Væ Victoribus: A Lesson to Conquerors

I

AFTER kissing me, she said, —

‘Oh, how glad to see you again. Do you know me, or have you forgotten me? I have changed so — disfigured as I am by sorrow, hunger, and all the sufferings inflicted by the enemy.’

‘Stoja, certainly I know you,’ I answered.

‘My dear, sweet Iko, I came to complain to you. Until to-day I managed somehow or other; but now I and my children are facing the end — we shall die like dogs of horrible hunger.’

‘What’s that you say! If your children are so in need, go tell my mother to give you two or three pounds of flour; as you know, I brought a little grain from Pec.’

‘No, dear Iko; indeed, your mother and I divided the last bit of bread and flour without your orders.’

‘And what of your husband?’

‘Don’t you remember? Did you hear?’

‘Oh, of course — I did. He lies dead at Stit.’

‘ Yes, he is at Stit with his comrades, and I beg of you to help me,’ said Stoja, her eyes filled with tears.

‘My dear, don’t weep. Only tell me why you ask sight of a blind man. Don’t you realize my position? If the Austro-Hungarian army of occupation knew that I had fled from their prisoncamp, they would tear me to pieces with their bayonets like a loaf of bread! But at any rate, tell me of your misery and what I can do for you.’

‘You remember it was long ago that our ever-proud Montenegro capitulated, and that King Nicholas fled to Italy. During those unforgetably dark days, the Austro-Hungarian troops entered our small and beloved country. They did not harm us women, nor the children and old men, but they robbed us of everything we had — animals, hay, grain, straw, and potatoes. For only one of all the animals they took did the Austrians give me a certificate. With this little paper I went several times to K—, where the military treasury is, trying to receive something for it in order to save my children. Again and again I went to K—, but again and again they did n’t pay me. Until to-day we have eaten food fit for animals, but we can’t exist on it any longer. Look at this false bill, and if you can’t help me— kill me!’

‘ Is the enemy’s military treasury still at K—?’ I inquired.

‘Of course it is there, and they pay all bills of value— all, that is, of which the Zettel¹ is good.’

As I looked at the bill, written perhaps by a drunken Boche, an idea flashed through my head. Why had I studied German for more than eight years? Against brute force I should have to use deceit. I looked again and again at the bill, first on one side, then on the other. It was very small, about the size of a cigarette paper. One had written upon it in German, with a pencil, and God only knows what it was! I could just make out the name of the troop and a very indistinct signature, perhaps that of a common soldier or corporal of the Austro-Hungarian army. There was no seal at all. After turning it over once more, looking at it and thinking, I finally made a decision. I copied the little bill — Quittung — on a larger paper. On this paper I wrote distinctly in German that one ox had been requisitioned. I signed it with a signature resembling the original as much as I could possibly make it do so. Besides that, I put the name of the regiment which took the ox, and also the name of the soldier, drunk and ruthless, perhaps, who gave this Quittung to Stoja. The name of the regiment was K. u. K. 21 Jäger Batallion Kommande. I wrote the copy with a well-disguised handwriting. When I had finished the copy, I held it over some smoke for a moment, crumpled it, and tore it a bit, in order that it might appear old enough to have been written when the AustroHungarian army was in the village.

I thought that I myself would go to K—. The question was, how, in my position? If they should find me out, what would happen to me? Nothing less than death on the gallows, at the same place where they hung Vlajko Veshovitch, a student of law and a brother of Radomir Veshovitch, Montenegrin Minister of War.

II

Disguised in rags rather than in a suit, and followed by Stoja’s elder son, Milun, I started early the next day for K—. When we entered the town, what a feeling was ours — what great sorrow! In that little town of the mountains there was dying away completely the pride and cheerfulness of the days before the war. The whole town and its surroundings were redolent of tyranny, of humbleness. In all the streets there were machine guns, cannon, and strong bodies of troops with bayonets. What a sickening feeling to see that they were enemies! The pale faces of the Montenegrins gazed at the barbarian forces, while three fourths of the shops in town were shut up. I asked where the military treasury was, and they told me. The house in which it was, was surrounded by a strong guard under full anus.

