BY

REV. W. DENTON, M.A.

CHAPTER THE TENTH.

VISIT TO THE MONASTERIES OF MANASSIA AND RAVANITZA — MANASSIA —CHURCH — EARLY ENGLISH DETAILS — FRESCOES — HOSPITALITY OF MONKS —ROAD TO RAVANITZA — MONASTERY — CHURCH — RELICS OF FOUNDER — KJUPRIJA — PRISONS — SWILAINATZ— ROAD TO SEMANDRIA.

As we approached the monastery of Manassia, our road over the fields ran by the side of a small river, which, in the lower part of its course and before its junction with the Ressava, turns two or three mills in addition to the one belonging to the monks which we had just passed. Along its whole course this river also supplies abundance of fish for the tables of the cottagers. Suddenly the banks, which had been hitherto almost level with the little brawling stream, began to rise, and the scenery grew more stern and sterile as our way, after crossing a handsome and substantial bridge, wound between two precipitous walls of grey rock spotted over with lichens, but destitute of any other vegetation. By the side of one of these walls of rock ran the road to the monastery, too narrow to allow of vehicles passing each other, and overlooking the river some ten feet below, from which it was protected by a line of young oaks and beeches, garlanded with wild creepers. Through this screen we caught sight, from time to time, of the stream flowing below. At length the gorge widens, and the rocks are thrown back on either side. About twelve acres of meadow-land, round which the stream runs on three sides, clings on the other side to the wall of rocks, Here Stephen Lazar, at the end of the fourteenth century, founded a monastery, Built in troublous times, when the Turks were every day encroaching more and more on the bordering states, the founder girdled the monastery with square towers united by a curtain, resembling, on a small scale, the fortifications of Semandria. In front of this wall had run a ditch, now only to be traced at intervals; and outside this ditch is a low wall, with towers flanking and defending the great gateway. The inner line of walls and towers are quite perfect, and, though massive and admirably adapted for defence, are—as a Christian fortress, perhaps, should be—entirely without means of offence against any foe who might attack it. Neither loopholes, embrasures, battlements, nor anything by means of which a missile could be hurled at an enemy, is found in these walls. Their great height and solidity gave security, such as it was, to the monastic body; and the safety of any who might take shelter within the fortress would probably be sufficiently insured by the passive resistance offered by its walls, until succour could be obtained from Without.

In one corner of the meadow in which the monastery stands, overlooking the little brawling stream at a point where it suddenly sweeps away to the east, and opposite a tremendous piece of grey precipitous rock, softened down and overhung with alders and birch, stands the remains of a bath, of the same age as the monastic buildings. An examination of a small ruin like this, over which one can clamber at every point and look at in detail, will enable the traveller to satisfy himself of the influence which Roman architecture had, for a very long period, upon the countries which once formed part of that empire. The wide joints of mortar, hard as when first-laid, or rather far harder, and the thin bricks—almost tiles—interposed between the courses of stone, are so many traces of the masonry of the old masters of the Western world.

In the ruins of the fortress red brick has been occasionally introduced for the purpose of giving colour, and for the contrast which it makes with the dark grey of the stone in the rest of the building. The arch of a fireplace, which is seen in one of the towers, is a striking instance of the fine effect obtained in this simple way.

During the time that Servia was: governed by the Turks, the fortress was occupied by a Turkish garrison, and the church converted into a stable for their horses. It was, however, restored to its original use by Kara Alexander during his short rule. The fortress is about three hundred feet in diameter. On the south side stand the monastic buildings and domestic offices. The dining-room and kitchen occupy the ground-floor. Above is the usual loggia running along half the front, that, in place of a Norman capital, the pillars at Manassia are surmounted by a square classical abacus.

The nave is separated from the narthex by two pieces of solid wall running two-thirds across the building, pierced by a doorway in the north aisle.¹ In the narthex and porch the columns are octagonal; and the sanctuary has, in addition to a large central apse, two small ones, for the table of prothesis and the diaconicon.

