The

Carl Beck
Papers
in Russian & Matthew C. Curtis
East European Studies

Number 1808 Petar II Petrović Njegoš

and Gjergj Fishta:
Composers of National Epics
The

Carl Beck
Papers
in Russian &
East European Studies

Number 1808 Matthew C. Curtis

Petar II Petrović Njegoš

and Gjergj Fishta:
Composers of National Epics
Matthew C. Curtis holds an M.A. in Russian and East European Studies, special-
izing in Balkan Literatures from Indiana University’s Russian and East European
Institute, and a B.A. in linguistics from Brigham Young University. He is currently a
linguistics Ph.D. student in the department of Slavic and East European Languages
and Literatures at The Ohio State University. His interests include Balkan, compara-
tive, and historical linguistics, social linguistics, language standardization, religion,
and issues of national identity in language and literature. His first experiences with
Balkan languages and cultures came as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ
of Latter-day Saints, when he stayed in Albania from 1999-2001. Matthew Curtis
continues a lifetime engagement with people from all over the Balkans and their
languages and cultures. He lives in Columbus, Ohio with his wife Barbie and their
children. He may be contacted at curtis.199@osu.edu.

No. 1808, October 2007

© 2007 by The Center for Russian and East European Studies, a program of the
University Center for International Studies, University of Pittsburgh

ISSN 0889-275X

Image from cover: “Ringjallje”-Acrylic on canvas, 80x98 cm. Xhevahir Kolgjini, 1991.

The Carl Beck Papers

Editors: William Chase, Bob Donnorummo, Ronald H. Linden
Managing Editor: Eileen O’Malley
Editorial Assistant: Vera Dorosh Sebulsky

Submissions to The Carl Beck Papers are welcome. Manuscripts must be in English,
double-spaced throughout, and between 40 and 90 pages in length. Acceptance is based
on anonymous review. Mail submissions to: Editor, The Carl Beck Papers, Center
for Russian and East European Studies, 4400 Wesley W. Posvar Hall, University of
Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh, PA 15260.
 Abstract
While most modern theorists of nationalism emphasize the role of intellectuals
“creating nations out of nationalism” (Gellner, 1983) or imagining the community
of nations (Anderson, 1991), I argue that another role of intellectuals may also be
equally as valid: the role of the poet as adapting existing communities, and the
trappings of those communities, into the shape and appearance of a modern na-
tion. Using the examples of the Montenegrin poet Petar II Petrović Njegoš and the
Albanian poet Gjergj Fishta and their epics The Mountain Wreath (1847) and The
Highland Lute (1939), I argue the continuation of their literary epics to the oral epic
traditions which formed an important basis for Montenegrin and Northern Albanian
communities.
In their literary epics Njegoš and Fishta imitate the language and themes of their
communities’ oral traditions, yet improve upon this tradition in their conception of
the modern nation. They elevate the peasant language to the level of poetry and take
stock of their communities’ historical, cultural, and religious heritage, employing
myths, symbols, customs, and values from the oral narrative tradition. However, the
writers did not blindly follow the tradition from oral narratives; in many instances,
they question the value of this society and suggest changes in the traditional society
to develop a national culture.
Far from being “unskilled or unethical psychologists” planting false memories
in their communities (White, 2000), Njegoš and Fishta are competent composers who
combine their communities’ oral epic tradition, European literary movements, and
their own individual poetic skills to forge a new conception of their community as
a modern nation. Indeed in these national epics, Njegoš and Fishta present a higher
aesthetic and ethical standard for their communities than the preceding oral epic and
heroic traditions. While White (2000) accuses Romantic nationalists of invention
and deception, their national epics capture an essence of authenticity for the nation
that not only makes them influential in their own national literatures and cultures,
but also gives them a place in great world literature, representing the highest poetic
accomplishments of their respective nations.

1
They rose to where their sovereign eagle sails,
They kept their faith, their freedom, on the height,
Chaste, frugal, savage, arm’d by day and night
Against the Turk; whose inroad nowhere scales
Their headlong passes, but his footstep fails,
And red with blood the Crescent reels from fight
Before their dauntless hundreds, in prone flight
By thousands down the crags and thro’ the vales.
O smallest among peoples! rough rock-throne
Of Freedom! warriors beating back the swarm
Of Turkish Islam for five hundred years,
Great Tsernogora! never since thine own
Black ridges drew the cloud and brake the storm
Has breathed a race of mightier mountaineers.
—Alfred, Lord Tennyson, “Montenegro”

2
 Introduction
While Romantics in Western Europe sought a return to an authentic, natural
lifestyle—a primordial agrarian society bound by honor and tradition—many thought
they had found one among the tribes of Southeastern Europe. Men and women in
Montenegro and Albania were actually living such a life, largely unaware either
of the possible “attractiveness” of that lifestyle or indeed of any alternative to it.
Some educated leaders in Southeastern Europe who were familiar with Romanti-
cism realized its appeal, not necessarily as a rejection of neoclassical aesthetics and
philosophy, as it was in Western Europe, but as a means to create their communities’
first modern literary works. Romanticism inspired several “national epics” from the
region, including Petar II Petrović Njegoš’s Gorski vijenac (The Mountain Wreath,
1848), Ivan Mažuranić’s Smrt Smail-age Čengića (The Death of Smail-Aga Čengić,
1846), and Francè Prešeren’s Krst pri Savici (Baptism on the Savica, 1835). Not
only are these epics competent poetry, but they are also symbolic works, perceived
as capturing the nation’s authentic character. Although Albanian Romantics strove
to create a “national epic,” and both Gjergj Fishta’s Lahuta e malcis (The Highland
Lute, 1939) and Naim Frashëri’s Istoria e Skenderbeut (History of Skanderbeg,
1898) have claimed that title, neither has become an undisputed symbol of Albanian
national culture.1
In 1831, Petar II Petrović Njegoš (1813–1851) inherited the position of his late
uncle, Petar, as vladika, an archbishop of the Serbian Orthodox Church and political
leader of the Montenegrin tribes. Following in his uncle’s footsteps, he implemented
several reforms to modernize the Montenegrin state. He founded the first schools in
Montenegro, imposed taxes on the tribes, built some of the country’s first roads, and
imported and ran his own printing press.2 Given his responsibilities as vladika and
the continual worries of invasion, infighting, and famine, Njegoš had many other
important occupations besides writing poetry. Nevertheless, he produced some of
the most important poetry of the region, including The Mountain Wreath and two
other long poems, Luča mikrokozma (The Ray of the Microcosm, 1845) and Lažni
car Šćepan Mali (The False Czar Stefan the Small, 1851). Additionally, he composed
a number of shorter poems and was an avid collector of Montenegrin folk songs.
His accomplishments as a poet are unequaled by any other Montenegrin, being the
only one to gain an international reputation for his poetry.
Gjergj Fishta (1871–1940) was also a cultural and religious leader in his com-
munity. He served as a Franciscan priest in various villages in his native region of
northern Albania, where he encountered the lifestyle of the northern Albanian tribes
3
depicted in his epic, The Highland Lute. Trained in a seminary in Bosnia, Fishta
read Serbian and Croatian and admired the poetry of Njegoš and Ivan Mažuranić.3
Although he lived several decades after these writers, Fishta played an analogous
role in his nation’s cultural development; filling a similar void in his nation’s liter-
ary canon while glorifying the community’s heroic culture. Furthermore, Fishta
actively participated in education, government, and printing in his emerging nation.
He was the director of a Franciscan school and later the editor of a literary journal
and a newspaper in the northern Albanian city of Shkodër. Fishta also served as a
representative to the Albanian national parliament. Yet it is in poetry that he had
his greatest success, winning the accolades of “National Poet of Albania” and “the
Albanian Homer.”4
Although Romanticism and nationalism are difficult philosophical and aesthetic
movements to define, due to their fluidity and variety of understanding, it is still
worthwhile to specify how the terms apply to Njegoš and Fishta, whom I describe
as Romantic nationalists. This is important primarily because they do not embrace
all the tenets of either movement. Nationalist is easier to apply to them because
they actively sought, beyond their own individual success, the artistic, cultural, and
political advancement of their nations.5 However, their nationalism is distinctive
because they tolerate and even appreciate other national cultures. This attitude is
related to the legacy of the Romantic poet and philosopher Johann Gottfried Herder,
who described national cultures as flowers that enriched and beautified the garden of
civilization by their variety. Njegoš and Fishta, however, stopped short of many of
the more radical positions of other Romantics. For example, their sense of individual
freedom gave way to national freedom and embraced—rather than rejected—systems
of order with national and religious origins. Still, their description as Romantics
holds true because of their emphasis on heroism and sacrifice, idealism, and national
independence.6 Above all, like Herder, Goethe, and the Grimm brothers, they were
attracted to the oral narratives and folk culture of their communities.
Recent scholarship has not embraced Romanticism or nationalism with nearly
the same enthusiasm these authors did, nor has it necessarily been kind to Roman-
tics and nationalists. One such example is Nationalism and Territory by George
White, who in examining the importance of territory to national claims and noting
the destruction caused by nationalist claims, condemns the ideologies promoted
by Romanticism and nationalism. In his conclusion, White rails against Romantic
nationalists: “That modern nations did not exist prior to the end of the eighteenth
century did not daunt Romantic nationalists who countered with the argument that
nations needed to be ‘awakened,’ or ‘reawakened’ as the case may have been. Many
4
individuals, unaware of who they were, had to be told who they were. Such is the
arrogance of Romantic nationalism. Like unskilled or unethical psychologists who
plant false memories of childhood experiences into the minds of their patients,
Romantic nationalists worked feverishly to implant invented national histories in
the minds of individuals, targeted by the territories in which they lived.7” Although
recent results of militant nationalism in the Balkans may deserve such an outright
condemnation, his analogy is perhaps unfair to this first generation of Romantic
nationalists. While this essay is not an attempt to deify Romantic nationalists, it is
in part a defense of their work and reputation.
That said, however, there is plenty of truth to White’s conclusions. Romantic
nationalists from the Balkans usually had such an educational advantage over their
compatriots that they were in a position to observe their communities, weigh them
against the realities and theories of other European nations, and, in a way, diagnose
their failings. They were aware that their understanding of the “nation” was quite
different from most of its would-be members, and set out to enlighten them ac-
cordingly. Njegoš, Fishta, and others in similar positions worked to change their
communities’ perceptions of themselves and their relationship to the world, and as
authors of fiction, creative invention was part and parcel of their trade.
Still, White’s analogy is unfair for two main reasons. First, far from inventing
national histories, Romantic nationalists more often interpreted their history using
a variety of sources. They mediated between Romantic philosophy from abroad and
specific cultural conceptions within their communities. Their works and philoso-
phies were neither wholesale imports from Herder and other Western Romantics
nor a mere reiteration of folk narratives and customs. The authors’ communities
influenced their understanding of the “nation” and many aspects of their works,
such as language, genre, myths, symbols, customs, and values. Still, the authors
saw the limitations of their communities’ traditional cultures and questioned their
viability for the future. Furthermore, the communities were not necessarily duped
or defrauded by the authors; the epics are effective and accepted, in part, because
of their accurate portrayal of the communities and their compatibility with the com-
munities’ own cultural conceptions.
More to the point, White’s characterization is a caricature that distorts the
Romantic nationalists’ motivations and intentions. While it does not target any
individual specifically, the analogy has the intent of undermining the reputation
of a group of individuals not unjustly honored by nations they helped found. The
analogy implies a certain amount of self-promotion in the authors—namely, that
they stood to benefit from these “false memories” of the nation.8 In reality, their
5
motives were more often the literary enrichment of their national culture. Although
many Romantic nationalists were involved in government, they had genuine literary
interests distinct from any partisan aims. Primary among their objectives was the
elevation of their nations’ literature to the levels of other European cultures. This
they hoped to accomplish through emulating the great forms of classic European
literature, above all the epic, as adapted for their own unique community.9
The epic provided an excellent means for Romantic nationalists to educate
the nation and to explain its past, present, and future as well as to shape a cultural
national identity. The epic has long been regarded as the highest literary accom-
plishment, grand in style, scope, and subject. Epics usually treat a historical event
“that is central to the traditions and belief of its culture,” explaining the history or
purpose of a community.10 Furthermore, many epics draw from and reinforce social
standards, norms, and expectations, and frequently celebrate these traditions in the
community. An elementary definition of “national epic” may be a long narrative
poem set in the history of a particular community that the author understands to
be a nation; it celebrates the ethics and existence of that nation by embellishing
symbolically significant elements such as myths, symbols, customs, and values.11
Moreover, the entire work and each of its individual, nation-specific elements be-
come more significant the more the audience becomes acquainted with the unique
culture of the community. A national epic is meaningful for its nation in ways that
it cannot be to any other community.
The community’s response to, and assessment of, the work relates to a second
meaning of “national epic”: a literary work seen as symbolically representing the
national character. Some Romantic phrases express this same concept: “embodying
the spirit of the nation,” “the fullest flowering of national genius,” and “the great-
est accomplishment of national literature.” The process whereby a national epic in
the first sense becomes symbolic of a national cultural may be as much a matter of
chance, fate, political climate, and accepted standards of literature as it is of strictly
literary merit. For example, while Njegoš’s epic, The Mountain Wreath, was a staple
of Serbian and Montenegrin literature in communist Yugoslavia, the dissolution of
that country has challenged its symbolic status.12 Likewise, while Fishta and his
national epic, The Highland Lute, enjoyed considerable popularity and notoriety, the
Albanian Communist party denounced Fishta and his works, which were banned for
some forty years.13 Another Albanian epic, Naim Frashëri’s History of Skanderbeg,
enjoyed popular support during this same time, but may lose its popularity with
Fishta’s return to the national canon.14 The goal of this essay is not necessarily to
explain how these works have or have not been accepted as national epics, but rather
6
to discuss how the authors sought to make their works both acceptable to their nation
and symbolically representative of the nation.
For the purposes of this essay, I will use the following definition for the term
“nation” given by Anthony D. Smith: “a named and self-defined human community
whose members cultivate common myths, memories and symbols, possess a distinctive
public culture, occupy a historic homeland, and observe common laws and shared
customs.”15 Other definitions may yield equally interesting and perceptive analyses
of the nation, but this definition suits an examination of epics because it emphasizes
the same cultural elements (myths, symbols, customs, and values) that national epics
draw on for national relevance.16 I hope that examining the author’s communities,
approaches, and works will produce a better understanding of their influences on
their nations’ identities. This essay examines the works of two authors, not neces-
sarily to compare them with one another, but rather to yield a better understanding
of their nations and a sharper, clearer picture of the Romantic nationalist as a writer
in a community whose immediate culture was based in oral narratives and who
sought to change the community’s conception of itself as a nation through literature,
synthesizing many influences and continuing a folk tradition in a new medium. They
are no longer Singers of Tales, but rather Composers of National Epics.

