Anthony Rhodes's travelogue Where the Turk Trod: A Journey to Sarajevo with a Slavonic Mussulman (1956) and his novel The Prophet's Carpet (1961), both based on his visit to Bosnia, exemplify the fairly conventional Western European view of the Balkans as a separate, different part of Europe--quaint, romantic, and Oriental. This perspective can be illustrated with a few examples from British travel- and other writing, ranging from the late nineteenth century to the end of the twentieth, as well as with examples from outside of literature. Writing in 1898, William Miller locates the Balkans in the "Near East" and emphasizes the difference between it and Europe. (1) In 1931, Geoffrey Rhodes also uses the term "Near East" to describe Dalmatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina, (2) while Lawrence Durrell, making a trip to Bosnia from Belgrade in 1949, sees Sarajevo as an 18th-century Turkish town. (3) In The Penguin Dictionary of Literary Terms and Literary Theory, under the entry of "Orientalism," author J. A. Cuddon situates the beginning of the East, from the British perspective, in Bosnia and in Sarajevo in particular. The Bosnian capital, he says, is the northernmost point that camel trains could safely travel to; beyond that--he claims in a memorable if doubtful description--camels "developed sore throats, bronchitis and other pulmonary afflictions." (4) As late as 1990, Richard Bassett's travelogue Balkan Hours carries the telling subtitle "Travels in the Other Europe"; its author feels that he is crossing a civilizational divide when he turns inland from the Adriatic coast into Bosnia and "the Balkan fastness." (5) Let us add that many British journalists reporting from Sarajevo during the recent war wondered at their surprising cultural "find": the Bosnian Muslims didn't look Middle-Eastern, as they had expected, and were leading ordinary European lives.
But the books by Anthony Ewart Rhodes (1916-2004), journalist, travel writer, and novelist, (6) seem to go a step further in this view of Bosnia, developing and deepening, as it were, the Orientalist and Balkanist gaze of other Western European observers. (7) In both works, Bosnia, part of the new, modernizing post-Second World War Yugoslavia, is also seen as a still living East and a land locked into its peculiar past, separated if not severed from Europe. In his first "Bosnian" book, Where the Turk Trod, a late traditional-style travel account, Rhodes describes Bosnia's contemporary scene, its social and political realities in the early 1950s, yet at the same time he takes pains to deal with his subject anachronistically, creating a historicized and stylized image of the land he is observing. These two ways of seeing clash, producing a textual tension between the largely imagined past Bosnia and the Bosnia actually experienced. Often, this contrast between the two representations creates confusion.
The anachronistic elements in Rhodes's undertaking in Where the Turk Trod, both in journeying and in writing, are exemplified by his mode of traveling (on horseback and on foot), his reliance on older travel books, and, last but not least, by his motive for going to Bosnia. He wanted to travel to this Balkan land, which he had visited once as a child, in order to "examine Turkish remains" there (9), (8) see "a slice of feudal Europe preserved" (10), and find the answer to the question if the West, historically speaking, "had [...] not painted the Turk blacker than he deserved" (10-11). Rhodes also wanted to establish whether the adage "Where the Turk trod no grass grows" was still valid. In addition to this, especially when answering officials' questions, he offers other reasons for visiting Bosnia, as when he tells a policeman in Herzegovina that he is "travelling for pleasure, hoping to shoot a bear" (62). Rhodes visited Bosnia in the summer and fall of 1954. He took a ship from Rijeka down the Adriatic coast to Makarska, where he bought two horses and hired a guide for the trip to Sarajevo; in the Bosnian capital, his final destination, he sold the horses and sent the guide back. He apparently wanted to model this Balkan trip on an earlier one, to Italy, which he described in A Sabine Journey (1952), when he traveled on a donkey and was accompanied by a guide. Rhodes seems to have been carrying a gun for hunting, at least in Herzegovina.
There is much of the Turkish heritage that Rhodes sees in Bosnia, and much that he imagines seeing. Although he states that "there are few real Turks left in Yugoslavia today" (44) and early on identifies Bosnian Muslims as "Slavonic Mussulmen" (both of these words sound outdated, especially the latter), Rhodes sees Muslims everywhere in Bosnia as Turks--Oriental, dark-skinned people, lazily going through life (his guide Riza Ibramovic has "swarthy features and hooked nose" (21) and displays "almost Oriental fatalism," (24) or, more ominously, as "Janissaries" (78) and "bloodthirsty Bashibazouks" (91) armed with yatagans). A strange, threatening presence (Turkish and Balkan), Rhodes feels, still hangs over the Bosnian landscape. In its forests, "gloomy and silent," "there is something [of] a Balkan savageness, a rocky violence, an almost oppressive loneliness, which distinguishes it from northern Europe" (108). This strangeness of the land, if not the threat, shows through in other, more pacific Oriental moments, as when on a night in Mostar Rhodes feels that "even the moon [...] clear and crescent above, seem[s] Ottoman" (41).
