THE Balkan countries—Servia, Bulgaria, Roumania, Bosnia, and Herzegovina—are generally considered the political centre from which will spread, sooner or later, the conflagration of a gigantic war, which will eventually place Russia in possession of Constantinople and European Turkey. Some of these Balkan countries are nominally independent, others are still under the suzerainty of the Sultan, who holds on to them with the energy of despair. He watches every change in the political situation with the carefulness of a physician who knows that his patient is doomed, but who hopes that he may for a while prolong his life. The half Oriental, half European character of the populations of these Balkan states, their unquenchable thirst for national independence, their defiance and hatred of their oppressors, their contempt for the impotent Turkish administration, and their hope of improving their condition by some political change,—are singularly favorable to insurrections and revolutions. Russia is nursing this revolutionary spirit with great skill and prudence, trusting to the proper moment for harvesting the fruit of the seed which she has been sowing for upwards of a century. Ever since the days of Catherine the Second Russia has stood, so to speak, like a sentinel on the lookout for the favorable moment to pounce down on Turkey, to plant the White Eagle on the peaks of Macedonia and Roumelia, and to take possession of the Dardanelles as a Russian ship-canal between the Black Sea and the Mediterranean. Every commotion and revolution in any of the Balkan states helps her in her far-seeing ambition, especially now since France will stand by her as an ally. It is in this sense and for this reason that the terrible tragedy which occurred at Belgrade, Servia, on the eleventh of June, 1903, may claim a place in this gallery of historical assassinations. From it sooner or later events of the first magnitude may develop, and while at present comparative quiet has been restored at the Servian capital, the change of dynasty may lead to the most serious international complications.
The reign of Alexander the First of Servia was ushered into existence by means of a coup d’état at midnight on the sixth of March, 1889; it terminated after midnight on the eleventh day of June, 1903, by assassination.
The manner in which King Milan forfeited his throne, and again the manner in which King Alexander lost both his throne and his life, as well as the many tragedies and comedies which occurred in the royal family of Servia between these two events,—all these details seem to be rather detached chapters of a highly sensational novel than the sober and truthful records of recent history.
At the age of twenty-one, on the seventeenth of October, 1875, King Milan of Servia married Princess Natalia Keschko, the daughter of a colonel in the Russian army; Natalia’s mother, however, was the daughter of a Roumanian prince. Natalia was seventeen years old at the time, and of marvellous beauty. She was one of the most admirable beauties of the Russian capital, and King Milan, who fell desperately in love with her at first sight, found but little encouragement from her, in spite of his exalted rank, because the young lady herself was in love with a Russian officer and was loved in return. But Colonel Keschko, who was ambitious and prized very highly the honor of a family alliance with a reigning King, by his paternal veto put an end to his daughter’s sentimental love-affair and compelled her to accept King Milan’s hand.
It is but just to say that Princess Natalia proved herself in every respect worthy of the honor conferred upon her. As Queen of Servia she was not only the most beautiful woman of the kingdom, but she was a model wife, and opened her heart and mind to all the patriotic aspirations of the Servian people. When shortly afterwards a war broke out between Servia and Turkey, she personally appealed to the Czar for assistance, went to the hospitals to nurse the wounded, cared for the widows and orphans, and became not only a popular favorite, but deservedly won the esteem of the Servian nation.
It was a day of public rejoicing, when on August 14, 1876, she bore the King a son, who was named Alexander after his godfather, Alexander the Second of Russia. Another son, born two years later, died a few days after his birth. Soon after the birth of his son Alexander, King Milan commenced neglecting his wife and bestowed his favor on other women of the court. The Queen felt the King’s neglect very keenly, and became often an indignant witness to his liaisons, which he did not think it worth while to conceal from her. The anger and contempt she felt for the indelicate voluptuary gave her strength to overcome the love which had gradually grown up in her heart for the father of her son, and to this son she transferred all the tenderness her heart was capable of. The Servian people soon saw and learned what was going on at court, and while they condemned and despised the King, they praised and idolized the Queen.
