Thus Serajevo was the mouthpiece of the old Sclavonic national feeling of Bosnia, as it survived in a Mahometan guise—the acknowledged protectress of provincial interests against the hated Osmanlì. Bosnia had changed her creed, but she clung to her independence; and when, at the beginning of the present century, Sultan Mahmoud II. thought to stamp out provincial liberties in Bosnia as elsewhere, it was the Serai that took the lead in opposition. When the Janissaries were extinguished at Stamboul, their tall ovoid turbans, the gold and imperial green, still flaunted themselves unchallenged in the streets of Serajevo. The citadel on the height was their last refuge. It was, however, successfully stormed by the Vizier, and Serajevo was given over to the tender mercies of the Sultan’s officer. A terrible vengeance was wreaked, and more than a hundred of the leading citizens were proscribed and executed. The Vizier took up his residence triumphantly in the fortress, but the reign of the Osmanlì lasted only a few months. In July 1828 the citizens of Serajevo, aided by those of Visoko, rose desperately against the oppressor. A street fight followed, which lasted three days. The Vizier, who upheld his authority with a garrison near 2,000 strong, made an obstinate resistance, but the imperial troops were gradually beaten back from house to house, from mosque to mosque, till, fairly overmastered, the Sultan’s lieutenant was glad to escape with his life and the shattered remnant of his troops. A few years later Serajevo again fell into the hands of the destroyer of the Janissaries. But in the Bosnian rebellion of 1850 the citizens once more flew to arms. For a while they made themselves masters of the Vizier’s fortress on the height, but finally succumbed to Ali Pashà; and the municipal independence of Serajevo shared the ruin of feudalism throughout Bosnia. The true capital of Bosnia has since been the seat of the Turkish Governor of the Vilajet.
But though Serajevo herself has degenerated into the chef-lieu of a ‘circle’—though an alien bureaucracy has succeeded the patriarchal sway of her own landowners and merchants—though Giaour-Sultans and ‘New Turks’ from Stamboul—those muck-rakes of mendicant statecraft who filch their political tinsel from the gutters of the boulevards!—have replaced her native Agas and elders by an Osmanlì ‘Préfet,’ with the same apish levity with which these same gentry toss aside the jewelled amber of their forefathers for a Parisian cigarette!—nevertheless, despite of all these tinkering experiments in centralization of which they have been made the corpus vile, the citizens of this old stronghold of provincial liberties have only clung with warmer attachment to the ‘true green’ of Bosnian Toryism. Only what they can no longer practise in politics they parade in religion, and Serajevo remains more than ever the focus of the Mahometan fanaticism of Bosnia. This was the danger of the present moment, and gave but too valid grounds for the wide-spread apprehension among the Bosnian rayahs that the outbreak of the revolt might provoke the bigots of the capital to a general massacre of the Christian minority there; and that the Damascus of the North might, as she had already threatened a year or two ago on a less provocation, reproduce the bloody scenes which have made her Syrian namesake a word of terror to the Christians of Turkey.
This is what happened here only three years ago, as we heard the story from those who played a distinguished part in averting the impending catastrophe; nor can anything give a better idea of the dangerous spirit abroad among the Moslem population of Serajevo.
The new orthodox cathedral, which now forms the most prominent object in the city, was begun a few years ago by the Serb or Greek Church here, on a scale which seemed to make it a direct challenge to the Mahometan part of the population. The presence of the consular body in the town made it possible for the Christians to take advantage of the right of church-building accorded by Firmans of the Grand Signior, and accordingly the work proceeded without any interference. But the Christians were not content with the permission to build a church in the most conspicuous position in one of the main streets of the city, but must needs rear a pretentious pile which should throw into the shade the biggest of the two hundred and odd mosques with which Mahometan piety has adorned the Serai. No expense was spared, and the total outlay reached, so we were credibly informed, the (for this country) enormous sum of £13,000, exclusive of the costly icons and other church-furniture presented by the Emperor of Russia. A swaggering edifice—all of stone—built in the usual bastard Byzantine taste of the Fanariote hierarchy, and of which the worst that can be said is that it is worthy of its patrons—began to raise itself above the neighbouring house-tops, and at last contemptuously looked down on the dome of the Imperial Mosque itself—the Dzàmia of Sultan Mahommed! It was perhaps hardly to be expected that the ignorant Moslem fanatics should view with equanimity this last manifestation of Christian humility.