Parts of Mostar and Sarajevo especially remind this traveler of the magic world of the Arabian Nights, as does his visit to the Reis-ul-Ulema [Ibrahim ef. Fejzic] and his residence in the Bosnian capital. Although he wears a western suit, everything else on and around the Reis is Turkish or Oriental--"an Arabian cast of face, a silvery beard and a golden turban" (180), as well as the courtyards, cupolas, fountains, cypresses, and roses, and even (and unlikely) vines, and fig trees! In Sarajevo, where "even the hours of rest and work are Oriental" (142), Rhodes sees older men who "still carry on the indolent, Oriental life, wear a fez and baggy trousers" (141). He also remarks that Sarajevo's "Oriental cuisine [is] incomprehensible to our palates, a mixture of oil, honey and sugar" (45). In spite of that cuisine's intense otherness, and the pervasive and memorable smell of sheep's fat in the Old Town, Rhodes does not recoil from ordering many sweets and "devouring" them with pleasure (146).
Sarajevo's women, to whom he devotes a whole chapter, also strike Rhodes as exotic, with "soft, pulpy skins and beautiful hair, dusky, half golden" (150). Although impressive-looking, they are clearly not our traveler's type: "the northerner in me needs northern eyes, hair, cheekbones"; "you could not mate me with one; I love the olive, but not the olive skin" (151). Speaking of olives--perhaps an Orientalist marker in the book--Rhodes sees "fig trees and olive groves" (133), as well as orange trees, in central Bosnia, a botanical impossibility. In the same part of the country, he notices peasants in the fields who appear to him as "quaintly dressed figures who might have stepped out of an Oriental picture-book" (133). In light of this, it is no wonder that Rhodes's travelogue ends with a significant word--"East"--which in a way defines his search for "the Moslem past in Bosnia" (188). After his audience with the Reis, Rhodes leaves, "loaded down with the fruit and flowers of the East" (188)--but hardly with figs and olives. (9)
If some of these elements of Rhodes's Orientalism have a grounding in, and a connection with, the Bosnian past as well as its present), some others, as we have seen, constitute picturesque exaggerations. His arbitrary observations are often factual errors, like the wrong historical dates, a confusion of geographic locations--he sees the Montenegrin mountain of Durmitor from his window in Sarajevo!--and language and spelling innovations. Sometimes, his errors come across as anachronisms. For example, he uses the word "gendarmerie," which was not used for police in post-Second World War Yugoslavia. He clearly takes the word over from earlier guides, like the Austrian Illustrierter Fuhrer (although he describes it as "modern," (121), a copy of which he carries with him). Rhodes also relies on nineteenth-century English travel books (J. G. Wilkinson's Dalmatia and Montenegro, 1848; R. Dunkin's In the Land of the Bora, 1897; H. C. Woods's The Danger Zone of Europe, 1911)--this last is also part of his traveling baggage--from which he occasionally borrows, including outright copying, as from Wilkinson and Dunkin. Rhodes's actual travel experience thus intersects in strange and "inventive" ways with the earlier writers' descriptions. He seems to have been one of those British gentleman scholars and travel writers for whom the experience of reading others was as important (if not more so) as personal, immediate perception. For how else can we explain such a curious an anachronism in his travel book as his admiring the old bridge (of Turkish origin) in Konjic, which he actually could not have seen, since it had been destroyed some years before his visit, at the end of the war?
Rhodes's anachronisms, borrowings, and his tone make parts of Where the Turk Trod read like an unintentional parody of earlier English travelogues about Bosnia and the Balkans. (10) His language clearly establishes his attitude toward his material: Bosnia and Bosnians are the exotic other for Rhodes in such revealing phrases like "among these people," "these carefree folk" (151), "your Mussulman" (183), "your Turk" (30), or in his exclamation while at the monastery of Fojnica: "Christianity again!" (106).
On the other hand, Rhodes also writes--and more responsibly--about seeing and experiencing ordinary, everyday things, like meeting with common people, hunting in the Herzegovinian hills, running into Yugoslav Army soldiers on exercises, and witnessing the completion of the Jablanica hydroelectric power plant, one of the results of the Five-Year Plan. Yet even here, he frequently slips into stereotyping and simplifications, as when he expresses his doubts that socialist modernization is possible in Bosnia: "For is it not very ambitious to introduce a Five-Year Plan among Mussulmans? Has not the very word, Mussulman, something defiantly backward about it, backward yet benevolent, standing for almost everything a Five-Year Plan does not?" (88).