Context
There are certain limits in comparing Fishta and Njegoš to the bards of the
oral epic tradition because the manner, purpose, and effect of the written epics
are significantly different. First and foremost, the composition of oral narratives
occurred simultaneously with performance and recitation, while writing allowed
the authors more time and deliberation in their composition. Furthermore, printing
allowed the distribution of a uniform text across the entire language community,
whereas oral narratives might vary widely from one performance to another and
had a much smaller potential audience.17 Despite the advantages of literacy, Njegoš
and Fishta relied on oral traditions to legitimize their epics. Linguistically, they
imitated the forms of oral traditions yet elevated the peasant language to the level
of poetry. Furthermore, the oral narrative tradition in many cases created a cultural
awareness that the authors of national epics celebrated. Fishta and Njegoš took stock
of their communities’ historical, cultural, and religious heritage, employing myths,
symbols, customs, and values from the oral narrative tradition. This is not to say,
however, that the writers blindly accepted the cultural traditions expressed in the

7
oral narratives; in many instances, they suggest the changes necessary to develop
a national culture.

Language
The Mountain Wreath and The Highland Lute appeared at the threshold not only
of national identity but also of literacy and language standardization in Montenegro
and Albania. The simultaneous growth of literacy and the success of a national epic
are probably not coincidental, nor, for that matter, is the simultaneous development
of national identity and the emergence of literacy.18 Njegoš and Fishta joined other
notable intellectuals from the area such as Vuk Karadžić, Ljudevit Gaj, Jernej Kopitar,
Francè Prešeren, and Naim Frashëri in the debates on language standardization at the
heart of defining national identity. By selecting particular orthographic systems, the
communities’ intellectual and political leaders aligned themselves with, or alienated
themselves from, regional powers and cultural centers. The very letters these authors
wrote and the words they spelled had important political implications, showing their
support for one political and ideological orientation or another.
The particular linguistic situations in Montenegro and Albania made artistic
composition a difficult task for any writer. Njegoš and Fishta were essentially start-
ing modern literary traditions in literatures that previously had consisted of little
more than oral poetry.19 Correspondingly, both countries lacked a common literary
standard that was also accessible to a majority of the population. In Montenegro as
well as Serbia, the literary language of the time was a mixture of Church Slavonic
and the language of the people. This “Slavono-Serbian” was quite distant from the
spoken language and was perhaps closer to Russian. In Albania three major reli-
gions competed for influence; for almost fifty years, Albanian intellectuals could
not agree on an orthographic standardization because of their personal affiliations
with Ottoman, Greek, or Latin cultures. Their quest for the acknowledgment of their
distinct culture necessitated the unification and development of a literary or official
standard for the nation.
Regional dialects within the nation posed another problem. Vuk Karadžić tried
to overcome the gap between Slavono-Serbian and everyday speech by creating a
literary standard from the speech of the peasants in Herzegovina; Njegoš’s poetry
made similar use of everyday speech. Although Karadžić’s reforms eventually suc-
cumbed to a standard based on the speech of the cities, these attempts helped to cre-
ate the ideal of a more accessible, standard literary language for the nation. In their
epics, Njegoš and Fishta modified the language of the oral narratives with a higher,

8
perhaps artificial, aesthetic style. Their language is self-consciously poetic and thus
more elevated than common speech, yet it imitates the speech of the peasants and
the meter of the oral narratives, linking the epics to the folk communities.

Literary Influences
As literary creations, both The Mountain Wreath and The Highland Lute ex-
hibit influences from earlier in their nations’ cultures. In fact, these works spring
from two very different but related literary traditions: oral narrative poetry and the
literary epic. The authors aspired to establish a higher level of literature and artistry
than that which they found in their local culture, yet they drew from local culture
for both content and expression. Their poems succeed as national epics and as world
literature in part because of their synthesis of “high literature” with oral narrative
traditions.20
Oral and literary cultures also coincided in one of the most significant studies
in twentieth-century literary scholarship, the work of Albert Lord and Milman Parry
on oral narrative poems in Southeastern Europe.21 Although their background was
in classical literature and their original intention was to provide a better explanation
for the composition of the Iliad and the Odyssey, their findings not only revolution-
ized the understanding of those cornerstones of world literature but also rekindled
an interest in folk culture and oral poetry. Lord and Parry solved the enigma of epic
composition by detailing the “formulaic” composition of oral epics and revealing
a similar process in Homer’s tales.22 Because the composition of the epic requires
the performer, the “singer of tales,” to compose at the rate of about ten lines per
minute, singers employ previously learned phrases to fit the metric pattern and to cue
subsequent parts of the tale. The composition of oral epics by “formulaic phrases”
formally distinguishes them from epics recorded in print, because it signifies that
the singer composed the song solely from memory.
In addition to establishing a pattern of composition, these oral narrative tradi-
tions and the songs they created provided communities with a sense of self-identi-
fication. As Christopher Boehm describes in his account of the customs and values
of Montenegrins, the recitation of folk poetry was a widespread social event, with
men of all ages participating and experienced guslars performing.23 As proof that
these events were important elements of the oral tradition, the musical instrument
that accompanied the singers—gusle in Serbian and lahuta in Albanian—came to
symbolize the epic tradition both in folk poetry and later in The Mountain Wreath
and The Highland Lute. These performances educated new generations in the tra-

9
ditions, myths, customs, and values of their elders. Because the stories doubtless
changed from one performance to another, let alone from one generation to another,
the same messages could be interpreted very differently within the community at
any particular time. Although interpretations and compositions varied, a number of
themes, stylistic features and adventures, heroes, ethics, and stories permeated the
tradition of oral narratives.24 This common background of traditions and symbols
outlined widely held understandings of the communities’ perceptions of themselves
and of other communities.
The process of oral composition merits still further attention. The audience
at the performance required that the tale be coherent and engaging. They were not
looking for a perfect recitation of some “authentic” text like later judges in folk-
lore competitions; rather, they expected variation in the songs, even from the same
singer. The process and tradition of composition required less scrutiny of details,
but more consistency with broad conceptions. While details changed, the epics’
general meaning and application remained the same. Subtlety was sacrificed for
broad brushstrokes, the characters were types more than individuals, and the situ-
ations were formulaic rather than specific.25 Njegoš and Fishta found in this epic
tradition a language of heroism and respect for the community and its standards, a
medium whereby basic virtues and concepts of identity were transmitted from group
to group, from generation to generation. In adopting the epic tradition, they carried
on this function of socialization and education with a similar, but not identical,
set of values and loyalties. National epics exhibit a similar concern for the broad
implications and ethical lessons, while they also deliberately detail characters and
conflicts. They adapted the conventions of epic singing for their own instrument of
poetry—not the lute, but the pen.

