PESTH—HOTEL UNGARIA—BUDA—STORY OF AN ARTIST—PROSPERITY OF THE CITY—NEW BRIDGE OVER THE DANUBE—ST. MARGUERITE'S ISLAND—ANCIENT ROMAN BATH—CONDITION OF HUNGARY—FIELD FOR THE JUNIOR BRANCHES OF THE UPPER TEN THOUSAND—KEEPING UP APPEARANCES—THE TERMINATION OF TURKISH MISRULE—FUTURE OF THE DANUBIAN PRINCIPALITIES.
I DROVE to the Hotel Ungaria, to which I had been recommended, and where a most comfortable apartment and an equally good dinner gave me anavant-goûtof a comfortable night's rest, in which I was no wise disappointed; and I can safely recommend the Ungaria as one of the finest and most comfortable hotels in Europe, without at the sametime being extravagant in its charges. The only drawback I found was with the person of the porter, a most respectable man no doubt, but he could not speak either French or English; and I had to carry on all my consultations respecting my intended future progress with the hall-porter of the "Königin von England" hotel, close by. If that man could only be installed at the Ungaria, that hotel would be as near perfection as possible.
The windows of my bedroom at the Ungaria opened out on a balcony which gave me a splendid view of the "blue Danube," which, however, I never saw of any other shade but mud colour. Across the river, and just opposite, I could see the ancient city of Buda, with the royal residence in front, and a little to the left, on the top of the hill, the celebrated fortress which played so important a part during the last Hungarian civil war. A little to my right was the grand suspension bridge, guarded at each end by two colossal couchant lions, about which the following improbable anecdote was related to me.
The artist who executed them forgot to put tongues into their mouths, to loll out in proper heraldic fashion, and when the defect was pointed out to him as the lions were uncovered, he took it so to heart that he at once put an end to himself by plunging headlong into the river! Now when "le grand Vatel" committed suicide, because the turbot did not arrive in time for the dinner of the Most Christian King, there was some show of reason in the act, Vatel's credit was in some degree pledged to that dinner; but not one man in ten thousand would have noticed whether these lions had tongues or not.
Pesth seems, like Vienna, to be undergoing a process of rebuilding, and that on a scale of considerable magnificence. I was told that its commerce was daily increasing, and, certainly, to judge from the immense number of vessels moored in the river, the ceaseless passing up and down of immense steamers, the piles of merchandize, and the constant bustle on the quays, a very considerable amount of business must be done there. The grand suspensionbridge which spans the Danube being found insufficient for the increasing traffic, a new one is in process of construction, to be built of iron on piers, and not a suspension bridge. It is to cost an immense sum, and will require to be well protected against the action of the ice on the one hand, while on the other it may become the source of considerable danger to the low land in its neighbourhood by arresting the free passage downwards of the ice, if not well looked after. I went to see the works at the central pier, and remained there some time watching the men at the bottom of the immense caisson out of which a donkey engine was incessantly pumping water; outside it, the river was running like a mill race at not less than eight miles an hour, and I was assured that the depth at that spot was fully forty feet.
After visiting the works at the new bridge, I went to St. Marguerite's Island, on which is a park beautifully laid out, and which forms one of the favourite promenades of the pleasure-loving inhabitants of Pesth. As it can onlybe approached by boat, it is frequented only by pedestrians; but in order to cater for all tastes and gratify those who enjoy a jaunt, there is a tramway running the whole length of the island. There are also some capital restaurants, and several bands play every evening in fine weather.
There is another park onterra firma, an imitation of the Prater at Vienna, but it is small and shabby. There were a good many people strolling about it when I went, but I did not see even one middling-good turn-out, and though one constantly hears of the beautiful horses and rare horsemanship of the Hungarians, I was doomed to be disappointed in both cases.
Crossing over the suspension bridge one gets into the old town of Buda or Ofen, in which are situated the Royal residence, the Government offices, and some of the palaces of the native magnates.