But sometimes, in recounting all that he actually sees, Rhodes is capable of providing thoughtful observations about the culture and mentality of the people he meets. He reflects on the recent war and its consequences, and comments on contemporary politics and the nature of Yugoslav socialism. Rhodes notices a proliferation of patriots and war heroes in the country, writes of the "new paganism" under socialism and of Tito's ubiquitous picture as "a modern ikon" (101). He also notes the immediacy of the distant past in Yugoslavia, where "political and religious questions so easily graft themselves on to economic ones" (39), and points out the divisiveness caused by the two alphabets, describing the Cyrillic as "curiously un-European" (173). (11) Some of Rhodes's encounters and conversations with Bosnians, like that with the Reis-ul-Ulema, humorously encapsulate the author's ambiguous attitudes toward the old and the new, historical and modern, as shown by the pun on "martial," "Marshal," and "marshallah" (187), which playfully alludes to the war, Tito's military rank, and the Arabic exclamation of praise and approval. The excellent photographs which Rhodes supplies convey much of the raw and vivid human and physical landscape of the time. They somehow stand in sharp contrast with the author's Orientalist imaginings, and bring him--and us--back to the 1950s Bosnia. Interestingly, these photographs were taken by his brother Richard Rhodes, who is never mentioned in the text; his presence as a traveler is suppressed.
In his other observations that have anthropological or literary value, Rhodes notes that wood is the quintessential building material of Bosnian Muslims ("these ligniferous people," 109), and that water mills are the "most Bosnian of objects" (108): "[T]he never-ending gurgling of the waters [is] a symbol of Bosnia, past and present" (110). Rhodes has an eye for peppers and tomatoes drying in festoons in the October sun outside wooden houses, notices the Central European way of buttoning bed linen to the blanket, and captures the gesticulation of a Sarajevan, for whom words are not enough to express numbers: "With his hand, he emphasized these figures while he spoke, two, three, four, with that gesture so common in the Mediterranean lands, the hand coming forward gradually, the fingers opening suddenly--as if their owner were loosing a butterfly" (157-58). In another passage, in which he describes riding from Dalmatia into Bosnia, Rhodes produces travel writing at its best:
Outside the town we passed a train of laden women and donkeys, surrounded by drivers, feverishly crying, 'Idi! Idi!' The women often carried as much as the donkeys--faggots, household goods, pots, pans. Some of them had a fowl tucked under each ann. Their men strode alongside, indolent, haughty, handsome and indifferent, carrying little more than an umbrella and the perpetual cigarette. (28)
Anthony Rhodes does not answer the question about the Turks in Bosnia he poses at the beginning of the book, and we never fully learn if any grass grows where the Turk trod. His views are often self-contradictory and muddled, his information inaccurate and confusing, with facts melting into fiction and fantasy. The predominant picture of Bosnia that he sketches is sympathetic yet laced with irony; it is one of a deeply Orientalized country, alluring for an interested yet culturally distanced Western visitor. The best places in the travelogue are those in which the author leaves his stylized and cliched vision of Bosnia, largely inspired by earlier writers, and stumbles upon fresh insight and deeper understanding. These places, like the imaginative titles of some chapters ("Rain," "Goats and Water-Wheels," or "The Rose Garden"), successfully recreate the traveling moment, conjuring up the weather, a building or a landscape, a face, or a person's appearance or words. But the Orientalisms, Balkanisms, anachronisms, and factual errors in the book have a cultural value for us, too, since they reveal as much about the traveling observer and his culture as about the observed land.
Much is revealed about the author, although not as much as we would want, in the novel The Prophet's Carpet, set in an imaginary Balkan country that is recognizably Bosnia. Rhodes here uses much of the material from Where the Turk Trod, often borrowing entire passages. In this work, however, he not only borrows from himself but also from others, notably from Ivo Andric. He blatantly takes over motifs (like the country's "deathly silence," its barbarity and violence), whole sentences, and even passages from Travnicka hronika, using apparently the then only English translation, dated 1959. Rhodes copies the description of the Travnik bazaar and borrows Andric's story about the abortive love affair between Anna Maria, the wife of the Austrian Consul, and Amedee Chaumette Desfosses, the young secretary and interpreter at the French Consulate in Travnik. (For this, see Appendix.)