Community Profiles
Similar social organizations in Montenegro and Albania governed the relation-
ships between individuals and groups within these communities. A tribal culture
had existed in both societies for several hundred years and was a major factor not
only in their social and political organization, but also in their cultural values and
identity.26 While many saw them as brutal or wildly exotic, others saw the pastoral
and tribal life in Montenegro and northern Albania as a rugged, yet genuine, exis-
tence, sometimes including this pristine culture in their own national narratives.27
Although the cultures may seem exotic from the perspective of another culture or
time, they were the everyday existence for Njegoš and Fishta.28 Although there are

10
major differences in the two communities, they share remarkable similarities. One
is their common claim of historical independence from Ottoman domination.29 This
claim is also central to the conflict and national identities in both epics. Mary Edith
Durham, a British anthropologist from the early 1900s, refutes the Montenegrins’
claim of being the only nation of the Balkans independent of the Turks, citing some
Albanian tribes that also maintained independence. However, according to Milovan
Đilas, “Montenegro remained under the Turks from the middle of the fifteenth cen-
tury to the end of the seventeenth.”30 To be sure, many Albanian tribes that had been
subject to the Ottoman Empire also claimed that they had always been independent.31
As with the oral narratives, while the particulars may be inaccurate, this perception
is an accurate reflection of the communities’ general beliefs.

Montenegro
In the nineteenth century, approximately twenty-four Montenegrin tribes lived
between the Austrian Empire to the north and the Ottoman Empire to the south
and east.32 The vladika was their ecclesiastical and political leader. He was an
archbishop of the Serbian Orthodox Church, generally selected by his predecessor,
approved by tribal leaders as the leader of the nation, and consecrated outside the
country. Although he was the undisputed ecclesiastical leader, the tribes maintained
considerable control over their own political and economic decisions.33 In fact, the
vladika was essentially a mediator between the tribes as well as between the tribes
and other governments. He counseled with tribal elders—the glavari—to discuss
matters of the nation.
These tribes were essentially political and economic organizations, owning the
land where the members pastured their livestock. The tribes comprised several clans,
or bratstva (brotherhoods) which made up another distinct layer of Montenegrin
society. Clans formed military units in war or feuds and served as the basic legal unit.
One scholar described the bratstvo as “a union of different households composing a
community of which all the members consider themselves to be related in terms of
kinship.”34 It was also the primary source for social identity among Montenegrins.
Even two generations later, most Montenegrins referred to their place of origin by
the name of their bratstvo.35 The smallest social unit was the household, usually
composed of five to eleven people. Families were patrilocal and patrilineal; sons
typically remained members of the father’s household until his death, although some
brothers stayed together much longer. Often several generations lived together and
divided the labor among the household.36

11
 Distinct societal values, demanding heroism, bravery, and loyalty from men,
and respect, submission, and reproduction from women, reinforced the organization
of households, clans, and tribes. Primary among the purposes of the social structure
was the continuation of the household, or of the father’s line. The tribes recorded
the men’s genealogy both to link the living family with honored ancestors and to
guard against incest, which they feared enormously. Christopher Boehm argues that
one of the primary instruments for preserving the connection with the ancestors was
the slava, or celebration of the clan’s patron saint.37 Marriage linked the past to the
future by ensuring the continuation of the household. While the men’s genealogy
safeguarded against incest, no such concerns existed for women because women’s
contribution to the bloodline was considered insignificant.38 Consistent with this
concern for the household’s continuation, male children were prized over females.
Another notorious aspect of blood that has claimed attention is the blood feud, where
clans often felt duty-bound to avenge a family member’s murder.

Albania
Northern Albanian society largely corresponded to the Montenegrin tribes’
organization and values. Here too, families and households formed the basic level of
society. These in turn made up villages, clans, and tribes, all according to the kanun
of Lekë Dukagjini, a widespread and influential law code that detailed the relation-
ships, customs, and values of the northern Albanian tribes.39 Its origin is unclear; the
popular belief is that Lekë Dukagjini, a contemporary of Skanderbeg and prince of
some northern Albanian tribes, gave this set of laws to preserve his people and their
customs. Others argue that the title refers not to the prince but rather to the region
where the code rules.40 Whatever its origin, the kanun influenced Albanian society for
countless generations. The Albanian term for clan, vëllaznija, corresponds directly
with the Montenegrin term bratstvo, also emphasizing kinship and origin. Aside
from these similarities, there are some differences in social structures. Structur-
ally, Albanian houses were partitioned to give member families more privacy. This
physical division reflects (or perhaps produces) an earlier division of households
than in Montenegrin houses.41 Where Montenegrin clans held judicial responsibili-
ties, in Albania this fell to the tribes. Most important for our purposes, however, is
the absence of any unitary ruler, either ecclesiastical or political.42 Instead, only a
council of elders, similar to Montenegro’s glavari, convened to discuss occasional
intertribal issues.

12
 Albanian society similarly emphasized the continuation of the household and
the division of responsibilities between men and women. One of the most noticeable
differences in social roles for men and women between the Montenegrins and Alba-
nians is the practice of the “sworn virgin.” In a household that has lost all its men,
a woman may assume the social responsibilities as head of household and, in some
tribes, dress as a man.43 Albanian families did not celebrate a patron saint, but had a
stronger emphasis on genealogy.44 The heroic culture also emphasized the bravery of
men and required them to exhibit their courage and skill in war and to honor social
customs, especially keeping their vows.45 Although tribes in northern Albania may
have differed in religion, they were united under the teachings of the kanun.

The Mountain Wreath

The Mountain Wreath takes place in a village in Montenegro at the beginning
of the eighteenth century during the life of Njegoš’s ancestor and predecessor Bishop
Danilo. Spurred on by their rivalry with the Ottomans and the encouragement of
the blind, aged Abbot Stefan, the chieftains decide to ambush the converted Mon-
tenegrins who will not renounce their Islamic faith.46 The epic ends with the tribal
leaders and the elderly abbot celebrating their successful Christmas Day ambush of
the Muslims and reveling in their prolonged freedom from the Turks. Bishop Danilo,
the hero of the epic, mourns his compatriots’ deaths in the fratricidal conflict, yet
reconciles himself to the inevitable struggle between the externally imposed culture
and what he considers the true one.
Although the story of The Mountain Wreath comes from a Montenegrin oral
epic and the characters are factual,48 Njegoš changes the story from a historical epic
47

to a national epic. Most significantly, the main character, Bishop Danilo, becomes
a contemplative, passive observer of the action, and the impetus for ambush shifts
from the vladika to the tribes, who as Serbian critic Pavle Popović suggests, only
wait for his wink to begin the fight.49 In a similar manner, Njegoš takes existing
traditions from the oral narrative culture and subverts them by expanding the story’s
significance to a national audience, portraying a national conflict rather than merely
recording history or singing an oral epic. He transforms the poetic practices of oral
narratives into fixed poetic text, elevates lesser-known characters into symbols of the
nation, and imbues everyday occurrences with national significance. In adapting the
oral epic to the page, Njegoš loses the immediacy of the audience and the fluidity of
a live performance in order to create a contemplated, concentrated work; each line is

13
semantically loaded, often approaching the density of a proverb. Njegoš gives some
indication of his purpose in his dedication to “the great, immortal Karageorge,” the
leader of the Serbian uprisings at the beginning of the nineteenth century: “It was
destiny that your head had to pay the price for its wreath!”50 As P. Popović suggests,
The Mountain Wreath is a celebration of the same wreath Karageorge died for, the
freedom and resurrection of the Serbian nation,51 yet Njegoš makes this hero of the
Serbian revolution into a symbol of freedom in general and Montenegrin freedom
specifically.
The language and poetics of The Mountain Wreath demonstrate how Njegoš
appealed to existing poetic standards, yet expanded them beyond the tradition of
the oral narrative. Because of his skill in the traditional meter of folk tales, his rug-
ged but comprehensible language, and his omnipresent and forceful proverbs, this
work become a fundamental part of the national identity of Montenegro as well as
Serbia. Indeed, it is such an essential part of national identity that people will quote
lines of the poem not only to show erudition but also to invoke moral and cultural
authority.52
Njegoš wrote The Mountain Wreath in a dialect close to the one that Vuk
Karadžić chose as the basis for his standard, and it was published in the same year
as Vuk’s translation of the New Testament that has become the standard Serbian
version. Njegoš follows Vuk in basing his poem on popular speech, so it conveys a
sense of authentic folk culture. Along with this rugged feel, the epic also contains
a wealth of proverbs that appeal to popular wisdom and are still in common use.53
The following proverbs give a sense of his style.54
U dobru je // lako dobro biti, When things go well // ‘tis easy to be good,
Na muci se // poznaju junaci. Adversity // shows who is the hero.

Udar nađe // iskru u kamenu. Tis the blow that // finds the spark within the stone.

Bez muke se // pjesna ne ispoja, Without travail // the song could not be sung,
Bez muke se // sablja na sakova. Without travail // the saber is not forged.
These proverbs also give an indication of the most important poetic characteris-
tic of Njegoš’s poetry, the deseterac. This ten-syllable line, with an invariable caesura,
or stop, between the fourth and fifth syllables, was both the most common meter of
the oral narrative poems55 and the meter for all of Njegoš’s later, major works.56 As
the Njegoš scholar E. D. Goy surmises, Njegoš not only imitated the meter of the
folk epics but also “developed it into an artistic expression that could not be carried
further, only imitated and parodied.”57 One of his adaptations, enjambment, would be
14
impossible in oral epics because the performer would need to draw breath, and each
line needed to be a complete unit in order to hold the listeners’ attention.58 Despite
the incongruity of the enjambment with the folk epic style, The Mountain Wreath
is both the continuation and the culmination of the folk epic tradition. The Serbian
scholar Svetozar Koljević calls it the “ultimate achievement of the Montenegrin epic
genius,” noting further that in “The Mountain Wreath the Montenegrin oral heroic
poetry became only a rich historical, cultural, and literary heritage.”59
The influence of foreign literature is most noticeable in The Mountain Wreath’s
complicated structure. It is difficult to classify the work’s proper genre because it
seems to conflate two traditionally separate genres: drama and epic. Although writ-
ten in dramatic form, The Mountain Wreath, like Byron’s plays and Pushkin’s Boris
Godunov, is better suited for reading than performance.60 Commentators disagree
on its classification and call it “an epic reduced to dialogues,” “a poem in dramatic
form,” and “a dramatic poem.”61 The dramatic form allows Njegoš to expand The
Mountain Wreath’s perspective to the community. In contrast to most epics, which
relate the story from only one perspective, this poem provides the perspectives of
several characters in the community.62 Yet, in most dramas, the action takes place in
front of an audience. In this regard, The Mountain Wreath resembles more closely
the epic, where the action is essentially related through the singer or narrator.
Although The Mountain Wreath is divided into scenes, they do not form defi-
nite acts. Moreover, several scenes seem superfluous because they neither address
the main conflict nor relate directly to the plot. The editor of an early edition, Mi-
lan Rešetar, asserts that the work does not have a coherent plot and that therefore
Njegoš’s intention was only to depict the traditional lifestyle of his people through
a series of lyrical scenes.63 Pavle Popović, however, writes that the plot is coherent
because the scenes that do not relate directly to the main conflict nonetheless sym-
bolize the conflict.64 Goy’s essays in The Sabre and the Song bring these disparate
explanations together. These scenes are tableaus—not static pictures of an idyllic
community but independent portraits wherein sights, sounds, and texture envelop
action off-stage. Each tableau stands independently, but when grouped together,
they give a series of lush images that reveal not just the conflicts of the nation, but
also the community’s code of honor. The scenes that do not seem to relate to the
ambush justify it by showing the threat to the community posed by the intrusion of
another, less humane culture.65
Likewise, various commentators understand the Mountain Wreath’s characters
and their symbolism differently. Rešetar claims that all the characters are sym-
bolic of the Montenegrin patriarchal society; Miodrag Popović sees four characters
15
representing four poetic styles; while Goy sees two main characters representing
conflicting codes of ethics; and P. Popović views all the characters as characters
and not as symbols of the nation.66 It seems that all the commentators see their
own understanding of the play in the symbolism of the characters. In spite of his
detailed analysis of the characters, P. Popović fails to acknowledge that the subtle
differences between the characters may only be apparent if the reader is thoroughly
familiar with the community—the location of the different tribes, the historical sig-
nificance of the different characters, and their appearance in particular folk songs.67
Even without this contextual familiarity, there is an obvious difference between the
main character Bishop Danilo, who has a profound range of feeling and historical
perspective, and those who plan and carry out the ambush without recognizing any
moral consequences beyond their code of honor.
All the critics agree that Bishop Danilo closely represents Njegoš’s personal
views because of his position as vladika. In addition, Danilo has a better understand-
ing and appreciation for other cultures and values. He sees the narrow-mindedness
of the other characters’ insistence on extirpating Islam from among the tribes, yet
also recognizes the potential threat that conversion poses to the Montenegrin com-
munity. In his chilling opening soliloquy, Bishop Danilo laments:
O my dark day, O my black destiny!
O my wretched Serbian nation snuffed out!
I have outlived many of your troubles,
yet I must fight against the worst of all!
................................
When I think of today’s council meeting,
flames of horror flare up deep inside me.
A brother will slaughter his own brother,
and the arch-foe, so strong and so evil,
will destroy e’en the seed within mothers.
O wretched day, may God’s curse be on you!
when you brought me to the light of this world.
(Mihailovich, ll. 43–46, 79–85).68

