
Emperors Trajan and Diocletian as well as to mythical personages. In
the Balkans, Trajan is often confused with the Greek king Midas. In
the year 1433 Chevalier Bertrandon de la Broquiere heard from the
Greeks at Trajanople that this city had been built by the Emperor
Trajan, who had goat's ears. The historian Tzetzes also mentions
that emperor's goat's ears otia tragou. In Serbian legends the
Emperor Trajan seems also to be confused with Daedalus, for he is
given war-wings in addition to the ears.
To the cycle of mediaeval myths we owe also the djins (giants) who dwelt
in caverns, and who are known by the Turkish name div--originally
Persian. Notable of the divs were those having only one eye--who
may be called a variety of cyclops--mentioned also in Bulgarian,
Croatian and Slovenian mythology. On the shores of the river Moratcha,
in Montenegro, there is a meadow called 'Psoglavlya Livada' with a
cavern in which such creatures are said to have lived at one time.
The Spread of Christianity
When the pagan Slavs occupied the Roman provinces, the Christian
region was limited to parts of the Byzantine provinces. In Dalmatia
after the fall of Salona, the archbishopric of Salona was transferred
to Spalato (Splyet), but in the papal bulls of the ninth century it
continued always to be styled Salonitana ecclesia, and it claimed
jurisdiction over the entire lands as far as the Danube.
According to Constantine Porphyrogenete, the Serbians adopted the
Christian faith at two different periods, first during the reign of
the Emperor Heraclius, who had requested the Pope to send a number of
priests to convert those peoples to the Christian faith. It is well
known, however, that the Slavs in Dalmatia even during the reign of
Pope John IV (640-642) remained pagans. No doubt Christianity spread
gradually from the Roman cities of Dalmatia to the various Slav
provinces. The Croatians already belonged to the Roman Church at the
time when its priests were converting the Serbians to Christianity
between the years 642 and 731, i.e., after the death of Pope John IV
and before Leon of Isauria had broken off his relations with Rome.
The second conversion of those of the Southern Slavs who had remained
pagans was effected, about 879, by the Emperor Basil I.
At first the Christian faith spread amongst the Southern Slavs only
superficially, because the people could not understand Latin prayers
and ecclesiastical books. It took root much more firmly and rapidly
when the ancient Slavonic language was used in the church services.
Owing to the differences arising over icons and the form their worship
should take, enthusiasm for the conversion of the pagans by the Latin
Church considerably lessened. In the Byzantine provinces, however,
there was no need for a special effort to be made to the people,
for the Slavs came in constant contact with the Greek Christians,
whose beliefs they adopted spontaneously.
From the Slavonic appellations of places appearing in certain official
lists, one can see that new episcopates were established exclusively
for the Slavs by the Greek Church. The bishops conducted their
services in Greek, but the priests and monks, who were born Slavs,
preached and instructed the people in their own languages. Thus they
prepared the ground for the great Slav apostles.
The Slav apostles of Salonica, Cyrillos and his elder brother
Methodius, were very learned men and philosophers. The principal of
the two, Cyrillos, was a priest and the librarian of the Patriarchate;
in addition he was a professor of philosophy in the University of
the Imperial Palace at Constantinople, and he was much esteemed on
account of his ecclesiastical erudition. Their great work began in 862
with the mission to the Emperor Michel III., with which the Moravian
Princes Rastislav and Svetopluk entrusted them.
The Moravians were already converted to Christianity, but they wished
to have teachers among them acquainted with the Slav language. Before
the brothers started on their journey, Cyrillos composed the Slav
alphabet and translated the Gospel.
Thus the Serbians obtained these Holy Books written in a language
familiar to them, and the doctrines of the great Master gradually,
but steadily, ousted the old, primitive religion which had taken
the form of pure Naturalism. But the worship of Nature could not
completely disappear, and has not, even to our day, vanished from the
popular creed of the Balkans. The folk-lore of those nations embodies
an abundance of religious and superstitious sentiment and rites handed
down from pre-Christian times, for after many years' struggle paganism
was only partially abolished by the ritual of the Latin and afterwards
of the Greek Christian Church, to which all Serbians, including the
natives of Montenegro, Macedonia and parts of Bosnia, belong.
Superstition
The foundations of the Christian faith were never laid properly in
the Balkans owing to the lack of cultured priests, and this reason,
and the fact that the people love to cling to their old traditions,
probably accounts for religion having never taken a very deep hold on
them. Even to this day superstition is often stronger than religion,
or sometimes replaces it altogether. The whole daily life of the
Southern Slav is interwoven with all kinds of superstition. He is
superstitious about the manner in which he rises in the morning and
as to what he sees first; for instance, if he sees a monk, he is sure
to have an unfortunate day; when he builds a house, a 'lucky spot'
must be found for its foundation. At night he is superstitious about
the way he lies down; he listens to hear if the cocks crow in time,
and if the dogs bark much, and how they are barking. He pays great
attention to the moment when thunder is first heard, what kind of
rain falls, how the stars shine--whether or not they shine at all,
and looks anxiously to see if the moon has a halo, and if the sun
shines through a cloud. All these things are portents and omens to
his superstitious mind, and they play a considerable part in all his
actions. When he intends to join a hunting expedition, for example,
he decides from them whether there will be game or not; he believes
that he is sure to shoot something if his wife, or sister (or any
other good-natured person) jumps over his gun before he calls up his
dogs. Especially there are numberless superstitions connected with
husbandry, for some of which fairly plausible explanations could be
given; for others, however, explanations are hopelessly unavailing,
and the reasons for their origin are totally forgotten. Nevertheless,
all superstitions are zealously observed because, the people say,
"it is well to do so," or "our ancestors always did so and were happy,
why should we not do the same?"
The planting of fruit-trees and the growing of fruit must be aided by
charms, and numerous feasts are organized to secure a fruitful year,
or to prevent floods, hail, drought, frost, and other disasters. But
undoubtedly the greatest number of superstitions exist regarding the
daily customs, most of which refer to birth, marriage and death. Charms
are used to discover a future bridegroom or bride; to make a young man
fall in love with a maid or vice versa; also, if it seems desirable,
to make them hate each other. Sorcery is resorted to to ensure the
fulfilment of the bride's wishes with regard to children; their
number and sex are decided upon, their health is ensured in advance,
favourable conditions are arranged for their appearance. Death can
come, it is believed, only when the Archangel Michael removes a soul
from its body, and that can only happen on the appointed day.
The chief national customs of the Southern Slavs are involved in a
mass of superstition. As the Serbians are the most representative of
the Balkan Slavs, we shall consider a few of their customs in order
to show how little of the true spirit of religion is to be found in
some of their religious observances.
Marriage
When a child is born in a Serbian family, the friends congratulate
the parents and wish for them: "that they may live to see the green
wreaths," which means living to see their child married. Marriages
are most frequent in autumn, especially towards Christmas, and more
rare in summer. When parents intend to find a bridegroom for their
daughter or a bride for their son, they generally consider the question
thoroughly for a whole year beforehand. They take their daughter or
son to various social gatherings, in order that they may meet one
suited to become the husband of their daughter or the wife of their
son. When a daughter is informed of her parents' decision she must
hasten her preparations: she must see that the bochtchaluks [20]
(wedding presents) which she has to distribute among the wedding
guests (svati or svatovi) be finished soon. These presents are
articles mostly made by her own hands, such as socks, stockings,
shirts, towels, and rugs. Usually the house is put into good order and
perhaps enlarged before the marriage, and when all the preparations
are ready the rumour of her approaching marriage is allowed to spread
through the village. As marriages are usually settled by the parents,
love-matches, unfortunately, are rare, and elopements are regarded
as phenomenal. There are, however, cases where young people are not
docile to the will of their parents with regard to marriage. If a
girl has fallen in love with a young man, she may have recourse,
besides usual ways and methods, to professional enchantresses. Among
the devices recommended by these friends of lovers are the following:
The maiden looks through the muzzle of a roast sucking-pig (which has
been killed for the Christmas festivities) at her beloved, whereupon
he is sure to grow madly in love with her; her lover is bound to
die of love for her if she sees him through a hole made in a cherry
or certain other fruit; she is equally sure to gain his affection
if she can succeed in finding the trace of his right foot-print and
turns the earth under it. These and many other kinds of sorcery are
usually practised on or about St. George's Day (23rd of April, O.S.).
Young men, too, have recourse on occasion to witchcraft when they
desire the love of some obdurate maiden. For instance, if at midnight
on a certain Friday the young man goes to the courtyard of the dwelling
of the lady of his heart and there shakes a tree three times, uttering
as many times her Christian name, she is absolutely certain to answer
his call and to reciprocate his love. Another equally infallible
method is for him to catch a certain fish and to let it die near
his heart; then to roast its flesh until it is burnt to a cinder,
then to pound this, and to place the powder secretly in water or some
other beverage. If the girl can be induced to taste of it, she is as
a matter of course constrained to love him. These expedients recall
the famous exploit of the French troubadour Pierre Vidal undertaken
to win the love of his beautiful patroness Donna Azalais de Baux. A
magical recipe for success in love, taken from an Arabic monument,
was given to the poet by Hugues de Baux, a mischievous young knight
and brother-in-law of the fair Donna Azalais; the credulous Vidal
was induced to ride on a pig one moonlight night three times round
the castle of his lady-love, all unconscious that his waggish friend
had brought all the inmates to a terrace to witness his ridiculous
exhibition.
Marriage Negotiations
When parents have chosen their son's bride they send to her parents a
fully qualified delegate (navodagjya) to inquire whether or not they
would consent to give their daughter to the young man. As marriages are
rarely concluded without the aid of these delegates there are numerous
persons who make it their regular profession to negotiate marriages,
and they receive a sum of money when their offices are successful. In
addition to this fee the navodagjya receives from the future bride at
least one pair of socks. If the father of the girl is not agreeable
to the proposal, he generally does not give a decisive reply, but
finds some pretext, stating, for example, that his daughter is still
too young, or that she is not quite ready with her preparations for
marriage; but if the young man appears to be eligible and the father is
willing to give his consent, he generally answers that he would like
to see his daughter married to such an excellent man, provided the
couple be fond of each other. Then a meeting is arranged, although
in fact this is merely a matter of form, since the final decision
must come from the parents themselves, irrespective of the mutual
feelings of the prospective husband and wife. The parents ask the
young people if they like one another; usually an affirmative answer
is given, whereupon all present embrace each other, and presents are
exchanged, both between the parents and between the future husband and
bride. This event is often celebrated by the firing of pistols and
guns, in order to make it known all over the village that marriage
festivities are soon to follow. Soon after the ceremony, which may
be called a preliminary betrothal, the parents of the bridegroom,
together with the young man and a few most intimate friends, pay an
official visit to the house of the bride. The visit usually takes place
in the evening, and, after the bridegroom has given the bride a ring,
festivities begin and last until the next morning. A few days later the
bride and the bridegroom go to church, accompanied by a few friends,
and the priest asks them some stereotyped questions, such as: "Do you
wish to marry of your own free will?" to which they are, so to speak,
compelled to answer "Yes."
The Wedding Procession
A week before the wedding-day both families prepare their houses for
numerous guests, whom they will entertain most hospitably for several
days. Until very recent times, if the bride lived in some distant
village the wedding procession had to travel for several days to fetch
her, and, in the absence of good roads for carriages, the entire party
had to ride on horseback. The wedding party includes the dever [21]
(that is, leader of the bride), who remains in constant attendance
upon the bride throughout the ceremonies, being, in a sense, her
guardian; the koom (principal witness, who in due course becomes a
sort of sponsor or godfather to the children); and the stari-svat,
who is the second witness of the wedding ceremony. Throughout the
wedding ceremonies the koom has to stand behind the bridegroom and
the stari-svat behind the bride. The stari-svat is also a kind of
master of the ceremonies on the wedding-day; he keeps order among
the guests and presides at the nuptial banquets. With the dever come
also his parents, and the koom and stari-svat must bring one servant
each, to attend them during the ceremony. These two witnesses must
provide themselves with two large wax candles, generally adorned
with transparent silk lace and flowers, which they must present to
the bride in addition to many other gifts.
Before the procession sets out, the young people fire pistols, sing,
and dance, whilst the elders sit and take refreshment. The appearance
of the bridegroom in his bridal garments, and wearing flowers in his
hat, is the signal for the traditional nuptial songs from a chorus of
girls. When the carriages are ready to start they sing the following:
"A falcon flew from the castle
Bearing a letter under its wing,
Drops the letter on the father's knee
See! Father! The letter tells you
That thy son will travel far,
Beyond many running rivers,
Through many verdant forests,
Till he brings you a daughter[-in-law]."
The Tzigan (Gipsy) band begins its joyful melodies; the bridegroom,
the standard-bearer, and other young people mount their horses, all
gaily bedecked with flowers, and the procession starts for the bride's
house, the equestrians riding, generally, two and two, firing pistols
and singing. The procession is always led by a frolicsome youth who
carries a tchoutoura (a flat wooden vessel) containing red wine. It is
his duty to offer this to every person the wedding party may meet on
the road, and he is privileged to make, during the wedding festival,
jokes and witticisms at the expense of everybody. He enjoys the licence
of a court jester for that day, and nobody must resent his witticisms,
which are, at times, indelicate and coarse.
A few steps behind the tchoutoura-bearer ride the voivode (general,
or leader), whose office it is to support the former in his sallies,
and the standard-bearer, who carries the national flag; after
them, in one of the carriages profusely decorated with flowers,
ride the bridesmaids, who are selected from among the relatives of
the bridegroom. With other presents the maidens carry the wedding
dress and flowers which the bridegroom's father has bought for his
future daughter-in-law. Immediately following the bridesmaids rides
the bridegroom between the koom and the stari-svat. Then come other
relatives and guests, two and two in procession. At times these
wedding processions offer a very impressive sight.