The Prophet's Carpet is populated by "Oriental" and other characters--Muslims, Communists, the English--who interact in a bizarre social and geographic environment, the center of which is the capital city of Blagograd, reminiscent of Sarajevo but situated on a seacoast. Blagograd is both a city and a province of a large federal state, whose unnamed capital is five hundred miles away. The Province, "a land famous for assassination" (49), 12 whose population is "a compost of Latins, Slavs and Moslems" (41), is described as occupying the religious/historical watershed between East and West; more recently, after the Second World War, it has become the ideological part of Eastern Europe. The author adds new, often confusing elements into this picture, such as having some Muslim characters bear non-Muslim names (Bizzo, Sarah, Roxane, Miron) and giving others names such as Michaelevsky and Haida Mirbadalev. In a similarly incongruous manner, the Muslim Prince Reza, eliminated by the new regime (and only part of the novel's back story), and his widow are described as members of Austro-Hungarian aristocracy as much as of old Turkish nobility.
The plot of The Prophet's Carpet follows the life of Major John Everett, British Consul in Blagograd, or "Consolo Beg," as he is known locally, and his attempts to serve his country dutifully in a land whose Communist government is unfriendly to the West. (13) Communist leader Bizzo, in charge of both the city and the Province, who worked as a mason for Consul Everett before, during the Consul's first, pre-war term in Blagograd, initially avoids Major Everett but turns to him later, as the new regime needs money to finish the High Dam outside the city. After the government sells the Prophet's carpet (the invaluable prayer rug kept in the Husref Beg mosque outside the city) to the British in order to complete the Dam, the Muslims of Blagograd riot and the Consul, who has been all along sympathetic to Muslims and their traditional ways (he is one of "Islam enthusiasts" ), returns the carpet to the people and joins them in prayer in the mosque. This act ends his consular career.
Unlike Where the Turk Trod, which as a travelogue genre calls, at least in theory, for more objectivity if not neutrality of narrative, and is told in a single voice (first person), The Prophet's Carpet offers more voices, including the author's, which express different opinions and attitudes. It is the voices of these outsiders to Blagograd that interest us here the most. The Balkan land is vaguely yet confidently situated in the "East" (sometimes referred to as "the Near East"), the "East" here only rarely referring to Eastern Europe in the political and ideological sense. A number of characters--the Consul's wife, the English businessman Sanderson, and Ambassador Wriothesley-Clerk--view the Muslim inhabitants as Orientals and Balkanites: Mrs. Everett calls them "barbarians," Sanderson "Arabs," while for the Ambassador they are "far and away the most uncivilized and backward element in the land" (130). Mrs. Everett loses what little emotional balance she has "in this Balkan waste," "this deathly Balkan silence" (78), or, as we read later, "in this hermetically sealed Balkan atmosphere" (188). In her case, the Balkan waste is a metaphor for the emptiness of her own life, filled with dreams of aristocratic connections, vague yearnings for culture--and longing for younger men, one of whom materializes in the person of Miron, an official from Blagograd's Cultural Department. The disease she suffers from is "'diplomatitis,' as the Everetts' clear-eyed and idealistic daughter Joan reminds her father, 'that well-known complaint which afflicts diplomats' wives who have lived many years away from England, who become more and more English.... It is as if the East has got into their blood, has sapped and unsettled it, so that it is continually crying out for Kensington and Tunbridge Wells'" (189). (14) Yet even Joan, who does not have the above affliction but tries to understand both the local people and the socialist experiment, and who dies as an innocent in the riots, wonders if progress is possible "in this land still surrounded by the squalor of the East, the land of stagnation and sloth, where the Moslem motto was still 'Time is made for fools' ... in this land where the green turban and the cummerbunded mullah still sloped disdainfully through the bazaar" (201). Significantly, her thoughts here are rendered in conventional, worn-out formulas reminiscent of older English travelogues on the Balkans or the Orient. (15)
Less harshly, and more or less in the author's own narrative voice--perhaps reflecting his soft Orientalism as opposed to the hard Orientalism of others--the people and the land are frequently given other epithets and characteristics that mark them as non-European or Oriental. Thus we learn that Bizzo possesses "almost oriental patience" (26), that Ibrahim, the Consul's interpreter, is a "likeable ... Moslem fanatic" with an "oriental imagination" (31), while another man's "manners [are] dignified, measured and characterized by the stoical serenity of the East" (125). We also find out that Muslims, except perhaps for busy Communist officials like Bizzo, like nothing better than "doing nothing in the shade, preferably beside running water" (71).