The bishop’s attitude in this passage sharply differs from the Bishop Danilo of
the oral epic who instigates the ambush; characters from the oral epics are never as
introspective as the bishop in The Mountain Wreath. Njegoš’s bishop has as much
of the author’s own character and temperament as he does the character from the
oral epic.

16
 Most of the other characters give a perspective more characteristic of the
Montenegrin tribes. Thus, just after Danilo’s opening lines the young hero Vuk
Mićunović chastises him for his apparent weakness:
Don’t my Bishop, if you have faith in God!
What misfortune has come over you now
that you’re wailing just like some cuckoo-bird
and are drowning in our Serbian troubles?
Is today not a festive occasion
on which you have gathered Montenegrins
to rid our land of loathsome infidels?
(Mihailovich, ll. 89–95)

Moreover, Njegoš also includes Muslim characters and gives their contrasting
opinions on the events. The multiple viewpoints show not just the range of person-
alities within the collective community but also the conflicting understandings of
the communities’ identities. Reciprocally, the characters give a depth to the conflict
that is rare in oral narratives, which tend to present a narrower and more one-sided
perspective on the communities.
The conflict is enriched most effectively by the kolo, a group of people who
sing while dancing a traditional Slavic round dance. Like the chorus in Greek
drama, the kolo provides popular commentary on the events and situations of the
play, foreshadows the development of the plot, and connects the events and morals
of the play to the audience’s situation.69 As a voice in the drama, the kolo represents
the common will of the community. As Goy notes: “The Kolo is not on intimate
relations with the persons of the poem, but rather a more general common memory
and attitude. Njegoš makes its nature very clear in the words of vojvoda Milija after
the first Kolo . . . ‘Hear you not how the Kolo sings? / All that this poem expresses
/ comes from the mind of the entire people.’”70 Furthermore, the kolo validates the
action of the Montenegrin bands by presenting the will and the history of the nation.
It gives a chronological account of the Serbian nation from its golden age to the
present conflict. This background reveals that the ambush of the converts is the first
step in rectifying the past several hundred years of defeat and bondage.71 Njegoš
transforms the dance into what one author calls “the embodiment of the romantic
national spirit,” simultaneously turning the ambush of local converts into a war for
national independence.72 The kolo symbolizes the whole nation, not just one com-
munity, and it captures the belief that the nation persists through the generations.
Later in the play, Abbot Stefan evokes the kolo as a continuity of generations:

17
 Grandfathers dance with their young grandchildren.
In the kolo join three generations,
it seems they’re almost of the same age.
(Mihailovich, ll. 2464–66)

Đilas describes the impact of The Mountain Wreath’s kolo: “It seems in the
poem as if there were no past or measurement of time. Here the past lives in a pres-
ent idea, as a part of living memory.”73 The kolo not only links generations together
but it also makes all the generations, and all the participants, equal members of the
nation.
In giving a context for the significance of the Christmas Day slaughter, the
kolo relates common myths and tales of the nation. Its opening lines hearken back
to the battle of Kosovo—itself immortalized in folk epics—and to heroic figures
involved in the battle:
O that accursed supper of Kosovo!
It would be good fortune had you poisoned
all our chieftains and wiped out their traces,
had only Miloš remained on the field
along with both of his true sworn brothers:
then would the Serb have remained a true Serb!
(Mihailovich, ll. 215–20)

The kolo’s references to the tragedy of Kosovo recall the community’s com-
mon cultural background and the role of the oral culture in forming that community.
Part of Montenegro’s claim to freedom from the Turks comes from the idea that
Montenegro was a place of refuge for Serbs after the battle of Kosovo in 1389. The
Mountain Wreath proposes Montenegro’s role as a bastion of freedom and Serbian
culture both explicitly and implicitly. So the kolo sings:
Those who escaped before the Turkish sword,
those who did not blaspheme at the True Faith,
those who refused to be thrown into chains,
took refuge here in these lofty mountains
to shed their blood together and to die,
heroically to keep the sacred oath,
their lovely name, and their holy freedom.
(Mihailovich, ll. 262–68)

The imagery of the second scene likewise reflects this conception of Montene-
gro. As a group of heroes climbs Mount Lovčen, a symbol for both Montenegro and
Njegoš, they see how the clouds cover all the surrounding lands, but Montenegro
18
alone is “lying in the sun” (Mihailovich, l. 168).74 As the only free nation, Monte-
negro has the duty to protect Serbian and Christian culture. As P. Popović explains,
Njegoš saw the ambush of the Muslims as the beginning of the renaissance of Ser-
bian freedom.75 He presents the events of The Mountain Wreath as the first sparks
of Serbian freedom after the long night of Turkish domination.
While Njegoš shows religion to be an important element in the national char-
acter, he emphasizes humanity as essential to the spirit of the nation, perhaps even
more important than a particular belief or creed. Several passages in The Mountain
Wreath demonstrate the importance of the church’s position and traditions to Mon-
tenegrin identity. In a meeting between the leaders of Christians and Muslims, one
of the Christians pleads with his converted brothers:
Accept the faith of your forefathers,
That we may defend the honour of our fatherland
........................................
Pull down your mosques and minarets,
Lay the Serbian yule-logs on the fire,
And paint your Easter eggs in varied colours,
Observe the fasts of Christmas and of Lent;
And for the rest, you may do as you will.
(Goy, Sabre and the Song, p.41, ll.854–55, 858–62)

Note that the emphasis is not on the virtues of religion, but on customs; not on
values, but on traditions. These customs are the basic guidelines to the interaction
of individuals and part of what separates Serbian from Ottoman identity.76 Njegoš,
however, also gives a subtle indication that the church is not the ultimate authority in
national matters; in the play, the Montenegrin heroes start the ambush while Bishop
Danilo is still reluctant.77 While the customs of the church marked important differ-
ences between the Christian Montenegrins and the converts to Islam, the authority
of the Orthodox church was limited, even in questions of national identity.78
Goy’s perceptive essay “The Ethic and the Game” shows that the main concern
of the epic “is not a question of ethics, as much as it is a confrontation of two vastly
differing views of being, two conflicting sets of symbols, or . . . two different sets
of rules in two different games.”79 A wedding celebration attended by both Muslim
and Christian guests shows parallel beliefs and practices, including heroes, festivals,
and customs.80 Another scene, however, shows Christianity’s superior concern for
humanity. A Muslim (Skender-Aga) and a Christian (Knez Rogan) are watching a
cockfight. The Muslim wants the larger bird to win, but the Christian cheers for the
smaller one.81 Although this conversation seems trivial, it symbolizes the Christians’

19
concern for the weak and the Muslims’ pride in power in the much more significant
contest between two cultures. Like Njegoš, Bishop Danilo has a more enlightened
view of the conflict; he understands that adherents of each religion find beauty
and meaning in their faith, but he also feels a personal responsibility to side with
the Christians. Danilo’s tears for the massacres of the Montenegrins emphatically
demonstrate the humanity Njegoš espouses. The rejoicing and joking that follow his
tears suggest that Danilo has accepted the necessity of the struggle and celebrates the
victory of Montenegrin identity and the newly gained freedom from the Turks.
In contrast to the Montenegrin oral epic traditions that unapologetically sided
with the Christians, Njegoš successfully subverts his readers’ (and listeners’) expecta-
tions by showing parallel customs for Muslims and Christians. He suggests a standard
of comparison for the two cultures, common to all people: humanity. While ultimately
he decides that Christian ethics are more humane, he challenges the assumption of
the mutual exclusivity and estrangement of the cultures. Furthermore, he condemns
feuding and other aspects of “heroism” by showing that they are repugnant to a man
of thought and civilization, like Danilo. That is not to say that he completely con-
demned the culture; in fact there was much that he celebrated, especially the desire
and will for freedom. As the composer of the Montenegrin national epic, Njegoš
carried on the tradition of taking stock of the values and customs of his people, yet
he sought to adapt that culture to an honorable nation fighting for its freedom.