The Arrival
When the wedding procession approaches the house of the bride, its
arrival is announced by firing off pistols and guns, whereupon a
number of girls appear and sing various songs expressive of sorrow
at the bride's departure from her old home. In some parts of Serbia
there still survives a strange old custom; the bride's father requires
that certain conditions should be fulfilled before the gates of the
courtyard are opened for the procession. For example, he sends a good
wrestler to challenge any or every man of the bridegroom's party,
and one of the wedding guests must overpower the challenger before
the gates are opened. Of course, the wrestling bout is not serious,
as a rule. Another condition, obtaining in ether parts, is that the
newcomers are not be to admitted before one of them, by firing his
pistol, has destroyed a pot or other terra-cotta vessel fastened at
the top of the chimney.
When such, or other, conditions have been successfully negotiated,
the wedding party is admitted to the house and led to tables loaded
with roast lamb or pork, cakes, fruit, wine and brandy. The bride's
father places the father of the bridegroom in the seat of honour,
and immediately next to him the stari-svat, then the koom and then the
bridegroom. When the guests are seated, a large flat cake (pogatcha)
is placed before the bridegroom's father, and he lays upon it some gold
coins; it may be a whole chain made of golden ducats, which the bride
is to wear later round her neck. His example is followed immediately
by the stari-svat, the koom, and all the other guests. Finally the
bride's father brings the dowry which he has determined to give to
his daughter and lays it on the cake. All the money thus collected is
handed over to the stari-svat, who will give it in due course to the
bride. Next the bridesmaids take the wedding dress to the bride's
apartment, where they adorn her with great care and ceremony. Her
toilet finished, one of her brothers, or, in the absence of a brother,
one of her nearest male relatives, takes her by the hand and leads
her to the assembled family and friends. The moment she appears, the
wedding guests greet her with a lively fire from their pistols, and
the bridesmaids conduct her to the bridegroom, to whom she presents
a wreath of flowers. She is then led to the stari-svat and the koom,
whose hands she kisses. That ordeal concluded, she goes into the
house, where, in front of the hearth, sit her parents on low wooden
chairs. There she prostrates herself, kissing the floor in front of
the fire. This is obviously a relic of fire-worship; now, however,
symbolical of the veneration of the centre of family life. When
she rises, the maiden kisses the hands of her father and mother,
who, embracing her, give her their blessing. Now her brother, or
relative--as the case may be--escorts her back to the bridegroom's
party and there delivers her formally to the dever, who from that
moment takes charge of her, in the first place presenting to her the
gifts he has brought.
The Return from Church
After they have feasted the guests mount their horses and, firing
tirelessly their pistols, set out with the bride for the nearest
church. When the religious ceremony is over the wedding party returns
to the bridegroom's home, and the bride has to alight from her horse
(or carriage) upon a sack of oats. While the others enter the courtyard
through the principal gate, the bride usually selects some other
entrance, for she fears lest she may be bewitched. Immediately she
enters, the members of the bridegroom's family bring to her a vessel
filled with various kinds of corn, which she pours out on the ground
"in order that the year may be fruitful." Next they bring her a male
child whom she kisses and raises aloft three times. She then passes
into the house holding under her arms loaves of bread, and in her
hands bottles of red wine--emblems of wealth and prosperity.
Although the wedding guests have been well feasted at the bride's
house, the journey has renewed their appetites, therefore they seat
themselves at tables in the same order as we have already seen, and
are regaled with a grand banquet. Throughout the meal, as at the
previous one, the voivodes and the tchoutoura-bearer poke fun and
satire at the expense of everybody. These mirthful effusions are,
as we have already said, not generally in very good taste, but no one
takes offence, and everybody laughs heartily, provided there be wit
in the jokes. After this feast, during which the young people perform
the national dances (kollo) and sing the traditional wedding songs,
the dever brings the bride to the threshold of her apartment (vayat)
and delivers her to the koom, who, in his turn, leads her in, places
her hand in that of the bridegroom and leaves them alone. The guests,
however, often remain in the house, until dawn, drinking and singing.
Slava (or Krsno Ime)
This custom is considered to be a survival of the times when the
Serbians were first converted to Christianity. Every Serbian family
has one day in the year, known as slava, generally some saint's day,
when there are performed certain ceremonies partly of a religious and
partly of a social character. The saint whom the head of the family
celebrates as his patron, or tutelary saint, is also celebrated by
his children and their descendants.
A few days before the celebration the priest comes to the house of
every svetchar--the man who as the chief of the family celebrates the
saint--in order to bless the water which has been prepared beforehand
for that purpose in a special vessel; after this he besprinkles the
heads of all the members of the family with the holy water, into
which he has dipped a small sprig of basil. Then he proceeds from
room to room performing the same ceremony in each.
In order to please their tutelary saint, all the members of the family
fast for at least a week before the feast. On the eve of the saint's
day a taper is lit before the saint's image, and remains burning for
two days. One or two days before the festival the women prepare a
kolatch (a special cake made of wheat-flour) which measures about
fifteen inches in diameter, and is about three inches thick. Its
surface is divided into quarters by being marked with a cross,
each quarter bearing a shield with the letters I.N.R.I. In the
centre there is a circle in which is a poskurnik (monogram of these
initials). Besides the kolatch, another cake of white wheat well
boiled and mixed with powdered sugar, chopped nuts, and almonds,
is made. This is called kolyivo (literally "something which has
been killed with the knife"). This is obviously a relic of the pagan
times when kolyivo was the name given to animals sacrificed on the
altar. When the Serbians were converted to the Christian faith, they
were told that the Christian God and His saints did not call for
animal, and still less for human sacrifice, and that boiled wheat
might serve as a substitute. And it is interesting to find that
kolyivo is prepared only for those saints whom the people believe
to be dead, and not for those who are believed to be still living,
such as St. Elias (Elijah), the patron Saint of Thunder, or the
"Thunderer," the Archangel Michael and certain others, for it is
emphatically a symbolic offering for the dead.
The Slava Eve Reception
On the eve of the Slava day enough food is prepared to last for the two
following days, and toward sunset, all the tables are well loaded with
refreshments in readiness for the arrival of numerous guests. Friends
and relations are invited to come by a messenger especially sent out
from the house. There are several stereotyped forms of this invitation,
one of which is the following: "My father (or my uncle, as the case may
be) has sent me to bring you his greetings and to invite you to our
house this evening to drink a glass of brandy. We wish to share with
you the blessings bestowed upon us by God, and our patron-saint. We
entreat you to come!" At these words the messenger hands to the invited
guest a tchoutoura filled with red wine and decorated with flowers,
out of which the guest is obliged to take a little. He then makes
the sign of the Cross, and says: "I thank you, and may your Slava be
a happy and prosperous one!" After tasting the wine, he continues:
"We will do our best to come. It is simple to comply with your wish,
since we are invited to share such an honour." He invariably pronounces
these words whether he really intends to accept the invitation or not.
In the meantime, while the messenger was away inviting guests, the
women of the household have been making all the preparations necessary
for their reception. Each guest, as he reaches the threshold exclaims:
"O master of the house, art thou willing to receive guests?" Hearing
this the Svetchar rushes to meet the guest and greets him in these
words: "Certainly I am, and may there be many more good guests such
as thou art!" Then the guest enters, embraces the Svetchar and says:
"I wish thee a most pleasant evening and a happy Slava!" And then as
a matter of course the host answers: "I thank thee, and welcome thee
to my house!" In the same manner the other guests are greeted. When
they have all arrived, the host invites them to wash their hands--for
no Serbian peasant would ever sit down to take food without first
doing so. Then the host shows to each one his place at the table,
always strictly observing precedence due to seniority.
The girls of the house first pass round brandy to the assembled
guests and this, at least in the winter, has generally been warmed,
and honey or sugar has been added. While that is being served all
the guests stand, and in silence wait reverently for the ceremonies
of the Slava to begin.
The host places in the middle of the table a large wax candle,
which he does not light until he has made the sign of the Cross
three times. Next he takes an earthen vessel containing a few embers,
places in it a few small pieces of incense and then lets the fragrance
ascend to the icon, which is, according to custom, occupying the
place of honour in the room, then still holding the censer he stops
for a few moments before each guest. That ceremony being ended, and
if there be no priest present, the host himself invites his guests
to say their prayers to themselves. A great many Serbian peasants
are gifted with the power of offering extempore prayers and they are
always in request at these ceremonies. The host passes the censer
to his wife, whose duty it is to see that the fumes of the incense
reach into every part of the house. Next the host breaks silence with
the following prayer: "Let us pray, O brethren, most reverently to
the Almighty Lord, our God, and to the Holy Trinity! O Lord, Thou
omnipotent and gracious Creator of Heaven and Earth, deliver us,
we pray Thee, from all unforeseen evil! O, St. George! (here he
adds the name of the saint whose festival they are celebrating),
our holy patron-saint, protect us and plead for us with the Lord,
our God, we here gathered together do pray Thee. Ye Holy Apostles,
ye, the four Evangelists and pillars upon whom rest the Heavens and
the Earth, we, being sinners, do conjure ye to intercede for us,"
and so on. When his prayer is finished, the guests make the sign of
the Cross several times and then supper begins.
Slava Toasts
During the first two or three courses, the guests continue to drink
brandy, and wine is not served until they have partaken of meat. At
the drinking of the first glass of wine the oldest guest or whoever
enjoys the highest dignity of position (generally it is the village
priest or the mayor) proposes the first toast, of which--as well
as of all the subsequent ones--it may be said that tradition has
ordered the exact programme to be followed in all these proceedings,
and even prescribed the very words to be used. In some parts of Serbia
the host himself proposes the first toast to the most distinguished
of his guests, addressing him with: "I beg to thank you, as well as
all your brethren, for the honour which you graciously show me in
coming to my Slava! Let us drink the first glass to the glory of
the gracious God! Where wine is drunk in His name, may prosperity
always be!" The principal guest accepts the toast, makes the sign of
the Cross and answers in such words as the following: "I thank you,
most kind and hospitable host! May your Slava bring you prosperity,
let us drink this second glass 'for the better hour.'" The third
toast is generally "To the glory of the Holy Trinity!" (In Serbian:
Tretya-sretya, sve u slavu Svete Troyitze!)
In some parts of Serbia there are commonly seven or even more toasts to
be drunk, but this custom shows, fortunately, a tendency to disappear.
The Ceremony at Church
Next morning all the members of the family rise very early in
order to restore order in the house, and the Svetchar goes to the
nearest church, taking with him the kolyivo, the kolatch, some wine,
incense and a wax candle. All these things he places in front of the
altar where they must remain during the morning service, after which
the officiating priest cuts the Slava cake from underneath so that
his cuts correspond with the lines of the cross shown on the upper
surface. Then he breaks the cake and turns it in a circle with the help
of the Svetchar, while they pronounce certain prayers together. This
ceremony ended, the host takes one half of the cake home and leaves the
other half to the priest. If it happens that the church is far away,
and time does not allow the host to absent himself long from home,
the Slava cake may be cut in halves by him in his own house with
the help of his male guests, chanting all the while certain formal
prayers: and standing in a circle they hold the cake so that a thumb
of each guest should be placed on the top of the cake, whilst they
each support it with four fingers.
The Slava Feast
Toward noon, a few minutes before the sun reaches his zenith, a part
of the Slava cake is placed upon the table together with a lighted
wax candle. To this midday meal many more guests are usually invited
than had attended the supper on the previous evening; furthermore,
on this day even a stranger--whatever his religion may be--has the
right to enter the house and to claim hospitality. For instance,
the Royal Prince Marko had many friends amongst the Turks, and they
would invariably come to him as guests on his Slava day. All the
guests rise together, cross themselves with great reverence, and, in
perfect silence, with glasses filled, they await the address to be made
by the Svetchar. Again three, or perhaps more, toasts are proposed
and accepted, and, of course, as many times are the glasses again
emptied and re-filled before the 'midday' meal is even begun. Eating
and drinking, in all cases, "to the glory of God, the Holy Trinity,
to the Holy Slava" and so forth continue till late at night, when the
guests remember that it is time to go home. Many, however, remain in
the house all night and for the next day. Some devotees of good wine
used actually to remain, on occasions, for three whole consecutive
days and nights. This very extreme devotion to the saints has been
practised more especially at Nish, and in that neighbourhood, and
has furnished the celebrated Serbian novelist Stefan Strematz with
abundant material for one of the finest, as it is undoubtedly one of
the wittiest, novels that have been written in Serbian.
Christmas Eve
Another festival, which the Serbians, like other nations, conduct
with many rites and customs of unmistakably pagan origin and which
fills the hearts of all with joy, is Christmas. It is a saying of
the Serbian people that "there is no day without light--neither is
there any real joy without Christmas."
The Serbian peasant is, as a general rule, an early riser, but on
Christmas Eve (Badgni dan) everybody is up earlier than usual,
for it is a day when each member of the household has his hands
full of work to be done. Two or more of the young men are sent out
from every house to the nearest forest [22] to cut, and bring home,
a young oak tree, which is called Badgnak. (The etymology of this word
is obscure, but it is probably the name, or derived from the name, of
a pagan god.) When the young man who is to cut the tree has selected
it, he kneels down, and murmuring words of greeting and uttering a
special prayer, he throws at it a handful of wheat or corn; then he
makes the sign of the Cross three times and begins carefully to cut
in such a direction that the tree must necessarily fall toward the
East, and at just about the moment when the sun first shows himself
above the horizon. He has also to see that the tree does not touch,
in falling to earth, the branches of any tree near it, otherwise
the prosperity of his house would most surely be disturbed during
the ensuing year. The trunk of the tree is now cut into three logs,
one of which is rather longer than the others.