Under such lamentable conditions young Alexander grew up to adolescence. He was greatly attached to his mother, and applied to her as his adviser and friend in all questions, while he could hardly conceal his profound aversion for his father. The King noticed this growing hostility in his son and heir, and blamed the Queen for having incited it. He saw in it a deep-laid plot on her part to secure a controlling position which would enable her, at any given opportunity, to place her son on the throne and to assume the reins of government under his name. The breach thus created between the father and the mother, and every day widened by the excesses and orgies of the King, reached its climax when the question arose who should be appointed instructors to prepare the prince for his future duties as the head of the Servian nation. Milan wanted Austrian instructors for his son, because he had been leaning on Austrian influence; the Queen, in sympathy with the national demands as well as prompted by her own impulses, insisted on Russian preceptors, to initiate him into the maze of European politics and to open his mind to the aspirations of Servian genius. It is said that one day when the discussion had grown very warm between husband and wife, and when he accused the Queen of purposely estranging his son’s heart from him, she reproached him with the indignities he had heaped upon her, with his many acts of infidelity, and with his low and vulgar excesses, which, she said, imperilled the dynasty. The King was dumfounded by this torrent of invectives, which he could neither stop nor contradict, but which left in his heart a wound which his pride would not permit to heal up. It seems certain that from that day his resolution was taken to obtain a divorce from his wife for a double purpose: first, that he might not be hindered by her from following his low inclinations; second, that he might withdraw his son from the Queen’s influence and surround him with his own creatures. The question was, how could he obtain this divorce from a wife whose conduct was exemplary, and who was almost worshipped by the whole people for her private and public virtues? It was clear to him that to succeed in his design he had to ruin her character, and on this conviction he built a plot of diabolical malice. Under a plausible pretext he arranged a private meeting in the Queen’s apartments between her and the Metropolitan of Servia. This bishop was known to have an almost worshipful admiration for the Queen; upon him, therefore, it was supposed, the suspicion of illicit relations with her could be fastened easily. No sooner had the Metropolitan entered the Queen’s apartments than the King, accompanied by some of his intimates, appeared on the scene and “surprised the guilty couple.” The plot failed miserably; the King’s hand appeared too visibly in the arrangement and execution to leave any doubt in the public mind as to the Queen’s innocence. His evident intention to brand an innocent and much wronged wife as an adulteress lowered Milan even more in the estimation of the people, and they commenced talking openly of the necessity for his abdication.
The Queen thereafter refused to live with the King, and this refusal gave him the desired pretext to obtain a divorce. They separated in 1888. Alexander was then twelve years old. The Queen went to Wiesbaden, and took her boy with her; but on the application of King Milan to the German authorities, the boy was taken away from her and sent to Belgrade. The King’s scandalous conduct had now exhausted the patience of the Servian people. They insisted on his dethronement, either by voluntary abdication or by forced removal. A delegation of notables placed before him the alternative of either abdicating in favor of his son, or of sharing the fate of his uncle, Michael Obrenovitch, who just twenty years before was assassinated in a park near Belgrade. Milan did not hesitate long. He declared his willingness to abdicate, but he demanded two million dollars as the price of this abdication, and the Servian people, only too glad to get rid of him at any price, paid the sum demanded.
On the sixth of March, 1889, Alexander, who was then thirteen years old, ascended the throne of Servia. A regency of three prominent men—General Bolimarcovitch, M. Ristitch, and General Protitch—was appointed to conduct the public affairs of the kingdom. Everything promised a prosperous reign. There was absolute order and tranquillity in the country; the people seemed to be satisfied. The Queen returned to Servia, and the government designated one of the royal palaces of Belgrade for her residence. She was then at the height of her popularity, and the young King shared in that popularity because it was generally supposed that he had great respect and love for his mother.