The Highland Lute

In The Highland Lute, Fishta depicts battles between northern Albanians and
Montenegrins over a span of several decades. The fighting starts in the middle of
the nineteenth century when the Albanians fend off Montenegrins who, prodded by
the Russians, have invaded in order to pester the failing Ottoman Empire. At first
the Albanians fight loyally for the sultan, but when they realize that he will neither
help them defend their homeland nor recognize them as equal subjects, the Albanians
begin to fight for recognition as an independent community. After decades of struggle,
the Great Powers finally grant the Albanians independence and sovereignty.
Like The Mountain Wreath, the Albanian epic is set among local villages, but
unlike the Montenegrin epic, and the general epic tradition, it does not depict a
founding event from the distant past. The time of composition (1905–1937) overlaps
with the historical subject, Albania’s struggle for independence (1864–1912). Fishta
wrote The Highland Lute a few cantos at a time. As Jorgo Bulo remarks, “As rock

20
upon rock becomes a tower, so too, song upon song the epic poem The Highland
Lute becomes a magnificent and unsurpassable tower in the architecture of Albanian
poetry.”82 In addition to its temporal and spatial immediacy, the work has a personal
immediacy because Fishta also includes personal acquaintances as heroes of the ep-
ic.83 He sees the heroic tradition as a possible base of national identity for the entire
nation. He continues the tradition of oral epics by synthesizing traditional poetic
and linguistic forms with outside literary and linguistic influences. Moreover, he
celebrates the heroic community and compares it to the heroic traditions of Skander-
beg.84 Finally, Fishta appeals to the various religious communities by emphasizing
religious ecumenism over any specific belief and by drawing on the mythology and
customs of northern Albania. In so doing, he transforms the narrative traditions of
northern Albania into an epic for all Albania.
Like Serbian heroic poems, Albanian heroic verse also uses a ten-syllable
line (dhjetërrokëshe), although a second, shorter line, the heroic ballad, was often
used to sing about contemporary events. The ballad is not as metrically strict as the
Slavic deseterac and contains frequent, albeit irregular rhymes.85 The Highland Lute
continues in the balladic tradition, with lines that are normally eight syllables long
and rhyme regularly and deliberately. Fishta uses internal rhymes and alliteration to
control the poem’s tempo. For example, when a Montenegrin band invades, Fishta
drives home the terror and frenzy with rhymes in double time:
Lshojn Shqyptarët bagtin at hera. The Albanians leave their flocks,
Hjedhin plaçkat neper ferra, Throw their bags to the thorns,
Edhe vrap hikin si era: And run, escaping like the wind:
Njani shkorres, tjetri rrmores, One through the brambles and one on the rocks,
Kush i urë e kush terthuer, Some cross the bridge, and some leave the road,
Pa kqyrë driz, pa kqyrun gur, Not minding the thorns, not noticing the stones
Veç si t’pshtojn prej Shkjaut mizuer. Just barely evading the spiteful Slavs.
Se ç’ t’ u dha brima e ulurima! O the howling and wailing, the horrible noise!
Se ç’ t’ u dha gjama e piskama! The crying and the shrieking as from an outside voice!
Fmija vrrit, nanat gerthit; Children scream and mothers shriek,
Çikat kjaj e nuset fshaj, Daughters screech, and wives weep,
Fshaj e kjaj pre atij gazepit! Weep and sob at this upheaval!
(XXII. 234–45, emphasis mine)

In comparison to the Albanian oral poetry that inspired The Highland Lute,
Fishta’s lines are much more self-consciously “poetic” in that they focus on the
rhyme and image while the ballads concentrate on the broader story.86 Like these
oral narratives in which the singer would repeat lines to buy time to think up the
next part, Fishta repeats several phrases, not just for the sake of outward imitation
21
but also to construct his rhymes and ensure that the tempo of the work, although
read rather than recited, matches that of the oral narratives.87
Fishta’s Highland Lute is closer in form and presentation than The Mountain
Wreath to the tradition of the literary epic. Indeed, it may be one of the last success-
ful European epics ever written. It imitates the traditional Greek epics in structure,
comprising about sixteen thousand five hundred lines divided into thirty cantos.88 In
addition to structural similarities, Fishta faithfully follows the stylistic conventions
and treats the traditional topics of literary epics. The concern with heroism, action,
and adventure and the interaction between the heroes and mythological figures play
off the traditions of the Iliad and the Odyssey. Muses are more than poetic inspiration;
they are lively participants in the stories. They are among the cast of mythological
figures who interfere in, comment on, and weep over the heroes and the nation. These,
however, come from Albanian, not Greek, mythology. Fishta incorporates traditional
folk culture in order to create an Albanian national epic, not a classical epic.
In addition to carrying on oral narrative traditions, Fishta attempted to develop
the Albanian language into a literary medium on par with other European languages.
Unlike Serbia and Montenegro, which attracted the attention of many European
folklorists, Albania was virtually unheard of in Europe in the late 1800s. In addi-
tion, the Ottoman Empire’s Tanzimat reforms of the nineteenth century minimized
the Albanians’ opportunities to develop their language and literature. These reforms
essentially outlawed teaching, publication, and written correspondence in Albanian
because the Ottoman rulers wanted to maintain a single Ottoman culture among the
Muslims of the empire. Reacting against these prohibitions, many Albanian intel-
lectuals strove to make other Albanian speakers and the powers of Western Europe
aware of their separate linguistic community.89 In the beginning of The Highland
Lute, Fishta highlights the difficulties facing the Albanians in a scene depicting the
1878 Congress of Berlin, where the Great Powers are astounded at the very idea of
an Albanian community (VII. 1–210).90 From its inception, the quest for a unique
Albanian national identity had its basis above all else in a shared language, uniting
a culture divided since the Ottoman incursion.
Fishta’s language develops from the northern Albanian Geg dialect, but incor-
porates a variety of linguistic differences. Perhaps the best way to appreciate Fishta’s
approach is to compare his language to Naim Frashëri’s History of Skanderbeg, which
many still consider the primary Albanian national epic. While colloquial Albanian
was, and still is, saturated with Turkish words and phrases, not a single Turkish word
appears in Frashëri’s epic. Sometimes he goes to great lengths to achieve this.91 His
native dialect of southern Albania, Tosk, closely resembles the dialect that would
22
become the literary standard.92 Furthermore, because the Albanian communist gov-
ernment canonized Frashëri as the primary founder of Albanian literature, his work
became a prime example of literary Albanian.93 Consequently, despite its somewhat
contrived phrasing, his epic is not a difficult read for literate Albanians. Fishta, on
the other hand, relishes foreign words, frequently including not only Turkish but also
Montenegrin terms in his poem.94 He embraces the cultural differences of the region
and does not attempt to create a pure, standard Albanian. Moreover, his language
comes mainly from the northern Geg dialect, which is less similar to the literary
standard, making The Highland Lute a challenge even for well-read Albanians.95
As a result, some editions published since his reinstatement into the national canon,
such as the one edited by Jorgo Bulo, contain footnotes explaining the terminol-
ogy and phrasing. While the text definitely has a rustic texture like The Mountain
Wreath, the inaccessibility of the language is a formidable obstacle to its potential as
a symbolic national epic. Yet despite its disappearance during communism, Fishta’s
was the first Albanian epic to gain a wide appreciation, and with its reappearance
in the national canon, it may again influence a broader understanding of Albanian
language, literature, and identity.
In addition to imitating the stylistic and linguistic characteristics of oral heroic
epics, The Highland Lute integrates elements from these oral narratives to celebrate
the heroic culture. From beginning to end, the poem glorifies and imitates the heroic
culture of northern Albania. Its title clearly refers to this society and the importance
of sung heroic epics to that community’s identity. Furthermore, Fishta figuratively
becomes the lahutar (balladeer) of the highland as he steps to his instrument with
the traditional invocation of the Albanian bards, “Ndihmo, Zot, si m’ ke ndihmue!”
(“Help me, God, as you once helped me!”) (I. 1).96 Fishta continues this role by
imitating not only the poetic and linguistic particulars of the oral tradition, but by
including scenes, characters, and situations from actual oral narratives. In addition,
he includes his own complete rendition of such a story. As the Albanians prepare to
defend Shkodër, the heroes request a song, and one of them sings about the Albanian
(and Muslim) hero, Gjergj Elez Ali, defeating a monster that threatens his home
and family.97 In addition to the obvious parallels with the threat of a Montenegrin
invasion, the song cues a number of exchanges that replay traditional Albanian
customs. The whole scene is a portrayal of heroic customs and beliefs: auguring the
future with a ram’s shoulder bone, heroes engaging in traditional games and tests of
athleticism, and the çeta (warriors) preparing for the upcoming battle by cleaning
and loading their guns (V. 1–171).

23
 However, these are not just Albanian characteristics; The Highland Lute also
acknowledges the value of the Montenegrins’ heroic culture. The epic’s title is not
only an indication of Fishta’s intent to carry on the heroic epic tradition, but it also
indicates its similarity to The Mountain Wreath.98 The scene described above is also a
literary tip of the hat to Njegoš because many of these same rituals also appear in the
Montenegrin epic. Fishta openly praises Njegoš, his epic, and the heroism the poem
portrays (XXV. 86–124). The major difference between the Montenegrins and the
Albanians in Fishta’s work is that the Montenegrins are acting as agents of Russian
greed, while the Albanians are fighting for freedom and recognition of their nation.
The heroic poems of northern Albania also depicted the Christian communities as
honorable, yet The Highland Lute is more overt in praising the Montenegrins. Yet,
as John Kolsti has pointed out, in setting the epic in actual, historical skirmishes
with neighboring Montenegrins, Fishta goes one step beyond the heroic oral epics
in creating ethnically-based antagonism, as the communities in the heroic epics
were either unspecified places or far-off exotic lands.99 Otherwise, however, Fishta
does not simply imbed hatred for the South Slavs in his epic as much as he inspires
respect and admiration for an equally heroic community.
Fishta shows the Albanian heroic community as the cultural heritage for the
descendants of Skanderbeg, who united the Albanian princedoms to fight against
the Ottoman Empire in the fifteenth century. Several other Albanian intellectuals
of the time also looked to Skanderbeg as an example of heroism and unification
and as the progenitor of the modern Albanian nation.100 The existence of an Alba-
nian community and identity as distinct from the larger Muslim community within
the Ottoman is a fierce point of contention in The Highland Lute. In one scene, a
messenger to the sultan claims equal status for Albanians because they support the
empire and are exempt from taxation. The rulers scorn the messenger, affirming the
Ottomans’ domination over the Albanians (X. 104–07). The failure of the Ottoman
Empire to acknowledge them justifies the Albanians’ revolt, but it was the heritage
of Skanderbeg and the culture of honor and heroism he represented that united the
Albanian tribes and villages. One repeated example of the Albanian nationalists’
appeals to the heritage of Skanderbeg is their rallying banner, the personal coat
of arms of Skanderbeg—the two-headed black eagle against a red background.
Another of Fishta’s common phrases, nipat e Skenderbeut (grandchildren or neph-
ews of Skanderbeg), binds the community together as kin and as common heirs to
Skanderbeg’s strength and independence (IX. 356, XIX. 235). As Fishta uses the
phrase, not only are national representatives Skanderbeg’s posterity, but so too are
the common Albanians of the mountains and plains.
24
 Fishta further celebrates and imitates Albanian heroic culture by frequently
including mythology and traditional customs. At the same time, he reaches out to the
Muslim, Orthodox, and Catholic communities of the nation. Fishta’s contemporary,
the poet Pashko Vasa, wrote the most famous lines on Albanian religious identity:
Let us all, as brothers, swear a common oath
And not look to church or mosque,
The faith of the Albanian is Albanianism!”101