Toward evening, when everything is ready and all the members of the
family are assembled in the kitchen, the chief room in the dwelling,
a large fire is lit, and the head of the family solemnly carries in
the Badgnak, and, placing it on the fire, so that the thicker end is
left about twelve inches beyond the hearth, he pronounces in a loud
voice his good wishes for the prosperity of the house and all within
it. In the same way he brings in the other parts of the Badgnak,
and, when all are in a blaze, the young shepherds embrace across the
largest log, for they believe that by doing so they will ensure the
attachment of the sheep to their lambs, of the cows to their calves,
and of all other animals to their young.
At this point of the proceedings the oldest member of the family
brings in a bundle of straw and hands it over to the housewife, to
whom he wishes at the same time "a good evening and a happy Badgni
dan." She then throws a handful of corn at him, thanks him for the
straw and starts walking about the kitchen and the adjoining rooms,
scattering straw on the floor and imitating the clucking of hens,
while the children gleefully follow her and imitate the sounds made
by young chicks.
This finished, the mother has next to bring a yellow wax candle and an
earthen vessel filled with burning coal. The father again reverently
makes the sign of the Cross, lights the candle and places some incense
on the embers. Meanwhile the rest of the family have already formed
themselves into a semi-circle, with the men standing on the right and
the women on the left. The father now proceeds to say prayers aloud,
walking from one end of the semi-circle to the other and stopping
in front of each person for a short space of time that the fumes of
smoking incense, in the censer, held in his right hand, should rise
to the face of every one in turn. The prayers which they utter on
these occasions last for about fifteen or twenty minutes, and vary
in nearly every district.
After the prayers they all sit down to supper, which is laid, not
upon a table, but on the floor, for it is considered a good orthodox
custom to lay sacks over the stone or clay of which the floor is
formed, and to use cushions instead of chairs, on Christmas Eve.
During supper, at which no meat is served, the father of the family
enthusiastically toasts the Badgnak, expressing at the same time his
wishes for their common prosperity for the new year, and pours a glass
of wine over the protruding end of the log. In many parts of Serbia
all the peasants--men, women, and even small children--fast for the
forty-five days immediately before Christmas. They abstain from meat,
eggs, and milk-food, and eat simply vegetables and fruit.
When the supper is over the whole family retires to bed, except one
of the young men, who remains near the fire to see that the Badgnak
does not burn off completely, and that the fire is not extinguished.
Christmas Day
It is generally believed that the rites and customs concerning this
Church festival, which we Serbians call in our own language Bojitch,
meaning 'the little God,' is nothing but the modified worship of the
pagan god Dabog (or Daybog), to whom we have already referred, or
perhaps represents several forms of that worship. Our pagan ancestors
used to sacrifice a pig to their Sun-god, and in our day there is
not a single house throughout Serbia in which "roast pork" is not
served on Christmas Day as a matter of course. The men and boys of
each household rise very early in the morning that day to make a big
fire in the courtyard, and to roast a sucking-pig on a spit, for which
all preparations are made on Badgni dan. The moment each little pig
is placed at the fire there is a vigorous firing of pistols or rifles
to greet it, showing by the sound of shot after shot that the whole
village is astir. As nearly all the houses in a village practise the
same custom most zealously, and as naturally every youth considers
it a part of his duty to fire a pistol, the neighbouring hills echo
again and again as if persistent skirmishing were going on.
Still early in the morning one of the maidens goes to the public
well to fetch some drinking water, and when she reaches the well she
greets it, wishing it a happy Christmas, throwing at the same time
into it a handful of corn and a bunch, or perhaps merely a sprig,
of basil. She throws the corn in the hope that the crops may be as
abundant as water, and the basil is to keep the water always limpid
and pure. The first cupful of the water she draws is used to make a
cake (Thesnitza) to be broken at the midday meal into as many pieces
as there are members of the household. A silver coin has been put
into the dough, and the person who finds it in his piece of cake is
considered as the favourite of fortune for the year to come.
During the morning every house expects a visitor (polaznik), who is
usually a young boy from a neighbouring house. When the polaznik
enters the house he breaks off a small branch of the Badgnak's
smouldering end, and while he is greeting the head of the house with
'Christ is born!' and all the others are answering him with a cry
of 'In truth He is born!' the mother throws at him a handful of
wheat. He then approaches the hearth, and strikes the Badgnak with
his own piece of tree repeatedly, so that thousands of sparks fly up
into the chimney, and he pronounces his good wishes: "May the holy
Christmas bring to this house as many sheep, as many horses, as many
cows, as many beehives, [and so forth,] as there are sparks in this
fire!" Then he places on the Badgnak either a silver or a gold coin,
which the head of the family keeps to give to the blacksmith to smelt
in with the steel when making his new plough--for, as he believes,
this cannot fail to make the ground more fertile and all go well. The
polaznik is, of course, made to stay and share the meal with them,
and afterwards he is presented with a special cake also containing
a coin, sometimes a gold one, sometimes silver.
After the repast all the youths go out of doors for sports, especially
for sleighing, while the older people gather together around a gooslar
(a national bard), and take much, even endless, delight in listening
to his recitals of their ancient ballads.
The Dodola Rite
The disasters which Serbian peasants most fear are of two
kinds--drought and very violent storms. In pagan times there was a
goddess who, it is believed, ruled the waters and the rain. When
the Serbians were first converted to Christianity, the power of
controlling the ocean, rivers, and storms, and the sailing of ships
at sea, was attributed to St. Nicholas, and the Dalmatians, sea-going
men, still pray only to him; whereas in the heart of Serbia, where
the peasants have no conception of what large navigable rivers are,
still less of what seas and lakes are like, recourse is taken to the
favourite goddess Doda or Dodola whenever there is an unduly long
spell of dry weather.
The Dodola rite is a peculiar one. A maiden, generally a Gipsy, is
divested of her usual garments and then thickly wrapped round with
grass and flowers so that she is almost concealed beneath them. She
wears a wide wreath of willow branches interwoven with wild flowers
around her waist and hips, and in such fantastic attire she has to
go from house to house in the village dancing, while each housewife
pours over her a pailful of water, and her companions chant a prayer
having the refrain, Oy Dodo, oy Dodole, after every single line:
Fall, O rain! and gentlest dew!
Oy, Dodo! Oy, Dodole!
Refresh our pasture-lands and fields!
Oy, Dodo! Oy, Dodole!
In each verse that follows mention is made of a cereal or other plant,
imploring Doda that rain may soon be shed upon it. Then the cottage
women give them presents, either food or money, and the maidens sing
other songs for them, always in the same rhythm, give their thanks,
offer good wishes, and are gone.
Whitsuntide
During the Whitsuntide festivities, about fifteen young girls, mostly
Christian Gipsies, one of whom personates the Standard-bearer, another
the King, and another the Queen (kralyitza), veiled and attended by a
number of Maids of Honour, pass from door to door through the village,
singing and dancing. Their songs relate to such subjects as marriage,
the choice of a husband or wife, the happiness of wedded life, the
blessing of having children. After each verse of their songs follows
a refrain, Lado, oy, Lado-leh! which is probably the name of the
ancient Slavonic Deity of Love.
Palm Sunday
"In winter, just before Lent, the great festival in honour of the Dead
is celebrated, at which every one solemnizes the memory of departed
relations and friends, and no sooner does Palm Sunday arrive than
the people join in commemorating the renovation of life.
"On the preceding Saturday the maidens assemble on a hill, and recite
poems on the resurrection of Lazarus; and on Sunday, before sunrise,
they meet at the place where they draw water and dance their country
dance (kolllo), chanting a song, which relates how the water becomes
dull by the antlers of a stag, and bright by his eye." [23]
St. George's Day
On St. George's Day, April 23rd (Dyourdyev Dan), long before dawn,
all the members of a Serbian family rise and take a bath in the
water, in which a number of herbs and flowers--each possessing its
own peculiar signification--have been cast before sunset the preceding
day. He who fails to get up in good time, and whom the sun surprises
in bed, is said to have fallen in disgrace with St. George, and he
will consequently have little or no luck in any of his undertakings
for the next twelve months. This rite is taken as a sign that the
Serbian peasants yield to the many influences of newly awakened nature.
It will be seen by anyone who studies the matter that each season
in turn prompts the Serbians, as it must prompt any simple primitive
people, to observe rites pointing to the mysterious relation in which
man finds that he stands to nature.
CHAPTER III: SERBIAN NATIONAL EPIC POETRY
The Importance of the Ballads
That the Serbian people--as a distinct Slav and Christian
nationality--did not succumb altogether to the Ottoman oppressor; that
through nearly five centuries of subjection to the Turk the Southern
Slavs retained a deep consciousness of their national ideals, is due
in a very large measure to the Serbian national poetry, which has kept
alive in the hearts of the Balkan Christians deep hatred of the Turk,
and has given birth, among the oppressed Slavs, to the sentiment
of a common misfortune and led to the possibility of a collective
effort which issued in the defeat of the Turk on the battlefields of
Koumanovo, Monastir, Prilip, Prizrend, Kirk-Kilisse, and Scutari.
Who has written those poems? We might as well ask, who is the author
of the Iliad and the Odyssey? If Homer be the collective pseudonym
of an entire cycle of Hellenic national bards, 'The Serbian people'
is that of the national bards who chanted those Serbian epic poems
during the centuries, and to whom it was nothing that their names
should be attached to them. The task of the learned Diascevastes
of Pisistrate's epoch, which they performed with such ability in
the old Hellade, has been done in Serbia by a self-taught peasant,
the famous Vouk Stephanovitch-Karadgitch, in the beginning of the
nineteenth century. Vouk's first collection of Serbian national poems,
which he wrote down as he heard them from the lips of the gousslari
(i.e. Serbian national bards), was published for the first time at
Vienna in 1814, and was not only eagerly read throughout Serbia and
in the literary circles of Austria and Germany, but also in other
parts of Europe. Goethe himself translated one of the ballads, and
his example was quickly followed by others.
Those poems--as may be seen from the examples given in this
volume--dwell upon the glory of the Serbian mediaeval empire, lost
on the fatal field of Kossovo (1389). When the Turks conquered the
Serbian lands and drove away the flower of the Serbian aristocracy,
these men took refuge in the monasteries and villages, where the
Turkish horsemen never came. There they remained through centuries
undisturbed, inspired by the eloquence of the Serbian monks, who
considered it their sacred duty to preserve for the nation behind
their old walls the memory of ancient kings and tzars and of the
glorious past in which they flourished.
Professional bards went from one village to another, chanting
in an easy decasyllabic verse the exploits of Serbian heroes and
Haidooks (knight-brigands), who were the only check upon the Turkish
atrocities. The bards carried news of political and other interesting
events, often correct, sometimes more or less distorted, and the
gifted Serbians--for gifted they were and still are--did not find
it difficult to remember, and to repeat to others, the stories thus
brought to them in poetic form. As the rhythm of the poems is easy,
and as the national ballads have become interwoven with the spirit of
every true Serbian, it is not rare that a peasant who has heard a poem
but once can not only repeat it as he heard it, but also improvise
passages; nay, he can at times even compose entire original ballads
on the spur of inspirational moments.
In Serbian Hungary there are schools in which the blind learn these
national ballads, and go from one fair to another to recite them before
the peasants who come from all Serbian lands. But this is not the true
method. In the mountains of Serbia, Montenegro, Bosnia and Herzegovina
there is no occasion to learn them mechanically: they are familiar to
all from infancy. When, in the winter evening, the members of a Serbian
family assemble around the fire, and the women are engaged with their
spinning, poems are recited by those who happen to know them best.
The Goussle
The ballads are recited invariably to the accompaniment of a primitive
instrument with a single string, called a goussle, which is to be met
with in almost every house. The popular Serbian poet, Peter Petrovitch,
in his masterpiece, Gorsky Viyenatz ('The Mountain Wreath') uttered
the following lines, which have become proverbial:
Dye se goussle u kutyi ne tchuyu
Tu su mrtva i kutya i lyoudi.
(The house in which the goussle is not heard
Is dead, as well as the people in it.)
The old men, with grown-up sons, who are excused from hard labour,
recite to their grandchildren, who yield themselves with delight to the
rhythmic verse through which they receive their first knowledge of the
past. Even the abbots of the monasteries do not deem it derogatory to
recite those ballads and to accompany their voices by the monotonous
notes of the goussle. But the performance has more of the character
of a recitation than of singing: the string is struck only at the
end of each verse. In some parts of Serbia, however, each syllable
is accentuated by a stroke of the bow, and the final syllable is
somewhat prolonged.
The heroic decasyllabic lines have invariably five trochees, with
the fixed caesura after the second foot; and almost every line is in
itself a complete sentence.
There is hardly a tavern or inn in any Serbian village where one could
see an assembly of peasants without a gousslar, around whom all are
gathered, listening with delight to his recitals. At the festivals
near the cloisters, where the peasants meet together in great numbers,
professional gousslars recite the heroic songs and emphasize the
pathetic passages in such an expressive manner that there is hardly a
listener whose cheeks are not bedewed with copious tears. The music
is extremely simple, but its simplicity is a powerful and majestic
contrast to the exuberance of romance manifested in the exploits and
deeds of some favourite hero--as, for example, the Royal Prince Marko.