The day we reached K—, there was no payment. The payment was going to take place the next afternoon. I had a day in which to see several of the Quittungen of these people who also came for payment. Among these Quittungen and Zettel there were a great many which were issued in exactly the same way, with actual valuation of the animals or goods which had been taken; but on half or two thirds of them the appraisals were very much undervalued. What a lot of papers they were! What writing there was on them! In how many different languages they were issued ! They can best be characterized by the motto of a Gallic duke, ‘ Væ victis!' What was written on these Quittungen in Hungarian, Rumanian, and other languages, I do not know, but on those that were written in German, I read the following: —

‘What we took will be paid for by King Peter and King Nicholas.’ — ‘Serbia is a little country, but it is the promised land. In passing through, we found plenty of wine, whisky, beer, chickens, and especially — ah! — sweet and charming ladies.’ — ‘The women of Montenegro are so tall and charming, but they are wild as tigers, and they flee from us soldiers of the Emperor as if we were beasts. But our bayonets will compel them to be obedient, and the women of Montenegro will very soon be as tame as rabbits.’ — ‘How foolish is Serbia! If she would only wage war with wine, whisky, beer, and fat swine, I am sure she would conquer the entire world!' — ‘ Ha! Ha! How many sublime nights I have spent roasting chickens and sleeping among the barrels of vine and whisky twenty-three years old! ’ — ' What we took we won’t pay for because we took it by force.’ — ‘In Serbia we triumphed and had everything, but here in Montenegro we have nothing to eat, and it seems as if we must all starve. However, it is better that you starve since we are the conquerors and you are the conquered.’

And how many examples of these and similar papers there were! They surprised me not a little, because all the Germans of Austria-Hungary whom I had known before the war were very peace-loving and kind-hearted, much different from the people of Prussia. When I read those odious and sarcastic writings on the Quittungen, I was wondering whether the most horrible punishments would be bad enough for these human animals; whether there was no possibility of avenging this barbarism of a ‘civilized’ century. Surely the end would justify the means! Not a tooth for a tooth, but thirteen for one! I said to myself, ‘Until to-day I have neither been a liar nor a forger, nor have I been without character wherever virtue was demanded by a sane conception of life and the judgment of conscience. But here and to-day, should I be virtuous before these beasts? I must do what I can to seek vengeance for this brutality, or die in the attempt!’

After further meditation, I took a large piece of paper and upon it I made out a Zettel. I wrote the name of another village; I wrote that one horse had been requisitioned. Since, in undertaking this business, ninety-nine per cent of my life was already hanging on the gallows, it was very difficult to make a decision, and therefore I prayed with fervor to God to help me. As I have mentioned several times, I never was godless, but I had always avoided all obscure and mysterious superstitions which had sprung up in our religion.

In life, and in all religious dogma, I tried to follow a clear path, which was in conformity with a reasonable conception of our existence. But now, undertaking this very dangerous enterprise, when even the rugged mountains of Montenegro shivered at the heartless atrocities of the enemy, and when I was going to die with the direction of my mother and the voice of righteousness, I said very quietly: ‘O God, help me now; I am undertaking a most righteous task in the darkest time of human existence.’

After I had prayed and asked the help of God; after the Zettel had been written, except for the signature of the treasurer, I was wondering what name to use for the latter. Finally I chose the name of Gottlieb, which in translation means ‘beloved of God.’ On this Zettel I put the same heading as that which was on Stoja’s Quittung — ‘K. u. K. 21 Jäger Batallion Kommande.’

After I had written the Zettel in a small inn, I soiled it and crumpled it between my palms, so that it would not look as if it had been done recently. After everything seemed all right, I decided to do this: the next day, at the time of payment, I would first give to the treasurer Stoja’s real Quittung, and mine, which was false, I would hold in my pocket. Then, when I had given up Stoja’s true Quittung, I would watch very carefully to see whether it was verified by means of a treasurer’s duplicate. If there was no verification, and if Stoja’s Quittung was paid, I would say to myself, ‘Oh, woe to you, aristocratic and fat treasury of the Emperor; for with my lean plebeian hands I will draw my Zettel from my pocket and put it before the treasurer!’