Tellingly, Vasa’s last line became the motto of the League of Prizren, the leading
organization for Albanian cultural and political unification.102 Albanian intellectuals
realized that the disparate religious affiliations were the largest internal obstacle
to national unity.103 To counter, they promoted a sense of ecumenism among the
different religions, despite their personal religious differences and duties. In one
episode of The Highland Lute—which if not autobiographical is certainly true to
Albania’s religious atmosphere—Father Gjoni, a Catholic priest, negotiates with the
Montenegrin army as the representative of the Albanian company. The Montenegrin
leader Mark Milani asks him how it is possible that a Christian should negotiate
for the Muslims. Father Gjoni responds that for Albanians faith is not as important:
the Albanians are brothers regardless of religion (XXI. 257–64). Here Fishta shows
that religious differences did not hinder Albanian unity and even suggests that such
tolerance was a unique part of Albanian culture.104
While almost all Albanian intellectuals tried to overcome religious differ-
ences in uniting the nation, Fishta’s approach in his epic—basing the ethics, values,
and customs in the folk tradition—is unique. As with language, the contrast with
Frashëri brings out vastly different approaches to national and folk culture. While
Frashëri was promoting Bektashism105—a pantheistic Sufi-mysticism approach
toward Islam—as a unifying spiritual and moral basis of the nation, Fishta favored
folk customs and beliefs.106 Even with Frashëri’s underlying religious belief, very
little is explicitly religious—Christian or Muslim. For instance, based on Frashëri’s
portrayal of heaven, figures of the Enlightenment are more likely to reside in para-
dise than either Mohammed or Christ.107 Where reason and enlightenment rule in
Frashëri’s epic, mythology permeates Fishta’s poem. While Frashëri appeals to the
merits of the Enlightenment, Fishta evokes traditional folk mythology to integrate
the epic into the heroic community. In addition to including these deities as actors
and commentators, Fishta describes the heroes and their conquests in terms of
Albanian folk beliefs. For example, the hero of the first five cantos, Oso Kuka, is
not just a hero, but a demigod (dragua), destined to destroy a dragon (kulshedra)

25
in the form of the invading Montenegrin army (IV. 55, V. 404).108 In the same vein,
national heroes receive strength from the gods like the heroes in the myths.109 While
these Albanian poets have very different religious loyalties, their attitudes toward
religion are remarkably similar because they emphasize the need for moral living,
without limiting morality to a particular religion.
While it briefly mentions the Albanians’ different religions, The Highland Lute
is replete with references to the Faith of the country, which seems to include the
beliefs and values of both Muslims and Christians (e.g., XV. 131–32). This Faith
(Fe) (with a capital F) is a heritage from their forefathers, like language and eth-
nicity, inseparable from their cultural and patriotic heritage, given to them at birth,
and lost only at death (XVII. 503, IX. 104, XI. 38–39). So what is this Albanian
religion, similar in doctrine and effect to Frashëri’s Bektashism? Is it one religion?
This Faith refers not to a religious organization but rather to the social code of the
Albanians, best detailed in the kanun, the code of customary law described above.
As it is for Albanian tribal society in general, the kanun is the central expression
of national identity. In a number of places, the threat to the community is not the
destruction of property or life, it is a forced change in lifestyle: the abolition of the
kanun. In one scene, Father Gjoni calls upon his flock to protect their families and
villages from the Slavs:
They aim to take the fort at Shkodër,
To extinguish Albania’s name,
To turn Albanians into Slavs,
To convert our kanun and our creed.
(XIX. 252–55)

Although Fishta sees the kanun as a tremendous source of Albanian customs

and way of life, he recognizes its faults. According to Ernesto Koliqi, Fishta de-
picts the culture and their life according to the kanun as he sees it, “with beauty
and inescapable ugliness, the good as well as the bad, with virtues as well as
deficiencies.”110 Yet, while Fishta sees the ethics and society of Western Europe as
superior to traditional Albanian life, he acknowledges the value that the kanun has
given to Albanian society.111
Fishta most clearly shows a reverence for the kanun in the sacrifice of a young
woman, Tringa, an obvious archetype of the Albanian nation, at the epic’s emotional
climax. While the Montenegrins invade a remote mountain village, Tringa cares for
her mortally wounded brother. Just before the invasion, her brother dies and Tringa
must prepare the body for burial. Because the last male of her family has died, she
decides to swear her virginity and take over the operations of the household. As she
26
leaves to get help for burying her brother, she sees the Montenegrins approaching
her house. She immediately gets her brother’s gun and stands at the threshold of the
house to defend her family’s honor:
Help me, O God! Holy Saint Noah!
She said to herself out loud,
And straightway went for the door,
Wrenching it open with firm resolve.
Now the girl could never be turned back!
But with fire in her eyes, her brows knit,
Her twisted shawl spanning them like a bridge,
She stood tall like a noble cypress,
Coming suddenly to the middle of her yard,
Her weapon veiled at the back of her hip.
(XXII. 800–07)

She fells one attacker but then is shot by a second. Her martyrdom is a model
for all Albania, which would be blessed if all her daughters followed Tringa’s
example and gave their lives “for honor, faith, and homeland” (XXII. 861). The
characters and location are insignificant, but the symbolic heroism and devotion to
her brother and the kanun is immense. Her sacrifice stands for all women under the
kanun, showing fidelity to kin, custom, and country. This sacrifice gains immortal
prestige as the fairies bewail her heroic death. Their ultimate consolation is that the
nation will remember her death:
I swear this daughter of the mountain,
Has stood just like the noble ones:
While yet living she left not her brother,
The Slavs could not catch her but in death,
Who more than self her country loved,
Like the best men of the highlands.
Her parents and her children she did not shame,
But left for all Albanians an honorable name.
Some day her song will be sung,
And wherever Albanian is spoken-
That divine, manly tongue-
Will be sung by the great men of the world
What this daughter of the earth has done,
Tringa, daughter of Ulja and Ulë Keqotës,
When she saw the war’s crisis at Nokshiq;
And as far as reach the century’s rays,
Further still will Tringa’s name be praised.
(XXIV. 855–71)
27
 Tringa’s martyrdom sanctifies not only her house, but also the way of life
she represents. Thus, in the free Albania that Fishta writes for, the Kanun of Lekë
Dukagjini is not just a law code that needs to be revised and updated; it is a holy
inheritance for the entire nation. With a nation that lacked a unified confessional
base, the kanun, the heroic ethics of the highlanders, and the heritage of freedom
and independence passed down from Skanderbeg to his nipat would have to serve as
a spiritual base. However, as with the kanun, Fishta does not accept the Albanians’
heroism blindly. Because of his exposure to, and appreciation for, the other Christian
cultures of the region, Fishta acknowledges the equally venerable heroic traditions
of the Montenegrins. Like Njegoš, who shows the parallel customs and values of
the Christians and Muslims, Fishta sides with the group with nobler ethics. Thus,
the Albanians’ fight for freedom is honorable, while the Montenegrins’ fighting for
Russian expansion is deplorable. Also like Njegoš in his role as the composer of the
national epic, Fishta develops the themes, language, and poetics of the oral narrative
tradition into a competent, rich, and symbolic composition that enriches the nation’s
literature and develops a common national identity.

Conclusion
Although some scholars insinuate that Romantic nationalists, such as Petar II
Petrović Njegoš and Gjergj Fishta, helped create the ideologies that drew their nations
into senseless wars over ethnicity and territory, these authors combined influences
from Romanticism and nationalism to found a free political state, initiate a modern
literature, and refine their communities’ social organizations and values. Far from
being “unskilled or unethical psychologists” planting false memories in their com-
munities, Njegoš and Fishta are competent composers who blend their communities’
oral epic tradition with European literary movements and their own individual poetic
skills to forge a new conception of their community as a modern nation. In their
national epics, Njegoš and Fishta present a higher aesthetic and ethical standard than
the oral epic and heroic traditions did. Although George White accuses Romantic
nationalists of invention and deception, their national epics capture an authenticity
for the nation that not only makes them influential in their own national literatures
and cultures, but also gives them a place in great world literature, representing the
highest poetic accomplishments of their respective nations.
Njegoš and Fishta created the first major modern compositions for their nations.
In effect, they adapt and subvert the oral narrative tradition by self-consciously con-

28
structing poetry and contradicting some of the oral epics’ messages of community.
The poets intentionally imitate the meter and language of oral narratives, often bor-
rowing symbols and myths from the past. Yet their works are refined and detailed,
unlike the epics, which have a broader range. Like the singers of oral epics before
them, the authors of these national epics integrate current events and contemporary
philosophy into their work. Both oral and national epics bear stamps of the singer
or composer’s personal experience and need.112 However, with their printed epics,
Romantic nationalists extend the realm of the community from an intimate, per-
sonal audience to a widespread, anonymous readership.113 Still, this emerging print
community relies on the oral traditions for its content. Moreover, in the case of The
Highland Lute, the work passed into illiterate communities through oral recitation.114
While Njegoš and Fishta borrow the forms and themes of the oral epic tradition,
they turn the tradition to their own purposes, portraying the folk culture as national
culture, questioning traditional social organizations, and refining social values.
Even more dramatic than their departure from the tradition of illiteracy is the
national epics’ adjusted code of ethics for their communities. The conflicts in the
epics are the threats of political domination, the loss of identity, the end of tradition,
and the death of the community. The communities’ responses to the threats are guided
by the highest ideals of Romantic nationalism—unity, honor, and love of the nation,
which are also traditional communal values taken from the heroic oral narratives.115
At one level, the essence of The Mountain Wreath is the preservation of a singular
national identity; at another it is a criticism of the tribes’ narrow interpretation of
this identity. Most of the characters see the conflict as a fight for the survival of their
community. For example, Abbot Stefan sees the conversion of the Montenegrins to
Islam as a denial of the community’s identity. Njegoš contrasts this view with the
thoughts of the main character, Bishop Danilo. As expressed in his opening soliloquy
cited above, while he understands the community’s desire for action, he also realizes
that this means killing those who had been brothers in the nation (43–46, 79–85).
The bishop’s tears and the abbot’s laughing mix together like the cup of vinegar and
the cup of honey, representing the bittersweet fratricide necessary for independence.
The Highland Lute frequently holds the kanun as the traditional standard, yet Fishta
laments its emphasis on blood and revenge. Whether the authors’ enlightened sense
of humanity comes form their training as Christian clerics, familiarity with European
literature, or from some internal sense, the authors advocate a higher standard for
ethical conduct than was customary for their respective communities.
In conclusion, Njegoš and Fishta’s national epics capture an authenticity some-
what different from the Western Romantic conception; they are authentic, generous
29
works of Christian humanism that promote appreciation of one’s own culture without
denying the virtues of other communities. This may sound like a hollow argument
to those who see Njegoš’s poem as a “blueprint for ethnic cleansing”116 or a “hymn
to genocide”;117 both epics are undeniably violent, certainly exceeding what most
modern critics would tolerate, but this should not necessarily diminish their potential
for constructing a humane ideal of the nation. Critics bent on condemning nationalist
violence run the risk of missing the central ethic of the poems; even interpretations
of the works as a typology of the community and a glorification of heroism would
miss the key success of these epics. Their authenticity lies not just in an accurate
depiction of traditional societies—the customs, language, values, symbols, ethics,
characters, and conflicts—but in their affinity with principles of humanity common to
all nations. They understand that other cultures have different traditions and values.
That is not to say that they accept a culture outright, yet they see the commonality
of their positions and their desires. Instead of encouraging violence toward others,
the epics require greater honor of the customs that respect others and teach humane-
ness. They condemn revenge but condone defense; the authors decry imperialism
and extortion but celebrate independence and freedom. Still, the works draw just
criticism for their portrayal, and hence tolerance, of violence. However, they not
only show the violence, they show the consequences of, and regret for, the violence.
True generosity and humanity would not permit fellow human beings, let alone kin,
to live in ignorance of their faults. While the authors extol heroism and bravery,
they also illustrate the failings of traditional values that refused to acknowledge the
consequences of bloodletting and not understanding one’s neighbors. Moreover,
the writers desire the freedom of their countries, perhaps the only justifiable reason
for violence. While later generations of nationalists may ignore this aspect in favor
of preaching the superiority of their culture over others, or to justify exterminating
other cultures, these national epics decry inhumanity, even the seemingly legitimate
inhumanity of one’s own group.
Perhaps the time for writing national epics has passed, but the epic tradition
continues in other forms. Although there are many more writers and styles in the
literatures of Southeastern Europe than there were in Njegoš and Fishta’s times, the
most successful writers have also concentrated on the importance of folk culture and
have maintained a similar, although nuanced, vision of their nations and national
identity. It was “for the epic force with which [he] traced themes and depicted human
destinies from [his] country’s history” that the Nobel Prize committee honored Ivo
Andrić with the 1961 prize in literature.118 His award-winning novel, Na Drini ćupriji
(The Bridge on the Drina, 1945), relates the historic development of a community’s
30
identity, symbolizing the history of a much larger community. The same could be
said of the preeminent contemporary Albanian author Ismail Kadare, whose work
is continually concerned with the incorporation of traditional customs, language,
and religion both in his writing and in Albanian nationalism.119 Likewise, the films
of Emir Kusturica, such as Otac na službenom putu (When Father Was Away on
Business, 1985) and Dom za vešanje (The Time of the Gypsies, 1989) concern folk
traditions and are built upon folk songs. Like Njegoš and Fishta, each of these
three twentieth-century artists contradicts and questions common conceptions in
his community. Furthermore, although they are criticized for sometimes-excessive
violence, they also capture the authenticity of the human spirit by recognizing the
values and faults in their own communities and acknowledging the value of other
cultures. Thus, the oral epic tradition that evolved first into national epics is now
succeeding in other creative mediums such as novels and films.

