ow their past as well as the Serbs know their own. The Serbs
regard their history not so much as a dry science, but rather as an art,
a drama, which must be told in a solemn language. They knew their
history, and therefore they sang it; they sang it, and therefore they
knew it better and better.

The Serbian men sang, but not only the men, the women sang as well. When
the harvest was being gathered during July and August, the women and
girls sang in the fields or under the fruit trees. In our country we
have the sun abundantly, and the outdoor singing responds fully to the
luxuriance of light. What shall I say then about our women's singing in
the autumn in the dry and soft moonlight? It is the time of spinning on
the distaff. The tired men go to bed, but the women sit down in a circle
in the houseyard in the open place. They chat and they sing without
stopping their spinning. They sing two and two, in duet, but so that a
new duet is begun when the other finishes. This duet singing is not only
in one family, but in many at the same time, in different parts of the
village. Moonlight--we have wonderful clear and white moonlight in
Serbia--silence, singing from every side, from every house, from girls,
nightingales and other birds. The whole of the village is the stage,
hundreds of singers, moonlight and open starry space--I am sure you
would be much more fascinated by such a Serbian rustic opera than by
many modern operas on a stage in London. And now--there rushed into
Serbia:

THE KAISER, WHO DOES NOT SING,

and our singing stopped. Under the Turks the Serbian people sang. You
can find in the British Museum ten big volumes of the Serbian national
poetry which was composed during the time of the Turkish rule in Serbia.
This rule was very hard and very dark indeed, but still we considered
ourselves as the champions of the Cross against the Crescent, and we
imagined that we should be the bulwark of Christian Europe, i.e. of
Central Europe in the first place. Therefore we endured the struggle
with the Turks, singing and hoping. And now--the two _Christian_
Kaisers, with a fox from Sofia, have crushed Serbia more completely than
she ever was crushed by the Turks. "Come back to your homes and your
customs," so the Kaiser William invited the Serbian refugees.

"To your customs!" But, oh _illustrissime Caesar,_ we could reply, our
first and best custom is to sing. Tell us, how we could sing now? You
know, oh Kaiser, because