III

The next day, at about half-past two, the payment began. We entered the door through several lines of soldiers with bayonets. And then, what a wonder! Many of the not altogether authentic Quittungen were paid. I inquired of one woman, among those who had already received money, if there were any questions about duplicates of the Quittengen. She said that they just looked over them, wrote something upon them, and then green paper money emerged like water from a very big chest of money.

My turn came to enter. I did so. In the treasury office I saw the two AustroHungarian officers, one of whom was the Oberstleutnant. How fat that Oberstleutnant was. It seemed that half of the treasury office was filled by his body. He could not speak the Serbian; but the other officer, a first lieutenant, did. The Oberstleutnant was sitting at the table, upon which rested a huge chest with the money; while to his left stood the lieutenant.

Upon entering the office, I approached the Oberstleutnant, proffering him Stoja’s Quittung. At the same time my eyes wandered to the chest filled with money. The Oberstleutnant, leaning back in his chair, took the Quittung and glanced at it cursorily. After a moment of uninterested inspection, he turned it and scrawled on the back, ‘Bezahlt’— paid. He handed it to the lieutenant, who began counting out the money. When I saw the success of Stoja’s Quittung, I immediately drew from my pocket my Zettel, and handed it to him without hesitation. This was treated in similar fashion and as before was marked, Bezahlt.

The lieutenant looked me over from head to foot, then, stretching out the money for both Quittung and Zettel, said, ‘Here is the money for the one bill, and this is for the other. Don’t mix it. Is n’t there anyone better to come for the money than you? What sort of a lout are you ? ’

Slowly, and in a humble and frightened voice, I answered: ‘No, no, there is no one better than I, most honored gentleman.’

And all the while I was thinking: ‘ But if you knew who I am! With the assistance of your military treasury, there will not be a better man in Montenegro nor all Austria-Hungary, nor in the whole world, yes, in spite of your thousands of bayonets! ’

I picked up the money and hurried from the treasury office. Outside I found Milun and gave him his share — one hundred and seventy crowns. Before leaving K—, I made some purchases for my mother and brothers, and also secured some tobacco for the old men of the neighborhood.

Not being able to enter my own home, I called for my mother to meet me. At that meeting I gave her the things I had bought for her; among them a big new mirror. Unable to account for their presence, she began to accuse me.

‘Dear, you must return this all to Stoja. Is it fair to take advantage of her and take her money and rob her?’

For answer I embraced her and drew her head close to me, so that our two faces were visible in the mirror.

‘My dearest mother,’ I said, ‘you did not bear a sack of straw, but a son, strong and a man, as a son should be. You have borne me, who come from prison-camp to save you and Stoja and the children. This mirror I shall not take to Stoja; it must remain forever in our home; for with this new mirror comes new happiness. See, here is money.’ And, kissing her several times, I pressed into her hand half of the money still left to me.

The recital of my story followed, and she pledged to keep it secret. For, should the enemy suspect, our home and all our possessions would perish in flames.

When my mother comprehended the full result of my successful expedition, she fell upon my neck with kisses.

‘As a child,’ she said, ‘you were so restless, your father would have cast you out had it not been for me. But I knew that you would grow to be my strength. Then I called you my lost hope, but now I will call you my found hope and savior. So long as you help the needy, God will help you; beloved, when I am gone, do not cease from bringing help to poverty.’

Not yet realizing the grimness of realities, nor suspecting that which was to happen later, I pondered whether my two paid bills, the Quittung and the Zettel, would be sufficient, with the relief which they had enabled me to effect. But what foolishness! To stop — No, never! I was satisfied with a modest life. I never thought to worship before materialism. My God was never Almighty Gold. Long ago I set my estimate on life; my wishes for wealth had been, and ever would remain, below the aureum medium.

But in something else I recognized no moderation. Where the voice of my conscience called me to fitting revenge, I found no modesty. In my lust for vengeance I was ruled less by reason than by my desire for just retaliation. I was ruthless and reckless of my life. What! Should I remain passive in the stormy times in which I lived? Should I not attack and damage as much as possible the military treasure of the enemy, whose troops with their odious levies so oppressed the poor? Should I feel mercy toward an enemy whose tyranny was crushing my countrymen beneath it? Never! My duty called me, my inner God cried out to me, ‘Ivan, Ivan! Forward, forward, retaliation, retaliation, and that only!’

