Part 2

I found the family also anxious to visit Traù, and next morning we all returned by sea, so much the better for my gate! The drive is quite pretty, and it was a treat to see green once more. On the way I passed seven villages all called Castello something, as Castelvecchio, Castelnuovo, &c., relics of old feudal times, there being a castle in the centre of each village with houses all round it. I longed to visit each, but had no time.

The men’s costumes are very striking, blue trousers open at the back of the ankle to ten inches from the shoe—a string sandal—little brass hooks and eyes to fasten them when required, red sashes and tabs at the waist, the sash in which the usual weapon reposes, brown jacket with crimson velvet slashes and fringe ornamenting the front, piped with crimson all round, a waistcoat of red velvet with silver buttons, and the scarlet cap crowns all. The women look well in dark blue, with a red band round the bottom of the skirt, coloured handkerchiefs on their heads; some wore long blue coats piped with red and red bands embroidered down the sides, a sort of stocking-shoe embroidered in many colours and an apron of red and yellow.

The landlord at Traù was surprised and pleased to see me again for my frugal lunch of fried eggs, Parmesan cheese and radishes; the yacht had anchored so far out, I could not go back to it. I finished my work in hand, and then tried to draw the attention of someone on the yacht, but it was no use, so I had to hire a boat from shore.

It was twelve hours run from Spalato to Gravosa (the harbour of Ragusa). We came past the islands of Lesina, Lissa, Curzola, and Sabioncello, and down the Canale di Melita. We thought of calling at the town of Curzola, which is well worth a visit, but as it was blowing hard, we deemed it wiser to push on.

We reached Ragusa next morning after a rolling night, and anchored opposite the town; but there was such a roll on, I was sure that none but the best sailors would come to breakfast, so we moved into the port of Gravosa, two miles away.

Mr. T. and I walked to the town, he, poor man, politely carrying my satchel. On the way we passed many villas. The old town is entered by a charming old gate, called Porta Pille; old walls surround the town, which is also a fortress. Directly you enter the gate a quaint fountain meets your gaze, and many figures in costumes are grouped about it. We wandered on down the principal street of shops, in many of which were collections of curiosities, embroideries, bags, belts, swords, old inlaid mother-of-pearl stocked guns, &c., the belts of enormous weight were studded with agates, and were said to have been worn by the women. Narrow streets, with innumerable steps, branched off from the main street; several churches and two monasteries, the Franciscan with a charming old courtyard.

The Rector’s Palace had a fine portico; these were among the things we saw, but I have no doubt that there were many others we did not see of equal interest, as my attention was rivetted on one of the steep side streets, bright with all kinds of coloured clothing strung across it. I had hardly started work, when down came the rain in torrents. I sent old Angelos off for a carriage while I took refuge in a doorway, and I generously gave the old courier my umbrella as he had none. After waiting a long time and getting in despair of his ever returning, I suddenly heard his voice round a corner, so I ran. Why he took so long was, that he had quite forgotten where he had left me!

Some of the others reached the quay at the same time as I did; the rain coming down in sheets made it very difficult to get on board, and the dingey was simply a large pool of water.

In the afternoon we went in the launch up the river of the Val d’ Ombra, as we were told it was a very nice excursion; the country was very ugly, but the water at the fall seemed to bubble up from the ground, coming through, not down the mountain, when it had disappeared entirely for nineteen miles.

On April 20th we left Gravosa for Cattaro. There is not much to see in the town there, but the market was most fascinating, peasants in costume from all parts, Brda, or Montenegro, &c., &c. The Montenegrins are a very good looking fine race. The women part the hair in the middle, and wear enormously thick plaits of hair round the head, a black shawl in cold weather for the married women and a little cap for the girls, embroidered on the crown with I.H. (Nichola I.), a long white sleeveless coat, a blue or red zouave of velvet, beautifully embroidered in gold, ordinary skirt and apron, and shoes of calf skin with string tops and straps, a sock with a border of red and blue is worn over the stocking. The men wear the little round cap, the sleeveless white coat, and red waistcoat embroidered in black and silver buttons, wide, bright blue pantaloons, and a sash and leathern pocket in which the revolver rests—these latter they always wear, except on market days at Cattaro, where all firearms have to be left behind. They (men and women) are splendid specimens of humanity, every man a soldier and a gentleman, with a fine carriage and a most dignified manner; they salute or bow, often both.