These happy and peaceful conditions, however, soon underwent a change. Ex-King Milan, who could not forget the days of luxury he had enjoyed at Belgrade, was busy stirring up intrigues and conspiracies which might lead to his restoration; and on the other hand, Queen Natalia, to counteract his manœuvres, built up a party of her own, and took an active interest in politics. This became embarrassing to the government, since it continued to inflame the minds of the people. Through these conflicting parties the country was actually brought to the verge of civil war, which very likely would have broken out had not the government taken energetic measures to put a stop to the strife. The regents first applied to Milan, and bought him off. They restored to him the property which had been confiscated when he went into exile, and paid him one million dollars besides. Milan on his part solemnly promised never to set foot on Servian soil again, and even renounced his right of citizenship. The contract between the ex-King and the council of regency was made on April 14, 1891. Thereupon the regents addressed a request to the Queen, asking her, in the interest of peace and order, to leave the country. She refused to comply with the request, and a week afterwards an attempt was made to remove her by force. She was arrested in her palace, and rapidly driven in a coach to the quay, where a steamer was waiting to convey her across the frontier. But a number of young students delivered her from the hands of the officers who had charge of her person, conducted her back in triumph to her palace, and constituted themselves her guard of honor. Quite a bloody conflict occurred between the students and the police, in the course of which a number of persons were killed, and many more wounded. However, a second attempt made by the police authorities a day or two later was more successful. She was conveyed by railroad to Hungary. The young King showed that he was a true Obrenovitch by the fact that he never interfered or even uttered a kind word in behalf of his mother. He showed the same ingratitude to the three regents in 1893 when he dismissed them unceremoniously like body-servants for whom he had no further use. The first coup d’état which Alexander made occurred on April 14, 1893. It would seem that the radicals had in some way secured an influence over his mind, for it was to their advantage that the coup d’état principally turned out. But Alexander showed considerable self-assurance on that occasion.
On the evening of the day mentioned Alexander had invited the three regents and the members of the cabinet to take supper with him. Altogether eight persons sat down at the supper-table. The very best of humor prevailed among the guests. After the third course had been served the King rose from his seat, and addressed his guests as follows:
“Gentlemen, for the last four years you have exercised royal authority in my name, and I sincerely thank you for what you have done. I feel now, however, that I am able to exercise that power myself, and will do so from this moment. I therefore request you to hand me your resignations forthwith.”
Mr. Ristitch was the first to recover his presence of mind. He told the King that it would be impossible to comply with his request, because by doing so they would violate the constitution. The King thereupon left the table without saying another word; but soon afterwards an officer appeared renewing the King’s demand for the resignation of the members of the Council of Regency and of the Cabinet.
During that very night the young King, who was then only seventeen years old, went to the different barracks and armories where the troops were under arms, proclaimed his accession to the throne, received the enthusiastic homage of the regiments, and returned to the palace. The coup d’état was a complete success. Alexander the First was King, not only in name, but also in fact. He dismissed the old cabinet, and appointed a new one, composed exclusively of moderate radicals.
A few years afterwards Alexander visited the different courts of Europe, in the hope, it was commonly reported at the time, of finding a young princess willing to accept his hand; but in this hope he was either disappointed, or the report of his intentions was unfounded. At all events he returned to Belgrade without a bride. It was soon after this that the eyes of the young King were for the first time directed toward the woman whose striking beauty and sensual charms inflamed him with a passion to which he blindly yielded. He elevated her to the throne, and for this act he paid the penalty with his life. For it is absolutely certain that the King’s marriage with Draga Maschin, and his blind subordination to her domineering spirit in private and public affairs, had much more to do with his tragic downfall than all his political mistakes.
Draga Lunyewitza, better known as Draga Maschin, was the widow of a Servian nobleman who had occupied a prominent position at the court of King Milan. Even more prominent than her husband had been Madame Draga, not only on account of her beauty, which was of a pronounced sensual type, but also on account of her brilliant conversational powers. Her most conspicuous feature was her wonderful eyes, large, lustrous, and beaming with an intensity of feeling and intelligence so penetrating that it was said that no man whose conquest she had resolved upon would be able to resist them if properly brought under their influence. That Madame Draga Maschin’s eyes had often proved victorious was well known from the long list of her favored lovers,—a list which included statesmen, high military officers, bankers, and noblemen, and lastly, King Milan himself. In the eyes of the people of Belgrade Madame Draga Maschin was not only a coquette, but a courtesan. By means of her brilliant mental powers, her wit, her interesting conversation, her suavity of manners, and her diplomatic skill, she still maintained her position in society, although shunned by the most exclusive circles.