In the porch will be found a fine piece of mosaic pavement, unfortunately mutilated, as might be expected in a church which has served for two or three centuries the purpose of a stable. Enough, however, still remains to show the pattern of the pavement, and to prove its rare beauty. It consists of a noble floriated cross of white marble, standing upon a ground of the common dark red marble of Servia. Here and there, in various parts of the floor of the building, other fragments of the old mosaic pavement are to be found; but this piece in the porch is the only large and what, notwithstanding the mutilations, may in one sense be called perfect piece in the whole church. But the glory of the church in earlier days must have consisted in the adornment of its walls. Three tiers of frescoes, filling every inch of walling, and finished at the time ‘when Italian painting was in its best days, still cover the interior of the church—mutilated, defaced, whitewashed over, and scraped off in parts, yet still lovely and glorious in their decay. Mingled with scenes from Old Testament history, or from our Blessed Lord’s life, from the legends of the saints, and from the national history of the country, are the figures of some of the early Servian kings. The effigies of the founder are still fresh, and his portrait full of character and animation. Lazar is represented crowned and clad in robes which are at once regal and sacerdotal. These frescoes, no doubt, owe their preservation, in a great measure, to the whitewash with which they have been covered, and which now has worn off, and given back to life the long-buried glories of the past. The Turks, however, after the first flush of conquest had passed by, have never been found systematic destroyers of the relics of antiquity. There is but one exception to this indifference. No head of our Blessed Lord is to be seen which is not utterly defaced by the marks of bullets, and the mosaic cross which remains in this church has no doubt owed its preservation to the convenience of the position which allowed of its being trampled under the feet of men and horses.

One conclusive proof of the common origin or identity of the civilization of Servia with that of London, Paris, and the rest of the Western world, may be seen in the scrawling and scribbling along the walls —records of the visit of Milan this and Stephen that, of Sophia from Jagodina, and Caterina or Margareta from Kjuprija. Unfortunately, like similar records in other places, these names of the Maesogoths oftentimes are remorselessly embroidered on a fresco over the hem of a beautiful garment, or across the nose of an interesting saint. The lay brother to whom I pointed out the desecration promised to guard these paintings, so far as he was able, from these ruthless engravers; so that visitors may possibly read in choice Servian, “Il est defendu de toucher,” or “Persons are requested not to write their names on these walls.”

The contrasts which are met with throughout this edifice between the Byzantine building and the Italian frescoes are very striking, but this is only one out of many instances of the. happy incongruity which reigns throughout the whole church. The polygonal apses of the prothesis and diaconicon are lighted by small Early English lancets, with trefoil headings. Two of the windows on the north side of the church are of pure Italian Gothic, with plate tracery, such as is so often seen in the Venetian provinces. The capitals of the pilasters, which form the arcading in the sanctuary and choir apses, as well as the small columns in the doorway of the choir, have what we should call pure Early English mouldings. The base moulding, running round the whole of the nave on the outside, is of the same character; and whilst the massive columns of the porch and narthex are octagonal, with Lombardic capitals, those which support the central lantern are round and Early English in character.

In this church is the only ancient synthronus which is to be found in Servia. It is a plain stone bench, perfectly level, ranged round the central apse of the sanctuary. The old iconostasis, which had been totally destroyed, has its place supplied by a mean framework of wood, some seven feet in height, covered with painted calico. On this has been hung several old paintings, the fragments, it may be, of the old iconostasis.

As in the other monastic church of Ravanitza, which bears a great resemblance to this of Manassia, a door leads through each of the transeptal apses into the choir from the outside. On the south side of the choir a raised stall is set apart for the hegumon. Seats for the bishop and prince are set against the two columns of the nave, looking eastward.

Of course, after nearly four centuries of havoe, it is not to be expected that any literary treasures will be found either in the church or monastery. There is not even an apology for a library. Beyond the books necessary for Divine service, which are kept in the diaconicon, and a few ordinary and elementary volumes in the apartment of the hegumon, the monks are dependent upon the Belgrade newspapers for information.

The monasteries, for the most part, throughout Servia are very poor. The restoration has been limited to the buildings, and has not extended to the recovery of the monastic property. There are consequently but few monks in any of them. The ancient monastery of Manassia has only a superior and two monks, with one lay brother. At Ravanitza it is much the same. At Racowitza I only found one brother besides the hegumon—one superior and one inferior. With one or two exceptions, such as the monastery of Studenitza, and another which is in course of restoration by the Bishop of Tchatchat at Ushitza, these are average specimens of Servian monasteries. Practically, the churches in these establishments are collegiate, with very few canons, and with ample cure of souls.