In the afternoon, Angelos and I started off in a carriage to drive to Cettinje, the capital of Montenegro, where I stayed the night.

The road zig-zags up the mountain side all the way from Cattaro to a Col, then zig-zags down on the other side to Cettinje, which lies nestling at the foot of steep hills and at the end of a cultivated valley. The road was in a state of repair, and was a mass of stones all the way, which made the drive of seven hours very tiring. The scenery is very grand and rugged, the mountains pinky grey in colour, with very little green at the commencement of the ascent even, and these are chiefly shrubs; then this green ends, and is entirely left behind, and the mountains stand out in all their ruggedness, with an occasional patch of snow still left by the road side at the end of April.

There is very little soil except in the valleys, and these are old lake basins. Every bit of soil is used in cultivation. For miles and miles there is nothing to be seen but rugged, jagged rock.

On our way we passed a few thatched cottages, and stopped to bait the horses at the only village on the road, called Njegus, which is a short distance over the frontier. In this village the house is shown where Prince Nichola was born. While waiting here, I had a frugal meal of eggs, bread and wine, and I made a sketch of a very fine looking young man, much to his amusement and gratification, as he seemed quite pleased with his appearance on paper. Several other good looking young men came to criticise, some spoke a little Italian but most of them Slav, I suppose, as they are the descendants of the old nobility of the Servian Empire, who fled to the Black Mountains to escape Turkish oppression, and who maintained their liberty and independence against all comers for more than five centuries.

A blind musician came to play while I was lunching, his instrument had one string only, which is usual in this country; but it was as sweet and melodious as though it had many strings.

The aspect of the scenery was much the same until we reached the Col, but when there the view was grand in the extreme.

Range after range of rocky, jagged mountains, the lake of Scutari in the dim distance and the Albanian mountains in snow behind, and a pinky glow from the setting sun enhanced the view. Here we paused a few moments, then began to descend to Cettinje, which we reached after driving for some hours.

Before going further, I will say a little about Montenegro, which in extent is about half the size of Wales. There are a few small towns dotted about, the capital is Cettinje, and the only town I visited. The seaport town is Dulcigno, on the Adriatic; the whole country is very mountainous and there are several small lakes, the principal one is Scutari, of which half belongs to Montenegro and the other half to Albania.

If I had had time, I should have much liked to have driven to Lake Scutari, but it would have taken a whole day to go there and back from Cettinje, so I had to give it up. The Montenegrins are such delightful people, that I believe you can go anywhere in their country and feel perfectly safe, they are particularly hospitable to strangers. In the time of war with Turkey, the Turkish women and children fled into Montenegro, knowing they would be perfectly safe from insult of any kind in the enemy’s territory.

There is but little farming land in Montenegro, the peasant is glad to enclose the tiniest patch of fertile soil retained by the hollows in the mountain sides.

The largest land proprietor is the owner of sixty acres, and other freehold estates vary from two to twenty acres, and it is usually not to the individual, but to the family that this ownership belongs.

The history of Montenegro from the earliest times to the Turkish War of 1877, is one of incessant wars and raids, throughout the whole of which the country has preserved its independence, even when Turkish power was spread over the whole of south-eastern Europe. The accession of the present dynasty dates from 1687. Prince Nichola (the reigning Prince and father of the Queen of Italy) conducted a successful war against Turkey; he is a dramatist, and also introduced a new code of laws.

