BELGRADE (13 page)

These foreign policy successes did not earn Milhailo any friends among the Great Powers, especially as the situation in Bosnia was looking more uncertain. Taking a lead from Serbia, the local Christian population was showing increasing dissatisfaction with Ottoman rule and likely to rebel. An uprising in any of the Turkish provinces could have unforeseeable consequences. Mihailo was also alienating previous sources of support at home. Perhaps it was the price of his political success, perhaps because he was not a natural democrat and often resorted to the kinds of authoritarianism for which his father was better known, but Mihailo did not enjoy universal popularity in Serbia. Conservative opinion was not happy with the speed of his reforms and the kind of social transformation taking place. An established way of life was disappearing with little chance to absorb the new manners and customs. Many people felt lost in this state of transition and very uneasy at what the future might hold. For the more radical sections of this new Serbia, change was not happening fast enough and the knez appeared more like an oriental despot than the ruler of a modern European state. Little progress was made toward parliamentary rule, with political power wielded by a small group around Mihailo’s court.

There were many important actors who wished Mihailo out of the way and he was warned that there was a plot against his life, to which he is said to have replied, “If I have not done good by the Serbs, I certainly have done no evil, thus if they kill me they will kill only Mihailo, and not the Serbian knez.” He was assassinated while out walking with his aunt, her daughter and granddaughter on 29 May 1868. The Serbian government claimed that Alexander Karađorđević was involved, in an attempt to regain the position from which he had been forced to abdicate ten years earlier when the Obrenović family returned to power. The event was, in fact, the result of a personal vendetta. If Alexander was hoping to make a comeback in the chaos following the royal murder, he was to be disappointed as there was no coup.

For all his faults, Knez Mihailo is regarded as one of those figures whose contribution to the development of Serbia was of the utmost significance for its future. Mihailo did not have any children, which left the immediate question of the succession to be resolved. The grandson of Gospodar Jevrem Obrenović, the son of Mihailo’s cousin, was the only remaining Obrenović male and he was duly appointed the next knez. He was a fourteen-year–old boy, by the name of Milan, attending a school in Paris.

A regency conducted affairs of state for the next few years, but when Milan took on the mantle of ruler he soon faced criticism. He was profoundly opposed to all attempts to extend parliamentary rule, which earned him the hostility of some of the political lobby at the time. In 1878, following popular uprisings in Bosnia, the European Powers again intervened in the Balkans. At the Congress of Berlin they created a new Bulgarian state and Austria took over the administration of Bosnia from the Turks.

Clearly nothing could be done without outside support from one of the major states and Milan set about courting the Austrians. They eventually gave him what he wanted: a royal title and final recognition of full independence from the Ottoman Empire. In 1882 he was crowned king (
kralj
in Serbian), although the price he had to pay was to put himself and his country under direct Austrian influence. Ostensibly recognized internationally as the sovereign King of Serbia, Milan found himself entirely dependent upon Austrian support, and the Austrians insisted that he take no initiatives in foreign policy without their agreement.

Milan displayed all the weaknesses of the Obrenović family with none of the successes for which Miloš and Mihailo were famous. His wife, Queen Natalija (1859–1941), was a very forceful personality with whom he was rarely seen to be on good terms, and whose popularity increased as his declined. It was said by the twentieth-century statesman Slobodan Jovanović (1869–1958) that during the short and disastrous Serbian war against Bulgaria in 1885 the king displayed all female weaknesses, while Queen Natalija displayed all typical male virtues. In the face of continuing opposition in the country and plots at court King Milan was forced to abdicate in 1889.

Milan was succeeded by his son Alexander whose policies, private actions and autocratic mode of government contributed to making him much despised in Serbia. In fact, it became difficult to pinpoint who were his real friends. While he manipulated the country’s fragile democratic institutions in order to maintain his personal authority, Belgrade society was shocked at his infatuation with a widow, Draga Mašin, who was one of his mother’s ladies-in–waiting. She was generally regarded as a gold-digger, a woman with a colourful past who was entirely inappropriate to the position of queen. The Orthodox Church took the matter very seriously and advised against marriage. Political circles were concerned not only by the influence she had over the king, but also at her promoting the interests of her two brothers. Their wedding was hastened at the news that Draga was expecting Alexander’s child, although this was later shown to be a phantom pregnancy and increased doubt regarding her intentions. It was not clear after their marriage in 1900 which decisions were his and which were the result of her interference. The situation in the palace was providing huge amusement abroad and Serbia was becoming a joke state with a king showing all the excesses of intrigue and passion that foreigners thought characteristic of the Balkans.

Draga could not have children, and as Alexander was Milan’s only child and there was no other Obrenović male heir, the royal couple began to turn their thoughts to securing the succession through the female line. Suspicions were immediately aroused that this was one of Draga’s ploys in the interests of her own family. The king and queen sensed the danger posed by their enemies and decided to strike first by purging the army’s officer corps. Their move was to be disastrous as a group of disaffected officers decided that their only solution was a coup that would include the deaths of Alexander and Draga and the prompt return of the Karađorđević dynasty. One of the leaders of the conspiracy was a certain Colonel Dragutin Dimitrijević–Apis, who was to play a part in the assassination of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand during his tour of Bosnia in 1914.