31
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 Notes
I am grateful for all the support and suggestions that I received on this essay that was my Master’s
Thesis at Indiana University. Thanks first of all to my family and my wife, Barbie, to the staff of
the Russian and East European Institute: Jessica Hamilton, Denise Gardiner, Lance Erickson, and
Lisa Guillian. Thanks also to helpful information from Robert Elsie, John Kolsti, and Charles
Gribble, Yana Hashamova, and Sunnie Rucker-Chang of the Slavic Department at The Ohio State
University, Xhevahir and Julie Kolgjini who helped tremendously in my understanding of Fishta
and his poetry. Finally, thanks to everyone who reviewed this paper in its various stages: several
anonymous reviewers, Catherine Marshall, David Ransel, Mihaly Szegedy-Maszak, Aurelian
Craiutu, Maria Bucur, and especially my advisor, Henry Cooper. Although this work has taken
the cooperation of many great people, I alone am responsible for its contents.
1. Bulo, introduction to Lahuta e Malcis, by Gjergj Fishta, 3–7, and Robert Elsie, from personal
correspondence.
2. Margulis, “Njegoš’s Montenegro,” 60. There was also a printing press in the sixteenth century,
but that was destroyed by Turks. Ibid., n. 152.
3. Elsie, The Highland Lute, 9. In canto XXV Fishta admires the humanity expressed in these
writers’ poetry.
4. Ibid., 10.
5. Cf. Berlin The Crooked Timber, 258.
6. Cf. ibid., 222, 215.
7. White, Nationalism and Territory, 253.
8. White also conflates all senses of nationalism and Romanticism into a singular, destructive
ideology. He does not distinguish between literary or cultural nationalism and militaristic or
political nationalism. For such a differentiation, see Cooper, “Francè Prešeren,” 202. Although
these different facets of nationalism frequently conflict one another, having different sources,
motives, and objectives, White treats nationalism as a coherent ideology whose objective is
the nation-state. It is the project of a select group of intellectuals, who conspire to construct
a convincing yet counterfeit ideology. He accuses Romantic nationalists of arrogance and
questionable ethics based not on their individual lives or works, but on the subsequent historical
lives of their nations. For an example of the disparate motives and outcomes of nationalists,
see Stokes, Politics as Development, which shows the evolving conception of the nation and
approaches to political nationalism from 1869 to 1888.
9. Bulo, Introduction to Lahuta e malcis, 7.
10. The New Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics, 1993 ed., s.v. “Epic.”
11. Although this definition is my own, I have drawn up on the discussion in ibid. and in Smith’s

37
The Antiquity of Nations (Cambridge: Polity, 2004), 19–20.
12. Andrew B. Wachtel, “How to Use a Classic.”
13. Elsie, introduction to The Highland Lute, 14–17.
14. Elsie, History of Albanian Literature, Vol. 1: 236.
15. The Antiquity of Nations, 17.
16. I have in mind here the oft-cited definitions from Anderson’s Imagined Communities, and
Gellner’s Nations and Nationalism, which are more suitable to the authors’ own explanations
of the origin of nationalism than they are to explaining the advent of nationalism in Montenegro
and Albania. See Todorova, “The Trap of Backwardness,” 144.
17. Although few could read when these epics were written, they could be read to, as was the
case of William Jovanovich, the publisher of Đilas’s book, Njegoš. See p. xi.
18. Anderson, Imagined Communities, 13–19.
19. Goy, Sabre and the Song, 12. It is important to remember that the Serbian kingdom had an
important medieval literary tradition. In a sense, the literature in Montenegro and Serbia was a
revitalization of literature in Serbia.
20. The interaction has gone both ways—oral narratives inspiring or being adapted into written
literature, as is the case of these national epics, or written works becoming a part of the oral
tradition. For example, Ivan Gundulić’s epic Osman (1622) was later adapted in oral narratives
in Kotor in the western part of Montenegro (Koljević, The Epic in the Making, 2). Likewise, the
works of several Albanian poets contemporary with Fishta were transmitted throughout illiterate
villages as popular ballads. Poems from southern Albanian authors, including Naim Frashëri,
became popular folk songs, passing on the literature to the illiterate and synthesizing the oral
and written cultures in the opposite way that the literary epics do (Sugarman, “Imagining the
Homeland”).
21. Albert Lord scrupulously avoids the terms folk, national, and epic, although many others had
called these compositions folk or national epics (Singer of Tales, 4–11). Parry’s work is collected
in The Making of Homeric Verse.
22. Peabody, foreword to Songs of the Frontier Warriors, vii. Boehm, Montenegrin Social
Organization, 75.
23. Boehm, Montenegrin Social Organization, 75–79.
24. Svetozar Koljević gives other instances where South Slavic folk songs were recorded,
including Ribanje, Alberto Fortis’s Viaggio in Dalmacia, and others. He uses these as evidence
for the tradition of singing among the South Slavs as well as for tracing changing perceptions of
communal identity within these recorded songs. See The Epic in the Making, 12–94.

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25. Special thanks to Henry Cooper for this point.
26. Durham sees the tribal stage as a universal stage in civilization (Some Tribal Origins, 13);
Saltzman emphasizes the discontinuity of the tribal community, stating that tribes held the political
authority after the breakup of the Nemanja dynasty (“Montenegro in Historical Perspective,”
8–14).
27. For example, Ivan Mažuranić’s Smrt Smail-age Čengića, a Croatian (Illyrian) epic, glorifies
the honorable Montenegrins who avenge the cruelty of a local Ottoman ruler.
28. Goy says this specifically about the setting for Njegoš, but it also applies to Fishta (Sabre
and the Song, 37).
29. Boehm emphasizes autonomy as one of the central values of Montenegrin society, citing this
as the primary factor in the Montenegrins’ willingness to suffer devastating military defeats and
economic hardship rather than submit to the Ottomans. Montenegrins proudly claimed that they
were the only ones able to retain their independence from the Ottoman Empire (Montenegrin
Social Organization, 83–84).
30. Durham, Some Tribal Origins, 25; Ðilas, Njegoš, 311.
31. This is the gist of the Albanians argument against the Ottomans in The Highland Lute, as
well as Frashëri’s argument in History of Skanderbeg.
32. Boehm, Montenegrin Social Organization, 52. Durham puts the number closer to thirty
around 1900 (Some Tribal Origins, 34).
33. Margulis, Njegoš’s Montenegro, 29; Boehm, Montenegrin Social Organization, 64.
34. Cyprien Robert Les Slaves de Turquie. (Paris: L. Passard, 1844), 118, cited in Christopher
Boehm, Montenegrin Social Organization, 42. Đilas argues the artificial nature of the names and
claims of kinship in the clans; there is probably an element of imagination in the genealogies,
but the kinship was felt if not actual (quoted in Margulis, Njegoš’s Montenegro, 19).
35. Boehm, Montenegrin Social Organization, 43.
36. Margulis, Njegoš’s Montenegro, 19.
37. Boehm, Montenegrin Social Organization, 21–24.
38. Durham, Some Tribal Origins, 15.
39. “The family consists of the people of the house; as these increase, they are divided into
clans, clans into kinship groups, kinship groups into tribes, tribes into banners, and all together
constitute one widespread family called a nation, which has one homeland, common blood, a
common language, and common customs,” Fox, Kanuni i Lekë Dukagjinit, 14, art. 19.
40. Ibid., xvii; and Gjergj Fishta, introduction to Kanun i Lekë Dukagjinit, xxv–xxvi. Margaret
Hasluck attributes it to the person in The Unwritten Law, 12–14.
39
41. Hasluck, Unwritten Law, 27.
42. A religious leader such as a vladika was impossible, given the divide in religions. Shtjefën
Gjeçovi’s version of the kanun reveals that one family, the Gjomarkaj family, enjoyed primary
authority of interpreting the law for some of the northern tribes (Fox, introduction to Kanuni i
Lekë Dukagjini, xix).
43. Boehm expresses this difference (Montenegrin Social Organization, 24).
44. Durham writes of Albanians remembering up to thirteen generations of the father’s line
(Some Tribal Origins, 20).
45. Elsie, introduction to The Highland Lute, 8–9.
46. The term for conversion to Islam, poturice, essentially means the same thing as having
become Turkish. The linguistic terminology indicates a political association not present in the
English term. See Mladenović, introduction to Gorski Vijenac, 14.
47. “Srpsko Badnje veče” (Serbian Christmas Eve).
48. Pavle Popović, O “Gorskom Vijencu” (On “The Mountain Wreath”), 166–214.
49. Ibid., 115–122.
50. Mihailovich, The Mountain Wreath, l. 24.
51. P. Popović, O “Gorskom Vijencu,” 94–115.
52. Wachtel, “How to Use a Classic,” 148; Mladenović, introduction to Gorski Vijenac, 16.
53. Mihailovich, introduction to The Mountain Wreath, xi; and Goy, “Petar II Petrović Njegoš,”
167. Goy comments that the abundance of proverbs in the text may have been influenced by
(and perhaps even contributed to) Vuk’s collection, Narodne poslovice (Folk Proverbs, 1836),
published on Njegoš’s printing press in Cetinje (Sabre and the Song, 89).
54. The three proverbs are found in ll. 137–38, 2322, and 602–03, respectively. The first is my
adaptation of Goy’s translation in Sabre and the Song, 88. His translation of the latter line reads:
“ ‘Tis adversity that shows who is the hero.” I changed the line to match the caesura and the
decasyllable line. The second and third proverbs are Goy’s translation in Sabre and the Song,
88–89.
55. Koljević, The Epic in the Making, 80, 91; and Coote, “Serbocroatian Heroic Songs,”
272–75.
56. Goy, “Petar II Petrović Njegoš,” 162.
57. Ibid. P. Popović considers whether Njegoš’s imitation of, and borrowing from, other sources
in some way diminishes his art (O “Gorskom vijencu,” 6–42).