Having presented the letter of the Archbishop, which was read with all respect, but without which I am bound to confess my belief we should have been welcomed and hospitably received, and after the invariable tray of sweetmeats had been handed round to us, we were invited to join in the noon-tide meal, about to be placed on the table. The hegumon was absent at the diocesan or provincial synod, I forget which, then sitting at Belgrade. After washing our hands in one corner of the dining-room, which is situated in the basement story of the monastery, and is very barn-like in its absence of furniture, in its whitewashed walls, and raftered ceiling, I was asked to take the head of the table, and for the occasion to become the president of the monastic body. After grace the lay brother placed on the table the dishes in due succession. The cookery book in use in the monastic kitchen resembled that which served the same purpose at the country house of my friend Stojan Petrovich ; so that a description of my last night’s supper will serve for my dinner at noon to-day: sour soup, forced meat, roast mutton, cheese, onions, and the two raw eggs, washed down with excellent wine, which is the produce of the vineyards on the sides of the neighbouring hills, and for which, far and near, the monastery is somewhat famous. After dinner the lay brother and the other attendants sat down to their meal; and when this was finished the lay brother —a young lad of some sixteen or seventeen years of age—assisted me kindly in taking the admeasurements of the church, and then showed me the very few treasures of which the monks are now the guardians. The books in use at the altar, with their massive and beautifully-chased silver coverings set with precious stones, were the gift of the Dowager Empress of Russia, on the occasion of her visit some years since to this monastery. An exquisitely enamelled crucifix was presented by another member of the Russian royal family. Some book-markers, with a heading worked with seed-pearls, had, at the same time, been given by one of the ladies of the imperial suite. A few treasures of this kind, intrinsically very valuable, but possessing no historical importance, were all that we saw.

When our examination of the church was over, we adjourned to the sitting-room of the monastery, which opened into the loggia. The simple furniture of the apartment consisted of a divan running round two sides of the room, a plain oaken table, and a porcelain stove. The walls were ornamented with two or three engravings of ecclesiastical buildings, connected in one way or other with the history of the Servian Church; with portraits of patriots and notabilities of the War of Independence; and of members of the family of Kara Alexander, the refounder of the monastery. Here wine and sweetmeats were again served to us; and at three o’clock we took leave of the monks, regretting that the necessity of reaching Ravanitza before nightfall, where we were to sleep, prevented our being present at the evening service, which was an hour later. The lay brother accompanied us with a tray of wine to the gate of the monastery, and, taking one parting glass, with the expression of best wishes for the brethren, and kindly farewells on their part, we resumed our journey.

Whilst at the monastery, we were joined by a Government official, employed in purchasing horses for the public service. As we were to traverse the same road as far as Ravanitza, we set out together on our journey, though it was with some feeling of shame that we saw our dusty and dilapidated waggon, guiltless of paint, with traces of all kinds of materials tied and sewn together with twine, and laced and interlaced with thongs of every description of leather, drawn up side by side with the spick and span new and well-painted waggon of our fellow-traveller. Our beasts and harness were as great contrasts to those of the Government officer as were the respective waggons.
His was new and thoroughly good harness ; and his two spirited and thorough-bred horses, which on a decent road would have distanced all ordinary cattle, jogged on over the worse than corduroy road which we had to find or make for ourselves, side by side, or just ahead, of two as sorry-looking beasts as ever Knight-of-the-rueful-countenance was content with, or novelist could describe. As to our harness, it was pieced out with odd bits of leather, and botched at remote intervals with antique fragments of cord and ends of old canvas. We were heartily ashamed with the indifferent figure which we felt that we were making, when compared with the Government equipage. However, there were few spectators to make unfavourable comparisons ; and before our journey was over, we were rather disposed to be proud of our waggon than otherwise.

As the crow flies, the distance between one monastery and the other is about ten miles; but then we were unable to fly as the crow does. Our journey was necessarily much longer than a bird’s would have been. Our way lay across half a dozen hills, with corresponding valleys, over a tract of country through which neither Roman nor Servian had ever thought it necessary to make a path of any kind. At one time we drove over a piece of half grubbed-up forest, down the course which a torrent had conveniently made for us in the side of a hill, with here and there, at long intervals, something like a bridle path, or extemporised road, made by the ruts left, by country farm-waggons, but so overgrown with grass and weeds, that when found, it was hardly possible for us to be sure that it was meant for a road. Every five minutes we had to stop, and to shout at the top of our voices, if happily some wanderer or holiday-maker was in the fields who could direct us to our journey, and then generally, as the result of the information thus obtained, we were obliged to retrace our steps and to seek a road half a mile in another direction.