It was principally on account of those brilliant qualities of mind, and on account of Madame Draga’s intimate acquaintance with a number of the leading politicians at Belgrade that the ex-Queen made her one of her attendants in her exile.
It was in this capacity that King Alexander met Madame Draga Maschin at Biarritz in the Pyrenees,
where his mother spent the summer of 1900. The experienced coquette tried the power of her eyes on the young man, who had inherited the sensual temperament of his father. Alexander was by no means a novice in love-affairs, but he had never come in contact with so consummate a mistress of the arts of seduction as Draga Maschin. When he left Biarritz he was passionately in love with her, and those who had observed her game predicted that something serious would come of it. His mother was either too deeply engaged in politics to pay much attention to the flirtation, or she secretly favored it in the hope of securing a new and reliable ally.
Some time afterwards Draga Maschin returned to Belgrade, and the game of love-making was immediately renewed. Their intimacy became a matter of public notoriety. It also reached the ears of ex-King Milan, who was overjoyed at hearing it; he hoped that his former “good friend” Draga would use her influence for his benefit. But Draga Maschin worked neither for the Queen, nor for the King; she worked for herself only, and very successfully too.
Almost maddened by passion the King one day called a cabinet meeting and informed his ministers that he had made up his mind to make Draga Maschin his wife, and that a proclamation to that effect would appear in the official newspaper of the kingdom. The members of the cabinet were struck with amazement, and implored him to desist from his project, which they said would be fatal to the Obrenovitch dynasty. They employed every argument they could think of to change the King’s resolution; but in vain. With his usual stubbornness, he declared: “I am the King, and can wed whomsoever I please.” As a last protest they all tendered their resignations. The King coolly accepted them, and the royal proclamation was published.
When on a July morning of 1900 the people of Belgrade were surprised by the announcement that the widow Draga Maschin was to be Queen of Servia, and when she was held up to their wives and daughters as a model of all womanly virtues, their disappointment and their protests against this “insane” act of the King were so general and so loud that serious apprehensions of an insurrection were entertained. These fears were not realized; but the people of Belgrade remained in a state of sullen discontent. They knew that a speedy and terrible punishment would overtake the guilty youth. It was reported that on reading his son’s proclamation, ex-King Milan, who was then a patient at Carlsbad in Bohemia, left his sick-room and rushed to the depot to take the train for Belgrade. He declared that this outrage should never be committed, and that if the King should persist in accomplishing it, he would kill him with his own hands. But Milan’s wrath had been telegraphed to Belgrade, and he was not permitted to enter Servian territory.
No less great was the shame of Queen Natalia. She implored her son to desist from his pernicious intention, laying stress on the disparity of the ages,—he being twenty-four and Draga thirty-six, and on the scandalous reputation of the woman whose beauty had for the moment infatuated him.
But neither the father’s threats nor the mother’s tears made the least impression on Alexander, who once more realized the often-quoted Latin saying:
The Skuptshina (the Servian Parliament) was amazed at the proclamation, and its president as well as the Metropolitan of Servia implored the King on their knees to revoke it. He had only deaf ears for them.
On the fifth of August, 1900, the wedding was solemnized, and Draga Maschin took her place on the throne of Servia.