Bears and wolves are still to be found in the highest forests.

Cettinje has a population of about 1,300 people, the houses are whitewashed, with red roofs. The whole town is very clean in appearance.

It has a broad main street, crossed by smaller streets. In the main street are the houses of the foreign representatives. In the square is the palace of the Prince Nichola, unpretentious in appearance and only distinguishable by the guard in front of it. The Prince still administers open-air justice before his palace, though lately the large tree under which he sat has fallen, I believe.

Not far off is the palace of Prince Danilo, his son, the hall of the senate being on the ground floor. The Ministry, the Court of Justice, and the prison are adjacent, and opposite the Ministry is the Monastery, in whose church the ancestors of the reigning house are buried. Above the Monastery rises a round tower, which until lately was adorned by Turkish skulls. Near the Monastery is the Museum in which are many torn standards, arms, medals, etc., etc.

Montenegro has a standing army, in which every able-bodied man serves for a term of four months at a time. The Montenegrins are as fine soldiers as can be found, and the Prince takes the keenest interest in his army and his people. Every morning he rides over to the square, where his subjects await him bare-headed. He signs one to his side, who, after kissing his hand, walks along by the side of his horse as far as the barracks, the Prince meanwhile discussing and questioning him as to his family affairs, or crops, &c. At the barracks the Prince watches the drilling, chats with his officers, and inspects the building, after which he will often visit the Law Courts and superintend affairs.

His people reverence him, and look upon him as their father in more than name.

I stayed at a comfortable hotel, and next morning Angelos and I wandered about the streets, starting at 6 a.m. and visiting several shops, as I was particularly anxious to buy one of the pretty costumes, which are so becoming, and would make such a charming fancy dress; the shoes were tiresome to get, as I did not fancy the calf-skin ones which I was told I must soak to soften, these I scorned, and at last found a very smart pair with leather soles and ornamented string tops.

As I had to get back to the yacht and wanted to do some sketching on the way, and was tired of wandering about on foot, we started on our return journey to Cattaro at 9-30, and it was with much regret that I left these charming people and their country.

About half-way I paused to sketch, it was bitterly cold, and by the time I had finished could hardly feel my fingers. The horses had been taken out of the carriage and I had lunch to warm me up; it was composed of eggs fried in rancid oil—very nasty! but the bread was of excellent rye. The rest of our party passed us on their way to Cettinje, which they intended to visit and return in the same day. Soon the wind rose and came in gusts at every zig-zag going down the mountain side; I did not envy the others who could not reach the yacht again till ten o’clock. The evening was very stormy, we thought of their terrible drive in the dark, and were on the look out all the evening for them. About eight we saw two lights on the mountain slowly descending, so we were sure it must be our travellers, who arrived safe and sound about 10-30, very tired, and one driver was drunk, so those in the carriage walked eight miles rather than drive. A stormy, wild coast is this, warm in the valleys but bitterly cold in the mountains, and a good deal of snow still at the end of April.

After Montenegro I decided to return once more to Ragusa—that fine old fortress town—with Miss B., so we bade farewell to the yacht and retraced our steps once more, and from there we travelled through Herzegovina and Bosnia.

Here a new guide met me from Pola, strongly recommended by a friend of ours there, and he proved a great success, by name Karabaich.

Miss B. and I found ourselves at a very comfortable hotel—The Imperial—where we stayed a week in this delightful old town surrounded by walls and fortresses.

Ragusa lies at the foot of Monte Serjio, and is built on its steep slopes. Down to 1805 it was an independent republic, but was annexed by Napoleon, and later in 1814 by Austria. We enter the town from Gravosa by the Porta Pille, where in the niche over the gateway is the statue of St. Biagio, the patron saint of the town, which is entirely surrounded by enormously thick walls, on which it is permitted to walk by an order from the commandant’s office; but we found greater attractions. On passing through Porta Pille you enter the long wide street called the Corso, and here on Sundays they run races, one of which we saw, two men were running backwards and forwards for four miles. The Corso extends from one end of the town to the other, and is flanked by the principal shops and some of the Churches.