There are many bold hyperboles in those national songs, and little
wonder if they are discredited by Western critics, especially in the
ballads concerning the exploits of the beloved Marko--who "throws his
heavy mace aloft as high as the clouds and catches it again in his
right hand, without dismounting from his trusty courser Sharatz." Now
and then an English reader may find passages which may seem somewhat
coarse, but he must bear in mind that the ballads have usually been
composed and transmitted from generation to generation by simple
and illiterate peasants. Most of those concerning the Royal Prince
Marko date from the early fourteenth century, when the customs,
even in Western Europe, were different from those prevailing
now. My translations have, however, been carefully revised by
Mrs. C. H. Farnam, who has taken a great interest in this book, and
has endeavoured to do no injustice to the rugged originals. Having
passed some time in Serbia--as many noble English ladies have
done--nursing the wounded heroes of the Balkan War, of 1912-13,
and softening their pain with unspeakable tenderness and devotion,
she was attracted by the natural, innate sense of honesty and the
bravery which her cultivated mind discovered in those simple Serbians
and her interest has since extended to their history and literature.
It is worthy of consideration that the history of the Serbian and
other Southern Slavonic nations, developed by its poetry--if not
even replaced by it altogether--has through it been converted into a
national property, and is thus preserved in the memory of the entire
people so vividly that a Western traveller must be surprised when he
hears even the most ignorant Serbian peasant relate to him something at
least of the old kings and tsars of the glorious dynasty of Nemagnitch,
and of the feats and deeds of national heroes of all epochs.
CHAPTER IV: KRALYEVITCH MARKO; OR, THE ROYAL PRINCE MARKO
The Marko Legends
Marko was, as we have already seen, the son of King Voukashin; and
his mother was Queen Helen, whom the Serbian troubadours called by
the pleasing and poetic name Yevrossima (Euphrosyne) in their songs
and poems.
According to the popular tradition, the Prince was born in the castle
of Skadar (Scutari), and his mother, being the sister of that most
glorious and adventurous knight Momchilo, fortunately transmitted
much of the heroism, and many of the other virtues, characteristic
of her own family, to her son.
But there is also another tradition, equally popular, which
maintains that Marko was the child of a veela (fairy-queen) and a zmay
(dragon). The fact that his father was a dragon is believed, by those
who accept this tradition, to explain and in every way to account for,
Marko's tremendous strength and his astonishing powers of endurance.
Truly Prince Marko possessed a striking and extraordinarily attractive
personality: he so vividly impressed the minds of the Serbian people,
people of all ranks and localities, that he has always been, remains to
this day, and promises ever to remain, our most beloved hero. Indeed
there is no Serbian to be found, even in the most remote districts,
who has not a great love for Kralyevitch Marko, and who cannot tell
his story.
This Prince's brave deeds and all his exploits have luckily been
immortalized by the national bards, who are never weary of describing
him in their ballads and legends as a lover of justice, the hater
of all oppression, and the avenger of every wrong. He is always
represented as the possessor of great physical strength: his principal
weapon was his heavy war-club (it weighed one hundred pounds--sixty
pounds of steel, thirty pounds of silver, and the remainder was pure
gold) and it must be borne in mind that the swords and clubs wielded
by the merely human hands of his antagonists can never kill him; they
never injure him, for they scarcely ever even touch this hero. Marko
is always thought to have had much of the supernatural in him.
Marko, who was often rough and ready in his behaviour, and more
especially so to the Turks, whose very Sultan, indeed, he mightily
terrified with the tales he told of his many bloodthirsty and warlike
deeds, was invariably a most dutiful, loving and tender-hearted son to
his mother: and there were occasions when he willingly consulted her,
and followed the advice she gave him.
Prince Marko was fearless: It was said that "he feared no one but God";
and it was his rule to be courteous to all women. In Serbia it was
the usual custom to drink a great deal of wine, the red wine of which
we so often hear, and this custom was one which Marko upheld: but it
is always said, and universally believed, that he was never drunk.
The ballads also sing of King Voukashin. Voukashin had been the
Councillor of State during the reign of Doushan the Powerful. The
capital of the Empire was Prizrend, and Marko was brought up then
at the Court, by his father Voukashin. According to the generally
accepted belief it was Marko who, a little later on, attended the
Emperor as secretary and councillor of State, and was entrusted by
Doushan, on the approach of death, with his young son Ourosh.
The Bad Faith of Voukashin
One ballad relates that the Emperor Doushan had bequeathed the crown to
Voukashin and stipulated in his will that that monarch should reign for
seven years, and at the end of that time he should give up the rule to
the Tsarevitch Ourosh. King Voukashin not only prolonged his haughty
rule to sixteen years, but absolutely refused to yield the sceptre
even then, and moreover proclaimed himself sovereign Tsar. The ballad
further depicts the incessant struggles which were in the end to cause
the downfall of the Serbian mediaeval State. And so tradition, earnestly
sympathizing with the just anger felt by the people against the rebels,
and their lamentation over the lost tsardom, charges Voukashin with all
the blame and responsibility--curses him as a usurper and a traitor,
and execrates him for his cunning and inconsistency: whilst on the
other hand tradition ever extols and glorifies his son Marko as the
faithful defender of Prince Ourosh, as the great avenger of national
wrongs, and praises him at all times for his good heart, his generous
foresight in politics and private affairs, his humanity, and above
all his readiness to perish in the cause of justice.
The Horse Sharatz
The story of Marko cannot be told without some account of Sharatz,
his much-loved piebald steed, from whom he was never parted.
Sharatz was undoubtedly unique. There are several versions of the story
as to how Marko became possessed of him: Some of the bards assert
that Sharatz was given to Marko by the same veela who had from the
first endowed him with his marvellous strength; but there are others
who affirm that Marko once bought a foal suffering from leprosy, and
that the Prince tended him himself and completely cured him, taught
him to drink wine, and finally made him the fine horse that he became.
And there are others again who say that at one time, in his youth,
Marko served a master for three years, and that for his sole reward
he asked permission to choose a horse from among those then grazing
in the meadow. His master gladly consented, and Marko, according to
his custom, tested each horse in turn, by taking it by the tail and
whirling it round and round.
At last, when he came to a certain piebald foal he seized it by the
tail: but this animal did not stir, and Marko, with all his vast
strength, could not make it move one step. Marko chose that foal,
and it became his beloved Sharatz. The Serbians of Veles still call a
great plain near Demir-Kapi 'Markova Livada' (Marko's meadow). Sharatz
means 'piebald,' and it is said that the skin of Marko's horse was
more like the hide of an ox in appearance than like the skin of an
ordinary horse. The Prince called him by various endearing names,
such as Sharin or Sharo, and was devoted to him for the hundred and
sixty years they were together.
This wonderful beast was the strongest and swiftest horse ever known,
and he often overtook the flying veela. He was so well trained
that he knew the very moment when to kneel down to save his master
from an adversary's lance; he knew just how to rear and strike the
adversary's charger with his fore-feet. When his spirit was thoroughly
roused Sharatz would spring up to the height of three lengths of a
lance and to the distance of four lance-lengths forward; beneath his
hoofs glittering sparks shone forth, and the very earth he trod would
crack and stones and fragments fly in all directions; and his nostrils
exhaled a quivering blue flame, terrifying to all beholders. He often
bit off the ears of enemies' horses and crushed and trampled to death
numbers of Turkish soldiers. Marko might peacefully doze, and sometimes
even go to sleep, when riding through the mountains; and all the time
he was safe, for Sharatz would keep careful guard. Therefore the Prince
would feed his steed, with bread and wine, from the vessels that he
used himself and loved him more than he loved his own brother; and
Sharatz shared, as he deserved to share, the glory of many a victory
with his master. Marko never rode upon another horse, and together
they were described as "a dragon mounted upon a dragon."
There are in existence about thirty-eight poems and perhaps
twice as many prose-legends containing detailed descriptions of
Marko's thrilling exploits, and there is hardly a Serb or a Bulgar
anywhere to be found who cannot recite at least a few of them. In
the Balkans-Turkish War, 1912-13, a gouslar, when not fighting,
would take his goussle [24] and recite to his comrades heroic poems
of which the greater number related to Marko. The intense veneration
felt by Serbians for this beloved Prince proves an unfailing bond
between them in their own country and in all parts of the world.
There are, naturally enough, various accounts of the death of
Marko. The story that has most appealed to his countrymen and taken
a specially firm hold of their poets' imaginations is that he never
died. It is believed that he withdrew to a cave, near his castle at
Prilip, which is still standing, to rest, and that he is there, now,
asleep. From time to time he awakes and looks to see if his sword
has yet come out of a rock into which he had thrust it to the very
hilt. When the sword is out of the rock Marko will know that the
time has come for him to appear among the Serbians once more, to
re-establish the mediaeval empire, lost at the battle of Kossovo. [25]
As for Sharatz, he is still feeding, but he has now nearly finished
his portion of hay.
PRINCE MARKO TELLS WHOSE THE EMPIRE SHALL BE
Four tabors [26] met together on the beautiful field of Kossovo
near the white church Samodrezja: [27] One tabor was headed by King
Voukashin; the second by Despot Ouglesha; [28] the third by Voivode
Goyko, and the fourth by Tsarevitch Ourosh.
The first three of these were disputing over the inheritance of the
Empire and were ready to stab one another, so eager were they all to
reign. They did not know who had been appointed the Tsar's successor
and who was the rightful heir to the throne. King Voukashin announced:
"The Empire was left to me!" Voivode Goyko cried out: "Not so! The
Empire is mine!" and Despot Ouglesha interposed angrily, "You are
both wrong, for know that the Empire is mine."
The youthful Tsarevitch remained silent, for he was not bold enough
to proffer a single word in the presence of his haughty elders.
King Voukashin prepared a message and sent it by a faithful servant
to the Archdeacon Nedelyko, at Prizrend, summoning him to come at
once to the field of Kossovo and state without delay to whom the
Empire had been left--for he must surely know, having received the
last confession of the illustrious Tsar Doushan the Mighty and been
in attendance upon him up to his death. Besides, it was known that
the Archdeacon had the archives under his care, and could at least
produce the Emperor's will. Despot Ouglesha also sent a missive to the
Archdeacon by his swiftest messenger; a third was written by Voivode
Goyko, who dispatched it by his special courier, and a fourth was
inscribed and sent off by Ourosh.
The messages were all dispatched secretly, but the couriers reached
Prizrend and met at the gates of Nedelyko's dwelling. But Nedelyko
had gone, as Court Chaplain, to officiate at the morning service in
the Cathedral. The men were enraged at the delay, and without even
alighting from their horses, they rushed infuriated, into the sacred
edifice, raised their whips and brutally struck the good Archdeacon,
commanding him: "Behold, O Archdeacon Nedelyko! Hasten now, this very
hour, to the plain of Kossovo. Thou must state to whom the Empire
belongs, for thou hast received the confession from the illustrious
Tsar and administered the last sacrament to him, and it is thou who
hast the state records in thy care. Hasten, hasten, lest we, in our
fierce impatience, do sever thy head from thy body!"
Archdeacon Nedelyko wept with grief and mortification and thus replied:
"Begone, ye servants of the most mighty princes! Begone from the
House of God! Suffer first that we end God's service, then will I
make known into whose hands the Empire is to fall!"
The couriers then went out and awaited the coming of the
Archdeacon. Presently the Archdeacon came to them and spake in this
wise: "O my children, messengers from the King himself, and from the
Princes! I received the last confession of our glorious Tsar, and
gave him the sacrament; but about the Empire and affairs of state he
spoke never a word, for we were concerned only with the sins that
he had committed. Ye must go to the city of Prilip, for there is
the castle of the Royal Prince Marko. Marko, as ye may remember,
learned from me how to read and write; later he was secretary to
the Emperor and he was then entrusted with the care of the records,
and he will surely know to whom the empire was entrusted. Call Marko
to the field of Kossovo to say who is now the Tsar. Marko will tell
the truth, for he fears none but God!"
Marko is Summoned
The messenger set out at once, and, arriving at Prilip, they smote
on the portals of the castle. The knocking was heard by Yevrossima,
and she spoke thus to her son: "O Marko, my dearest son! who are they
who knock at the gates below? They may be messengers from thy father!"
Marko commanded that the gates should be opened, and when the
messengers entered they bowed with profoundest respect, and said:
"May God always help thee, O noble Lord Marko!"
The Prince laid his hand upon their heads with kindness and said:
"Be welcome, ye my dear children! Are the Serbian knights in good
health? And is all well with the glorious Tsar and King!"
The couriers again made humble obeisance, saying: "O noble Lord,
thou most Royal Prince Marko! All are well, though not, we fear, upon
friendly terms together! The King, thy father, and other princes are
seriously contending for the Empire upon Kossovo, that vast field
which is near the church Samodrezja; they are ready to stab each
other at any moment with their blades, for they know not to whom the
Empire rightly belongs. Thou art now called upon, O noble Prince,
to proclaim the heir to the Imperial crown."
The bard goes on to narrate how Marko went to Yevrossima and asked
her advice, and although it was well known that Marko himself loved
the truth, his good mother implored him with the following words:
"O Marko, thy mother's only son! May the food on which thou wert
nourished be not cursed! Speak not falsely either to please thy father,
or to satisfy the ambitions of thine uncles, but tell, I beg of thee,
the truth before God lest thou shouldest lose thy soul. It were better
that thou shouldst perish than sin against thy soul!"
Marko took the ancient documents, mounted Sharatz and rode forthwith to
the plain of Kossovo. As he approached his father's tent King Voukashin
saw him and exclaimed: "Oh, how fortunate am I! Here is my son Marko;
he will say that the Empire was left to me, for of course he knows
that it will pass from father to son!"
Marko heard this, but said not one single word, neither would he turn
his head towards the King's tent.
When Despot Ouglesha saw Marko, he spoke in this wise: "Oh, what a
lucky thing for me! here is my nephew Marko; he is certain to say
the Empire is mine! Say, O Marko, the Empire is mine! We would reign
together, you and I, like brothers!" Marko still kept silent and did
not even turn his head in the direction of his uncle's tent.