Having in this manner gone some seven or eight miles on our way, we at length found ourselves at the bottom of a lane too narrow to turn in, and before a swamp, with a road not discernible, but pointed out by the fact of a couple of planks laid across a small stream, which wound its sluggish way through the swamp. To cross the planks with our beasts was out of the question; the only way left was to dash boldly into the stream. Our fellow-traveller took the lead, and, in the middle of the water, broke the pole of his waggon in two. Here I thought was a warning what to expect with our fragile waggon. Undeterred, however, by the misfortune of our companions, our driver urged on our ponies, and soon we were not only in the midst, but safe across, on, comparatively speaking, firm ground, and were able to assist in the repair of the spruce Government equipage. It was clear now that, notwithstanding appearances, and in spite of the little value of our waggon, we had secured the most trustworthy vehicle of the two. After wandering about amongst young hazels and alders, over the stumps of pollarded ash-trees, and through innumerable rills of water, we reached the main road about seven o’clock, and, making our way through swarms of cattle which were being driven to their stalls for the night at the village of Segne, by half-past eight we arrived at the gates of Ravanitza.

The situation of this monastery differs but little from that of Manassia. A road, overhung on one side with limestone rocks, overhangs, in its turn, a little stream having its source in two singular springs which gush forth with considerable force a few hundred yards from the entry to the gorge in which the monastery of Ravanitza is situated. These springs are so close together, that, standing between them, I was able to take up a handful of water from each. Uniting their waters, they ran brawling along, and soon become a fair-sized stream, dashing its way over a very rocky bed, and flashing in the sun wherever a gap in the vegetation which overhangs its banks enables the traveller to catch sight of it. Taking its name from the monastery, or lending it -—at any rate, obtaining the name of the Ravanitza—it drains and fertilizes the valley for a considerable distance, and at length mingles its waters with the Morava near Kjuprija.

The monastery has been built at that point where the valley narrows into a very small gorge, overhung on both sides by lofty precipices, and still further contracted by the bed of the stream which flows through it. Like Manassia, it was built with a view to defence, and is still partially surrounded by the same kind of fortification which is met with in its sister monastery. Unlike, however, the sterile rocks which hem in the monastery of Manassia, the precipices of Ravanitza are fringed with shrubs; and the hill, which rises like a gigantic cone on the south side of the monastery, is covered with magnificent timber trees. A few yards from the east end of these fortifications, and on the other side of the small stream which flows under the walls, is a singular cavern, which is said to extend a considerable distance into the mountain. It offers, however, so convenient a retreat for cattle during the heat of the day, that the floor is knee-deep in mud and manure, the accumulation of many years; and I contented myself with scrambling over some stones, and advancing a few yards into the cave. A wall, now in ruin, had at some remote time been thrown across the entrance of this cavern, which has evidently been made use of for defence, so that it is likely that local report is true, and that it penetrates some distance into the mountain.

My first view of this monastery, its whitewashed church and cloisters, the ruins rising on three sides of it, and the mountain of forest trees which overhangs it, was by moonlight ; and it was a scene not soon to be forgotten. The light of the moon in these parts is so vivid, and the atmosphere so clear, that no inconvenience is found in reading the smallest print, or in making a sketch of a building on a clear night.

The monastery had been surrounded by the same kind of fortress as that at Manassia. The towers and the connecting walls are not, however, in so perfect a state as at the latter place. Indeed, on the south, they have almost entirely disappeared. In one of the towers on the north side are the remains of what appear to ‘have been a private chapel, and a small piece of wall-painting, thirty feet from the ground, is singularly fresh.

On our arrival at the gate of the monastery, we found that the archimandrite was absent at Belgrade, whither he had been summoned by the Archbishop, to answer sundry charges alleged against him of unfraternal behaviour to the two other monks who compose this establishment. Unfortunately, as we found afterwards, the vindictive superior had locked up every room which it was possible to fasten, and every portable article that could be stuffed into his own apartment. Added to the inconveniences which we suffered in consequence, it was matter of regret that we were deprived of the pleasure which we should otherwise have had in examining several relics of historical and ~ artistic value which are preserved in this monastery.