There is a fine street by which one can drive to the upper part of the town, which is considerably above the level of the Danube; but forpedestrians there is an easy, cheap, and quick method of getting to the summit, by means of a small counterpoised railway, which carries one up and down very rapidly at an exceedingly moderate rate. There is a fine view from the top, and several fine old palaces, but the most interesting thing in the town of Buda is the old Roman bath erected over some sulphurous springs, celebrated for the cures they perform. It is in exactly the same condition as in the days of ancient Rome, and consists of a large vaulted apartment lit by a circular opening in the centre of the cupola, and containing a large hexagonal piscina with an ambulatory all round. None bathe there save the lower classes—men, women, and children promiscuously; in the immediate neighbourhood, however, there are some very well appointed baths which are considerably patronized, and bear a high reputation for the cure of skin disease.
From all I could collect during the brief stay I made at Pesth, Hungary in general must be in a very progressive condition; and from the numbers of agricultural machines and implements,all of English construction, which I saw everywhere stacked upon the quays, not only at Pesth but at many other stations on the Danube, including large numbers of steam-thrashing and winnowing machines, a vigorous attempt is evidently being made to exploit the unbounded fertility of perhaps the richest soil in Europe. Land, however, is still cheap in Hungary, probably in consequence of the extreme love of pleasure of its inhabitants, who preferring to spend their days in the society of Vienna, Paris, or Pesth, draw exorbitantly on their revenues, till at last compelled to sell their lands in order to meet their engagements. Nice estates within twenty miles of Pesth, with good substantial dwelling-houses, and all the necessary offices for farming, with varied soil, vineyard, pasture, tillage, and forest, can be had sufficiently cheap to ensure a clear return of five per cent, free of taxes, for the capital laid out on them! A vast number of the agricultural community in Hungary are Jews, and it is perhaps the only country in Europe where we find the children of Israel as tillers of the soil; and I was assured by many in Pesth that they make byfar the most satisfactory tenants—though naturally they require looking after occasionally, as well as theirsoi-disantChristian brethren.
When one reflects on the countless acres of the richest land in creation, which to a great extent are still unoccupied and uncultivated in the eastern and south-eastern regions of Europe, one cannot help regretting that some of our surplus population do not try a venture in those countries. I am thinking principally of that most unfortunate and ill-used portion of society belonging to the upper classes, and which, from circumstances beyond its control, is suffering from positive want in its struggles to keep up a respectability as necessary for its existence as the very air it breathes. The labourer, the artisan, the skilled workman are well off at the present time in our country; wages are very high and the friendly societies, to one of which almost every workman belongs, provide for them amply in cases of sickness, and in some cases even contribute something to the family when the illness terminates in death—not to mention the numerous hospitals and asylums, all open to the labouring classes, but which areall virtually closed to those I am now speaking of.
The working classes, with few exceptions, are all well off at present, and require none of our sympathy except when in affliction, when the richest and poorest come to the same level. They can afford to supply all their wants out of their wages, and lay outone fifth, and in many casesone fourth, and evenone third(I am assured by good authorities) in drink, for the gratification of the only pleasure which they are capable of enjoying; for proof of which the police reports throughout the country will bear ample evidence.
But I will tell who really deserve all our sympathy and all our aid, the junior branches of our upper ten thousand—the families of officers, poor clergymen, poor lawyers, &c., &c., all struggling for dear life against difficulties of every kind; those are the classes who claim the greatest share of our sympathy, and to whom the regions above mentioned offer advantages unequalled any where else.
I remember when the Canterbury settlementwas established in New Zealand, it was intended in a great measure to provide for the classes I have alluded to above; but the distance was too great, the mere cost of going out was a most serious drawback, at the very leastten timesthe amount required to land one bag and baggage in the centre of Hungary, or better still in Servia, among some of the most beautiful scenery in the world, the richest soil, the best climate, and the finest fishing and shooting that could be desired, where game laws and river preserves and licences are still utterly unknown.
I hate croaking; still, if one hears rumbling noises underground for any space of time, one is justified in apprehending an earthquake. For several years I have been hearing these subterranean noises, and year after year they have become more and more threatening, and the earthquake must come at last. But as a volcanic eruption, acting as a safety valve, often saves a country from the effects of a physical earthquake, so the timely exodus of an excessive population may save a country from a moral one.