It is clear that Rhodes speaks through and for his hero, Major Everett, and the Consul's views and acts, interestingly, both reflect and question Western preconceptions about the Balkans. Major Everett has no doubt that he is serving "in an out-of-the-way Balkan town, where all sorts of strange things were always happening" (218) and that "the Slavonic Mussulmen" have "something defiantly backward about them," yet "benevolent" (131)--note the echo from the travelogue here. He also observes the people's touching belief that even the most casual foreigner, i.e. Westerner, possesses the power "to remedy the state of affairs in Blagograd" (126). Major Everett becomes increasingly disenchanted with his country's policies and loses faith in his diplomatic mission; we are reminded that he "had always contended that most of the trouble in the Balkans had come from the West, which considered that it evolved a civilisation so perfect that it was always in a hurry to impose it on everyone else" (131-2). Speaking of the West, in a scene that strangely seems to project far into the now familiar future of the Bosnian 1990s, Princess Reza pleads with Major Everett for British help in what is developing into a violent conflict in Blagograd between government forces and the rebelling people:
[Major Everett:] "You mean that we should help?" "Of course. British ships, warships. A landing with troops. An intervention.... We all hope for it.... The new regime is a pack of cowards. They would retire. And the Moslems would be free again. Our Province would be free again!" The Consul nodded his head. It was not for him to criticize his country. "The West will do nothing," he said. "How do you know?" "I know the West." "You know the West! How do you know? ... Why don't you try? Cable through to your government!" "The West will do nothing," he repeated firmly, "I know the West." (267) (16)
Major Everett is, of course, powerless to do anything here, just as his going native is an insignificant individual act in the large scheme of things. But his acceptance of the Balkan others is nonetheless a hopeful and symbolic move, testifying to his willingness and ability to cross a deep cultural divide. The Orientalism (of the softer variant) that he displays as part of his cultural baggage slowly but inexplicably erodes, and when things come to a head, Major Everett makes his choice. But it is his Westernness, his Western background, one suspects, that in the end allows him the freedom to make that choice.
Despite occasional colorful descriptions and flashes of insight (the best being those taken over from Andric), The Prophet's Carpet is a weak novel, with internal inaccuracies and incongruities, thin characterization, and slow narrative momentum. The confusing poetic license Rhodes allows himself here was apparently not enough for an imaginative recreation of life. He especially fails to conjure up the ideology-permeated life, whether public or private, under socialism, perhaps because he sweeps so much under the carpet of Orientalism: the "East" in this novel, though inspired by a trip to Bosnia and set in the Communist Balkans, is more an imaginary Orient than a recognizable Eastern European place.
Rhodes's Orientalization of Bosnia in Where the Turk Trod and The Prophet's Carpet stems from his deliberate effort to shift focus away from the reality of the time and place he deals with, but it is also the result of his uncritical and belated use of older sources. These influenced both his perception and his writing. Similarly, his Balkanist perspective, his depiction of Bosnia as strikingly different from England and Europe, is itself enmeshed with Orientalism, offering the reader an exotic version of the human and natural geography of the country. The world that Rhodes was most interested in had already been lost, had been marginalized--or had never existed. The social and political changes he witnessed as a Western traveler in Bosnia appear only as a distant echo in his works, not an all-pervasive presence. (17) By the 1950s, Bosnia (within Yugoslavia), had acquired a different symbolic place in Western imagology, that of a specific part of post-1945 Balkans and Eastern Europe, and Rhodes provides a strange sfumato of this changed image: in the travelogue, he blurs the reality of the period; in the novel he belabors a semblance of it.
(1.) Travels and Politics in the Near East (London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1898).
(2.) Dalmatia: The New Riviera (London: Stanley Paul, 1931).
(3.) Lawrence Durrell, Spirit of Place: Letters and Essays on Travel, ed A.G. Thomas (New York: E.P. Dutton, 1969) 103.
(4.) J. A. Cuddon, The Penguin Dictionary of Literary Terms and Literary Theory. 1977. (London: Penguin, 1991, 3rd ed.).
(5.) Richard Bassett, Balkan Hours: Travels in the Other Europe (London: John Murray, 1990) 72.
(6.) A repository of information about Rhodes has recently become the John J. Burns Library of Rare Books and Special Collections at Boston College, where his papers were transferred after his death.
(7.) Two prominent studies of Western perceptions of the Balkans are Maria Todorova's Imagining the Balkans (New York/Oxford: OUP, 1997) and Vesna Goldsworthy's Inventing Ruritania: The Imperialism of the Imagination (New Haven/London: Yale UP, 1998). I thank Professor Todorova for reading a draft of this article, communicating her ideas to me, and suggesting its title.
