VISUAL ASPECTS OF THE SERBIAN ENTRANCE IN A NEW WORLD

BRANKO BEŠLIN

If we wished to select several key words related to the entire history of south-eastern Pannonia, today's province of Vojvodina, one of them would undoubtedly be “migration”. As far back as the prehistoric times, the plain was frequently exposed to waves of immigrants coming from the mountainous areas that surround it – the Carpathians and the western Balkans. During the Migration Period, many tribes from the steppes beyond the Carpathians crossed this area as they advanced towards the West. Similar processes were taking place in other parts of Europe as well, but in this part of Pannonia large-scale migrations continued from the 16th century until today, bringing about, among other things, several profound changes in respect to the population's ethnic, religious, linguistic and cultural identity. From the beginning of the 16th and until the end of the 17th century, the Ottoman conquest and rule resulted in a drastic diminution of the Hungarian population. The demographic catastrophe was only partially mitigated by new arrivals from the Balkans, among which the Christians, mostly , outnumbered the Muslims. After the instatement of Habsburg rule in the 18th century, these lands, devastated by war, were settled by Serbs, Germans, Hungarians, Slovaks, Rusyns, Romanians, and others, both spontaneously and as a result of systematic colonisation by the state. The region thus became remarkably multi-ethnic and it would remain as such for the following 200 years. Minor changes in that respect emerged after the First World War when it was integrated as part of , i.e. Yugoslavia, and major ones after 1945. At that time, the state colonised the former settlements of exiled and escaped Germans, who constituted about a third of Vojvodina's population, by the dwellers of the mountainous regions of , , Montenegro, and, in smaller numbers, of Serbia and Macedonia. Continual migration in this direction, albeit of significantly lesser intensity, persisted until the 1990s, when they assumed dramatic proportions once more. During the armed conflict that followed the breakup of Yugoslavia, the greatest number of Serbian refugees from the war-torn areas settled in Vojvodina. The province remained multi-ethnic, but with a notably Serbian majority. In any case, a considerable portion of today's inhabitants of Vojvodina belong to the first, second or third generation of immigrants. Among the Serbians themselves, the “natives” have become a minority in comparison to the newcomers (“dođoši”).1 Even

1 A not very pejorative name referring to those who arrived after 1945 (more diehard “natives” push that boundary to 1918).

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those who hold their ties to Vojvodina dear will not claim autochthony, which is indicative of an awareness that “at some time or other, we all came from somewhere”. When, however, seems to be an important question. A moderately educated “native” will proudly emphasise that their ancestors “came as early as Čarnojević”, i.e. during the so-called Great Migration of the Serbs, led by the Patriarch Arsenije III Crnojević in 1690. That claim should (in a bold comparison) carry the same weight as when an American state that they are a descendent of the Mayflower settlers. Relying on "family lore", many of "Čarnojević's Serbs" have said that they trace their ancestry to Kosovo (the seat of the Patriarchate was in Peć).2 It would be truly miraculous if these stories could have been orally transmitted and preserved in so many families over three centuries, all the more if one has in mind that most “natives” are actually not descendants from those who came in 1690. Namely, numerous Serbs moved to these areas as early as the 15th and 16th century, and intense migration from the Ottoman to the Habsburg Empire continued throughout the 18th century. Nevertheless, these facts have been, to this day, known only to historians and those who take a greater interest in the past. In today's public discourse, the story about “arriving with Čarnojević” sounds entirely convincing. That could be explained by the fact that the “Great Migration” was truly one of the crucial events in the entire Serbian history. As such, it was made official through different historical narratives and the educational system until mid-19th century. Based on what they had learnt in school, read or heard from more educated contemporaries, many constructed an idea of their ancestry and passed it down to children and grandchildren. Regional amateur researchers recorded these “voices from the past” without any critical thought. This is how “family narratives” persisted and sounded even more convincing because their credibility could be verified in books. Nowadays, the same ideas can be found on internet forums, where those with some superficial knowledge lecture the uninformed. Another great, perhaps even crucial, contribution to the deep-rootedness of the “Great Migration” in the collective memory, as a drama of both national and numerous family histories, was the monumental composition The 1690 Migration of the Serbs under Patriarch Arsenije Čarnojević by Paja Jovanović, the most popular historical piece in Serbian painting. In what follows, we will offer an analysis of the scene depicted in the painting, along with a more detailed account of its creation, as they are both indicative of the people's perceptions of the event that, for them, marks the beginning of the 18th century.