The plotters set out from the Dom oficira, a club for army officers but now the Student Cultural Centre, in the early hours of 11 June 1903. They broke into the royal palace and overcame the guards loyal to the king before searching the building for their victims. They were eventually found hiding in a secret chamber where they were attacked with great ferocity, their corpses hacked by swords and then thrown from the window into the park below. The Russian consul discovered their mutilated bodies when out for a walk the following morning.

Their murder was in many ways a turning point for Belgrade and Serbia. Domestic reaction was not unpleasantly surprised when news of the regicide spread, and the elderly Peter Karađorđević was immediately invited to assume the throne. Alexander and Draga had abandoned their legitimacy in a series of acts that showed no regard for the rights of the citizens of Serbia to participate in the running of the country without fear and intimidation. They used the power at their disposal to deprive others of access to channels of government and to rule as if Belgrade and the whole country existed for their personal benefit.

Abroad, however, news of the event was received with great consternation. The Serbian royal couple were not regarded with any particular respect, but the general consensus was that even if their behaviour might be considered scandalous they did not deserve such an ignoble and barbaric end. Furthermore, established foreign governments felt a twinge of empathy in that Alexander was the rightful king and in possession of correct legal authority. A shudder of collective fear must have run up the spines of European statesmen at how easily the assassination had occurred. Equally, it may have been the absence of public anguish and apparent impunity for the killers that caused foreign governments to seek retribution from Serbia. Many governments recalled their representatives home and the country was left in a state of international isolation.

The Serbian word for street is
ulica
, which is sometimes shortened to
ul
. in writing. It may come either at the beginning of the name of the street or at the end; for example, Ulica kneza Mihaila (literally Street of Knez Mihailo) or Francuska ulica (France Street). The first pattern usually refers to a street named after someone: Ulica kneza Miloša (Street of Knez Miloš), Ulica kralja Milana (Street of King Milan). In these circumstances the word ulica is often omitted. When the word
ulica
follows the name of the street it is usually because the first word is being used as an adjective: Pariska ulica (Parisian, or Paris, Street), Karađorđeva ulica (Karađorđe’s Street).

The word
venac
usually means a wreath, but when used in town refers to a curved street like a crescent in Britain, such as Kosančićev venac (Kosančić Crescent) or Obilićev venac (Obilić Crescent). A wide main road may be called a
bulevar
(boulevard): Bulevar kralja Aleksandra (Boulevard of King Alexander). The word for a square is
trg
: Trg Republike (Square of the Republic, or Republic Square).

Street names are written in the Cyrillic alphabet on a blue plaque. It is quite usual to find that a street has an old and a new name on two different plaques. Changes of regime and political circumstances in the twentieth century have led to the renaming of roads and squares to reflect the new order. Major causes of these transformations were the victory of the Communist Party at the end of the Second World War and the collapse of communism at the end of the 1990s. Thus, at the end of the war Krunska ulica (Crown Street) was rechristened Ulica proleterskih brigada (Street of Proletarian Brigades), while Bulevar kralja Aleksandra became Bulevar revolucije (Boulevard of the Revolution). The aim was to eradicate the last traces of the previous regime by writing out references to the royal families, dynastic offspring and other unwanted historical baggage.

The main street King Milan Street, as another example, became Ulica Maršala Tita (Street of Marshal Tito), as it was common for the main street in the towns and cities of Yugoslavia to bear the name of the president. With the end of communism the pre-war nomenclature was revived in an effort to wipe out the remnants of that regime. Thus, the examples above have all reverted to their old name.

Some streets have a history with a complicated series of changes. At the bottom of what is again called King Peter I Street, near to the corner with Kosančić Crescent, is a plaque detailing the different names under which this particular thoroughfare has been known. Translated into English, it reads:

Earlier Names of Streets
Dubrovnik Street 1872–1904
King Peter Street 1904–1946
7th July Street 1946–1997

This series of changes charts the historical importance of the street. Being near the river it used to be associated with merchants coming from Dubrovnik to Belgrade. Then, in 1904, the coronation of King Peter took place in the Cathedral signalling the restoration of the Karađorđević family. When the communists came to power it was named after the date on which the uprising against the Germans began in Serbia during the Second World War. This is not even the full list of different names applied to this street. Even before taking the name Dubrovnik Street, it was known for part of its length as Glavna Čaršija, corresponding to something like Main Town or Town Head Street. For a brief period from 1916 to 1918, when Belgrade was occupied by the Austrians, the new authorities preferred to omit reference to the king and it was called Saborna ulica (Cathedral Street).

The right to give a name to the city space is not only about giving it an address for the delivery of post. It also evokes historical associations that tie the place to a particular sense of history. It emphasizes certain events over others, marking what is worth commemorating and committing to public memory. The unity of the space is devoted towards one understanding of the past that has contributed most to contemporary identities. It is a visual and textual representation of the community that helps to explain how it has arrived at this point in present time. Folk memory is not only inscribed but also created on these plaques.

After the fall in 2000 of the unpopular President Milošević (1941–2006), whose name is associated with the Wars of Yugoslav Succession and the decline of Serbia in the 1990s, the new government appointed a committee to look into fresh names for streets and squares. Many have reverted to their pre-war status, while others have been rechristened after a historical figure not previously regarded as appropriate for public commemoration. In this situation city plans quickly go out of date and most people carry in their heads two sets of names. It is not uncommon to ask a taxi-driver to go to an address and for him to cross-check with an alternative name for the same place, making doubly sure that it really is where he thinks it is.