’Mid much abasement, what he has received
From Nature—an intense and glowing mind.
It is unfortunate that I am unable to conclude the account of this—to me—uniquely interesting night with the mention of songs and ballads, and that more must be added which it is most displeasing to relate.
It is only just to say that, taking into consideration the troubles in the Herzegovina, and—what may have been traceable in the hurried calling-out of the reserve at Dervent and Tešanj—the possible foreknowledge of the imminence of an outbreak in Bosnia, it was quite natural for the Turkish authorities to view with suspicion an assemblage of several thousand Christian Bosniacs, and even to take precautionary measures against any disturbances—or conspiracy. No one can therefore blame the Kaïmakàm of Tešanj for despatching some officials and a retinue of gendarmes to watch the proceedings. This night the Turks had taken their station at the end of the neck of the hill, as if the better to ward off any possible attack, and to secure a line of retreat if necessary. The presence of these Zaptiehs gave me an opportunity of observing how these tools of the Mahometan government dealt with the Christian Bosniacs, when not under the immediate surveillance of foreign consuls. Briefly, they treated them like a herd of cattle; and it is hard to say which was the more revolting, the intolerable insolence or the downright cruelty.
I was standing in one of the circles where a Bosnian gleeman was rehearsing a national epic, when the spell of the song was rudely broken by a Zaptieh, who, bursting through the ring of listeners and thrusting the rayahs to right and left, stood before the embers in the middle, and, playing with his cutlass with one hand, demanded, in such a savage tone as quite infuriated me, who would light his pipe. The Bosniacs took it more calmly. The old minstrel laid down his lute and paused for awhile in his lay. For a few moments there was a moody silence—as if some blunted sense of injury had outlived long use of wrongs—then a fine man stepped forward sheepishly and lit the bully’s pipe.
Another time a knot of peasants were gathered together in friendly converse in the grassy middle-lane, when two Zaptiehs rushed forward with whips, and flogged them away, women as well as men! But the worst instance of brutality that came within my observation took place while I was discussing a bottle of Slavonian wine, and exchanging English songs for Bosnian, with a merry group of rayahs, belonging mostly to the Greek Church, ‘Serbs,’ as they proudly called themselves, who had come to take part in the fair and festa of their Roman Catholic rivals. Of a sudden our festivities were broken in upon by the sounds of a scuffle behind, accompanied by such shrieks as made me start up, and the firelight fell on a gendarme—the same, I think, who had interrupted the minstrelsy—who, with a stick or some kind of weapon, was beating an old Christian man as if he were a pig, and kicking the poor cringing wretch the while till he howled for mercy. I was stepping forward to interpose, but two Bosniacs clutched hold of me and held me back, whispering with more covered hatred than can be described, ‘’Tis only the Turks!’ The Zaptieh, however, not wishing to provoke Frankish intervention, desisted from his belabouring, and left his victim to limp away as best he might. The group of ‘Serbs’ had not shown any sign of attempting a rescue, but I saw more than one brow knit ominously for the moment. But the visible emotion was transient, and their faces relapsed into that impassive stolidity which is the normal expression of the Bosnian rayah.
It has been already observed that a Zaptieh had been told off with the express commission of observing our motions, and it was a continual annoyance to find a gendarme ever dogging at our heels. But it was obviously disagreeable to the Turks that I should be about at all; and as the night advanced our detective began to find the duties of espionage somewhat wearisome, and appears to have put our own Zaptieh, with whom I noticed him confabulating, up to bidding me retire to rest, as if he were rather commander than escort. This he did to my no small astonishment, while I was listening to one of the ballads, and was sent roundly about his business for his pains, to the unconcealed delight of the Christians, who from that moment dubbed us Consuls—a name given by the Bosniacs to any Europeans who are not subject to the caprices of Turkish gendarmes; for they argue that no one less than a foreign representative would dare to lift a finger against these creatures of their tyrants.
But at last, though the epic still rolled on—sometimes these rhapsodies continue with intervals for days at a time!—and though the interest of the audience flagged not, I thought it time to follow the example set hours before by L⸺, who was somewhat footsore, and to lie down beside our fire. And if anyone fancies that our mountain lair was altogether a bed of roses, he is mistaken, for the night was very cold, and we were always being partly scorched and partly frozen; and as the ground was anything but even, falling asleep was rather a doubtful advantage, since we were pretty sure to roll either into the embers on one side, or down the steep on the other; and if neither of these casualties befel us ’twas odds that we started up with a most corporeal and hoofy nightmare upon us, and discovered that one of the Arab horses, which encompassed us round about, had mistaken our blanket bags for fodder, and was proceeding to act upon that assumption.
But it begins to dawn, the vast camp is astir, a subtle aroma of coffee pervades our waking senses, and a new day breaks forth, wondrously fair to look upon, but to Bosnia pregnant with bloodshed and misery.
Yet there is no sign of trouble here. New arrivals are perpetually swelling the festal gathering and crowding round the shrine. It was a brilliant scene, which no words can convey; but the reader will permit me to introduce the characteristic group seated on yonder trunk.