Having, however, presented the letter of the Archbishop to the sub-superior, he no sooner read of my being a priest of the Church of England, than he hastened to give me the salute due to a brother, kissing me on both my cheeks. Whilst supper and an apartment were being prepared for us, I sat in the open gallery or cloister, and admired the-calm beauty of the scene before me. It was well that there was so much to admire in the singular scene around me, for I waited long before the supper was ready. The embargo laid upon the great part of the monastic furniture must have made the presence of strangers at such a time most embarrassing. Nothing, however, disturbed the gravity or hindered the kindness of my hosts. An apartment was in due time prepared for me, furnished as well as the paucity of moveables at their disposal allowed, and by the time supper was ready, a bed was extemporized which no tired traveller would have despised,

Supper was a meagre copy and repetition of my noontide meal at Manassia. Indeed, in whatever other matters Servia may abound, the inventive faculty of its sons or daughters is very limited with reference to cookery. It was the old story, sour soup and forced meat, onions and raw eggs, and a repetition also, let it be owned, as regards wine. The good brethren insisted on my presiding at table. Over my head was the only decoration of the dining-hall, a picture of our Blessed Lord and the Virgin Mary. I was glad, however, to escape from the hospitalities of these friendly monks, and to be shown into my apartment.

Tired with my journey of the previous day, I slept soundly till awakened by a curious combination of noises. First, was the harsh cry of the peacock—a favourite bird, apparently, in the monasteries, as I found some in the three which I visited ; then came, loud and frequent, the rival cry of the cuckoo, and the noise of the semantron; and after that the ringing of the bells for morning service. Like the other monastic churches, the Church of the Ascension at Ravanitza is at once monastic and parochial, and has a charge extending over five or six adjacent villages. This duplex character of the church leads to the twofold manner of announcing the services. For the use of the monastery and to awaken its inmates, the semantron is used, and for the information of the villagers, the bells are sounded. The semantron is a thin flat piece of wood, which is held in one hand, and is struck by a hammer of iron, or sometimes of hard wood. The sound which is made by this means may be heard at some distance, but is not calculated to disturb the rest of any except those who are sleeping near. It was introduced into monasteries during the time that the use of bells was interdicted, and from regard to old custom has been retained since they have been permitted. The morning service was at five o’clock, but was attended by few except the brethren and servants residing in the monastery. The vesper service, like that at Manassia, is at four o’clock in the evening.

The monastery and church were founded about the year A.D. 1370, by the Knes Lazar, the father of Stephen Lazar, who built the monastery at Manassia. Knes, or Prince, Lazar was taken prisoner, and put to death by the Turks in 1389, after the battle of Kossova, so disastrous to Servia. The church of Ravanitza, probably from lying nearer to the frontier of Roumelia, and because it is more accessible, has suffered more than that at Manassia.

In its general outline the church of Ravanitza is very similar to that of the sister monastery. Its dimensions, however, are smaller, being only eighty-eight feet long by twenty-six feet in width. The original appearance of the building was that of a church, containing sanctuary, choir, and nave, the rest of the building consisting of a double narthex and two porches, having a much lower roof than the rest of the church, and being, moreover, shut off from it by wooden doors, which remain between the nave and narthex. The western portion of the church must originally have been covered with a low, and probably flat roof, as the present gabled roof of the narthex cuts asunder the beautiful three-light window in the western wall of the nave. It may be noted, that whilst the old church of St. Mary at Semandria was apparently built without a narthex, the church of Ravanitza has an exterior one, from which the rest of the building was shut off by means of doors. In the course of alteration, the original low pyramidal capping of the central lantern, and of the four side turrets, has been replaced by domes with a double ogee covering of metal, and the western adjunct of the church has been covered with a triangular roof, having a square bell-turret over the western door.

The interior of the church is vaulted in stone, with the ordinary quadripartal vaulting. The frescoes are of an earlier age than those of Manassia, and neither originally possessed equal beauty, nor are they at present in such good preservation. The figures and portraits, however, of the founder, his princess, and their children, are very perfect and pleasing. It is much to be desired that the Servian Government would take steps for the preservation of the figures which are on the walls of the monastic churches of Manassia and of Ravanitza. These paintings are interesting, not only in an archeological, but also in an historical point of view, since in these frescoes we have preserved to us the features of the national hero, the Knes Lazar, as well as those of his son Stephen.