If the King had hoped that the irritation of the public would die out after the wedding, he must have been a badly disappointed man; for the scandals about Draga continued. Not only was her past life with its many stains and blemishes laid bare unsparingly, but her life as queen consort was also unmercifully exposed. Every word and every act of her married life were carefully weighed in the scales of public opinion, and hardly ever was a word of praise accorded to her, while vituperation, insinuations, and direct accusations abounded. The Belgrade correspondents of foreign newspapers knew that anything they might have to report of King Alexander, Queen Draga, or any member of her family would be read with interest. If they could not pick up anything of interest they invented some unfavorable story. Unquestionably many of the stories circulated about Draga, and also of Alexander are utterly untrue. It should also be remembered that the elevation of Draga to a station which none of her rivals could hope to attain made her an object of envy, and that they resented this elevation by telling about her all the bad things they knew. But after making all these allowances, we still find enough to justify us in saying that the two were an exceedingly ill-matched couple,—he a voluptuous, ungrateful, good-for-nothing simpleton, and she a designing, ambitious, unscrupulous woman of powerful mind.
The scandal which has been most widely circulated referred to the fictitious pregnancy of the Queen. Unquestionably the young King was anxious to have a son. Alexander was the last Obrenovitch, and it was natural for him to desire to have a son so that his dynasty might continue to rule over Servia. It was equally natural for Draga to desire to become the mother of an heir, because as such she would have had an additional claim on the affection of her husband,—a claim which might have outlasted her physical beauty. This desire was certainly not unreasonable in a wife twelve years older than her husband. This pregnancy was officially announced by the court physician, but it was afterwards stated that the announcement had been premature. These are the facts in the case; and on these slim facts a superstructure of rumors and fables has been erected. Very likely the great anxiety of the couple to have an heir was the real cause of the announcement. The rumors so widely circulated in the kingdom did certainly not contribute to improve the reputation of the Queen, or to give the people the impression of a happy domestic life.
The generally recognized mental superiority of Queen Draga over her husband had still another unfavorable consequence,—one of a political character. While Alexander was unmarried, his political mistakes, his autocratic interference with the work of the Skuptschina, his violation of the constitution, were charged to himself; but after his marriage all the political sins of the government were ascribed to Draga’s instigation.
The political conditions of the Balkan countries are of the most unsettled kind. They resemble very much the political conditions in the South American and Central American states, and while nominally they are regulated by constitutions and by a parliamentary system of government, they are really controlled by the principle that “might constitutes right.” It has been so in Servia from the day of the establishment of its national independence: continuous party strife, revolutions, assassinations—frequently winked at, if not directly instigated and supported, by foreign powers. In 1903 the Radicals had been several years in full control of the government. They had filled all lucrative offices with their party friends, many of whom belonged to the rural population, and had so apportioned the public taxes as to place the principal burden upon the city populations, where the Liberals had their voting strength. The misgovernment under the Radicals was so great that it became a national scandal. The public debt had been nearly doubled, the annual deficit was enormous, the most flagrant corruption and extravagance existed in all branches of the public service; but the Servian Congress refused to correct these abuses, and it remained for the King to interfere personally. He did so by a new coup d’état in March, 1903; the old Constitution was abrogated, a new Constitution was promulgated, and new general elections were ordered.
One of the most alarming features of the political situation in Servia was the dissatisfaction of the army, and especially of its officers. This dissatisfaction was not, as has been asserted frequently, caused by patriotic considerations or by disapproval of the King’s personal conduct, but simply by the unpardonable neglect of the army on the part of the government. While in the royal palace at Belgrade an uninterrupted series of festivities, all arranged in the most sumptuous and expensive style, kept the gay capital on the tiptoe of excitement, the army was reduced nearly to a state of starvation, because neither officers nor men had been paid for months, “for want of funds in the public treasury.” Instead of being a firm support of the government, the army therefore turned against it. It easily lent itself to propositions for a change, especially if that change would come in with the payment of their arrears of wages.
