CHAPTER VI.
THE PANIC IN SERAJEVO.
Outbreak of the Insurrection in Bosnia—Roadside Precautions against Brigands—Panorama of Serajevsko Polje—Roman Bas-Relief of Cupid—Roman Remains in Bosnia—Banja and Balnea—‘The Damascus of the North’: first Sight of Serajevo—Her History and Municipal Government—Fall of the Janissaries—Dangerous Spirit of the Mahometan Population of Serajevo—Outbreak of Moslem Fanaticism here on building of the new Serbian Cathedral—We enter the City through smouldering Ruins—Hospitable Reception at English Consulate—Great Fire in Serajevo—Consternation of the Pashà—Panic among the Christians—Missionaries of Culture: two English Ladies—Causes of the Insurrection in Bosnia: the Tax-farmers: Rayahs tortured by Turks—‘Smoking’—The Outbreak in Lower Bosnia—Paralysis of the Government, and Mahometan Counter-Revolution—Conjuration of Leading Fanatics in the Great Mosque—We are accused before the Pashà by forty Turks—Consular Protection—The Fanariote Metropolitan and Bishops of Bosnia—Their boundless Rapacity, and Oppression of the Rayah—A Bosnian Bath—Mosques and Cloth-hall of Serajevo—Types of the Population—Spanish Jews, and Pravoslave Merchants—Bosnian Ideas of Beauty!—Opposition of Christians to Culture—Extraordinary Proceedings of the Board of Health—The Zaptiehs—Continuance of the Panic—Portentous Atmospheric Phenomenon—The Beginning of the End.
While we were engaged in quaffing the sparkling draughts of nature under the kiosque, up came a young Hungarian, and asked us whether we had heard the news. On our confessing ignorance, he informed us that a revolution had broken out in Bosnia—or rather several dozens of them; that a rising of rayahs had taken place near Banjaluka, and along the Save; and that this had been followed by a counter-rising in the Mahometan towns and villages—and that especially the district about Dervent, through which we had passed, was plunged in civil war. Vague rumours of other outbreaks at Tašlidzje, Priepolje, and near Novipazar, had just come in; and, from the localities of the risings, both in north and south, this much was certain, that if the insurgents were successful, the only highways connecting Bosnia with the rest of Turkey and the Save provinces of Austria were cut off; while, from the sudden departure of the Pashà of Bosnia for the Herzegovina, it seemed not unlikely that communication with Dalmatia was equally threatened. But for details we had to wait till we reached the capital, though we found the Hungarian’s account trustworthy so far as it went.
Aug. 21.—From the same informant I learnt that in a copse near here were some monuments, locally known as the ‘Roman Stones,’ to the investigation of which I devoted the morning grey before we started for Serajevo. The stones proved to be of the same character as those already described at Podove—of the usual tea-caddy shape—uninscribed, and even more devoid of ornament than those we had seen before. There were several of them scattered among the brushwood on a slight rise of the ground.
In the first part of our journey to Serajevo there was little remarkable. As we ascended the pass between the Kobilaglava and Bulalovic ranges, we noticed the forest cut away for a hundred yards or so on either side of the high road; this was done for the safety of travellers, these mountains having formerly been a nest of robbers. The same precaution used to be taken in England in the good old days. In the Statute of Winchester, Edward I. devotes a whole clause to enjoining the ‘abatement’ of the cover by the side of the highways: ‘It is commanded that highways leading from one market town to another shall be enlarged wheresoever bushes, woods, or dykes be, so that there be neither dyke, tree, nor bush whereby a man may lurk to do hurt, within two hundred foot of the one side, and two hundred foot of the other side of the way; so that this statute shall not extend unto oaks nor unto great trees, so that it shall be clear underneath. And if by default of the lord that will not abate the dykes, underwood, or bushes, any robberies be done therein, the lord shall be answerable for the felony; and if murder be done, the lord shall make a fine at the king’s pleasure.’[231] The traveller in Bosnia is still in the Middle Ages!
Having gained the summit of the mountain saddle, we began to descend towards the Serajevsko Polje—the Plain of Serajevo—a level expanse shut in on every side by mountains, and looking like the former bed of a large lake. The Alpine amphitheatre was exquisite. One peak, loftier than the rest, had been girdled by a silvery sea of mist, above which loomed its limestone upper nakedness, draped in a Coan veil of aërial azure—the island of a mirage, or one of those barren-beautiful Scoglie that start ever and anon from the slumbering bosom of the Adriatic! The heat was suffocating, and a sultry haze seemed to flood the whole surface of the plain and lower mountain-flanks, volatilizing every object in an atmosphere half dusty, half lurid; and, with the faint, languid tints of the surrounding heights, recalling to memory pictures of Eastern scenery—but nothing within our own experience.
Bas-relief of Cupid.
Near the spot where this fine panorama first opened out we came to a small roadside Han, called Blazui, where we obtained welcome refreshments in the shape of coffee and boiled eggs; a little bread we had luckily brought with us. While waiting for these delicacies, we passed our time in closely examining some old stone blocks which formed the basement of the wooden buildings about, in hopes of finding perchance a Roman inscription or some other relic of antiquity. Our desires were presently gratified almost beyond expectation by the discovery of a Roman monument walled into an old stone cistern, which acted as sub-structure for a hen-roost. It was a bas-relief of Cupid, standing, apparently, on a foliated capital, cross-legged, and leaning on a torch, which he is thus extinguishing. It has suffered, as can be seen in the rough sketch opposite, from the iconoclasm of ages, Christian and Mahometan; yet a tutored eye could still trace the elegant outlines. A severe critic might condemn the art; but, though falling short of Hellenic purity, it was such as these benighted midlands of Illyria have not seen the like of since the days when this was sculptured. But the delicacy of the conception allows us to overlook the execution. The monument is sepulchral, of a kind not uncommon among the Romans, but chiefly raised to the memory of those who passed away in the youth and vigour of their days.[232] The thoughts are turned from the unknown and the ghastly to the memory of the beautiful and the known. Vixit—he has lived. The torch of festal trippings has become the staff for his repose: the light of love is put out: the great darkness is upon him: nox est perpetua una dormienda. It may foreshadow annihilation, but, at least, it calls up no bony phantoms of corruption. This mutilated, one-winged genius is indeed the emanation of ages of refinement, set forth by the most exquisite symbolism of ancient art. Here, truly, amidst dull and barbarous lands, was roadside refection, spiritually, not less refreshing than were the fragrant cups of mocha to those parched by a well-nigh Arabian sun!