(8.) Where the Turk Trod: A Journey to Sarajevo with a Slavonic Mussulman (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1956). All subsequent quotes are from this edition.
(9.) Vesna Goldsworthy points out that a number of English writers, including Lawrence Durrell, had "a talismanic longing for olive groves"--in Durrell's own case, for those preferably situated in Greece--which "illustrates the existence of a very British romantic dream of the Mediterranean which the Balkans could never quite fulfill." The dream seemed to be alive and well as late as 1992: the then British Foreign Secretary Douglas Hurd has olive trees growing near Sarajevo in his short story "The Last Days of Summer"(Inventing Ruritania, 140n; 132).
(10.) Rhodes, it seems, was an old-fashioned and conservative man, with an affinity for tradition and the past in all matters, including literature. He looked down on the literary works of his time, like Virginia Woolfs modernist novels or Ted Hughes' new translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses. (See Rhodes's obituary by Alan Rush in the London The Independent, August 25, 2004: "Cosmopolitan Travel Writer, Biographer, Novelist and Memoirist"; http://news.independent.co.uk/people/obituaries/article39088.ece).
(11.) "Just as no visitor to this land will ever forget the first Turk in baggy trousers, or the first sign in the Cyrillic alphabet he sees, so he will never forget the first minaret," writes Rhodes in his work Art Treasures of Eastern Europe (New York: G. P. Putnam, 1972), 65.
(12.) The Prophet's Carpet (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1961). All subsequent quotes are from this edition.
(13.) The action of another, earlier, English work, E. M. Forster's unpublished play "The Heart of Bosnia" (1911), is similarly located in the British Consulate in Bosnia. For a discussion of the play and Forster's view of Bosnia and the Balkans, see In venting Ruritania, 126-131. Broadly speaking, Rhodes inherits Forster's view of Bosnia.
(14.) Rhodes's portrayal of British diplomats is reminiscent of that offered by Lawrence Durrell in such satirical works as Esprit de Corps (1957) and Stiff Upper Lip (1958), in which--in addition to the diplomats and their families--the Balkans and Eastern Europe receive rough sarcastic handling.
(15.) Yet it is in this chapter that the novel delivers a political prophecy, or half-prophecy, when Major Everett reflects on the need for "a federal state here, separating the Moslem part from the rest of the country, giving it a local autonomy" (201).
(16.) The sentiment Rhodes expresses here must have come from his own experience as a reporter in Hungary in 1956, where he witnessed firsthand the West's failure to help the uprising against the Soviets.
(17.) "A new feature in the image of the Balkans," writes Maria Todorova, "was added first between the wars but especially after World War II when a new demon, a new other--communism--was grafted on it" (Imagining the Balkans, 133). This feature of Balkanism, which made the Balkans still farther from Western Europe, does not figure prominently in Rhodes.
APPENDIX The Bazaar and the Pine Wood: Rhodes and Andric Ivo Andric's Travnicka hronika was published in Bosnian-Croato-Serbian in Belgrade in 1945. It was first published in English as Bosnian Story, translated by Kenneth Johnstone (London: Lincolns-Prager, 1959). The first American edition, translated by Joseph Hitrec, was titled Bosnian Chronicle (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1963). The third English rendering, by Celia Hawkesworth (in collaboration with Bogdan Rakic), appeared as The Days of the Consuls (London: Forest Books, 1992); this translation was published again in 1996, as Bosnian Chronicle (London: The Harvill Press). Ivo Andric, Bosnian Story. 1945 Anthony Rhodes, The Prophet's (London: Lincolns-Prager, 1959. Carpet (London: Weidenfeld Trans. Kenneth Johnstone) and Nicolson, 1961) Amedee Chaumette Desfosses Moreover, it struck Major belonged to the youngest Everett that Miron was the generation of Parisian diplomats, new type of youth in a that is to say, to the first position of authority, whom batch of those who after the they were producing in the stormy years of the Revolution new society; and he was had received a regular education anxious to keep up the in favourable conditions and had acquaintance. He was tall, been given special training for athletic in build, service in the East ... At school fresh-faced with large brown he had been reckoned a prodigy eyes which shone out with and had amazed his teachers and sincerity; he had a rapidity comrades with the force of his of judgment and had acquired intelligence, the rapidity of the most diverse kinds of his judgement and the ease with knowledge--a typical product which he acquired the most of the new society, assured diverse kinds of knowledge. He in speech and movement, was tall, athletic in build, realistic, confident in his fresh-faced, with large brown own strength and knowledge, eyes which shone with curiosity and inclined, the Consul and restlessness. It struck thought, to over-rate both Daville at once that he had (107). before him a typical product of the new age, the new generation of Parisians, forward and assured in speech and movement, carefree, realistic, confident in their strength and knowledge and inclined to over-rate both (64-65). This need for excitement in her This fatal craving in an life was very often connected excitable but fundamentally with passing and capricious love frigid woman revealed itself affairs. As a result of some