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58. Goy, Sabre and the Song, 95.
59. The Epic in the Making, 279.
60. Goy, Sabre and the Song, 58.
61. Skerlić, Istorija, 174; Pavle Popović, O “Gorskom Vijencu,” 82; Goy, Sabre and the Song,
59; and Deretić, Istorija, 299. See Goy, Sabre and the Song, 56–62 for a summary of these
commentaries. A similar debate surrounds Francè Prešeren’s Baptism on the Savica because it
seems to be an incongruent combination of forms.
62. Đilas, Njegoš, 329; and Miodrag Popović, Njegoš, 33.
63. As discussed in P. Popović, O “Gorskom Vijencu,” 48–62.
64. Ibid., 63–89.
65. Sabre and the Song, 43, 54–55. For further discussion, see the final section of this essay,
which discusses the values and ethics of the two works.
66. Rešetar in P. Popović, O “Gorskom Vijencu,” 164–66; M. Popović, Njegoš, 33–34; Goy,
Sabre and the Song, 43–52; and P. Popović, O “Gorskom Vijencu,” 167–74.
67. However, there are also differences implied in the text, such as the speeches of the characters,
their inquiries about Venice, their attitudes toward the nation and the ethics of heroism.
68. Compare this with Njegoš’s personal lament: “At times the bloody and hard struggle
overwhelms me, and I curse the hour when this spark rose up from the ashes of Dušan’s greatness
and into these mountains of ours” (quoted in Goy, “Petar II Petrović Njegoš,” 168).
69. For example, Goy, Sabre and the Song, 77–79. Goy also emphasizes that there are significant
differences between Njegoš’s use of the kolo and the Greek choruses.
70. Ibid., 77.
71. P. Popović, “Gorskom Vijencu,” 89–94.
72. M. Popović, Njegoš, 27.
73. Njegoš, 328.
74. For the importance of Mt. Lovčen, also Njegoš’s mausoleum, see Wachtel, “How to Use a
Classic,” 135–44.
75. O “Gorskom vijencu,” 248–57.
76. This is consistent with my personal experience of religion in the area, where outward religious
expression—and not doctrine—identifies someone as a member of a particular region. This held
true for followers of Islam, Orthodoxy, and Catholicism.

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77. P. Popović points out that this contradicts the historical account of the massacre, where
Danilo and the Martinović brothers were the primary instigators of the ambush (O “Gorskom
Vijencu,” 175–79).
78. This is consistent with the conclusions of Boehm, Montenegrin Social Organization, 62–64.
It also corresponds with Njegoš’s successor Danilo’s decision to drop the title of vladika and
rule as a secular prince.
79. Sabre and the Song, 39–55.
80. Mihailovich, ll. 1783–854. See the notes for these lines on page 114.
81. Ibid., ll. 1204–09. Goy gives other examples in Sabre and the Song, 47–51.
82. Introduction to Lahuta e malcis, 8. Here and in the text below, the translations (and emphasis)
are my own unless otherwise noted. Note that Bulo’s first words in the quote are a variation of
a common Albanian proverb, “gur gur bëhet mur.”
83. Elsie, introduction to The Highland Lute, 5–6.
84. Berisha, “Epika gojore shqiptare,” 1069.
85. John Kolsti, The Bilingual Singer, 83–84. Albanian meter is difficult to judge because of the
frequent elisions (omission of vowels). The most common vowel in Albanian is the schwa (/ë/),
which is often omitted in spoken Albanian. It is difficult to know when this is pronounced in the
poem, especially considering the dialectal variations in phonology (ibid., 31).
86. I am referring to the collection of Albanian epic verse made by Shtjefën Gjeçovi (1874–1929),
Bernadin Palaj (1894–1947), and Donat Kurti (1903–1983) which appeared under the title Kangë
kreshnikësh dhe legenda (Songs of the Frontier Warriors and Legends) in Visaret e Kombit
(Treasures of the Nation) in 1937. See Songs of the Frontier Warriors, xi.
87. In The Bilingual Singer Kolsti provides evidence of the oral epic tradition common to Albania,
Montenegro, and Bosnia. Among his examples are several editions of songs that fit the same
balladic style that Fishta imitates because one of the singers he is studying prefers the ballad
when singing in Albanian.
88. While dramatic productions of The Mountain Wreath have yet to succeed, The Highland Lute,
which had no trace of dramatic form, has had successful dramatic renderings (Elsie, introduction
to The Highland Lute, 17).
89. Skendi, Albanian National Awakening, 131–34, 144.
90. Lahuta e Malcis, VII. Text citations are to canto and line.
91. Cipo, in his notes to the text of The History of Skanderbeg, occasionally describes how
Frashëri worked around a common Turkish work in favor of a dialectical term or a neologism
(Frashëri, Istoria e Skenderbeut).

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92. The current Albanian standard is Tosk-based, although at the time of Fishta’s writing it was
based on a southern Geg variant in Elbasan, which is just north of the traditional isogloss of the
Albanian dialects—the Shkumbi River. It is practically a central dialect comprehensible to both
Geg and Tosk speakers and was the native idiom of the important Albanian linguist and folklorist
Konstantin Kristoforidhi who did most of his work in the middle of the nineteenth century. See
Byron, Selection Among Alternates in Language Standardization.
93. Elsie, personal correspondence. It is worth noting that the failure of northern Albanian dialects
to be fully integrated into standardized Albanian has political consequences with the demands
of Kosovar Albanians for a separate language standard.
94. There are a number of terms—especially heroic terms—that are identical in the Serbo-
Croatian tradition of epic poems such as četa, a group of warriors, and sokol, falcon (perhaps the
most common metaphor for heroes). It is interesting to note that Vuk Karadžić’s New Testament
included several Turkish words and consequently was initially rejected by the Serbian Orthodox
Church.
95. Elsie, introduction to The Highland Lute, 7.
96. Cf. identical lines in several of the songs in Songs of the Frontier Warriors.
97. This same hero is also mentioned in the exchange between Christian and Muslim wedding
guests in The Mountain Wreath, ll. 1783–86. He is the central figure in Xhevahir Kolgjini’s
painting, “Ringjallje,” included in the cover.
98. Elsie, introduction to The Highland Lute, 9.
99. “From Krajina to Krahina: The European Borderland in Albanian Epic Tradition.” Annual
convention of the American Association for the Advancement of Slavic Studies, Salt Lake City,
UT. November 2005. Kolsti’s studies were based on Albanian oral epics of 200–2000+ lines in
the Parry-Lord Collection at Harvard University.
100. Treptow, “The Formation of the Albanian National Consciousness,” 445; Bulo, introduction
to Lahuta e Malcis, 7.
101. Elsie, History of Albanian Literature, I: 263–67.
102. Treptow, “Formation of Albanian National Consciousness,” 461.
103. Albanian intellectuals generally downplayed religious differences for national reasons, and
the various faiths got along fairly well. Durham reports tribes with both Muslim and Catholic
populations (Some Tribal Origins, 18–34). Ger Duijzings, however, argues that the very emphasis
that Albanian leaders put on not fighting suggests that religion was important to Albanians
“Religion and the Politics of ‘Albanianism,’” 62. In any case, as compared with other areas with
a mixture of religious communities, religious differences in Albania were fairly well tolerated.
104. Albanians are obviously not the only nation that tolerates religious differences, although

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Fishta and other Albanian intellectuals emphasize the point. Perhaps it is a perception of tolerance
compared to their neighbors.
105. An excellent description of Bektashism is offered by G. G. Arnakis “Futuwwa Traditions
in the Ottoman Empire: Akhis, Bektashi Dervishes and Craftsmen,” in Journal of Near Eastern
Studies, vol. 12, (1953), 243 which is also cited in H. T. Norris, 1993, 165–66: “Perhaps more than
any other Anatolian sect, the Bektashis interpreted Scripture allegorically and effaced all sharp
contrasts and vicissitudes, preaching as they did, their favourite theme of the unity of existence.
. . . Tolerance in all directions, common places of worship for Christians and Moslems, stories
of miracles for the followers of Christ, and Mohammed indiscriminately, saints venerated by
both peoples, and a persistent, if vague identification of Ali with Christ and Haji Bektash with
St. Caralampos—these are some of the factors to which the Bektashis owe their success.”
106. Duijzings, “Religion and the Politics of ‘Albanianism.’”
107. Istoria e Skenderbeut, XII.
108. See also nn. 142, 148, in Elsie, The Highland Lute and Elsie, Dictionary of Albanian
Religion.
109. Compare Ali Pasha Guci’s experience in Lahuta e malcis, VIII, with Mujo’s encounter
in “Mujo’s Strength” in Songs of the Frontier Warriors, 2–9. See also Berisha, “Epika gojore
shqiptare,” 1086.
110. Syzime letrar, 78.
111. Introduction to Kanuni i Lekë Dukagjinit, xxix–xxx.
112. Koljević, The Epic in the Making, 341–43.
113. Cf. Anderson, Imagined Communities, 44–45.
114. Berisha, “Epika gojore shqiptare,” 1077.
115. Ibid.,1070, 1074.
116. Wachtel describes how The Mountain Wreath and The Death of Smail Aga-Čengić were
banned for their supposed promotion of ethnic hatred (“How to Use a Classic,” 144–46).
117. Anzulovic, Heavenly Serbia, 54. Anzulovic’s “destructionist” critique of the poem is valid
in criticizing the excess of violence, but he too passionately argues this aspect and consequently
overlooks the subtle humaneness of Njegoš’s poetry. Christopher Catherwood draws a similar
connection between the ambush of the Muslims in The Mountain Wreath and the violence against
the Muslims in the most recent Balkan wars (Why the Nations Rage).
118. Österling, Presentation Speech of 1961 Nobel Prize in Literature.
119. See especially, Cox, “No Ordinary Albania.”

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