By the very nature of my profession, I have innumerable times been willingly or unwillingly let into the secrets of the private affairs of scores of families; and I have watched with perfect dismay the misery, the poverty, the utter wretchedness that were screened from the eyes of the world by the decent exterior which was kept up in order to preserve appearances.
If with Asmodeus we could but lift up the roofs of a few thousands of houses in these prosperous islands and see the difficulties, the make-shifts, and the make-believes which are resorted to, and that in many cases where one would least expect them, it would make our very hearts bleed at all the anxiety, all the wretchedness, all the scalding tears which would be disclosed—all brought about by that great delusion "keeping up appearances." Well, all this living under false pretences, which is the distinguishing characteristic and the great evil, the real "social evil" of the present time cannot go on for ever. It is an evil of long standing, no doubt, but it has gone on increasing from year to year, like a falling avalanche, with constantly increasing velocity.The earthquake must come at last, if not averted by an emigrationen masseof those educated classes to which I have alluded above; and the best, finest, healthiest, most fertile, and most accessible country, outside the British dominions, I hold to be, roughly speaking, that tract of Southern Europe bounded on the North by the Saave, on the South by the Bosphorus, on the East by the Danube, and on the West by the Adriatic.
"But, my dear Sir," I think I hear some reader say, "that is Turkey in Europe!" No doubt it is, but the Turks won't be there for ever, their time is nearly run out; the period of their wretched misrule over the Christian populations of Europe is nearly accomplished, and I still hope to live long enough to see those barbarous hordes recrossing the Bosphorus into Asia Minor, on their way back to the Steppes of Khiva and Bokhara, from whence they originally emigrated. They have ever shown themselves irreclaimable barbarians throughout. Look at the present condition of European Turkey, after centuries of Ottoman dominion; contrast it with thenascent state of Roumania, which only quite lately succeeded in shaking off its Moslem chains. Let us look at both countries, as they present themselves opposite to each other on the banks of the Danube. On the left bank of that river we have Giurgevo in Roumania, the port of Bukharest, where, notwithstanding centuries of slavery and misgovernment, the natives, now under the government of an enlightened Christian Prince, are all activity and progress—while on the right bank at Rustchuk, just opposite, in dark contrast to the Christian, who is trying to turn to account all the advantages of his country, the indolent, uncivilized Turk is still lazily dozing away, leaning against his ancient painted and bedizened araba, drawn by a pair of patient oxen, waiting for the chance of some solitary, silent traveller!
A new era is dawning, however, over these south-eastern regions, but much of their prosperity and future happiness may depend on the model they will propose for themselves in their efforts at civilization; whether the brilliant glitter of Parisian veneering and varnish, or the less attractive,but more solid advantages of British institutions. A great future is before the Danubian Principalities, may they use their opportunities with wisdom, and may they prosper!
STEINBRÜCK—THE SÖMMERING—FIRST VIEW OF THE ADRIATIC—TRIESTE—SHOCKS OF EARTHQUAKE AT BELLUNO—AUSTRIAN IRONCLAD 'LISSA'—CAPTAIN R. BURTON—FLYING VISIT TO SAN CANZIANO—SUBTERRANEAN COURSE OF A MOUNTAIN STREAM—THE KARST—WILD SCENERY—A THUNDER-STORM—CHURCH OF SAN CANZIANO—STUD FARM.
THAT odious and useless mediæval institution, the quarantine, having barred my passage into the Lower Provinces of the Danube, I determined to go to Trieste, then proceed by sea to Constantinople, and thence to the Caucasus, but it was written differently in the book of Fate!
The line to Trieste was full of interest; during the first portion of the journey I passed quiteclose to Lake Balaton, celebrated for its fish, and then after traversing some wonderfully rich plains, dotted here and there with patches of forest, and covered with herds of cattle, horses, and geese, which are kept here in vast numbers for the sake of their feathers, arrived at Steinbrück at onep.m., where I dined. Here, at the junction of the Saane and the Saave, the scenery became truly magnificent; we had been for some time following the banks of the Saane, and the mountains had been getting closer and higher with every mile we made, till at last they actually came down to the river, allowing a bare passage to the railway which followed its every bend.