On the right, near the gate, is the large fountain called Onofrio, which was built in 1473, and here many picturesque figures come to draw water. To the left is the Franciscan Church, with its fine cloisters and its Gothic portal. Rather lower down the street on the opposite side is the Servian Church, at the east end of the Corso, in a square, is the Church of St. Biagio. On the left is the custom house, formerly the mint. This was built in the Venetian style, about 1520, and is adorned with a statue of St. Biagio, it has also a handsome courtyard. Near, is the clock tower and the guard house with an old fountain. Then comes the Palazzo Comunale and the Museum. The Rector’s Palace with its fine colonnade is most striking, and passing through the doorway is a beautiful courtyard surrounded by pillars, and a noble marble staircase possibly dating from the fifteenth century, but recently restored.

Walking further on you come to the Cathedral, built in the seventeenth century. From here we pass on to the market place, which has a beautiful old Venetian door; there one day I sketched under difficulties, with a curious crowd and a tearing wind, which whirled the dust round and round over me and my easel, in a very aggravating manner.

Returning whence we came, we walked along to the clock tower, which we passed under, and immediately to our left was the Dominican Monastery, up several flights of steps.

My first day was spent in shopping and sight-seeing, the former consisted of buying some of the beautiful gold embroideries. I found what I think will make a beautiful dinner gown, the coat is embroidered nearly all over with the most exquisite gold embroidery; this coat is sleeveless, but belonging to it are sleeves which are also a mass of embroidery, these are cut perfectly straight, so impossible to wear, but I think they can be adapted by wearing them outside others and allowed to fall loose. I also bought a gold embroidered man’s waistcoat which makes a very smart trimming for a coat, or could be used for a winter gown. I found some old silver pins for hats, and a quaint jug which has a secret how to drink out of it without spilling the wine. It is very old, the wine comes up the handle, round the top of the jug to the lip, in which is a hole to drink, all the top of the jug is perforated, so it is necessary to know the secret to avoid spilling the wine. I added many other things to my collection and sent them on to the yacht to be brought home. These shops are too fascinating for words, there are so many things you can’t get at Liberty’s, wonderful to relate. There are quantities of old firearms for sale, old guns with inlaid stocks, pistols of all sizes and shapes, &c., &c. The place was full of visitors speaking in German tongue, but we saw no English, or even the ever present American. There are many old buildings worth visiting, and the streets are very quaint and picturesque, also very narrow, stretching up the hillsides; one wide long street down the centre of the town, where the principal shops are to be found.

Friday and Saturday mornings I spent in painting the cloisters of the Dominican Monastery, and I persuaded one of the young monks to pose for me, sitting near the well. In the afternoon Miss B. and I walked about the quaint old streets and saw many attractive bits for the brush, and then had coffee at a café and sat on the terrace, but the wind was cold, as we were not in the sun which is hot. Certainly the weather as to the intense cold had somewhat improved, and we found it unnecessary to wear so many coats and woolly things as before, which was a blessing.

The peasants were very picturesque, and there is a great variety of costume both in men and women, some of course very shabby, and one wonders how their rags hold together. All these towns are wonderfully clean and about here all the people look clean, though they may be very ragged. The monks at the monastery were very interested in my work, and crowded on to the balcony above me, chattering like magpies. Sunday, I went to high Mass, and in the afternoon took a carriage to drive to San Giacomo, a disused monastery. Karabaich sat on the box with my sketching materials. Carriages are horribly expensive, at the rate of about two shillings a mile. Unfortunately we took it for granted that we could get on to the terrace, and allowed the carriage to go away with instructions to return in three hours. Alas! the doors were all locked, and though we found out where the custodian lived, he had gone to the town, so as it was not very far to walk to the Villa Adrian, Karabaich and I decided to look at it on our way back on foot, as we could not spend three hours doing nothing by the wayside. The Villa Adrian is a pension, a charming situation with several terraces down to the sea; all is quite new except some of the columns used in the pergolas. I made various enquiries about the pension, but was not pleased with the idea of always schinken (ham) for supper, and the rooms I saw did not impress me favourably either. In ten years’ time the garden will be lovely, no doubt, and in the summer when the leaves are out it must now be quite nice.