In the church at Ravanitza the figures of the saints have been more carefully destroyed than in that of Manassia, both by scraping the walls and by* whitewashing them over. The last element of mischief has also been so frequently applied, both in the inside and outside of the building, that it is barely possible to make out the carvings, or even the mouldings, of the columns and windows, and much of the original beauty of the architecture will be therefore lost, until the age of unwhitewashing arrives.

Amongst the treasures preserved in the church, in addition to those of which the monastery is the guardian, and which are kept in the apartment of the archimandrite, are fragments of the silk shirt of Knes Lazar the founder, a cross, and various small trinkets which are said to have belonged to him ; together with these is preserved an early and authenticated copy of the charter of endowment, and an original deed of Peter the Great of Russia, conferring certain privileges upon the monastery.

The monastic buildings are very simple: on the south side are the apartments of the servants, the kitchen, ~ and other domestic offices of the monastery; these consist of a basement story, surmounted by small sleeping rooms, opening into a loggia, or open gallery, running along the whole front; this part of the monastery is built in the prevailing style of the country. On the north side are the apartments of the archimandrite and the two monks, who-make up the whole monastic body; this part is built after a German, or at any rate, a more Western model than the rest of the buildings. It consists of a dining room, which considering the smallness of the number of the inmates, is of a large size, also sleeping rooms for the monks, and an open gallery or cloister. The south side was built by Milosh Obrenovich, by whom the restoration of the monastery was commenced ; the buildings on the north side are the work of Kara Alexander, by whom the restoration begun by his predecessor was completed.

After an early breakfast, we started on our return to Swilainatz, by way of Kjuprija, just as the little children were reluctantly toiling to school. After passing the gorge in which the monastery is situated, the rest of our journey was made over a fair road. At the entrance of the rocky pass leading to Ravanitza, and on the bounds of the monastic property, are some fish-stews, kept for the supply of the monastic table. At this early hour the fields were alive with groups of labourers ploughing or tending cattle. In one field we found the sheep-boy literally

“sub tegmine fagi,”

playing on the classical tibia to his cattle, standing round him and gravely listening to his music. In another field we saw a herd of cows collected and driven forward to the drone of the no less classical bagpipe (utriculus) by a Wallachian cowherd, whose bagpipe and love for this kind of music had descended to him as an ancestral inheritance—almost the only thing except his unmistakeably Roman countenance, which he inherits from his fathers, the old masters of the world.

From Kjuprija southward, as far as the frontiers of Turkey, the country is mostly open, diversified occasionally with detached mountains and broken and hilly ground, but with nothing which would be available as a line of defence between this town and the frontier. This has made Kjuprija a place of some importance from the time that the Romans occupied Moesia down to the late War of Independence. This importance was due to its situation on the Morava at the point where navigation commences, or rather where it might’ and ought to commence; for at present there are no signs of boats on the Morava from its source to its mouth, except ferry-boats—half-rafts, half-barges—in two or three places.

To the north of this town the more intricate and defensible part of the country commences; and, in order to command this river, and to seal the passes of the mountains, the Romans constructed a fortress of considerable strength close to this place. These fortifications remained of sufficient strength to be formidable during the War of Independence at the commencement of the present century, and were occupied in great force by the Turks, who made it the base of their operations against the patriot armies. This led to its total destruction by Kara George; and at present not a stone can be found to mark the site of the old Roman fortress. The mound which stood in the centre of the camp is all that remains, except here and there the traces of the line of rampart, and the ditch by which the fortifications were surrounded.

At this place are the remains of two bridges, neither of which have been completed. A little above the town the river, in making a bend westward, forms a small island in the centre of its channel, and the Turks during their occupation took advantage of this to commence a bridge. This is inconveniently placed with reference to the traffic of the town, and. would never have been commenced at this spot but for the fact of the existence of the islet in the middle of the river. Higher up, and in the middle of the town, the late Prince Kara Alexander began a bridge, and completed handsome approaches to it on the town side. The piles, however, which had been driven into the river during the summer, having been carried away by the swelling of the stream and the masses of ice which were brought down in the winter, a stop was put to these works, and the piles remain now with the debris accumulated round them, to the serious injury of the town and to the hindrance of all navigation. At present the attention of the Servian Government is directed to the removal of these obstacles, and also to the clearing away of similar accumulations in other parts of the course of the river, with a view to the improvement of this great highway to the interior of Servia. Since my return to England I have learnt that an arrangement has actually been made with an English company for the navigation of this river.