Having finished our mid-day meal at Steinbrück—where the Pesth line joins on to that miracle of engineering, the celebrated railway between Vienna and Trieste—we resumed our journey, the scenery retaining its grand features, till having topped the Sömmering, we came on to the desert Karst and got our first peep of the salt water—the glorious Adriatic. Nothing could exceed the wild grandeur of the countryon both sides of the railway, as the engines (for we had two of them) slowly panted up those steep inclines, winding in and out through the gorges of the Sömmering, now plunging into a tunnel to traverse the heart of a mountain, and now crossing a viaduct between two cliffs, over a precipice hundreds of feet in depth. Once at the top, our pace increased considerably, and by eight o'clock I found myself comfortably installed at my hotel at Trieste, on the evening of the 29th of June.
After a most refreshing night, I descended the next morning to the café on the ground floor of the hotel, and then heard for the first time of the severe shocks of earthquake at Belluno and its neighbourhood, which had been felt even in Trieste. Several lives had been lost, and one church nearly shaken to the ground.
After breakfast I went to pay my respects to our excellent consul, Captain Burton, and then hearing that the Austrian ironclad "Lissa" was outside the harbour, I took a boat and went to have a look at her. She is a fine vessel with along projecting prow, and looks well in the water. Having sent up my card, I was received and shown over the ship by Lieutenant Count Petruski, who was most kind in pointing out every thing of interest connected with it. I think he said she mounted 12 rifled fifteen-ton guns of our Woolwich Infant type, and was furnished with a galvanic apparatus, by means of which the captain could fire a whole broadside at a time. Although she was only in after a cruise, and consequently not in the best of trim for exhibition, I was much gratified by all I saw. The men were a very fine set of fellows, the state cabins and officers' cabins particularly neat and nice, and should these lines ever fall beneath the eye of Count Petruski or any of his brother officers on board the "Lissa" I beg them all to receive my warm thanks for their kindness to me that day. I spent a couple of very pleasant hours on board, and as Count Petruski spoke excellent English, it made our interview all the more agreeable.[1]
Trieste is anything but an interesting place; though a couple of days may be spent pleasantly enough visiting the neighbourhood, especially if one has the advantage of the acquaintance and company of our consul, Captain R. Burton; the Burton of Harar, of Mecca, and of Medina; thefacile princepsof modern travellers and pleasant companions.
Why is Captain Burton kept at Trieste? It is not a difficult post, nor one requiring a man with exceptional qualifications; and it does seem a misapplication if not a waste offorceto keep a man like Burton at Trieste, when he could be of so much greater use elsewhere. The thorough and intimate knowledge that he possesses ofOriental character, his perfect mastery of Arabic, together with the knowledge he has of Persian and scores of other languages, not to mention the experience he has acquired of Oriental affairs, customs and idiosyncrasies, all go to point him out emphatically as the right man in the wrong place at Trieste. I spent some very pleasant hours in his company during my short stay in that city, and shall never forget the kindness I experienced both from him and la bella Contessa, his most charming and accomplished lady.
Thus far, my observations have been of a strictly selfish nature. I know Captain Burton's capabilities, I feel that he is utterly thrown away where he is, and I want aquid pro quofor my money—consequently I want to see him in some post where his talents and exceptional qualifications may be of some profit to me. The reader will perceive that I am strictly selfish and utilitarian, and that in writing as above I have not been led away by sentimentality in any shape. Had I been in the opposite vein, I could have said, I met at Trieste Captain R. T. Burton, whoundoubtedly is the greatest oflivingtravellers, and also second to none in that great phalanx of explorers, who from time to time have devoted their lives to carrying civilization to the most remote corners of the earth. He opened up Eastern Africa, and most probably discovered in Lake Tanganyika the mysterious sources of the Nile. He directly opened up the path and led the way which was subsequently trodden by Speke, Grant, Stanley, Cameron, and others; indirectly he pointed out the way to Baker, Schweinfurth and Gordon. To Richard Burton then is due the discovery of thisNew Africa, this great Lake Region, so fertile and so rich in the centre of a continent which fifty years ago was believed to be one vast uninhabitable desert. What has been his reward? He has been made consul at Trieste. Here is an inducement to our ardent British youth! I hear there is some talk of making him a K.C.B.; for myself, I wouldn't give a roll of ginger-bread for the distinction; however, let him have it by all means, but let us see him also removed to some more useful sphere of actionwhere his exceptional talents and his great knowledge of Oriental languages may be of service to us. Let him be sent to Africa again—to Morocco for instance—at the first vacancy.
