SERVIA,
YOUNGEST MEMBER OF THE EUROPEAN FAMILY:
OR, A
RESIDENCE IN BELGRADE,
AND
TRAVELS IN THE HIGHLANDS AND WOODLANDS OF THE INTERIOR,
DURING THE YEARS 1843 AND 1844.
BY
ANDREW ARCHIBALD PATON, ESQ.
CHAPTER XXI.
A Battue missed.—Proceed to Alexinatz.—Foreign-Office Courier.—Bulgarian frontier.—Gipsey Suregee.—Tiupria.—New bridge and macadamized road.
The Natchalnik was the Nimrod of his district, and had made arrangements to treat me to a grand hunt of bears and boars on the Jastrabatz, with a couple of hundred peasants to beat the woods; but the rain poured, the wind blew, my sport was spoiled, and I missed glorious materials for a Snyders in print. Thankful was I, however, that the element had spared me during the journey in the hills, and that we were in snug quarters during the bad weather. A day later I should have been caught in the peasant’s chimneyless-hut at the foot of the Balkan, and then should have roughed it in earnest.
When the weather settled, I was again in motion, ascending that branch of the Morava which comes from Nissa. There was nothing to remark in this part of Servia, which proved to be the least interesting part of our route, being wanting as well in boldness of outline as in luxuriant vegetation.
On approaching a khan, at a short distance from Alexinatz, I perceived an individual whom I guessed to be the captain of the place, along with a Britannic-looking figure in a Polish frock. This was Captain W——, a queen’s messenger of the new school.
While we were drinking a cup of coffee, a Turkish Bin Bashi came upon his way to Belgrade from the army of Roumelia at Kalkendel; he told us that the Pasha of Nish had gone with all his force to Procupli to disarm the Arnaouts. I very naturally took out the map to learn where Procupli was; on which the Bin Bashi asked me if I was a military engineer! “That boy will be the death of me!”—so nobody but military engineers are permitted to look at maps.
For a month I had seen or heard nothing of Europe and Europeans except the doctor at Csatsak, and his sage maxims about Greek masses and Hungarian law-suits. I therefore made prize of the captain, who was an intelligent man, with an abundance of fresh political chit-chat, and odds and ends of scandal from Paddington to the Bank, and from Pall-mall to Parliament-street, brimful of extracts and essences of Athenæums, United-Services, and other hebdomadals. Formerly Foreign-Office messengers were the cast-off butlers and valets of secretaries of state. For some time back they have been taken from the half-pay list and the educated classes. One or two can boast of very fair literary attainments; and a man who once a year spends a few weeks in all the principal capitals of Europe, from Madrid to St. Petersburg and Constantinople, necessarily picks up a great knowledge of the world. The British messengers post out from London to Semlin, where they leave their carriages, ride across to Alexinatz on the Bulgarian frontier, whence the despatches are carried by a Tartar to Constantinople, viâ Philippopoli and Adrianople.
On arriving at Alexinatz, a good English dinner awaited us at the konak of the queen’s messenger. It seemed so odd, and yet was so very comfortable, to have roast beef, plum pudding, sherry, brown stout, Stilton cheese, and other insular groceries at the foot of the Balkan. There was, moreover, a small library, with which the temporary occupants of the konak killed the month’s interval between arrival and departure.
Next day I visited the quarantine buildings with the inspector; they are all new, and erected in the Austrian manner. The number of those who purge their quarantine is about fourteen thousand individuals per annum, being mostly Bulgarians who wander into Servia at harvest time, and place at the disposal of the haughty, warlike, and somewhat indolent Servians their more humble and laborious services. A village of three hundred houses, a church, and a national school, have sprung up within the last few years at this point. The imports from Roumelia and Bulgaria are mostly Cordovan leather; the exports, Austrian manufactures, which pass through Servia.
When the new macadamized road from Belgrade to this point is finished, there can be no doubt that the trade will increase. The possible effect of which is, that the British manufactures, which are sold at the fairs of Transbalkan Bulgaria, may be subject to greater competition. After spending a few days at Alexinatz, I started with post horses for Tiupria, as the horse I had ridden had been so severely galled, that I was obliged to send him to Belgrade.
Tiupria, being on the high road across Servia, has a large khan, at which I put up. I had observed armed guards at the entrance of the town, and felt at a loss to account for the cause. The rooms of the khan being uninhabitable, I sent Paul with my letter of introduction to the Natchalnik, and sat down in the khan kitchen, which was a parlour at the same time; an apartment, with a brick floor, one side of which was fitted up with a broad wooden bench (the bare boards being in every respect preferable in such cases to cushions, as one has a better chance of cleanliness).