In this place I visited one of the few prisons which are to be found in Servia. I am not sure that there are more than two in all the country. The prison was an ordinary kind of dwelling-house, with half a dozen rooms allotted to the prisoners, and two or three more to the keeper and his family. We went through the private apartments of the jailor, in order to reach the prison. In doing so we interrupted two little girls, who were employed with their tutor—it was not, as with us, a governess—upon Servian grammar and a kind of vernacular Mangnall’s Questions. The elementary school books seem to resemble those in ordinary use in our own country. After hearty hand-shaking on the part of the father, and hand-kissing on the part of the children, and the invariable tray of sweetmeats, we walked into the prison.

There are few crimes of great atrocity to darken the Servian calendar of justice. Petty thefts, or cases of assault, are those usually heard of in the police courts ; and for these, the punishment is imprisonment, but the severity of confinement seems strangely mitigated. A dozen men without irons, making a very companionable number, were shut up in one of the rooms. In another apartment the same number of women, who were allowed to have their younger children with them to share their imprisonment, and to diminish the ennui of confinement. There may be little crime in Servia, but if so, it is clearly not owing to the terror of either the silent or the solitary system. One custom of the criminal courts may be mentioned for its singularity. When a prisoner has been tried, if found guilty and sentenced to confinement, the practice is to allow him to return unguarded to his family to take leave of them before undergoing the punishment to which he has been sentenced. What would be thought by a prisoner in the Old Bailey who, when found guilty, should hear from the judge such a sentence as is given by a Servian prefect ?— “Nicholas Stojanovich, you have been found guilty of stealing goods to the value of twenty piastres. My sentence is, that you be imprisoned in the common gaol at Kjuprija for six weeks. You will therefore go home to your wife and children for a fortnight, and forthwith after that time come and surrender yourself at the prison.” What security or bail is taken that he will again render himself to justice, I could not learn, and presume that the favour of visiting his home before undergoing the allotted punishment would only be permitted to a prisoner convicted of a light offence ; it is an instance, however, though a singular one, of the scrupulous regard and deference which the Sclavonic nations pay to the family tie.

Reasoning from what we know of human nature, as well as from the experience of other prisons, I should imagine that the effect of keeping prisoners in idleness and without restraint, and in the company of other criminals, must necessarily be bad. At Topschidere, indeed, the convicts are employed in road-making ; and if this were done at Kjuprija, the country would be rendered more accessible and travelling increased. The comfort of travellers, also, would be enhanced ; and the industry of the convicts might be made advantageous to themselves, and their labours would not be wholly unremunerative to the Government.

At Kjuprija are also the stud-stables and riding-school for the use of the cavalry of the Servian army a miniature brigade numbering two hundred horsemen. The stables for the horses are well ventilated, dry, and clean. Each horse has a separate stall, divided from the rest by a low partition, allowing the animal to see and hold friendly intercourse with his neighbour. It is evidently remembered that horses, like men, are gregarious, and that they pine without society. The floor of these stalls consists of good oak planking raised above the level of the ground, so.as to insure the horse standing dry, and the whole of the stable is kept well swept. Indeed, the care shown in this and in other large stables—such, for instance, as those for the service of the post at Saraortza—showed that the temper and value of the horse are well understood in this country.

In returning to Swilainatz from Kjuprija, our way led us at first along the banks of the river, and then through a half-cleared forest, till we fell in with the same road at Medvedje by which we had travelled the day before to Manassia. On our way we passed the hegumon of Ravanitza, returning in the light-covered cart belonging to the monastery, from the Synod at Belgrade. At dusk we reached our hospitable quarters in the house of Stojan Petrovich, and I again occupied the bedroom in which I had slept two nights before. Next morning, after a cup of café au lait at rising and an abundant breakfast two hours afterwards, we started in our waggon for Semandria. Hearty was the parting with my host, and warm his invitation to return to Servia for another holiday, and make his house the centre of operations upon the surrounding country. I trust that I may be allowed to accept the invitation of my hospitable friend, and that I may again grasp the hand of the Servian farmer, Stojan Petrovich.

1. I am not sure whether this is so in the corresponding aisle on the south. ↩︎