in sudden gusts of passion fatal and irresistible craving, for people as for things, for this hot-headed, physically frigid younger men who, she felt, woman, from time to time possessed qualities her developed a passion for young husband lacked ... it was men, usually younger than the longing for a for a man herself, in the perpetual belief who, she felt, would be a that in the particular young kindred noble soul, for whom man in question, whom she felt she felt she had always been to be endowed with a strong yearning, and whom, she was personality and a stout heart convinced, she was destined full of the purest feelings, she one day to meet (79). had found the champion of her dreams and a kindred soul (110). For some years the bazaar had The bazaar is a strange been working and holding its place. For months, it gathers tongue, cursing and scraping, information, exchanging news chaffering and accounting, and rumours, passes comparing one year with another, them on in whispers, communes and all the while following within itself, yet it avoids everything that went on, drawing any conclusions, or gathering information, even expressing an opinion. exchanging news and rumours, But slowly, in this way, a passing them on in whispers common mind of the bazaar is from shop to shop, avoiding any created, at first no more conclusion or any expression of than a vague general feeling a personal view. In this way, or temper, its outward slowly and insensibly a common expression to be found in mind of the bazaar was created abrupt gestures, curses and took shape. It was at first and expectorations, which no more than a vague, general might mean anything. temper, finding outward Then gradually opinion expression only in curt gestures hardens, takes shape and and expectorations, which cannot be concealed. United might refer to anything; then, and penetrated by this common by degrees, it became conviction, the bazaar the kind of opinion which is whispers and makes ready and not kept concealed; last of waits, as bees wait for all it grew to be a swarming time. It is hard and definite conviction.... impossible to follow clearly the logic of the riots when United and pervaded by this they begin, or to understand conviction the bazaar whispered, what starts them. They are made ready and waited, as generally blind, insane, bees wait for swarming time. fruitless; but they have a It is impossible to logic of their own, just as follow clearly the logic of they have their own obscure these bazaar riots. They are technique, compounded of are blind, insane and tradition and impulse. All generally fruitless, but they that can be observed by the have a logic of their own just as outsider is how they flare they have their own obscure up, rage violently for a day technique, compounded of or two, and then die away tradition and impulse. All that (233). can be seen from outside is the way in which they flare up, rage and die away. One day, which dawns and opens One day, which dawns like any like so many before it, the other, the ancient and sleepy ancient, sleepy peace of the town peace of the bazaar is is broken, there is a clapping to broken, with a clapping of of shutters and an undertone of shutters and a banging of banging doors.... All at once the doors. Suddenly, the people market folk jump up from the jump up from the places they places in which they have sat for have occupied for years many years without moving.... without moving, and the cry This ritual movement of theirs goes up, 'The bazaar's and the muffled banging of doors alight'--fearful, ominous and shutters are enough to send words whose meaning is clear the word through the whole town to all. Then all the women and neighbourhood: and the aged folk go down into the cellars, and the "The bazaar's shut." more respectable people retire into their houses, Those are fateful, ominous words: ready to defend them or their meaning is plain to all. perish on the threshold. While from cafes and outlying Then women and the infirm go suburbs, the rabble comes down into the cellars. The more swarming in, those who have respectable market-folk retire nothing to lose, and only in into their houses ready to defend riots and violence have them and to perish on the anything to gain, the threshold. And from cafes and discontented, the misfits, from outlying suburbs the lesser the under-dogs, who exist in Moslem fry come swarming in, all cities, in all societies. those who have nothing to lose and only in riots or upheavals have anything to gain.... It lasts a day, or two, three, The riot may last a day, two five days, according to the time days, three, five, according and place, until something has to the time and place--until been destroyed or burned, until something has been destroyed, human blood has been shed, until something burned, until the riot no longer has any heart human blood has been shed, in it or until it collapses of until the riot no longer has itself. any heart, and collapses of itself. Then one by one Then one by one the shops the shops reopen, the crowd re-open, the crowd begins to begins to clear, the market clear, and the market-people, as people, as if ashamed and if exhausted and ashamed, resume half-exhausted, resume and their work and their daily life, ashamed, resume their work pale and glum (160-162) and their work and daily lives, pale and glum (254). The unusual warmth of the last The beginning of April was days of March hastened the course exceptionally dry and warm, of events and brought on the more like the end of May, crisis.... Anna Maria and and once again, the meetings Desfosses