2 A curator in one museum in recently stated, invoking the fact that the lastname Putin existed in the area, that perhaps the ancestors of the Russian president Vladimir Putin, along with several other thousand Banat frontiersmen, arrived in Russia in mid-18h century, and that there was hence a possibility that he, too, originated in Kosovo.

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Paja Jovanović, Migration of the Serbs 1896 (Pančevo Museum).

Historians concur in that the significance of the “Great Migration” lies not only in the number of emigrants, but also in the fact that they included almost everyone who made up the social elite: church dignitaries, heads of patriarchal communities, rich merchants. Most important religious and political functionaries relocated from the South, where they had been for centuries, to the North, into the . The people who had been, ever since first mentioned in written records, principally under the influence of Byzantine culture, now found themselves living in distinct governmental, legal and social circumstances; they adapted to them during the 18th century, and thus entered the modern age. Nonetheless, many issues have remained disputable. How many emigrants were there? How many, apart from the Serbs, belonged to Balkan nations? Yet, the question of all questions, which had a direct political impact in the 18th and 19th century, and without which it is impossible to discuss Jovanović's painting is: was it a spontaneous mass escape or an organised exodus at the invitation of the Viennese Court? During the , larger-scale migrations of Serbs began as early as 1686 – after the fall of Buda a great many relocated from Banat into the territory that had been taken by the Austrian army. During the 1688 and the further advancement of the Imperial Army towards the South, Serbs followed in great numbers. However, their ecclesiastic and political leader, Patriarch Arsenije III, would not express his opinions about Austria. Only in 1689, after open threats from Enea Piccolomini, a general in the Imperial Army, he left the safety of Montenegro, and came to Peć. Merely weeks later, the Ottoman Army began suppressing the Austrians, and the Patriarch joined the crowds of people who were making their way towards the North. In April 1690, Emperor Leopold I issued an edict inviting the Balkan Christians (not only Serbs) to come under his protection, i.e. to take his side. The Patriarch received the edict in Belgrade, which was already swarming with refugees. It was unclear whether the Austrian Army would be able to contain the Turks, and he was counting on moving forward with the afflicted people across the and rivers. Before a potential exodus, he and

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other prelates wanted to safeguard the same autonomy that the Orthodox Church had enjoyed under the , where the Patriarchate of Peć had been the de facto representative of the Serbian people. With this in mind, Bishop Isaija Đaković was dispatched to . On 21st August 1690, the overwhelmed Emperor Leopold I issued a Diploma in which he granted and promised to uphold most Serbian requests. Isaija would not present it to the Patriarch until his arrival in Komoran in November, by which time the “Great Migration” would have already ended. The Invitatoria was the first in a series of documents that Serbians in would later use to defend their religious and educational autonomy, and more general national concerns. Although the document explicitly called upon the people not to leave their homes, Serbian politicians, legal experts, and historians claimed, for the following two centuries, that this section of the document had to be interpreted interdependently with the promised protection and subsequently granted privileges. There were also those who simply turned a blind eye to the not part. This means that Serbs did not, as was originally claimed by the Hungarian nobility, and later by historians, arrive as refugees. Rather, they came as war allies - an organised people headed by their Patriarch and other leaders. The Emperor Leopold invited them to move because he needed them as warriors to defend the borders of the Western world against the Ottoman threat, and because of that he granted them special status. At the time when Jovanović produced his painting, the question of when and how people came to Pannonia returned to the forefront because the period marked a thousand years since the Hungarian arrival. The main event was supposed to be the 1896 Millennial Exhibition in Budapest. The Hungarian government considered it necessary that the national minorities should participate as well. Nevertheless, in August 1895 the Congress of Nationalities met in Budapest, condemned the Millennium for “deceiving Europe”, and emphasised its opposition “to such a celebration and ceremony, which will portray us all as defeated and subjugated peoples”. The “Millennial fever” was a mixture of romantic nationalism and progressivism – a glorification of the past and of technological achievements. The whole affair, of course, also included artists. In 1893, inter alia, Mihály Munkácsy completed a painting commissioned by the Hungarian Parliament, in which he depicted the first encounter of Prince Árpád and the primarily Slavic population already living in Pannonia. The client was displeased. The encounter looked too amicable, thus going against the spirit of the official national ideology, which was that Hungarians came as nation- building conquerors. Even after some corrections, the client maintained that the painting did not sufficiently emphasise the difference between the victors and the vanquished – that difference was blatantly obvious to the non-Hungarian population. At any rate, the painting was not placed in its designated spot in the Parliament until after World War II. Serbian Patriarch Georgije Branković, who was often in Budapest for work, also had an opportunity to see Munkácsy's work. At his initiative, the Board of the Serbian Church-National Assembly in Sremski Karlovci decided in