There was another cause of dissatisfaction, which evoked a direct and strong protest against the Queen and her influence. Disappointed in her hope of giving the King a son and heir, Draga devised another plan to perpetuate her own power,—namely, to select an heir to the throne. Her choice fell upon her own brother, Nicodemus Lunyevitch, a young lieutenant in the Servian army, and she succeeded in winning the consent of the King. It is even stated that Alexander intended to adopt this brother-in-law, who was twenty-four years old, and formally proclaim him his heir. No sooner had the plan been mentioned than a very loud, and almost general, opposition to it manifested itself. The cabinet ministers heard of it, and waited on the King in a body to enter their protest. When their arrival at the palace was announced to him, the King knew what they wanted, and kept them waiting for a long time. He finally received them in the large assembly hall. He was dressed in full uniform; the Queen was by his side and leaning upon his arm. He turned to the prime minister and requested him to state the object of the visit, whereupon the prime minister asked the Queen in a very courteous manner to withdraw for a short time from the conference. She haughtily refused, and the King coolly informed the ministers that he had no secrets either private or public which he wished to conceal from his wife.
The ministers then presented their complaints. They stated that public opinion was excited to such a degree that there was imminent danger of a revolution if the King should persist in carrying out this new plan. “Moreover,” added the prime minister, “the Skuptschina should be consulted in a matter of such great importance—a matter in which the state and the people are principally interested. In default of direct heirs, the representatives have the right to say who shall succeed to the throne.”
The King interrupted him angrily, and said brusquely: “I am the King, and can do as I please.”
“But the will of the people should also be consulted!” repeated the prime minister.
“The King’s will is supreme!” interposed Draga, and suddenly taking the King’s arm, she dragged him from the room, leaving the ministers confused and almost stupefied.
It may be said that this was the beginning of the end. Both Alexander and Draga were blinded to such a degree by passion and by the idea of their own infallibility that they could not see what everybody else did see—that the measure of their follies was full to overflowing, and that the day of reckoning was approaching very fast. Anonymous letters came to the King and to the Queen informing them of plots and conspiracies against their lives; they disregarded and laughed at them. They openly showed their contempt for the will of the people and of the Cabinet by installing Lieutenant Nicodemus Lunyevitch as the heir apparent, in a brilliant suite of rooms of the royal palace, and abandoned themselves to an incessant whirl of pleasures and extravagant follies. Concerning this matter, a guest, the correspondent of a paper in Paris, wrote: “The King and the Queen do not seem to realize that they are dancing on a volcano!”
In the newspapers of the different capitals of Europe dark and ominous predictions were published about a conspiracy which was being formed at Belgrade, and of which persons of the highest station would be the victims.
Then came the elections of the first of June, and they resulted in such an overwhelming victory for the government that the predictions of conspiracy and death were momentarily silenced and a feeling of greater security was established in the royal palace. It was, however, only the calm before the storm.
Evidently the conspiracy which foreign papers had so often hinted at not only existed, but was well organized. The officers of the Sixth Regiment stationed at Belgrade were the leaders of it. Another leader was Colonel Maschin, the cousin (not, as is often stated, the brother-in-law) of the Queen, who for some personal reason had become her bitter enemy, and who was the very soul of the conspiracy.
It is of course impossible, so soon (two months) after the terrible tragedy, when absolutely reliable data are still lacking, to give with historic accuracy the details of the plot which culminated in the assassination of the King, the Queen, two of her brothers, and some of their most prominent adherents; but from the best and most authentic information obtainable at present it appears that the events of the night of June 10-11 were as follows:
Ninety army officers, representing nearly every garrison and military organization in Servia, had planned to overthrow the government. On Wednesday, June 10, Colonel Mitshitch, lieutenant-colonel of the Sixth Regiment, invited his fellow officers belonging to the conspiracy to a conference at the Helimagdan Garden at 11 P.M. At that conference, which was largely attended, the immediate execution of the plot was agreed upon.