IV

We stayed with the cattle that summer, in a spreading mountain wood of beech and evergreens. There I continued my forgeries. During my first visit to K— with Milun, I had discovered that horses, swine, and oxen received the highest appraisal. Therefore, my Quittungen and Zettel were written for such beasts, supposedly taken in requisition.

When a large number of these bills had been prepared, I revised them carefully, to make sure of the genuineness of their appearance. From time to time I dispatched trusted friends to turn them into money. Thousands of crowns were obtained in this way, which I distributed among the band of comrades in arms who had joined themselves to me, and among the poor of my district.

With some of the money, my mother and younger brothers traveled to Berane, and there purchased cattle from the Turks and Albanians. To quiet the inquiries as to the source of this money, my mother professed to be spending the money which I had brought with me from Serbia. But with the continued purchases of cattle, rumors began to accumulate. It began to be suspected that my mother and brothers were spies in the pay of the Austro-Hungarian armies of occupation.

With the spread of these voices, I began to contemplate hiding my mother and brothers in one of the rocky gorges, and falling upon the enemy with my guards in a surprise attack, as a pledge of my loyalty to my countrymen and a vindication of my family’s name. The thought of the severe punishment which would be meted out to my district, as well as to all of Montenegro, restrained me. It would be as when the Montenegrin Minister of War had killed the Austrian officer, and escaped by leaping from his horse amid the bayonets of two companies of the enemy, of which I spoke before. So I decided to keep quiet and pursue my business as in quiet times.

How happy my little brothers had become since they had enough to eat! One of them, eight-year-old Milich, I found had named one of the calves of the purchased cows, ‘Zettel.’ Upon my inquiring the reason for this strange name, he told me that mother had said I was raising money on Zettel, and in honor of this he had christened the calf Zettel. I forbade him to mention the word again, and reproached mother for her indiscretion, lest information reach the enemy. In such case punishment would fall swiftly.

For myself I feared little. With my arms and guards I was safe in my distant retreats. My companions called me the ‘Emperor of the Mountains,’ and I felt superior to the German Emperor William or the Austro-Hungarian Charles. For my guards were tried and the bravest fighters, my court and palace were the rugged forests and mountains. And with my Zettel and Quittungen, I was better paid per day than the rulers who fought against my country. Some days I was rewarded with from three to five thousand AustroHungarian crowns.

V

One day I was informed by my messengers that funds were running low in the treasury. However, money was brought in from Vienna and Budapest and I renewed my old business. At last came bad news. It was announced that no longer would Quittungen and Zettel be honored, unless they bore the seal of the Austro-Hungarian officers who had ordered the requisitions.

In spite of the information, I continued to send messenger after messenger for money, but with the same result; there was to be no money without sealed Quittungen. Bills without such seals would be honored only when verified by the local Montenegrin authorities, and the commander of the troops where such requisitions had been made.

In the face of this unpleasant news I bethought me what I should do next. My operations had brought relief to countless inhabitants of the vicinity. I must continue with my Quittungen and Zettel, but how? The verification of the Montenegrin authorities I might obtain somehow, but what of the signature of the Austro-Hungarian officers ?

What was to be done? I asked myself again and again. I was in desperation at the sight of families dying from hunger about me. But to ravage and plunder private property — rather death than that. Not so with the money designed to be spent upon grenades and machine guns and the engines to exterminate human existence. Why should I not seize and employ that?

Long meditation brings solution. I sent one of my guards, disguised, to purchase a large piece of rubber. Of this I fashioned a magnificent seal, more formidable than the seals of the Austro-Hungarian officials or even of the Emperor Charles himself. Upon it I engraved the following: ‘K. u. K. Proviantur Abteilung N. 15,’² in such manner that the 15 might have been mistaken for 15, 17, or 14.

When the seal was ready, I wrote many Quittungen and Zettel, dating them from the period when AustroHungarian troops had entered Montenegro. Also I increased the amounts to be paid; for now, for some time, that ignorant and impolite official of the treasury had refused me payment. I did not doubt the effectiveness of my seal; but, to be more certain, I signed my claims with the names of various majors or colonels, suiting the rank to the size of the amount to be collected, and making sure to make use of enough different handwritings.