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1895 that, at the Millennial Exhibition, Serbs be represented by a painting which would clearly reflect their view of history and their political attitudes. Paja Jovanović was entrusted with the task. He was born in 1859 in Vršac, Banat, to a Serbian father and a German mother, and studied painting in Vienna. Most grammar school and university students at the time were politically impassioned. A heavy dose of romantic nationalism, which had reached its peak among Serbs at the time, added to their commitment to parliamentarism and democracy. Jovanović would not succumb to it. Both as a student and later on, he worked diligently, distancing himself from ideologies and politics. He was a “man of the world”, fluent in several languages, and making excellent profits from his paintings. During his very long life – he lived to the age of 98 – he painted the portraits of the Emperor Franz Joseph, King Alexander of Yugoslavia, and the communist leader Tito. During what was a very tumultuous time, Jovanović did not seem to face many challenges. He was very gifted, educated in the spirit of Viennese Academicism, and his technique was exceptional. With the help of Leopold Carl Müller (1834-1892), he specialised in painting historical scenes, approaching his work with a very elaborate professional methodology: by studying events and people, and producing numerous sketches of costumes and weapons, both in his studio and in the field. In 1882, while still a student, he was awarded the Academy Prize and granted the Imperial scholarship for his painting The Wounded Montenegrin, which was purchased by the Budapest Kasina for 1000 forints. The following year he began working for the London gallery owner Thomas Wallis, for whose clients he, at first, painted scenes from the lives of Montenegrins, Herzegovinians, and Albanians. In the course of the next decade, he lived in London, Munich, Vienna and Paris. During that time he travelled to Greece, Egypt, Morocco, and the Caucasus, perfecting his depictions of oriental scenes. He stayed in Montenegro, Herzegovina, Albania, Serbia, Kosovo and Metohija several times. As his biographer Nikola Kusovac noted, Jovanović remained completely unmoved by the harsh reality of those poor and backward regions. In order to please his rich clients who craved exotics, he painted the "everyday life" in an idealised form, the people with typified physiognomies, and dressed in vivid national costumes. He produced somewhat modified versions and even replicas of his most sought-after paintings, sometimes making it difficult for art historians to determine which was created first. By the age of 25 he was financially taken care of, he became a corresponding member of the Serbian Learned Society (the future Academy) in Belgrade, and the press praised him as "the pride of the nation". In early 1895 he presented his first iconic piece with a historical theme, Takovo Uprising 1815, commissioned by the Serbian King Alexander Obrenović. That same year, Jovanović travelled to Sremski Karlovci, the seat of the Serbian Patriarchate, where, after some negotiations, he committed himself to finishing the Migration of the Serbs in less than a year, for a substantial fee of 10 000 forints. This was a relatively tight deadline, all the more