As Voivode Goyko perceived his coming, he exclaimed: "Oh, here is a
stroke of good fortune for me! here is my dear nephew Marko: he is
sure to say that the Empire was left to me. When Marko was a little
child I used to caress him fondly, for he was dear to me as a golden
apple, and always most precious. Whenever I rode out on horseback I
always used to take Marko with me. O Marko! dear Marko, thou must say
that the Empire is mine! It will be virtually thou who shalt reign as
Tsar, and I shall be at thy right hand, at all times ready, as thy
counsellor!" Marko, still without a word, and completely ignoring
Voivode Goyko, went straight on to the tent where Tsarevitch Ourosh
was, and there he alighted from his Sharatz.
When the young Ourosh saw him, he sprang from his silken couch,
and exclaimed: "Hurrah! Behold my godfather Marko! Now he is going
to tell us who the true Tsar is!" They embraced each other, inquired
after each other's health, and seated themselves upon the couch from
which Ourosh had just risen.
Marko tells the Truth
Some time elapsed and the sun had set, the night passed, morning
dawned, and church bells called all to morning prayers, and after
the service the King, the Princes and great Lords went out into the
churchyard, where they took their places at tables, and ate sweet-meats
and drank brandy. Marko at last opened the ancient documents, and said
aloud: "O my father, thou King Voukashin! Art thou not content with
thy Kingdom? May it be turned into a desert if thou art not. Oh! that
thou shouldst wish to seize another's Empire! And thou, my uncle,
Despot Ouglesha! Art thou not satisfied within thine own territory? Is
it indeed too small for thee that thou must struggle for the Empire
that belongs to another? May it also turn into a desert! And thou,
my uncle, thou Voivode Goyko! Is thy Dukedom not vast enough for
thee? May it likewise become a desert if it is not! Oh that thou
too shouldst strive for another's Tsardom? Do ye not all see and
understand? If ye fail to see may God not see ye! It is clearly stated
in the records that the Empire was left to Ourosh. From father shall
it pass to son. To this youth now belongs the Imperial Crown of his
ancestors. It was Ourosh whom our late Tsar, on his dying day, named
as his successor!" When King Voukashin heard this, he sprang to his
feet, drew out his golden yatagan and would have pierced his son with
it. The Prince, pursued by his father, fled, for, indeed, it would have
been unseemly for Marko to fight with and perhaps mortally strike his
own father. Marko ran round the church Samodrezja, his father closely
following, till they had run round the building three times, and then,
when Voukashin was on the point of getting within reach of his son,
all at once a mysterious voice from within the church uttered these
words: "Run into the church, O, thou Royal Prince Marko! Seest thou
not that otherwise thou shalt perish by thy father's hand, because
thou hast spoken the truth so dear to God?" The doors suddenly
opened of themselves and Marko passed inside; then they closed and
interposed themselves between the two men. King Voukashin began to
strike violently upon the doors with his short hanging sword until
he noticed that there were drops of blood trickling down the beam,
whereupon he was seized with remorse and sighed in lowly penance,
saying: "Alas! Unfortunate man that I am! O, thou infinite and divine
God! Hear me! I have killed my son Marko!" But the mysterious voice
from the church answered: "Behold! Voukashin thou most mighty King! Lo,
thou hast not even wounded thy son Marko, but thou hast injured the
angel of the true God!"
At these words the King grew again enraged with Marko and cursed him
in these words: "O Marko, my only son, may God kill thee! Mayest thou
never be entombed! Mayest thou have no son to come after thee! May
thy family end with thee! And, worse than all, may thy soul depart
not from thy body before thou hast served as vassal to the Turk!" In
these bitter words the King cursed Marko, but the new Tsar, Ourosh,
blessed him, saying: "O my beloved god-father, Marko! May God ever
support thee! May thy word be always respected and accepted by all
just men for ever in the divan! [29] May thy bright sabre prosper
in all battles and combats! May there never be a hero to overpower
thee! May it please God that thy name shall at all times be remembered
with honour, for so long as the sun and the moon continue to shine."
PRINCE MARKO AND A MOORISH CHIEFTAIN
A great and powerful Moorish chieftain had built for himself a
magnificent castle, rising to the height of twenty storeys. The place
he had chosen for the castle was by the sea, and when it was quite
completed he had panes of the most beautiful glass put in for windows;
he hung all the rooms and halls with the richest silks and velvets and
then soliloquized thus: "O my koula, [30] why have I erected thee? for
there is no one but I who is there to tread, with gentle footsteps,
upon these fine rugs, and behold from these windows the blue and
shining sea. I have no mother, no sister, and I have not yet found a
wife. But I will assuredly go at once and seek the Sultan's daughter
in marriage. The Sultan must either give me his daughter or meet me
in single combat." As soon as the Moor, gazing at his castle, had
uttered these words, he wrote a most emphatic letter to the Sultan at
Istamboul, [31] the contents of which ran thus: "O Sire, I have built
a beautiful castle near the shore of the azure sea, but as yet it has
no mistress, for I have no wife. I ask thee, therefore, to bestow upon
me thy beloved daughter! In truth, I demand this; for if thou dost
not give thy daughter to me, then prepare thyself at once to meet me
face to face with thy sword. To this fight I now challenge thee!"
The letter reached the Sultan and he read it through. Immediately he
sought for one who would accept the challenge in his stead, promising
untold gold to the knight who would show himself willing to meet the
Moor. Many a bold man went forth to fight the Moor, but not one ever
returned to Istamboul.
Alas! the Sultan soon found himself in a most embarrassing position
for all his best fighters had lost their lives at the hand of the
haughty Moor. But even this misfortune was not the worst. The Moor
prepared himself in all his splendour, not omitting his finest sabre;
then he proceeded to saddle his steed Bedevia, securely fastening the
seven belts and put on her a golden curb. On one side of the saddle
he fastened his tent, and this he balanced on the other side with
his heaviest club. He sprang like lightning on to his charger, and
holding before him, defiantly, his sharpest lance, he rode straight
to Istamboul.
The instant he reached the walls of the fort, he spread his tent,
struck his lance well into the earth, bound his Bedevia to the lance
and forthwith imposed on the inhabitants a daily tax, consisting of:
one sheep, one batch of white loaves, one keg of pure brandy, two
barrels of red wine, and a beautiful maiden. Each maiden, after being
his slave and attending on him for twenty-four hours, he would sell
in Talia for large sums of money. This imposition went on for three
months, for none could stop it. But even yet there was a greater evil
to be met.
The Entrance of the Moor
The inhabitants of Istamboul were terrorized one day when the haughty
Moor mounted upon his dashing steed entered the city. He went to the
Palace, and cried loudly: "Lo! Sultan, wilt thou now, once and for
ever, give me thy daughter?" As he received no answer he struck the
walls of the Palace with his club so violently that the shattered
glass poured down from the windows like rain. When the Sultan saw
that the Moor might easily destroy the Palace and even the whole
city in this way, he was greatly alarmed, for he knew that there was
no alternative open to him in this horrible predicament but to give
up his only daughter. Although overwhelmed with shame, therefore,
he promised to do this. Pleased with his success, the Moor asked for
fifteen days' delay before his marriage took place that he might go
back to his castle and make the necessary preparations.
When the Sultan's daughter heard of her father's desperate resolution,
she shrieked and exclaimed bitterly: "Alas! Behold my sorrow, O
almighty Allah! For whom have I been taught to prize my beauty? For a
Moor? Can it be true that a Moor shall imprint a kiss upon my visage?"
The Sultana's Dream
That night the Sultana had a strange dream, in which the figure of
a man appeared before her, saying: "There is within the Empire of
Serbia a vast plain Kossovo; in that plain there is a city Prilip;
and in that city dwells the Royal Prince Marko who is known among
all men as a truly great hero."
And the man went on to advise the Sultana to send, without delay, a
message to Prince Marko and beg him to become her son-in-God, and at
the same time to offer him immense fortune, for he was without doubt
the only one living likely to vanquish the terrible Moor and save
her daughter from a shameful fate. The next morning she sped to the
Sultan's apartments and told him of her dream. The Sultan immediately
wrote a firman [32] and sent it to Prince Marko at Prilip, beseeching
him to journey with all speed to Istamboul and accept the challenge of
the Moor, and if he should succeed in saving the Princess the Sultan
would give him three tovars [33] of pure golden ducats.
When Marko read the firman, he said to the Sultan's young courier,
a native of Tartary: "In the name of God go back, thou Sultan's
messenger, and greet thy master--my father-in-God--tell him that I dare
not face the Moor. Do we not, all of us, know that he is invincible? If
he should cleave my head asunder, of what avail would three tovars,
or three thousand tovars, of gold be to me?"
The young Tartar brought back Marko's answer which caused the
Sultana so much grief, that she determined to send a letter to him
herself, once more beseeching him to accept the challenge and this
time increasing the reward to five tovars of pure gold. But Marko,
though generally so chivalrous and courteous to all women, remained
inexorable, replying that he would not meet the Moor in combat even
if he were to be presented with all the treasure the Sultan possessed;
for he did not dare.
The Princess appeals to Marko
When the broken-hearted bride heard that this answer had come from
Marko she sprang to her feet, took a pen and some paper, struck her
rosy cheek with the pen and with her own blood traced the following:
"Hail, my dear brother-in-God, O, thou Royal Prince Marko! Be a true
brother to me! May God and Saint John be our witnesses! I implore thee,
do not suffer me to become the wife of the Moor! I promise thee seven
tovars of pure gold, seven boshtchaluks, which have been neither woven
nor spun, but are embroidered with pure gold. Moreover, I shall give
thee a golden plate decorated with a golden snake, whose raised head
is holding in its mouth a priceless gem, from which is shed a light
of such brilliance, that by it alone you can see at the darkest hour
of midnight as well as you can at noon. In addition to these I shall
present thee with a finely tempered sabre; this sabre has three hilts,
all of pure gold, and in each of them is set a precious stone. The
sabre alone is worth three cities. I shall affix to this weapon the
Sultan's seal so that the Grand Vizir may never put thee to death
without first receiving his Majesty's special command."
When he had read this missive, Marko reflected thus: "Alas! O my dear
sister-in-God! It would be but to my great misfortune if I came to
serve thee, and to my still greater misfortune if I stayed away. For,
although I fear neither the Sultan nor the Sultana, I do in all truth
fear God and Saint John, by whom thou hast adjured me! Therefore I
now resolve to come and, if necessary, to face certain death!"
Marko prepares to succour the Princess
Having sent away the Princess' messenger without telling him what he
had resolved to do, Marko entered his castle and put on his cloak and
a cap, made of wolves' skins; next he girded on his sabre, selected
his most piercing lance, and went to the stables. For greater safety
he fastened the seven belts under the saddle of his Sharatz with his
own hands; he then attached a leathern bottle filled with red wine on
one side of his saddle and his weightiest war-club on the other. Now
he was ready and threw himself upon Sharatz and rode off to Istamboul.
Upon reaching his destination he did not go to pay his respects either
to the Sultan or to the Grand Vizir, but quietly took up his abode in
a new inn. That same evening, soon after sun-set, he led his horse to
a lake near by to be refreshed: but to his master's surprise Sharatz
would not even taste the water, but kept turning his head first to
the right, then to the left, till Marko noticed the approach of a
Turkish maiden covered with a long gold-embroidered veil. When she
reached the edge of the water she bowed profoundly toward the lake
and said aloud: "God bless thee, O beauteous green lake! God bless
thee, for thou art to be my home for ever more! Within thy bosom am I
henceforth to dwell; I am now to die, O beauteous lake; rather would
I choose such a fate than become the bride of the cruel Moor!"
Marko greets the Princess
Marko went nearer to the maiden and spoke thus: "O, thou unhappy
Turkish maiden! What is thy trouble? What is it that has made thee
wish to drown thyself?"
She answered: "Leave me in peace, thou ugly dervish, [34] why dost
thou ask me, when there is nought that thou canst do to help me?"
Then the maiden related the story of her coming marriage with the
Moorish chieftain, of the messages sent to Marko, and finally she
bitterly cursed that Prince for the hardness of his heart.
Thereupon Marko said: "O, curse me not, dear sister-in-God! Marko is
here and is now speaking to thee himself!"
Hearing these words the maiden turned toward the famous knight,
embraced him and earnestly pleaded: "For God's sake, O my brother
Marko! Suffer not the Moor to wed me!"
Marko was greatly affected, and declared: "O dear sister-in-God! I
swear that so long as my head remains upon my shoulders, I shall never
let the Moor have thee! Do not tell others that thou hast seen me
here, but request the Sultan and thy mother to have supper prepared
and sent to the inn for me, and, above all things, beg them to send
me plenty of wine. Meanwhile I shall await the Moor's coming at the
inn. When the Moor arrives at the Palace, thy parents should welcome
him graciously, and they should go so far as to yield thee to him in
order to avoid a quarrel. And I know exactly the spot where I shall
be able to rescue thee, if it may so please the true God, and if my
customary good luck, and my strength, do not desert me."
The Prince returned to the inn, and the maiden hastened back to
the Palace.
When the Sultan and the Sultana knew that Marko had come to their aid,
they were much comforted, and immediately ordered a sumptuous repast
to be sent to him, especially good red wine in abundance.
Now all the shops in Istamboul were closed, and there was silence
everywhere as Marko sat drinking the delicious wine in peace. The
landlord of the inn came presently to close his doors and windows,
and, questioned by Marko as to why the citizens were all shutting
up their dwellings so early that day, he answered: "By my faith,
you are indeed a stranger here! The Moorish chieftain has asked
for our Sultan's daughter in marriage, and as, to our shame, she is
to be yielded to him, he is coming to the Palace to fetch her this
day. Therefore, owing to our terror of the Moor, we are forced to close
our shops." But Marko did not allow the man to close the door of the
inn, for he wished to see the Moor and his gorgeous train pass by.