Choosing to make the requisition from an Albanian rather than from a Montenegrin, I sealed it and wrote the signature of Heinrich Stein, Colonel.

When I had written a number of these certificates, I sent my guards to K— with them, to obtain payment. They demurred, however, one of them saying, ‘If we go again with false certificates, our lives will be in danger. If you order us to go to K— again, we are ready, but we go only with grenades and bayonets.'

I decided to go myself. What underling of the treasury would dare refuse to honor so imposing a seal and the signature of the colonel, Heinrich Stein? Before setting out for K—, I exchanged my Montenegrin garb for the dress of an Albanian. My face and hands I smeared with dirt, to the extent that one might believe that even the ocean had dried up.

I had reached K— and was approaching the treasury office, when a Dalmatian, in the uniform of an AustroHungarian soldier, stopped me with an angry shout.

‘ What, you here again!’

‘What do you say?' I asked him mildly.

’I suppose you do not remember that you were here long ago, to collect on your requisition,’ he answered.

I expostulated. ‘ My goodness, what is the matter with you! I am here today for the first time in my life. You know, sir, Montenegrins hate us Albanians, and I never could come here before; they would have killed me. Now, thanks be to God, since you, our mighty ally, are here, I come to pay some bills.’ This in a polite and soft voice.

My questioner persisted.

‘No, no. You came since we have been here.’

‘I swear in the name of Allah, I never was here before.'

‘You lie, you Albanian swine! I know you were here before, and as dirty as now. What you Albanians need is some of those Montenegrins to teach you with a whip and to make decent men out of dirty animals and bandits. We shall be leaving here soon, and then they will come and give you the lessons you deserve.’

' What do you say ? ’ I returned. ‘Do you not know that we Albanians are allied with your peoples. If you say again that the Montenegrins will rule here again, I shall tell that to your pasha and you will have deserved lessons from him.’

With this parting fling, I attempted to push past him and ascend to the office; but found his bayonet pressed against my breast.

‘Only try to enter,’ he said grimly. ‘If you try to go up, this bayonet is faster. Back, Albanian swine!'

I gave up the attempt to enter, but was well pleased with the success of my disguise. I felt confident of his ignorance of my nationality. The soldier, who was a Dalmatian, perhaps a Croat or Serb, I perceived was entirely in sympathy with his own people, although in the service of the enemy. I discovered later that many such Dalmatian soldiers paid with their lives for their sympathies with their Serbian countrymen.

VI

The payment began the same day. Among others I entered the treasury office again, passing between many files of soldiers with bayonets, as when I had come with Milun. In the treasury office were several officers in military uniform, some seated and others standing about, talking and smoking. None of the former officers were present, but I noticed among them one in the uniform of a German officer. With the innate military pride of the Prussian soldier, he was sitting in a large chair, with his spiked helmet cocked on his head, his sword lying across his knees, and his legs crossed. The officers spoke some Hungarian, but mostly German.

As we entered, several of them looked at me, and soon the eyes of all of them were turned upon me, while they remarked to one another how ‘pure’ and ‘clean’ I was. Some of them began examining our bills and Quittungen, of which some bore seals and some did not. Finding several bills minus seals in his hands, one major leaped from his chair like an outraged cock, clutching his long hair with his fingers and crying, ‘Schrecklich! schrecklich!' — Horrible! horrible!

The major then went from one to another of us, looking at our bills. When he came to me, I bowed to him, according to the Turkish custom, while everyone in the treasury office burst into laughter, even the major, who such a short time ago had been so angry over the bad bills the Austro-Hungarian and German army officers had given to the poor people. When all the bills had been seen, he rang a bell. A sergeant entered. He was ordered to call at once the mayor of the K—commune.

Until the arrival of the mayor, the major separated two of us from the seven who had entered the treasury office together. These two were an old Montenegrin and myself, ‘a dirty Albanian shepherd,’ as one of the officers had remarked when I entered the office. We were taken apart because our bills were all right and sealed, especially mine, with the most excellent of seals.

‘You two wait here,’ said the major, ‘and you five take yourselves off.’

The mayor arrived, and the major addressed him through the same interpreter he had employed with us, — a young cadet, — for the mayor could not understand German.