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because the painter had also accepted an offer from his native town's administration to produce the Vršac Triptych for the Millennial Exhibition. In Autumn 1895 Jovanović delved into work, but not without prior preparation. Regarding the Migration of the Serbs, he needed to better familiarise himself with the historical event and its key figures, and go on study trips. The Board from Sremski Karlovci assigned one of its members, Archimandrite Ilarion Ruvarac, as his advisor. This would turn out to be a mistake, and it remains unclear how it occurred. The Patriarch wanted a painting that would be in accordance with Serbian political requests. Ruvarac was, indeed, a distinguished historian, but he acquired his reputation by debunking myths and fallacies. For years he polemicised with romantic nationalists, showing neither compromise nor consideration. For what he considered the truth, he was prepared to hurt the deepest national feelings of the majority of Serbs, and ridicule other historians for being ignorant, without choosing his words. Furthermore, he elaborately argued that the “Great Migration” was simply an escape in fear of retribution, and, among other things, he highlighted that “Serbians were from 1691 until 1699 merely guests in Hungary, and since no one had invited them to come, they were uninvited guests”. Visiting the monasteries of Fruška Gora, talking to Ruvarac, and working in his Viennese studio, Jovanović finished the painting in ten months, in July 1896. The large canvas (3.80×5.85 m) was displayed in the dining hall of the Patriarch's Court in Sremski Karlovci. The scene is full of drama: the Patriarch, (church) deans, warriors, children, a flock of sheep – a whole nation on the move, an exodus. As early as 1721, Prior Cyril from the Hopovo monastery on Fruška Gora noted that “ahead of the numerous people walked His Holiness Patriarch Arsenije, as Moses walked before the Israelites across the Red Sea: he carried the bones of Joseph, whilst His Holiness led the Christians across the famous Danube, and transported reliquaries containing the remains of saints.” Owing to a note that Jovanović wrote in 1945 when he did a reproduction for a Serbian family in the United States, we can identify the characters in the painting. Some of them are mentioned in the sources, and others remembered only through unreliable family lore. In the centre of the composition, albeit in the background, are: Arsenije Crnojević, Bishop Isaija Đaković, and a young woman with a child in her arms, all on horses. Jovanović gave Arsenije the face of his client, Georgije Branković, and painted Isaija based on an authentic portrait from the beginning of the 18th century. The youth leading the two men's horses is Deacon Obrad, the Patriarch's secretary, who was allegedly an ancestor of the most significant writer of the Serbian Enlightenment Age, Dositej Obradović. In the foreground is the most striking character: a bellicose Dinaric man with an angular face and a long moustache, a wounded arm in a bloodied bandage, a yataghan around his waist, and a rifle on his shoulder; a future frontiersman at the outposts of Christianity. According to the painter's note, it is the guide Vuko Pupin, an ancestor of the renowned inventor Mihajlo Pupin, of whom Jovanović did a portrait in 1902-1903 in the United States. In the 1945 version, the

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glowering guide's face was replaced with that of his scientist descendant. On the left are warriors on horses – a forest of spears. In front of the army are monks who are carrying, like the Ark of the Covenant, a chest containing the relics of one of the Serbian saint rulers. Riding a white horse ahead of everyone is the Serbian military commander, vice-Voivode Jovan Monasterlija. On the right are the non-combatants, walking on foot, or in ox-drawn covered wagons. In front of them is a flock of sheep – the shepherd is Jovo Đukin, an ancestor of Paja Jovanović, according to family lore. The painter was pleased with his work, but the client was not. Patriarch Branković was bothered by the sight of the non-combatants and the flock of sheep, because they could lead the observer to think, as Ruvarac had already claimed, that this was but an escape. He prevented the Great Migration from being displayed in Budapest, and refused to pay the painter's fees. Jovanović turned to Milenko Vesnić, the Minister of Education in Belgrade, to intervene and secure the payment, because he would otherwise appeal to the court. Relations between Serbia and Austria-Hungary had already deteriorated in the previous years. On top of that, the President of the Serbian Government, historian and philologist Stojan Novaković disapproved of the fact that the flag to be carried at the parade in Budapest was to have the coat of arms of the 1718-1739 Kingdom of Serbia, whose ruler was (as King of Hungary) the Emperor Charles VI. Although that coat of arms was completely different than the current one, and although the Austro-Hungarian foreign minister assured him this was not a way of bolstering territorial claims, Novaković instructed the Serbian delegate in Vienna not to attend the ceremonies in Budapest, and a diplomatic scandal ensued. In such an environment, a lawsuit between the Patriarch and Jovanović would have certainly been picked up by Budapest’s and Vienna’s press, as another example of Serbian national exclusiveness and oversensitivity. Therefore, they compromised. Jovanović was paid, but he altered the painting. Patriarch Branković remained as Arsenije Čarnojević, but instead of a worried face, Jovanović gave him a determined look. He had Bishop Isaija Đaković hold the Diploma and show it to the Patriarch with his right index finger. So the Invitatoria found itself in the very centre of the painting. The youth leading the horses was given a rifle over his shoulder. Instead of the woman with the child, Jovanović painted an imposing young chieftain holding a mace. Judging from his sumptuous clothing, he is likely to have assumed Monasterlija's role. Jovanović repainted the entire right side. The flock of sheep and the covered wagons were replaced by determined infantry. Not even this “politically correct” version was sent to the Exhibition. Jovanović was still represented in Budapest with his Vršac Triptych, in which he depicted, in the spirit of the Hungarian national ideology, the harmonious everyday life of Serbians, Germans and Hungarians. For this painting he was awarded the gold medal. The altered, “more patriotic” version of the Great Migration practically remained out of the public eye, and never even remotely reached the