The Moor in Istamboul
At that very moment, as they were speaking, Marko could hear from
the city the clangour caused by the Moorish chieftain and his black
followers, numbering at least five hundred, and all in glittering
armour. The Moor had roused his Bedevia, and she trotted in such
a lively manner that the stones, which she threw up with her hoofs,
whizzed through the air in all directions, and broke windows and doors
in all the shops she passed! When the cavalcade came up to the inn,
the Moor thought: "Allah! I am struck with wonder and astonishment! The
windows and doors of all the shops and houses throughout the entire
city of Istamboul are closed from the great fear the people have of
me, except, I see, the doors of this inn. There must either be nobody
within, or if there is anybody inside, he is assuredly a great fool;
or perhaps he is a stranger, and has not yet been told how terrible
I am." The Moor and his retinue passed that night in tents before
the Palace.
Next morning the Sultan himself presented his daughter to the Moorish
chieftain, together with all the wedding gifts, which were known to
weigh twelve tovars. As the wedding procession passed the inn where
Marko waited, the Moor again noticed the open door, but this time he
urged Bedevia right up to it to see who might be there.
Sharatz and Bedevia
Marko was seated at his ease in the most comfortable room the inn
could boast, leisurely drinking his favourite red wine; he was not
drinking from an ordinary goblet, but from a bowl which held twelve
litres; and each time he filled the bowl he would drink only one
half of its contents, giving, according to his habit, the other half
to his Sharatz. The Moor was on the point of attacking Marko, when
Sharatz barred his way and kicked viciously at Bedevia. The Moor,
meeting such unexpected resistance, promptly turned to rejoin the
procession. Then Marko rose to his feet, and, turning his cloak
and cap inside out, so that to the first glance of those who saw
him he presented the terrifying appearance of a wolf, inspected his
weapons and Sharatz's belts carefully, and dashed on his charger after
the procession. He felled horsemen right and left, till he reached
the dever and the second witness, and killed them both. The Moorish
chieftain was immediately told of the stranger who had forced his way
into the midst of the procession, and of those whom he had killed, also
that he did not look like other knights, being clad in wolves' skins.
Marko and the Moor
The Moor astride his Bedevia, wheeled round and addressed Marko thus:
"Ill fortune is indeed overtaking thee to-day, O stranger! Thou must
have been driven here by Satan to disturb my guests and even kill my
dever and second witness; thou must be either a fool, knowing nothing
of to-day's events, or thou must be extremely fierce and hast gone
mad; but maybe thou art merely tired of life? By my faith, I shall
draw in the reins of my Bedevia, and shall spring over thy body seven
times; then shall I strike off thy head!" Thereupon Marko answered:
"Cease these lies, O Moor! If God, and my usual luck, do but attend me
now, thou shalt not even spring near to me; still less can I imagine
thee carrying out thy intention of springing over my body!" But,
behold! The Moor drew in his Bedevia, spurred her violently forward
and indeed he would have sprung over Marko, had not Sharatz been
the well-trained fighter that he was, and in a trice he reared so
as to receive the adversary against his forefeet and swiftly bit
off Bedevia's right ear, from which blood gushed forth profusely
and streamed down over her neck and chest. In this way Marko and
the Moor struggled for four hours. Neither would give way, and when
finally the Moor saw that Marko was overpowering him, he wheeled
his steed Bedevia round and fled along the main street of Istamboul,
Marko after him. But the Moor's Bedevia was swift as a veela of the
forest, and would certainly have escaped from Sharatz if Marko had
not suddenly recollected his club, and flung it after his adversary,
striking him between his shoulders. The Moor fell from his horse and
the Prince severed his head from his body. Next he captured Bedevia,
returned to the street where he had left the bride, and found, to his
astonishment, that she with her twelve tovars of presents, was alone,
awaiting him, for all the wedding-guests and the retinue of the Moorish
chieftain had fled at full gallop. Marko escorted the Princess back
to the Sultan, and cast the head of the Moorish chieftain at his feet.
The hero now took his leave and started at once on his journey back
to Prilip, and the following morning he received the seven tovars of
gold which had been promised to him, the many precious gifts which
the Princess had described, and last of all a message thanking him
for the marvellous deeds he had done, and telling him that the vast
stores of gold belonging to his father-in-God, the Sultan, would for
ever be at his disposal.
PRINCE MARKO ABOLISHES THE WEDDING TAX
Early one morning the Royal Prince Marko rode across the plain of
Kossovo. When he reached the river a maiden from Kossovo met him,
and Marko greeted her in the usual Serbian custom: "May God aid thee,
O maiden of Kossovo!"
The maiden bowed very profoundly, and answered: "Hail! thou unknown
hero!"
Marko, after having looked for a while at her, said: "Dear sister,
thou maiden of Kossovo, thou art beauteous, though thou mightest well
be a little younger! Thou art tall, strong and graceful; thy cheeks
look healthful and thou hast a pleasing and dignified appearance. But,
alas! dear sister, thy hair is grey and becomes thee not. Who caused
thy sorrow? Tell me, is it thyself, thy mother or thy aged father."
The maiden shed many bitter tears, and amidst her sobs answered Marko
thus: "O dear brother, thou unknown knight! I am not the cause of mine
own misfortune, and it is neither my mother nor yet my father who has
brought great trouble upon me; but I have lost all happiness through
the evil-doing of a Moor who dwells beyond the sea. He has taken
possession of the whole field of Kossovo and has imposed, among other
extortions, a terrible tax of thirty ducats to be paid by all brides,
and thirty-four ducats by all bridegrooms. My brothers are poor and
have not the money necessary to pay my tax, therefore I am unable
to wed my sweetheart and have thus lost all happiness. Merciful God,
should I not go and take my life?"
Thereupon Prince Marko said: "Dear sister, thou maiden of Kossovo! Do
not trifle with thy life; abandon every such idea, else thou shalt
bring sin upon thy soul! Tell me, where is the castle where the
Moorish Lord may be found? I think I have something to say to him!"
To this the maiden answered: "O my brother, thou unknown knight! Why
dost thou inquire about his castle? How I wish it could be razed to
the ground! Thou hast, perhaps, found a maiden according to thy heart
and thou goest now to pay the wedding tax, or art thou the only son
of thy dear mother? I fear for thee, O brother, for thou mayest perish
there, and what then would thy sorrowful and lonely mother do?"
Marko plunged his hand into his pocket, took out a purse and handed it
to the maiden saying: "O sister! take these thirty ducats, go home and
await in peace for what may befall thee; [35] only kindly point out to
me the castle of the Moor, for I am going to pay him thy wedding tax!"
Thereupon the maiden, glowing with unexpected happiness spoke thus:
"It is not a castle, but tents (and may they be cursed!). Seest thou
not upon the plain where flutters that silken flag? There is the
Moor's own pavilion; around it grows a pleasant garden which he has
dared to decorate with the heads of seventy-seven Christian heroes,
and he has forty servants, who are, day and night, on guard near by."
Marko visits the Moor
Upon hearing these words Marko took leave of the maiden and rode
toward the tents. He urged his steed so violently that under his
hoofs living fire shone, and from his nostrils appeared a bright
blue flame. Mad with anger Marko rode fiercely across the camp and,
with tears streaming from his eyes which were fixed upon the plain of
Kossovo he exclaimed: "Alas, O plain of Kossovo! Oh! to think that
thou shouldst have remained to see this day! And, after the reign
of our great Emperor, [36] that thou shouldst be here to witness the
tyranny of a Moor! Can I endure such shame and sorrow: Oh! that the
Moors should be allowed to ravage thee! Now shall I either avenge thee,
or perish!"
The sentinels observed Marko's arrival and went to inform their Lord:
"O Master, thou Moor! A strange and fierce hero, riding a piebald
steed, is approaching; and it is plain that he intends to attack us."
But the Moor answered indifferently: "O my children, ye forty true
servants of mine! That hero will not attack us. He is undoubtedly
bringing his wedding tax and, because he regrets the amount of money
he has to give up, he is impatiently urging on his charger. You
had better go forth and welcome him; take his steed and his weapons
from him and show him to my tent. I do not care for his treasure,
but I am quite willing to cleave his head and seize his courser,
which would suit me well!"
The servants went forth to obey, but when they saw Marko near, they
were so terrified that they did not dare face him, but fled to hide
themselves behind their chieftain, concealing their yataghans under
their cloaks at the sight of Marko.
As the fierce Prince came up, he alighted in front of the opening of
the tent and spoke aside to his trusty courser: "Walk about alone,
my Sharo," said he, "for I am going into this tent to see the Moor;
go not too far from this spot, as should evil happen I may have need
of thee!" Then Marko entered the pavilion.
The Moorish chieftain sat enjoying cool wine which was poured out for
him by a Christian woman and a maiden. The princely Marko saluted the
Moor: "May God help thee, my Lord!" The Moorish chieftain answered:
"Hail, thou unknown knight! Be seated, that we may drink wine together
ere thou dost tell me why thou hast come hither!"
Prince Marko answered: "I have no time to drink with thee; but I have
come with the intention of seeing thee. I have found a maiden after my
own heart, my guests and their horses await me a little way down the
road, while I came to pay thee my wedding tax. I shall at once give
thee the gold so that nothing may hinder my happiness. Tell me now,
what must I pay?"
The Moor answered in a very friendly manner: "Well, thou oughtest
to have known that long ago: it was thirty ducats for brides
and thirty-four for bridegrooms; but as thou appearest to be a
distinguished knight, it would not hurt either of us if thou gavest
me a round hundred ducats!"
Prince Marko took out of his pocket three ducats and laid them before
the haughty Moor, saying: "Believe me I have no more money; I should
be grateful if thou wouldest wait till I reach my bride's house,
for there we shall certainly receive many rich presents. I shall give
thee all the presents and will retain the bride only for myself!"
Marko pays for All
Thereupon the mighty Moor shouted out, bitterly enraged: "I allow
no credit, thou wretch! Thou art bold enough to laugh at me!" Then
he sprang to his feet, raised his club and struck Marko's shoulders
three or four times.
Marko smiling, said: "Heroic Moor, dost thou strike in earnest or
dost thou merely strike in jest?"
The Moor, continuing the assault, hissed: "I beat thee in earnest!"
Marko smiled again, and remarked: "Oh, then, I pity thee! Since
thou art striking with serious intent, know then that I too have a
club. Now I shall smite thee as many times as thou hast struck me,
no more than that! Let us make it a fair fight!" With this, Marko
raised his mace and smote the Moor with such force that his head fell
from his shoulders!
At this Marko burst into laughter: "Merciful God, mayest thou be
thanked! How quickly the Moorish hero's head was cleft asunder! It
now lies just as if it had never been upon his shoulders!"
He now unsheathed his sword, and caught the Moor's bodyguard, cleaving
also their heads one after the other, except four of their number, whom
he left to tell the tale to all who wished to hear the truth. Then he
took down the heads of the Christian heroes and carefully buried them,
that wolves and vultures might not devour them. He next instructed
the four remaining servants to run across the field of Kossovo,
north, east, south, and west, and to proclaim to all that maids and
youths were henceforth free to marry without paying the hated tax,
for had not the Royal Prince Marko come and paid once for all?
When the oppressed Christians learned the news, they all, young and
old, joined in the joyful cry: "May God grant Royal Prince Marko long
life! For Marko has freed our land of a monster! We pray to God that
his soul may be purified of all sin."
PRINCE MARKO AND BOGDAN THE BULLY
Early one morning three Serbian knights rode out from Kossovo;
one was Prince Marko of Prilip; the second was Relya of Bazar, and
the third was Milosh of Potzerye. They were bound for the seashore,
and their way lay through the vineyards of Bogdan the Bully. Relya
of Bazar was a joyous young knight, and he encouraged his steed to
prance gaily through the vineyard, whereby he broke some of the tall
vines loaded with sweet grapes.
Marko admonished his friend thus: "Thou hadst better leave these
vineyards alone, O my Relya! If thou only knewest whose they are
thou wouldst keep thy courser under careful control: for they belong
to Bogdan the Bully. Once I, myself, was riding through these very
vineyards, and as I was young then, I also made my Sharatz prance
along, as thou art doing. But, alas! I was seen by Bogdan riding on
his slender mare Bedevia. I knew that I was at fault and, as the true
God does not support guilty men, I dared not face him, but fled up the
rocky coast. He pursued me, and if I had not had my trusty Sharatz
he would indeed have caught me. But thanks to Sharatz I at last got
farther and farther from him. When Bogdan saw that at the rate I was
fleeting he could never reach me, he swiftly threw his club after
me and just touched my back with its handle, so that I fell forward
over on the ears of my Sharatz and regained my seat only by a great
effort. However, I did escape him. This happened some seven years ago,
since when I have not come this way until to-day."
As Marko said this, the three knights noticed in the distance a
cloud of dust, in the midst of which they recognized Bogdan with
twelve attendants on horseback. Marko exclaimed: "Hark ye, my two
brothers-in-God! Here he is! and he will surely kill all three of us
if we do not make our escape."
To this Milosh of Potzerye answered: "O my brother-in-God, thou Royal
Prince Marko! The whole people believe that there are no greater
heroes living than we three Serbian knights; it would be far better
for us all to perish than shamefully to flee!"
When Marko heard this, he said: "Listen to me, my
brothers-in-God! Since that is so, let us divide the enemy. Will ye
face Bogdan alone or his twelve knights?"
Milosh and Relya chose to fight Bogdan alone, leaving Marko to meet
the twelve followers. This division was quite agreeable to Marko,
and it was hardly arranged than Bogdan came up at the head of his
troop. He was immediately engaged by Milosh and Relya, while Marko
turned his attention to the twelve attendants. Swinging his heavy
mace he urged Sharatz against his foes, and in a very short time
all were hurled to the ground. Marko then alighted from his horse,
bound their hands behind them, and drove them through the vineyards.