What, however, seems especially to have stuck in their throats, was the design of hanging bells in the cathedral tower. It is strange the animosity which such an apparently harmless sound as that of a church bell has always excited in the bosoms of those hostile to the Christian faith. Those of us who have Norse blood running in their veins may remember that their heathen ancestors showed just the same vehement repugnance to the tintinnabulation of too officious missionaries. Perhaps in a Mahometan country it may be feared by the faithful that the infidel clangour might drown the prayers of the muezzin on neighbouring minarets; perhaps the renegade population of Bosnia have inherited something of the prejudice that led their Bogomilian forefathers to regard Church bells as ‘Devil’s trumpets’! But this, at least, is certain, that in Bosnia there are few Christian churches where any other summons to the congregation is allowed than that of a wooden clapper; and that to hang bells in a centre of Moslem fanaticism like Serajevo was a deliberate and wanton provocation.
The plain English of the matter is that the Christians of Serajevo, relying on consular protection, saw in the erection of this new church a fine opportunity for wiping off the scores of ancient insults against the Mahometans. It was quite natural that they should do so. But it was also natural that the Moslems should refuse to pocket the insult. The ringleaders of fanaticism in the city took up the gauntlet thus thrown down, and some time before the day of the opening ceremony it oozed out that a Mahometan conspiracy was afoot by which short work would be made of the unbelievers and their conventicle together. The indefinite multiplication of evil passions caused by ecclesiastical wrong-headedness had brought matters to such a pass, that Easter Day—the date of the opening ceremony—might have proved a second St. Bartholomew’s for the Christian minority of Serajevo.
Happily, at this crisis, the consular body stepped in. Mr. Holmes, our representative—who took a prominent and worthy part in averting the bloodshed—and the other Consuls, informed the Pashà of the imminence of the danger, and unfolded to him the existence of a Mahometan conspiracy. The Pashà sent some of the ringleaders out of the country, made the leading Moslems responsible for the preservation of order, and finally persuaded the Christians to forego the bell-ringing. As it was, the opening ceremony took place under the protection of Turkish arms. The city was placed in a state of siege. For three days previously all the wine-shops in the town had been closed by order of the authorities. The troops were held in barracks under arms. At intervals along the streets trumpeters were stationed to give the earliest alarm; and, in fine, such precautions were taken as prevented any actual disturbance of the peace.
It was not without some vague misgivings that we now found ourselves entering the streets of this metropolis of fanaticism. But the sight which presently broke on us, on turning a corner into the main street, was such as might well convince us that the worst forebodings of the Bosnian Christians had come true. We had emerged on the scene of a great fire which had destroyed one entire side of the street, so that we were obliged to pick our way among black and smouldering débris, through which a party of Turks were engaged in clearing a path. They, however, seemed peaceable enough, and we were further relieved by seeing the cupola of the Serbian cathedral rising unscathed on the other side of the way.
We presently met a consular Cavass, who politely conducted us to the English Consulate, situate on the other side of the little river Miljaška, which we crossed by a stone bridge. Our Consul was away, having migrated to Mostar in order to be nearer the centre of the disturbances in the Herzegovina; but we were hospitably taken in by his amiable daughters, and Mr. Freeman, his chargé d’affaires; and found ourselves, after our long course of roughing, once more among the comforts of an English home, and surrounded by the quiet of an English garden. Here, in this rich soil, under this Eastern sky, we saw for the first time in Bosnia our familiar flowers—roses, verbenas, and petunias, and others equally delicious—scenting the air, and making us realise what a paradise this land might become in civilized hands. The fruit-trees—the stock of which Mr. Holmes, who has great horticultural taste, had imported from Malta—were weighed down with an exuberant crop of plums, peaches, greengages, and apples, each of which would have secured a prize at a show; and this though from the shallowness of the soil these trees only flourish for a time. Contrast with these the miserable plums, pears, and apples obtainable in the native markets of Serajevo! The Bosniacs show themselves absolutely incapable of pomiculture; they plant their fruit-trees almost as close together as cabbages, and expect them to thrive. Our Consul produced magnificent peaches by simply planting the miserable Bosnian substitute properly.