At 1:40 after midnight these officers proceeded in eight groups to the Konac, the royal residence, which had been closed for the night. But the conspirators had accessories on the inside. They were Colonel Maschin, mentioned above, commanding the King’s body-guard, and Colonel Maumovitch, personal aid of the King. The conspirators were in possession of the keys of the garden gate of the Konac which had been handed to them by Captain Panapotovitch, the King’s adjutant. The first bloody encounter occurred when the conspirators reached the guardhouse near the gate. On their approach some soldiers rushed out. “Throw down your arms!” commanded one of the officers. The soldiers fired, but were shot by the conspirators, who entered the gate and passed through the garden, without encountering any obstacle until they reached the courtyard of the old Konac, where Colonel Maumovitch was waiting for them. He opened the iron door that gave access to the front room of the first floor. The officers ascended and, by the noise of their steps, attracted the attention of the royal couple and some of the officers of the palace. Lieutenant Lavar Petrovitch, who had been alarmed by the unusual noise, ran to meet them, holding his revolver in one hand, and his drawn sword in the other.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“Show us where to find the King and the Queen!” was the reply.
“Back, back!” shouted the Lieutenant; but he fell instantly, killed by three or four bullets.
The conspirators advanced, but suddenly the electric lights went out, and all were enveloped in profound darkness. Utterly confounded and slowly feeling their way up the stairs, the revolutionists reached the antechamber of the King’s apartment. It was dark, but one of the officers discovered a wax candle in a chandelier. He lighted it, and they could see their way. This trifling little circumstance, entirely accidental, decided the success of the plot. Without light it would have been impossible for them to find the victims, who might have made their escape through the long corridors and numerous apartments of the palace, with which they were familiar while the conspirators were not, and could not have followed them.
Some of the officers now carried lights, while the others followed them with revolvers in their hands. In breathless haste they hurried through the rooms in search of the royal couple. They opened the closets and raised the curtains, but no trace either of the King or of the Queen. At last Queen Draga’s servant was found. He dangerously wounded Captain Dimitrevitch, who discovered him, but his life was spared for a little, because he was needed. It was in fact this servant who indicated to the officers the place where the King and the Queen had gone to hide themselves. Thereupon he was shot. At this moment Colonel Maschin joined the conspirators and took them to the King’s bedroom, where the King’s adjutant tried to prevent their search, but was shot by the Colonel’s companions.
After a long search a small door was discovered leading to an alcove. The door was locked and had to be burst open with an axe. In this alcove the royal couple had taken refuge. Both were in their night robes. The King was standing in the centre, holding the Queen in his arms, as if to protect her. Colonel Maumovitch commenced reading to the King a document which demanded that he should abdicate the throne because he had dishonored Servia by wedding “a public prostitute.” The King answered by shooting Maumovitch through the heart. Another officer renewed the demand for the King’s abdication; but the younger officers had become impatient and now fired their revolvers at the royal couple until both expired. The body of the King showed thirty wounds, while the body of the Queen was so terribly lacerated by pistol-shot and sword wounds that her features could not be recognized, and the wounds could not be counted. Both died heroically, trying to protect each other with their own bodies.
Together with the King and the Queen, two brothers of the latter, and a number of their most prominent adherents were murdered in cold blood. This terrible butchery reveals the semi-savage ferocity of the Balkan population.
When the people of Belgrade awoke from their sleep early in the morning of June 11, there was not, as might have been expected, a manifestation of horror, pity, and sorrow, among them, but, on the contrary, rejoicing and exultation on all sides. Flags were raised, houses were decorated, salutes were fired; a stranger entering the city might have supposed that a great national festival was being commemorated by the enthusiastic crowds of men, women, and children.
It may be taken as a convincing proof of the sincerity of the wrath and the depth of the contempt which the people of Servia felt for Alexander I and Draga, that of the immense multitude which came to inspect the lacerated bodies of those who but the day before had been their King and their Queen, not one expressed a word of regret, or shed a tear of sorrow. Many, on the contrary, spat on the mangled remains, or mumbled words of execration as they passed by the plain coffins. Death itself had not been able to wipe out the misdeeds of these two persons.
History, the terrible but just avenger, will preserve for many ages the memory of Alexander the First of Servia, not so much for any single crime, as for having persistently insulted the national pride and the moral sentiment of the people over whom Providence had placed him as ruler and protector.
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