He had gone but a little distance when he saw Bogdan driving toward
him his two friends, their arms bound in the same manner as those of
Bogdan's followers. At this Marko was seized with fear and looked
around for a means of escape. The next moment he remembered that
the three brothers-in-God had sworn faithfulness one to another,
and that they were pledged at all times to help one another. So
tightening Sharatz's reins he drew his helmet over his forehead,
furiously unsheathed his trusty sabre, and cast one fierce, dark
glance at Bogdan.
The Bully fears to meet Marko
When the Bully saw the terrific fury and determination in Marko's eyes
his legs shook beneath him, and he turned his mare away, not daring
to meet Marko face to face. He could not, however, hope to escape the
vengeance of the Prince, and so after a short silence he called out:
"Come, O Marko, let us be reconciled. Wilt thou release my twelve
attendants? If thou art willing to do that I shall in turn set free
thy brothers-in-God."
Marko agreed to this, and alighting from Sharatz, he unhooked from his
saddle a skin of wine, and they all sat down to refresh themselves
with the cool wine and to partake of freshly gathered grapes. When
they had rested, the three friends mounted their horses and prepared
to depart. As they were about to ride off Marko thus addressed Bogdan:
"Mayest thou prosper with God's help, O Bogdan! And may we meet again
some day in good health and once more drink together!"
To this Bogdan replied: "Farewell! and may God ever help thee, O thou
Royal Prince Marko! But may my eyes never again behold thee! Seeing
how thou hast terrified me this day, I do not think that I shall wish
ever to meet thee again!"
PRINCE MARKO AND GENERAL VOUTCHA
Hark! Is it thunder or is it an earthquake? Neither, but guns are
roaring from fort Varadin: General Voutcha is feasting in triumph, for
he has captured three Serbian heroes; the first is Milosh of Potzerye,
the second is Milan of Toplitza, and the third is Ivan Kosantchitch.
The General has thrown them into the deepest dungeons of his castle,
noisome holes where stagnant water lies knee-deep and the bones of
warriors lie piled as high as the shoulders of a hero.
Milosh of Potzerye is of noble lineage, unaccustomed to privation and
suffering, and he bitterly laments and deplores his fate, as he peers
anxiously through the grating of the massive door into the dark passage
by which alone succour might come. And, indeed, after three days he
saw a messenger, to whom he called: "O, my brother-in-God! Bring me
that whereon I may inscribe a missive!"
The man was pleased to be called a brother-in-God of such a famous hero
and swiftly brought a roll to Milosh, who inscribed on it the following
words: "To the Royal Prince Marko of Prilip: O brother-in-God, thou
princely Marko! Either thou dost not want to hear more of me or thou
hast ceased to care for me! Fate has been hard, and I have fallen,
O brother, into the hands of a foe. The Magyar Voutcha has captured
me and my two brothers-in-arms. We have been immured in this vile
dungeon for three whole days, and it is impossible that we should
remain for another three days and live. Therefore, if thou wouldst
see us again, rescue us, O brother, either by heroic deeds or by
ransom!" Milosh scratched his cheek and sealed the missive with his
blood; he then handed it to the man, together with twelve ducats,
and implored him to hasten with it to Prilip. The messenger rode with
all speed, arriving at the city of Prilip on a Sunday morning. Prince
Marko was coming out of church when the courier dashed up to him with
the missive. As the Prince read of the terrible straits in which his
friends found themselves tears ran down his cheeks, and he swore that
he would save his noble brothers-in-God.
The bard here describes Marko's preparations in much the same manner as
in the ballad, "Prince Marko and the Moorish Chieftain." Next he tells
of the journey from Prilip to Varadin, but not without exaggerating
as a matter of course, the wonderful alertness of Sharatz, who,
on this occasion, swam across the Danube.
The Arrival of Marko
Arrived on the plain before the castle of Varadin, Marko spread his
tent, unhooked his skin of wine, the contents of which he drank
from a bowl 'containing twelve okas' (about forty-eight pints),
never forgetting to have half the quantity of wine each time he
filled the bowl, for his beloved Sharatz. This action was observed
by a fair Magyar lady, the wife of General Voutcha's son Velimir,
and being alarmed at seeing such a strange hero, she was suddenly
seized with a fever ('which will torture her for three years') and
hastened to tell the General what she had seen, and described to him
every detail of Marko's attire.
But General Voutcha, feigning indifference, comforted his beloved
daughter-in-law, promising that he would capture him as easily as he
had captured the three knights already lying in his dungeons. Voutcha
called his son, whom he ordered to take three hundred horsemen,
and seize the haughty stranger immediately.
Marko sitting and enjoying his wine, did not see the approach of
Velimir, but the faithful Sharatz began striking the earth with his
right forefoot, thus warning his unobservant master. Marko understood,
turned his head, and saw that a whole squadron was surrounding him;
so he drank one more bowl of wine, threw the vessel on the grass,
sprang on to his horse and fiercely attacked the army, 'as a falcon
attacks the timid pigeons.' One portion he cut to pieces, the second
he ran down with his Sharatz, and the third he drowned in the Danube.
But Velimir nearly escaped him, thanks to his own speedy charger. When
Marko saw that Sharatz, tired out, could not possibly come up with
Velimir's horse, he remembered his mace, which he now hurled so
skilfully that the heavy handle only touched the youth with sufficient
force to fling him to the earth. Marko was by his side immediately
and he had Velimir securely bound, whereupon he threw him down on to
the soft, green grass, and went on drinking more of his wine.
Velimir's wife had witnessed the whole of the proceedings, and she
now ran swiftly to the General, who was furious at the intelligence
and ordered all the siege-guns to be fired. Then he collected three
thousand warriors and mounting his mare he led this host against Marko.
The Magyars completely surrounded the hero, but Marko saw nothing of
it as he went on sipping his wine. Sharatz, however, was watchful and
came to the side of his master, who, realizing his critical position,
sprang to the saddle and, more furious than before, rushed fiercely at
the Magyars, with his sabre in his right hand, his lance in his left,
and Sharatz's reins held firmly in his teeth. Those whom he struck
with his sabre, he cut in two; those he touched with his lance,
were thrown over his head.
Marko captures General Voutcha
After three or four encounters Marko had killed so many Magyars that
those who were left, filled with horror, fled in disorder. Marko next
captured General Voutcha in the same manner as he had his son, and
after tying his hands, bound him to his Sharatz's saddle and carried
him off to where Velimir lay groaning. Making the two of them fast
to the General's mare, he proceeded to Prilip and cast them prisoners
into a dungeon.
A few days later he received a letter from Voutcha's wife, beseeching
him not to destroy Velimir and his father, and offering him vast sums
of gold as ransom. And Marko sent the following answer: "Behold! thou
faithful consort of General Voutcha! If thou desireth that I should
release my prisoners, thou hast but to release my old friends Milan of
Toplitza and Ivan Kosantchitch and give to each three tovars of gold
to compensate for the time he has wasted in prison; and thou must also
give me a like sum, for I have had to overwork my good Sharatz. And
there is still my friend Milosh of Potzerye within your castle,
but I authorize him to settle his own affairs with you in person,
for I agree to whatsoever he may arrange."
The wife of the General lost no time in sending the required quantity
of gold. Then she took the keys of the dungeons, and released the
heroes; sent for a number of barbers to shave their beards, and to
attend to their hair and nails. She next ordered a large quantity
of the finest wines and most costly dishes to be served to the noble
Serbians, and after the feast, she narrated to them Marko's wonderful
deeds, beseeching Milosh of Potzerye to use all his influence and
persuade the princely Marko to have mercy on her husband and her
son. Thereupon Milosh promised that her wish should be gratified,
and that she had no need to fear. Only he requested her to give him:
first, the best horse from General Voutcha's stables, the one that
Voutcha rode once a year to go in state to the church at Tekiye;
secondly, the gilded coach, harnessed with twelve Arabian coursers
used by General Voutcha when travelling to Vienna on his visits to
the Emperor, for in that carriage Milosh wished to drive home the
aged hero, Milan of Toplitza. And finally he asked that his friend
Toplitza might be allowed to wear the fine attire which the General
wore on Easter day. To all this Voutcha's wife agreed and, moreover,
she gave each of the friends one thousand ducats in order that they
might not be short of wine on their journey to Prilip.
Marko greeted the knights in a warm brotherly manner, and then
released General Voutcha and his son Velimir, ordering a powerful
convoy to escort them to Varadin. When the noble Serbian voivodes had
enjoyed Marko's hospitality for several days (consuming during that
time a formidable quantity of his red wine) they embraced and kissed
each other on the cheek; the friends, in addition, kissing Marko's
uncovered hand. Then each proceeded in peace to his own domains.
PRINCE MARKO'S WEDDING PROCESSION
One evening as Prince Marko sat at meat with his aged mother, she
requested him to seek a maiden of his heart, that she might enjoy
the companionship and support of a daughter-in-law. Thereupon Marko
answered: "May God be my witness, O mother dear! I have journeyed
through nine kingdoms and through the whole Turkish empire, and
whenever I found the maiden I wished to make my bride, I never found
that thou wert of the same mind with me. Sometimes it was that thou
didst not feel friendly toward her family; and when I chanced to find a
family to thy liking there was never the maiden thou didst desire for
me! Howbeit, when I was wandering through Bulgaria I once reined my
Sharatz near a well, and lo! there I saw a maiden so fair and gentle,
that all at once it seemed to me as if the grass near where we stood
were turning round us again and again. Later I learned that this maiden
was the daughter of King Shishman of Bulgaria: assuredly this would
be the very maiden for me and a family which would please thee! If
thou approvest, therefore, I will at once go and ask her in marriage."
Marko's mother, delighted with this choice of her son, hastened to
prepare the usual presents that very night, for she feared her son
might change his mind before the morrow. Next morning, however, Marko
ordered Sharatz to be saddled, and slinging the necessary skin of
wine on one side of the saddle and his war-club on the other, he took
leave of his mother and rode straight to the castle of King Shishman.
The Bulgarian sovereign saw Marko while he was still a long way
off, and walked forth to greet him. When he was quite close, Marko
alighted from Sharatz, stretched out his arms and the two embraced,
each inquiring after the state of the other's health. The King then
led Marko into the castle while Sharatz was taken by the grooms to
the royal stables.
A little later, in the course of the gorgeous banquet which had been
immediately arranged in honour of the princely guest, Marko sprang to
his feet, bowed deeply before the King and asked his daughter's hand
in marriage. The King was so pleased to have such a noble and valiant
son-in-law that he consented without hesitation. Marko expended
three tovars of gold on the ring to be worn by his future bride,
for her wedding-robe and other presents. Next he asked if he might
return to Prilip to gather his wedding guests and friends, and as he
was on the point of leaving the Palace, the Queen specially advised
the Prince not to select as the bride's leader one whom he could not
trust implicitly, but rather to choose his own brother or at least
a cousin, for, said she, a stranger might possibly prove a rival,
so charming and beauteous was her daughter.
When Marko came near to Prilip, his mother walked forth to greet him,
and, after embracing him warmly on both cheeks and giving him her
fair hands to kiss, she inquired if he had had a prosperous journey
and had become betrothed to the Princess. Marko narrated all that had
happened, and did not forget to repeat the Queen's words at parting,
complaining of his great misfortune in that his brothers were dead,
neither had he a cousin. His mother, filled with joy, advised Marko not
to lament because of that, but to send at once a message to the Doge
of Venice, inviting him to come with a company of five hundred and to
act as koom; also to send to Styepan Zemlyitch, asking him to join the
wedding party with five hundred followers and to be the bride's leader.
Marko thought the counsel good and dispatched couriers forthwith,
as his mother advised. The Doge soon appeared with his five hundred
horsemen and Styepan Zemlyitch likewise. Marko welcomed them cordially
and hospitably, and there was no lack of good red wine.
The company now proceeded to the court of the Bulgarian King, who
received them most heartily and feasted them for three days. On the
fourth day the wedding party prepared to return for it was evident
that if the guests were to remain for another three days the King
would have no wine left. Shishman presented all with royal gifts: to
some he gave silks, to others costly shirts, to others again golden
dishes and plates; to the bride's leader was presented a special shirt
embroidered in gold. When the bride was mounted, her royal father
presented her to the bride's leader with these words: "Here are now,
in thy keeping, the bride and her horse till thou arrivest at Marko's
castle; once there thou shalt give Marko the bride, but her courser
thou mayst retain for thyself!"
The Wedding Procession
The procession rode on through the Bulgarian woodland and meadows, and
as there is no happiness without some misfortune, a gust of wind blew
aside for a moment the bride's veil. The Doge of Venice, riding close
by her side, beheld the maiden's fair face and was so fascinated by
her wondrous beauty that he fell violently in love with her. When the
whole party of wedding guests halted for the night, he went unperceived
to the tent of Styepan Zemlyitch, addressing him thus: "O thou bride's
leader! Wilt thou yield to me thy charge that we may flee together: I
will give thee a bootful of golden ducats!" Styepan Zemlyitch answered
indignantly: "Keep silent, thou Doge of Venice! Mayest thou be turned
to stone! Hast thou made up thy mind to perish!"
When they reached the halting-place on the second day, the Doge again
went secretly to the tent of Styepan Zemlyitch and once more asked for
the bride, but this time he offered two bootfuls of ducats. Again the
bride's leader refused, saying: "Begone, O Doge! Lest thou shouldst
have thy head cleft asunder! Has anybody ever heard of a koom taking
his kooma from her bridegroom?"
