In the Middle Ages Serbia was one of the largest silver-producing countries in Europe. Her mountains have as yet given up but little of their treasure. The Romans knew the mines and brought out of them much gold, silver, iron, and lead and, during the later Middle Ages, the merchants of Ragusa obtained no small portion of their wealth from the same source, but about the middle of the fifteenth century the Turks put an end to all enterprises of this kind. In the first half of the last century, mining was revived. Belgian capital had a large part in this, especially in producing copper and iron.
The copper mines south of Passarowitz were said to be among the richest, if not the richest, in the world. But as yet Serbia herself hardly appreciated the value of her own resources. Her less than one thousand miles of railways had loaded her with a heavy debt. Austria had improved the Danube—largely, however, for Austria's advantage. But Serbia began to look about. She was determined to gain, if possible, the economic independence she longed for. With a resourceful King, with a competent Ministry headed by the eminent Pachich, this ought not to be difficult, she thought, ought to be much less difficult than her long, hard struggle for political independence.
The spirit of the Serb has been shown in the remarkable development of coöperation in industry, especially in the twentieth century. "Only Union is Serbia's Salvation"—this was St. Sava's famous saying in the distant twelfth century. Politically, his words had proved true for Serbia, and economically they had begun to show their value, especially in King Peter's reign.
One reason for the success of nineteenth century coöperation in Serbia may be found in the Zadruga of ancient times. This was a large family association including male kinship to the second and the third degree. It often numbered more than a hundred individuals; each member had a fixed duty and the revenues were divided among all the members. The Zadruga was ruled by an elder or Stareschina. Sometimes the Stareschina was a woman. The Stareschina kept the money-box and attended to the payment of taxes. The women of the Zadruga obeyed the Stareschina's wife. This kind of community life was so familiar to the Serbs that it was no unusual thing when some one asked, "Whose is that drove of sheep?" to hear the reply "Ours," never "Mine."
In Literature, in Science, in Art, the Serb had begun to take his rightful place in Europe, encouraged by the example of a large-minded, cultured monarch.
Serbia had long realized that within her boundaries lived hardly half of the Serb race in Europe. The feeling of brotherhood with all his kin which is so powerful a characteristic of the individual Serb is even more marked in the Serbian Nation. A generation ago Serbia was willing to go to war with Turkey to help her downtrodden kindred in Bosnia and Herzegovina. "The saving of Old Serbia and the Union of the Serb peoples is the star by which the Serb steers," said a traveler in the early part of King Peter's reign, and certainly to the liberty-loving Serb this was a beautiful vision—that he was sometime to liberate from Turkish and from Austrian control all his oppressed brothers, the four and a half millions whom the twentieth century found so restive under Turkish, Teutonic, or Magyar control.
For Serbia, then, her entrance into The Balkan League in 1912 was a natural sequence of many of her previous aspirations and efforts. In presence of a common danger—the Teuton working through the Turk—the Balkan States put aside their own particular rivalries and formed a Union. This was effective, and the Turks were defeated. But when Turkey was defeated, Bulgaria and Serbia were again at sword's points. It was not a question of jealousies between small kingdoms, but rather a larger issue—Pan-Slavism as against Pan-Teutonism. Serbs, wherever found, were outspoken, and Austria saw that she might have to give up not only her hope of adding Serbia to her dominions but besides this lose her dominion over the Serbs within the dual monarchy. From that time she hardly tried to hide her intention of punishing Serbia for her ambition. Serbia, meanwhile, was growing bolder, stronger. Though her successes in recent wars had not given her her coveted seaport, she had found ways of getting a considerable proportion of her products to market without sending them through Austria. Her imports from Austria fell off largely. Austria and Germany saw that they would have difficulty in making Serbia a docile ward, especially as M. Pachich in 1912 had made it plain to the other Powers that it would be to their advantage to give Serbia a chance to expand.
It was eleven years almost to a day from the time he came to the throne, when Peter's security was shattered by an explosion. The Archduke Ferdinand, heir to the Austrian throne, and his wife, while making a tour through Bosnia, were killed at Sarajevo by a Serb, not one of the kingdom of Serbia but a Serb of Greater Serbia. Austria, that had been for so long watching Serbia as a cat watches a mouse, quickly pounced on the little kingdom. She made demands such as no civilized country could comply with, and at last gave an ultimatum on the twenty-seventh of July which had far-reaching consequences. It was a stone thrown into a quiet pool and the ripples and eddies reached unthought-of shores, as the whole world now knows.
There are many strange circumstances connected with this murder. Those who have followed out the various clues have seen evidence that the Serb government had no knowledge of the proposed murder, but there is much that tends to show that the assassination was not a great surprise to Austria—that Ferdinand, even at home, was in fear of his life. He always slept in a room without furniture and not long before the assassination he had taken out a life insurance, the largest life insurance known. In case of his death, it was necessary to make provision for his consort who could hope nothing from the house of which he had long been the heir. When Ferdinand's heir had a son born to him, the Austrians turned against Ferdinand and wished him out of the way. His removal, indeed, was a greater object to Austria-Hungary than to Serbia, for it was generally known that he was liberal in his ideas regarding the Serbs in the dual monarchy, and had even formed a plan for giving them Home Rule.
From the beginning Austria-Hungary tried to impress on the world that the shooting of Archduke Ferdinand was part of a revolt of the southern Slav provinces of Austria instigated by the Serbian government. On the twenty-third of July, Austria sent an ultimatum to Serbia demanding that she use every means in her power to punish the assassins and stop all further anti-Austrian propaganda. The next day, Russia asked for delay, and on July twenty-fifth, ten minutes before the time of the ultimatum expired, Serbia made due apologies and agreed to all the conditions imposed by Austria except the one that Austria should have official representatives in the work of investigation. Two days later, the Austrian foreign office issued a statement with these words: "Serbia's note is filled with the spirit of dishonesty." Austria was determined on war. She had not accepted Serbia's apologies.