‘Why is it, sir,’ he demanded, ‘that this eastern part of Montenegro has taken more funds for requisitions than all the rest of the country put together? We have made horrible expenditures, and there are always so many bills without seals. If we continue to pay as we have been doing, we who do the paying may soon find ourselves on the gallows. According to some bills, if they were properly sealed, I don’t know how many oxen, horses, and swine were requisitioned. Is it true that this eastern part of Montenegro possessed such a huge number of animals?’

‘Sir,’ replied the mayor, ‘it is no wonder the requisitions were so large from this part of Montenegro. This was the richest section in many kinds of cattle, not only in the Balkans, but perhaps in the whole world.’

As the major mentioned the vast requisitions of oxen, horses, and swine, and the unsealed bills, I thought to myself: ‘ My major, do not be so angry; I am that wealthy man who collected so much on unsealed bills, and I am also the man who shall again collect with sealed bills. Not only that but I am the man who made those seals.’ Thus thought I, and I longed to say it.

Having obtained this information about the wealth of the land from the mayor, the major was silent for a time. Finally, he took my bills and those of the old man. Then he went out upon the balcony and began addressing the people below in German, while the cadet translated his words into Serbian.

‘Pay attention, people! This command has announced several times that no bills of requisition shall be paid unless bearing seals like these.’ (Here he showed our bills.) ‘Those who do not have sealed bills, like those of this old Montenegrin and this Albanian, may go back home. There have them certified by our officers and your mayor, and when they are properly made out, come back again and they will be paid.’

There was a sound of assent from the crowd, and those not having sealed bills began to depart.

We again entered the office, with the eyes of the officers bent upon me, and their comments relating to my cleanliness ringing in my ears. I feigned not to understand. The excitable major, now smilingly asked me through the interpreter if I still had anything at home. I replied to the major, in a dialect no Albanian either living or dead could ever have understood. Indeed, I I did not understand myself, bat I was convinced that none of the officers understood Albanian, and it was necessary that I make them believe that I was of that nationality. As I spoke, the cadet’s face became red and he burst into laughter again. The question was repeated, and I was asked if I understood the Serbian language. I bowed once more to the major and said, —

‘O happy pasha, may our Allah and your God both reward you with life, health, and full happiness. When you are happy, so am I, for we are both allies.’

‘Have you not enough water in Albania?’ inquired the major, ‘or are the mountains and rocks dried out?’

‘Of course, happy pasha,’ I responded, ‘ there is sufficient water.’

‘How many times are you Albanian people in the habit of bathing, and do you ever wash your face?’

‘Our wives, O blessed pasha, bathe very often, but we poor men have no time for bathing, for we must work very hard.’

‘Perhaps you take a bath every tenth year?’

’Oh, no, happy and blessed one! Once every Ramazan.’

‘And what is a Ramazan?'

‘Our holy day, which comes once a year.’

‘Then you bathe once a year, do you ? ’

‘Oh, but sometimes we bathe twice a year; only that does not happen very often. You know, happy pasha, I hate the people of Montenegro and Serbia. Will you give me two or three cannon, so I can kill them?’

‘Oh, no, no, we can’t give you cannon. But we will give you money on your bill to buy — I mean to marry as many wives as you like.’

My remarks had elicited no small amount of mirth from the listening officers. Now they put my money in an envelope and, giving it to me, cautioned me to be careful not to lose it and to beware of Montenegrin komita. Before leaving the treasury, I again made a very respectful bow, holding my hands to my breast like a real Turk or Albanian of Mohammedan faith; and, after the bow, drew nearer to the major, as if to kiss his hands or the hem of his coat.

Puzzled, the major asked the cadet what I wished. The cadet repeated the question, and when I had made known my intention, there was a new round of laughter. I did not succeed in kissing the major’s hand, but I did carry away from him nearly four thousand crowns that day, and left them all happy enough. And why not? In their blindness they had been very kind and generous to me.

When I reached my ‘court and palaces’ again, my faithful guards welcomed me joyously. ‘No one leads the Imperial and Royal officers of the Austro-Hungarian army around by the nose as our Iko,’cried one of them.

As before, party after party went again and brought money. But after a while I was informed by one of my ‘valets’ that the treasury had been transferred from K— to Podgorica.