The Unfaithful Koom
When the third night came, the Doge offered to the bride's leader three
bootfuls of pure golden ducats. This enormous sum of money was too
great a temptation for the bride's leader, and he gave up the bride to
the Doge, who conducted her to his own tent. Then he declared his love
to the maiden, and in impassioned tones implored her to fly with him
to Venice, where he could offer her all that heart could desire. But
the Bulgarian maiden turned from him with loathing. "For pity's sake,
O thou Doge of Venice!" said she, "the earth under us would surely
crack to swallow us and the skies above us would burst asunder if a
kooma should thus be false to her bridegroom."
But the Doge persisted: "Oh do not be so foolish, my sweet kooma! I
have kissed and caressed many koomas, but never once did the earth open
under us, or the heavens burst asunder. Come, let us embrace!" The
maiden thought it well to dissemble, and she replied: "O my koom,
thou Doge of Venice! My aged mother told me that I should have her
curse if I ever kissed a bearded hero; and I swore to her that I
should love only a shaven knight such as is the Royal Prince Marko."
Upon this the Doge called two barbers: one to shave his beard and the
other to wash his face clean. As they were thus engaged the maiden
stooped and gathered up, unnoticed, the Doge's beard and wrapped it
in the folds of her silken robe.
The Doge now dismissed the barbers and endeavoured afresh to make
love to the bride, who feigned coyness and said that she feared that
they both would surely perish when Marko learned of what had taken
place. But the Doge protested: "Oh do not be so foolish. I have five
hundred followers with me! Marko's tent stands far away. Dost thou
not see it in the distance? On its top is fixed a golden apple. In
the apple are placed two large diamonds which shed a light so far
and wide that the neighbouring tents need no candles at night."
The Escape of the Maiden
The maiden pretended that she wished to have a clear view of this
wonder, and the Doge gallantly raised the hanging at the door that
she might see more clearly. The next moment she was running swiftly
as a deer toward Prince Marko's pavilion.
Marko was sleeping, and was greatly astonished when suddenly he
was awakened by the entrance of his unexpected visitor. When he
recognized in the maiden his future wife he addressed her angrily:
"Thou maiden of low birth! Is it seemly that thou shouldst visit me
contrary to all our Christian customs?"
The maiden bowed low and replied: "O my Lord, thou Royal Prince
Marko! I am not a girl of low birth, but of most noble lineage. Thou
hast brought with thee guests of most evil dispositions. Know then,
that my leader Styepan Zemlyitch sold me, thy bride, to the Doge of
Venice for three bootfuls of gold! If thou canst not believe this,
look! Here is the Doge's beard!" and she unfastened her robe and took
out the Doge's beard and showed it to him.
Marko's wrath was now directed against his perfidious friends, and
at break of day, wrapping himself in his wolf-skin cloak, and taking
his heavy mace, he went straight to the bride's leader and to the
koom, saying: "Good morning to ye, O bride's leader and koom! Thou
leader, where is thy sister-in-law? And thou, O koom, where is thy
kooma?" Styepan Zemlyitch kept as silent as a stone, but the Doge said:
"O thou Royal Prince Marko! There are such strange people about that
one cannot even make a joke without being misunderstood!"
But Marko answered: "Ill is thy joke, O thou Doge of Venice! Where
is thy beard? It is a very strange joke to shave one's beard!" The
Doge would have answered, but before he could do so Prince Marko had
unsheathed his sabre and cleft his head in twain.
Styepan Zemlyitch attempted to escape, but Marko rushed after him
and struck him so neatly with his keen sabre that he fell to earth
in two pieces.
This done, Marko returned to his tent, ordered the procession to
advance, and arrived without mishap at Prilip.
PRINCE MARKO AND THE MOORISH PRINCESS
One day the mother of Prince Marko spoke thus to her son: "O,
my darling son, thou Royal Prince Marko! Why dost thou erect
so many churches and shrines? Either thou hast sinned gravely
before God and thou art in lowly penance, or thou must have piled
somewhere superabundant wealth?" Then Marko of Prilip answered her:
"My beloved, aged mother! I will tell thee the truth. Once while I
travelled through the Moorish country I rose early one morning in
order to go and refresh my Sharatz at the well. When I arrived there
I found twelve Moors who had come for the same purpose, and, as I,
in my pride, would not await my turn, the twelve Moors opposed me
because they had come first. At once we began to quarrel. I lifted my
heavy club and felled one of the Moors, to the earth; his companions
attacked me and I struck another to the ground; ten assailed me and I
killed a third; nine engaged me and a fourth bit the dust; the other
eight rushed on me and I knocked down the fifth; seven strove with
me and I sent to eternity the sixth; but I had to face the remaining
six, who overpowered me; they bound my arms to my back and carried
me to their Sultan, who flung me in prison. There I dwelt for eight
years knowing nothing of the seasons, save that in winter girls would
play with snow-balls and sometimes fling them through my prison bars,
wherefore I knew that it was winter; or maidens flung me bunches of
basil, and thus I knew when it was early summer."
The Moorish Princess
"When the eighth year broke upon me, it was not my dungeon that
distressed me so much as a Moorish maiden, the beloved daughter
of the Sultan. She annoyed me by coming every morning and every
evening and calling to me through my dungeon-window: 'Why shouldst
thou perish in this prison, O Marko? Give me thy word that thou art
willing to marry me and I will release thee, and thy Sharatz too,
I would take with me, also, heaps of golden ducats; as much, O Mark,
as thou canst ever wish to have.'
"At that time I was in very great misery and despair, O my mother, and
so taking off my cap and placing it upon my knee I addressed it thus:
'By my firm faith! I shall never abandon thee; neither shall I ever
forget thee, upon my soul! The sun itself has often changed, shining
not in winter as in summer, but my promise shall be unbroken for ever!'
"The maiden believed, in pleasant delusion, that I had sworn
faithfulness to her, and so at dusk one evening she opened the doors
of my prison, led me along to my spirited Sharatz, having got ready
for herself a fine noble charger. Both steeds bore on their backs
bags filled with ducats. The Moorish maiden brought in addition my
best tempered sabre and we sped swiftly through the Moorish lands.
"When darkness came upon us and I flung myself on the ground to
slumber, the Moorish princess did likewise, and lo! she threw her arms
around me. And I looked at her, O my mother, and I saw how black her
face was and how white were her teeth! I shuddered with horror and
hardly knowing what I did, I sprang to my feet, mounted my Sharatz,
and galloped away madly, leaving her alone. The maiden called after
me in anguish: 'O my brother-in-God, thou Royal Prince Marko! Leave
me not thus!' But I would not stay my flight.
"Then and there, O my mother, I sinned before God! Then it was that
I obtained gold in profusion, and therefore is it that I have built
numberless churches and shrines to expiate my sin!"
PRINCE MARKO AND THE VEELA
Prince Marko and Milosh of Potzerye rode early one morning across
the beauteous mountain Mirotch, carrying their lances and trotting
their steeds. They loved each other so dearly that they would now
and then embrace. Suddenly Marko began to doze on his Sharatz, and
tried to persuade his companion to sing something in order to keep
him awake. Thereupon Milosh answered: "O dear brother-in-God, thou
Royal Prince Marko! I would gladly sing a song for thee, but last
night when I was with veela Raviyoyla, I drank far too much wine,
and she threatened, in truth she promised, to pierce both my heart
and my throat with arrows if she ever heard me sing again."
But Marko insisted: "Oh do sing, brother dear! Fear not the veela as
long as I, Prince Marko, live; and as long as I have Sharatz and my
six-edged club!"
So Milosh to please his pobratim, began to sing a beautiful song
telling of their valiant and virtuous ancestors; how they had held
kingdoms and ruled in succession over the much-honoured land of
Macedonia; and how every one of those good sovereigns had erected a
shrine or a church.
The song pleased Marko so much that, lulled by Milosh's melodious
voice, he fell asleep. But it happened that the veela also heard
the song, and began to sing in turn with Milosh, doing all the time
her very best to show him that she sang better than he did. Milosh
really sang better, for he possessed a magnificent voice, and this
fact much irritated the veela; she took two slim arrows, twanged her
bow, and transfixed first Milosh's throat and then his heart.
Milosh uttered a piercing cry: "Alas, O my mother! Alas, Marko,
my brother-in-God! The veela has shot me with her arrows! Did I not
tell thee, O pobratim, that I must not sing on the mountain Mirotch?"
The Pursuit of the Veela
This lamentation awoke Marko at once. He leaped lightly from the
saddle, tightly fastened his Sharatz's girths, embraced him, and thus
whispered in his ear: "Lo, Sharo, thou on whom I depend for speed! Oh,
thou must overtake, now, the veela Raviyoyla; and I shall shoe thy
hoofs with pure silver and gild them with the finest gold; I shall
cover thee with a silken cloak reaching to thy knees, and on it I
shall fasten fine silk tassels to hang from thy knees to thy hoofs;
thy mane shall I intertwine with threads of gold and adorn it with
rare pearls. But, woe to thee if thou reachest not the veela! Both
thy eyes shall I tear out; thy four legs shall I break; and I shall
abandon thee here and thou shalt for ever creep from one fir-tree to
another, exactly as I should do if I lost my dear brother Milosh!"
Then Marko sprang upon Sharatz, and rode swiftly after the
veela. Raviyoyla was already flying over the mountain top, and when
Sharatz caught sight of her he bounded fiercely forward, leaping to
the height of three lances in the air, and covering the length of
four lances at each bound. In a few moments Sharatz came up with the
veela, who, greatly affrighted, flew upward to the clouds. But Marko
pitilessly hurled his far-reaching club and struck her between the
white shoulders, and she fell instantly to the earth. Marko struck
her several times as she lay on the earth, exclaiming: "O Veela! May
God requite thee! Why didst thou pierce my dear pobratim's throat and
heart? Thou hadst better give him healing herbs, else thou shalt not
carry thy head much longer upon thy shoulders!"
The veela implored Marko to forgive her, and to become her
brother-in-God. "For God's sake, O my brother Marko, and by the memory
of St. John," she cried, "spare my life, and I will go through the
mountain and gather herbs to heal thy pobratim's wounds!"
Marko was very easily moved by the mention of the divine's name,
and he released the veela, who went at once, but never out of hearing
and answering to Marko's frequent calls.
When the veela had collected herbs she brought them to Milosh and
healed his wounds; his voice was not only quite restored, but it was
finer than before and his heart was sounder. Then the brothers-in-God
rode straight to the district of Poretch, where they crossed the
River Timok, and soon arrived at the town of Bregovo, whence, after
tarrying awhile, they departed to the district of Vidin. When the veela
rejoined her sisters she admonished them, saying: "Hark, ye veelas,
my sisters! Do not shoot any heroes in the mountains with your bows
and arrows, so long as the Royal Prince Marko and his Sharatz are
alive. Oh, what I, much to be pitied, have suffered at his hands
to-day! I marvel, indeed, that I still live!"
PRINCE MARKO AND THE TURKISH HUNTSMEN
Amouradh, the grand Vizir once arranged a hunting party of twelve
Turkish warriors to which he also invited Prince Marko. They hunted
for three days and found nothing in the mountain-forest. But,
behold! they suddenly discovered a green-bosomed lake upon which a
team of wild ducks was swimming! The Vizir let loose his falcon and
bade him pounce upon a gold-winged duck, but the duck did not even
allow the falcon to see it, so swiftly it flew toward the clouds;
as for the falcon it fell on the branches of a fir-tree.
Then Prince Marko spoke thus to the Vizir: "Am I permitted, O Vizir
Amouradh, to release my falcon and try to secure the gold-winged
duck?" "Surely you may, Prince Marko," answered the Vizir. Then the
princely Marko let loose his falcon, and the bird ascended to the
clouds, sprang upon the gold-winged prey, and bore it down to the
foot of the green fir-tree.
When Amouradh's falcon saw this it became greatly excited and,
according to its natural habit of seizing others' spoil, it turned
violently upon its rival and tried to pluck the duck from its claws.
But Marko's falcon was exceedingly valiant, worthy of its master, and
would yield its well-earned trophy to none but its master. So it turned
sharply on Amouradh's falcon and vehemently tore at its proud feathers.
When the Vizir saw this, he too became excited and in great rage
rushed to the combatants and flung Prince Marko's falcon fiercely
against a fir-tree so that its right wing was broken. He then took
horse with his followers and fled from the scene of his violence.
The noble falcon, as it lay upon the ground, wailed in its pain and
Prince Marko ran quickly and caught it to his breast, for he loved
it very dearly. Then very tenderly he bound its wounded pinion and
addressed the bird with emotion: "Woe to me and to thee, my falcon,
that ever we went hunting with the Turk without our dear Serbians,
for the Turk must ever violate the rights of others!"
After having bound his falcon's wing, Marko sprang upon Sharatz and
sped through the forest swift as a veela. Soon he left the mountain
behind and he observed the fleeing Turks in front of him. The Vizir
turned in his saddle and saw Marko in the distance, wherefore he
spoke thus to his twelve valiant companions: "Ye, my children,
ye twelve valiant heroes! See ye yonder mountain-mist approaching,
and in it the Royal Prince Marko? Hark! how fiercely he enrages his
Sharatz! God alone knows, what will befall us!"
The Vengeance of Marko
He had barely uttered these words when Prince Marko came up flourishing
his bright sabre. Instantly the twelve Turks dispersed like a flock
of sparrows startled by a vulture. Marko made for the Vizir and with
one thrust of his sabre cleft his head asunder. Next he pursued the
twelve Turkish warriors, each of whom he cut in two, striking them
through their Turkish sashes. Then he stood for a while in doubt:
"Oh, what am I to do now? Ought I to go to the Sultan at Yedrenet or
had I perhaps better return to my white castle at Prilip?" After long
thought he decided that it would be far better to go to the Sultan
and give an account of what had happened than to give an opportunity
to his foes to calumniate him to the Padishah.
When Prince Marko arrived at Yedrene
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