were both intoxicated began on the meadows outside with the freshness and the beauty Blagograd, followed by of the day. Both let their horses gallops over the soft earth go at a gallop ... and the yellow battered grass, through the mild fresh At this bend was a small air of spring.... pinewood. On a sunny day the trees appeared a black, solid They came to a small mass and the ground beneath pine-wood, in which the them was dry and russet with ground beneath was dry with fallen pine-needles. Desfosses fallen pine needles. Miron at once dismounted and proposed said it reminded him of to Anna Maria that she too should France ... and he dismounted get down and explore this wood suggesting that they should which, so he declared, reminded go into the wood and feel its him of Italy. The word Italy was atmosphere. The word 'France' the lady's undoing. Throwing was Mrs. Everett's undoing. their bridle-reins over one arm Throwing the reins over one and stumbling on feet numb with arm she followed him in, riding over the slippery carpet walking with difficulty on of rusty pine-needles, they the pine needles.... After advanced a few steps into the only a few steps in the wood wood, which grew denser and it had grown thicker and closed in behind them.... The seemed to close in behind young man talked as if he wished them. Miron's voice now had to shout down the silence of the another, more urgent, tone wood and reassure both himself ... he seemed to want to and her. drown the silence of the wood with his own words, as He compared the wood with a if to reassure himself. He church or some such thing.... He compared the wood with a drew her, stumbling, a few paces cathedral.... 'You remember further to a hollow where boughs Debussy?' he said. But and a thick screen of pine between his sentences were concealed them. She drew back, long pauses, as if something slipping helplessly in her fright other than Debussy occupied on the thick layer of needles. his mind. They were now in a But before she could get free or small clearing in the wood; say a word, she saw the flushed and as she walked over a face of the young man close to fallen bough, he turned and her own. There was no further drew her to him. He pulled talk of Italy or her back a few paces to a churches. Those great red lips hollow where the boughs and were near hers, and now there a screen of pine trees were no words upon them.... His concealed them. She drew hand was already about her back, but she could not get waist. She cried out like away, and his someone who is being savagely flushed face was close to hers. slaughtered without defence: There was no more talk now of No, not that!" ... southern France and Debussy's cathedrals; the excited lips as they approached had other things than words on them.... It was his sudden silence, his speechlessness, animalism, which terrified her, and she cried, 'No, no, no, not that ...!' Gone was the familiar world, Gone was the world of words, walks, Consuls and conversation, and art and Consulates.... Clasping the theatres, and books and museums; fainting woman, the young man gone the consuls and princesses embraced her as if with a and bridge parties.... She was hundred invisible arms. The about to be offered everything moisture of his lips mingled for which she had been with her tears.... Yet their unconsciously striving for lips never parted: indeed their twenty-four long months--the two mouths had become one. This romantic, intelligent young man embrace between the young man who was also a 'fellow soul'. mad with desire and the swooning He clasped her and began to woman did not last a full minute. embrace her feverishly, while Anna Maria suddenly tore herself the moisture of his lips mingled away.... In her rage she with hers, and with her tears, pushed from her the uncontrolled for she had begun to cry. Yet young man, battering at his their lips never parted, the two chest with both fists, feebly mouths had become one. The and furiously like an angry embrace between the young man child, crying out at each blow: full of desire and the No, no, no! struggling half-swooning woman could not have lasted more than The great illusion before which a minute, for suddenly her everything had gone down was now strength flowed back, and she dissolved. Just as they had not pushed him away with all her been conscious of sinking to the force, at the same time jumping ground, so now, without knowing up.... When he scrambled, half how, they found themselves on ashamed, to his feet, the great their feet. She was sobbing with illusion for Mrs. Everett, the rage and adjusting her hair and perpetually frigid woman, her hat, and he, clumsy and was over. Just as they had been confused, brushed the dry pine of falling to the ground two needles from her black habit, minutes before, so now they were handed her whip and helped standing, she adjusting her hair her out of the hollow. The and dress, he clumsily and horses were standing quietly, confusedly brushing the pine tossing their heads. needles from his coat. The horses were still standing quietly, tossing their heads.... They emerged on to the road.... When they came out into the last The young man was redder than light of the afternoon, Miron's usual.... Her lips were now so cheeks were redder than usual. white that they were lost in her Mrs Everett's lips were white, pale face.... Her whole face was and there was an expression on sunken, with an expression of her face of disgust and vicious rage and of limitless fury (109-111). disgust at herself and everything about her.... (270-272).
Loyola University Chicago