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popularity of the original – many do not even know of its existence. How did that happen? The painting was placed in the dining hall of the Patriarch's Court in Sremski Karlovci; during World War II the authorities of the Independent State of Croatia took it to Zagreb; in 1946 it was brought to Belgrade and displayed in the National museum; finally, it was transferred to a hall in the Patriarchate building in which the Synod sits, and it remains there to this day. However, the businessman in Jovanović had sold the copyright on the Great Migration to Petar Nikolić from Zagreb as early as 1895, so oleographs shortly found their way into the daylight. Until today it remains unclear whether it is the original version or a smaller, completely identical replica (127×190.5) which Jovanović completed in 1896, and which is nowadays kept in a museum in Pančevo. Even if the Patriarch did not like it, the painting was to the taste of liberal citizens, who had been struggling for control over the cultural and political lives of Serbs in the Monarchy against the conservative clergy and officers for more than three decades.Themselves politically impassioned, the liberals did not dispute the organised arrival of the Serbs at the Emperor's invitation. According to them, however, the rights of Serbs in Austria-Hungary had not been won by prelates and military commanders alone, but also by the self-sacrificing laypeople. That is why liberal journalists who had the opportunity to see both versions preferred the first one that included laypeople, and not the second one with priests and soldiers. Certain romantic nationalist historians, incidentally, went as far as to blame Patriarch Arsenije for making one of the most fatal decisions in the whole of Serbian history: he fell for the Austrian Emperor's promises, and relocated the Serbs into Austria-Hungary to fight for Habsburg interests, leaving Kosovo empty and open for Albanian invasion. Such interpretations fell mostly on deaf ears. For most Serbians the Patriarch remained one of the nation's greatest names, and Jovanović's painting became a virtually essential part of the décor in many homes, schools, libraries, pubs – primarily in Austria-Hungary. It has been reproduced using different, cheaper or more expensive, techniques until today. A perceptible stagnation in that respect occurred during the communist era, at which time it could be seen only in historical monographs and textbooks, rarely in public spaces. However, every member of the post- war generation could often see it when visiting older relatives. After the fall of the regime, and the awakening of the long-repressed nationalism, the painting rapidly regained its former position. Political changes coincided with the 1990 tercentenary of the “Great Migration”, which was celebrated with a series of public events under the auspices of the government. The painting found itself on posters, stamps and amateurs started making copies – although mostly of the lowest quality, they are still present in galleries, indicating that demand has not declined. Even versions parodying current events appear in the newspapers. This summer, I saw it on the beach for the first time – tattooed on a young man's chest. At the mention of the 18th century, basically educated Serbs' first thoughts are chiefly Jovanović's painting, and Miloš Crnjanski's novel Migrations, which figured on high

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school required reading lists for decades.3

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY

Љубисав Андрић, (прир.), Сеоба у споровима, Нови Сад 1991 [Ljubisav Andrić (ed.), Migration in Disputes, Novi Sad, The Literarу Community of Novi Sad, 1991]. These proceedings contain main works of Serbian historians and politicians about the Great Migration, published in 19th and 20th century.

Lilien Filipovitch-Robinson, Inspiration and Affirmation of Revolution in Nineteenth-Century Serbian Painting. In: Journal of the North American Society for Serbian Studies, Bloomington, 19 (2), p. 317–28.

Никола Кусовац, Паја Јовановић. Београд 2009 [Nikola Kusovac, Paja Jovanović. Belgrade 2009].

3 Crnjanski does not, however, write about the “Great Migration”, but about the involvement of Serbian frontiersmen in the War of the Austrian Succession, and their migration to Russia, which quickly followed as a result of their displeasure at the abolishment of the Potisje-Pomoravlje section of the .

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