Though not a crowned King, in name, Karageorges had all the power of a monarch. Yet with so much at his command he retained his taste for the simplest life. His dress was that of the peasant and, even when Chief Executive of Serbia, he often cooked his own meals in the kitchen of his dwelling.
After the death of Karageorges the efforts of Serbia to have Turkey recognize her dragged on. At last, in 1820, the Sultan by a special bérat made Serbia a hereditary princedom. This was a long step in the right direction.
Milosh, feeling secure in his seat, did well by his country, and better by himself. Years after his death, Serbs in gossiping groups would recount the divers ways in which Milosh had filled his coffers. His keenness for the main chance, and his general canniness, all his subjects admired hugely. But the burly neighbor looking on was less pleased. Why did a little struggling State trouble herself so about education, and economical housekeeping? Why should she try to attain the impossible? Then, to show poor Serbia how impossible her ambitions were, Russia frowned and agreed with those who thought the hereditary Prince too autocratic. In eastern Europe there was room for only one Autocrat. "Moreover," muttered Russia, "why should an Autocrat give a Constitution to Serbia?" A threat was mingled with the muttering—and Milosh withdrew the Constitution.
Yet Russia used her influence so strongly with Turkey that Great Britain began to take an interest in Serbia. The young State was growing too fast, there was no telling where she might wander. She needed a guardian—some one to watch her, to note where she was going and tell her she must not. So Great Britain sent Colonel Hodges to Serbia as her General Consul, and he whispered—for Russia must not hear him—that in case Serbia had trouble with Russia, Great Britain and France would stand by her. Next, the Porte, never before known as a constitution maker, invited Milosh to send deputies to Constantinople to plan a new Constitution for Serbia. But Milosh found this new Constitution no better than the one Russia had made him withdraw. Alas for Milosh! alas for Serbia! Although the new Constitution was to have the guarantee of the Great Powers, the Constitution itself would not hold water. A few months later, the authority of the Prince of Serbia was modified. It was ordered that he should have a Council of seventy life members. He had desired Councillors whom he could appoint and dismiss at will, but Turkey, forgetting a promise to Great Britain, had yielded to Russia. As the Constitution required Milosh to appoint the most distinguished men in his realm as Councillors, and as at this time Serbia's men of influence were chiefly his enemies, he was disturbed. Although the British Ambassador counseled patience, Milosh plotted to do away with this Constitution by a military vote. When his plans fell through, he abdicated, in June, 1839, and retired to his home in Wallachia. Before abdicating, however, Milosh had to sign the Constitution imposed upon him at the instigation of Russia, and this limiting of the power of the hereditary Prince was a good thing for Serbia.
Milan, the eldest son of Milosh, survived but three weeks after his father's abdication. Michel, the younger son, succeeded him. While he was wrangling with the Porte and Russia, Vuychitch, a Councillor, started a rebellion and Michel, not knowing what else to do, left Serbia. This suited Vuychitch and soon the National Parliament elected the son of Karageorges Prince of Serbia. Serbia was quiet and prosperous during his reign, but Alexander himself was of a timid and wavering temperament, not even bold enough to summons a National Assembly. Friendly to Turkey and to Austria, rather than to Russia, he pleased no one of them, and finally, when he did call a National Assembly, the Council dethroned him. Old Milosh was now asked to return and the change of rulers was made without excitement or disorder.
At the death of Milosh after three short years, his son, the exiled Michel, returned to the throne. In his exile he had grown wiser and he was ready with a definite program for Serbia's good. He saw that if his country was to be respected, her independence must be guarded. First among his many reforms was a new Constitution to replace the one Russia had imposed on Serbia. Michel was a good diplomatist and, in 1862, when the Turkish Government at Belgrade bombarded Belgrade, he demanded the evacuation of all the forts, and some of them complied. Next he sent his wife to London—the beautiful Julia, Countess Hunyadi. She interested Gladstone, Bright, and other influential Englishmen in little Serbia. He armed and drilled a national army and had an understanding with Greece and other Balkan states for a general uprising against the Turks. Finally he requested the Sultan to remove all Turkish garrisons in Serbia, and when Great Britain supported the advice the other Great Powers gave the Sultan, the later, at last, gave up the forts to Michel. Michel did much for Serbia. He built good highways, laid out parks, and gave her many fine public buildings, including an opera house. He was among the first to emphasize Serbia's need of a seaport, and he was equally far-sighted in many other matters.
Michel had no children and when the Karageorges exiles heard that he meant to divorce his wife and remarry, their own hopes of power in Serbia faded. Poor Michel, their victim, was assassinated in the spring of 1868. No change of dynasty followed Michel's death. Serbia proclaimed as Prince, Milan, son of a first cousin of Milosh the elder.
Milan's early years had been spent in Paris, and the kind of education he received there left its bad impress on his whole life. When confirmed by the Skupchtina he was barely thirteen, and little more than of age when, five years later, urged by Panslavists, he had a war with Turkey. Although Serbia was defeated, this war forced the Balkan situation, and the attention of Europe was turned toward the little Nation that held the key to the Balkans. Milan had made strategic mistakes, and when the vast Turkish army was invading Serbia, he called on the Great Powers for help. While they hesitated, Russia ordered Abdul Hamid to sign an immediate truce. When Russia within a few weeks of this went to war with Turkey, Serbia, in spite of her recent losses, was able to help her. After capturing Vrania, Pirot, and Nish, Serbia had the joy of celebrating Mass on the Field of Kossovo where five hundred years before she had lost everything.
Yet at the Peace of Stefano Serbia did not get a fair reward. Her welfare was but a shuttlecock, beaten back and forth between great nations. She could secure, at the Berlin Congress, neither complete independence nor the annexation of certain territories she hoped for. But at this Congress Austria gained her own ends by giving Serbia two strong neighbors for watchdogs, Bulgaria and East Roumelia. She also imposed a barrier between Serbia and her strongly desired goal—the sea.
When Milan saw that he could not depend on Russia, whom he had been brought up to regard as a friend, he turned to Austria. He began to pay long visits to Vienna. Thus he angered both his own people and the Tsar, but Austria was always ready to give him the money his manner of life required. The building of new railways threw the Nation into debt, and between the advice given first by Progressives, then by Radicals, Milan the ne'er-do-well could barely enjoy a life devoted to pleasure. At the beginning of his reign the Porte had acknowledged him hereditary Prince of Serbia, but Milan, aiming higher, in 1882 had himself proclaimed King. Not long after this, in a war with Bulgaria, he had to retreat ingloriously before Prince Alexander of Battenberg. Indeed, now, as on other occasions throughout his reign, Milan behaved like the proverbial spoiled child. Sometimes, fearing his people might use a rod made of something more stinging than words, he would completely disarm them in a brilliant speech. When things were at their very worst his statesmen would extricate him. Yet gradually he lost influence with the Nation in spite of the new Constitution which gave them most things that enlightened nations seek. But various happenings were tending to estrange him from his people, not the least of which was his undignified quarrel with his wife, with whom, even after their divorce, he continued to bicker about their son. Milan was rather a blunderer than a villain, and as he had managed to hold the affection of his people through all his misdeeds, political or domestic, his abdication was a great surprise. He went away suddenly to live in Paris the life he preferred, after making provision that Alexander, his son, should succeed him.