The next day we went to the much talked of Island of Lacroma, to which a small launch conveys you, and you pay the sum of two krones to go and return, and another krone to the solitary Dominican monk who inhabits the island. Lacroma used to belong to the Emperor Maximilian, and then to Prince Rudolf, but it was then considered so unlucky that the Emperor handed it over to the Dominicans. I asked the monk if he had seen any ghosts, at which he was much amused. Part of the Monastery can be wandered over, and the gardens would be charming if well planted with flowers. These gardens, of which there are several, are surrounded by high hedges, and box borders enough to delight any one. The rooms of the monastery are bare, but over each bedroom door is a rhyme in German, such as:—

“Freund in der Droth Freund in der Todt Freund hintern Rücken Das sind drei starke Brücken,”

and another

“Schweig und Meig Werk und Leid Jedes Ding hat seine Zeit.”

and so on over each door.

I saw many prints of Queen Victoria, Prince Albert, and other Royalties, also several engravings of old English pictures by famous artists. The island is itself covered with small fir and cypress trees, and has many shady walks. We had some time to wait for the return launch, and amused ourselves by sketching the monk; Miss B. took a photo of him and promised him a copy. On our return the town was gay with people of all nationalities and costumes to see a great race being run down the principal street, by two men who ran for an hour and a half without stopping. I sat at the café and sketched some of the people.

After dinner there was nothing to be done or to see in the town, and as the drawing-rooms soon became very stuffy, I went off to my room after supper.

One afternoon while we were amusing ourselves by turning over, and I am afraid purchasing, some of the fascinating goods in one of the shops, we found a bridegroom making purchases for his bride elect, who was attended by her mother and aunt as chaperones. Both bride and bridegroom came from the Canali district, where the women wear a very charming costume of bright colours. On the head is a little red and gold embroidered cap, over it a white embroidered accordian pleated handkerchief, embroidered vest and bolero, with tassels of gold coloured silk on sleeves and bodice, a white apron with a deep embroidered hem, probably a bright blue accordian pleated skirt with a border of some other colour. About the bodice and waist are many ribbons as ornament, and a sash of many colours round the waist. We saw a good many so dressed on Easter Sunday in the town.

On April 4th we left Ragusa in drenching rain, which began the day before and continued all the journey to Mostar, but was happily fine after our arrival about 7-30. This is a journey of eight hours through the mountains of rugged grey stone. The railway goes up a great height and winds in and out of the hills, the view is more grand than beautiful. The train stops at many little stations for the sole reason of allowing the travellers to have drinks, we concluded, as at many places we stayed ten minutes for apparently no reason except that we saw the travellers flocking into a bar.

Herzegovina, since 1878, has been under the titular dominion of the Turkish Sultan, but the administration of Austria-Hungary. It is bounded on the north and east by Bosnia, south by Montenegro, and west by Dalmatia, and only just touches the Adriatic at Sutterina. Some districts, those of Niksich and Domitor, have been placed by the Treaty of Berlin under the Government of the Prince of Montenegro.

The greater part of the population belong to the Greek Church. Then come about 70,000 Mohamedans, some Roman Catholics, Jews, and Gipsies. The Mahomedan population are those that strike the eye most, probably because of the men’s picturesque dress, and the bazaars which one makes a point of visiting.

The people live chiefly in hamlets, and there are only about five towns; the capital of Herzegovina is Mostar.