The other side of the apartment was like a hedge alehouse in England, with a long table and moveable benches. Several Servians sat here drinking coffee and smoking; others drinking wine. The Cahwagi was standing with his apron on, at a little charcoal furnace, stirring his small coffee-pot until the cream came. I ordered some wine for myself, as well as the Suregee, but the latter said, “I do not drink wine.” I now looked him in the face, and saw that he was of a very dark complexion; for I had made the last stage after sunset, and had not remarked him.
Author. “Are you a Chingany (gipsy)?”
Gipsy. “Yes.”
Author. “Now I recollect most of the gipsies here are Moslems; how do you show your adherence to Islamism?”
Gipsy. “I go regularly to mosque, and say my prayers.”
Author. “What language do you speak?”
Gipsy. “In business Turkish or Servian; but with my family Chingany.”
I now asked the Cahwagi the cause of the guards being posted in the streets; and he told me of the attempt at Shabatz, by disguised hussars, in which the worthy collector met his death. Paul not returning, I felt impatient, and wondered what had become of him. At length he returned, and told me that he had been taken in the streets as a suspicious character, without a lantern, carried to the guard-house, and then to the house of the Natchalnik, to whom he presented the letter, and from whom he now returned, with a pandour, and a message to come immediately.
The Natchalnik met us half-way with the lanterns, and reproached me for not at once descending at his house. Being now fatigued, I soon went to bed in an apartment hung round with all sorts of arms. There were Albanian guns, Bosniac pistols, Vienna fowling-pieces, and all manner of Damascus and Khorassan blades.
Next morning, on awaking, I looked out at my window, and found myself in a species of kiosk, which hung over the Morava, now no longer a mountain stream, but a broad and almost navigable river. The lands on the opposite side were flat, but well cultivated, and two bridges, an old and a new one, spanned the river. Hence the name Tiupria, from the Turkish keupri (bridge,) for here the high road from Belgrade to Constantinople crosses the Morava.
The Natchalnik, a tall, muscular, broad-shouldered man, now entered, and, saluting me like an old friend, asked me how I slept.
Author. “I thank you, never better in my life. My yesterday’s ride gave me a sharp exercise, without excessive fatigue. I need not ask you how you are, for you are the picture of health and herculean strength.”
Natchalnik. “I was strong in my day, but now and then nature tells me that I am considerably on the wrong side of my climacteric.”
Author. “Pray tell me what is the reason of this accumulation of arms. I never slept with such ample means of defence within my reach,—quite an arsenal.”
Natchalnik. “You have no doubt heard of the attempt of the Obrenovitch faction at Shabatz. We are under no apprehension of their doing any thing here; for they have no partizans: but I am an old soldier, and deem it prudent to take precautions, even when appearances do not seem to demand them very imperiously. I wish the rascals would show face in this quarter, just to prevent our arms from getting rusty. Our greatest loss is that of Ninitch, the collector.”
Author. “Poor follow. I knew him as well as any man can know another in a few days. He made a most favourable impression on me: it seems as it were but yesternight that I toasted him in a bumper, and wished him long life, which, like many other wishes of mine, was not destined to be fulfilled. How little we think of the frail plank that separates us from the ocean of eternity!”
Natchalnik. “I was once, myself, very near the other world, having entered as a volunteer in the Russian army that crossed the Balkan. I burned a mosque in defiance of the orders of Marshal Diebitch; the consequence was that I was tried by a court-martial, and condemned to be shot: but on putting in a petition, and stating that I had done so through ignorance, and in accomplishment of a vow of vengeance, my father and brother having been killed by the Turks in the war of liberation, seven of our houses1 having been burned at the same time, Marshal Diebitch on reading the petition pardoned me.”
The doctor of the place now entered; a very little man with a pale complexion, and a black braided surtout. He informed me that he had been for many years a Surgeon in the Austrian navy. On my asking him how he liked that service, he answered, “Very well; for we rarely go out to the Mediterranean; our home-ports, Venice and Trieste, are agreeable, and our usual station in the Levant is Smyrna, which is equally pleasant. The Austrian vessels being generally frigates of moderate size, the officers live in a more friendly and comfortable way than if they were of heavier metal. But were I not a surgeon, I should prefer the wider sphere of distinction which colonial and trans-oceanic life and incident opens to the British naval officer; for I, myself, once made a voyage to the Brazils.”
We now went to see the handsome new bridge in course of construction over the Morava. The architect, a certain Baron Cordon, who had been bred a military engineer, happened to be there at the time, and obligingly explained the details. At every step I see the immense advantages which this country derives from its vicinity to Austria in a material point of view; and yet the Austrian and Servian governments seem perpetually involved in the most inexplicable squabbles. A gang of poor fellows who had been compromised in the unsuccessful attempts of last year by the Obrenovitch party, were working in chains, macadamizing the road.
- Houses or horses; my notes having been written with rapidity, the word is indistinct. ↩︎