Having still to wait a couple of days for the departure of the steamer which was to take me on my trip down the coast of Dalmatia, I employed my time in paving a flying visit to San Canziano, where a good-sized river, after meandering down a deep ravine like any other Christian stream, suddenly plunges into the bowels of the earth, and after a mysterious course of many miles, reappears again at the surface under a different name, previous to losing itself in the Adriatic.
The little hamlet of San Canziano is about twenty miles from Trieste, it consists of a very small and meanly built church, with a good campanile however, with two sweetly-toned bells—why is it that ours are always so unmusical and woody?—a small wretched Presbytery, a roadside pot-house where nothing could be got for love or money, and half a dozen dilapidated houses. The drivehowever, was very pleasant, for the weather was warm and at the same time cloudy, so that we were never inconvenienced by the sun. The road, on leaving Trieste, goes by easy windings over a mountain clothed with oak, so beautifully kept, that it gives the idea of driving through some private park. On reaching the top we came into the open, and had a glorious view of the Styrian mountains on the one side, and the Adriatic on the other. After driving for a short time on the level, we again commenced ascending and soon got into the "Karst," as it is called; a wild barren tract where little or nothing appears to grow, and where rocks and stones seem to have rained down from heaven, not unlike some other spots I visited subsequently in Dalmatia, and notably in Montenegro. But this bleak and barren spot owes its absolute desolation, not so much to the rocky nature of its soil, as to the Bora, a north-east wind, which often sweeps across it with the force of a West Indian hurricane.
In many places on the road, traverses of immensely thick stone walls had been erected forprotection against the fury of the wind, but notwithstanding all, the Karst is sometimes impassable when the Bora blows in real earnest, and heavy-laden waggons which have tried to cross it at such times, have been turned over and over like "leaves in Autumn weather." After travelling for some short time along this elevated plateau, we again began to descend, and soon reached our destination, where, having eaten the lunch I had brought with me, I started on foot, under the guidance of a native who could speak nothing but Styrian, to seek the mysterious river.
In less than half an hour's walk, I found myself on a grass-covered plateau of some miles in extent, fringed in the distance by lofty hills, dotted with clumps of fir trees, and after a few minutes more walking in an easterly direction, I suddenly came on a perpendicular precipice, upwards of five hundred feet in depth, which completely barred my further progress. The cliff on which I stood rose in a narrow valley, or glen, or cleft, as if the crust of the earth had cracked here for a few miles. This cleft, nearly ofuniform depth, was not of uniform width; in some places it was so narrow that the smooth river which glided through it completely filled it from side to side, while in other places a sufficient strip of soil remained between the river and the cliff to admit of some amount of cultivation, and here and there a cottage.
This strange cleft, or valley, or crack in the plateau through which the river flows is of a most irregular outline, going zig-zag, in and out, just like the cracks one sees in a dried up pond at the end of a hot Summer in England. I was standing where this precipitous crack barred the way, by running exactly at right angles across the path, and here right under me at a depth of about five hundred feet, the river which could be seen coursing from a considerable distance at the bottom of the cleft, suddenly leapt into a cavern and disappeared beneath my feet.
Having made a rapid sketch of this extraordinary landscape—or, more correctly speaking, having tried to convey on paper some faint idea of what the place was like—I again followed the guide, who now, turning his back on the precipice, led mein a westerly direction, and brought me in a few minutes to the brink of a fearful-looking circular chasm, about fifty yards in diameter, with precipitous rocky sides, and from the bottom of which could be heard the distant roar of the river rushing among the rocks. The guide threw some large stones down this yawning gulph, disturbing some thousands of rock-pigeons who build their nests in the nooks and crannies of the rocks, and having timed the fall of one of these stones by listening for its splash in the subterranean river, I noted about seven seconds as the time it took in falling.
I now accompanied the guide through the little hamlet of San Canziano, and still going westward came just beyond the village on another chasm, of oblong form, about six hundred yards one way, and three hundred and fifty yards the other way, while in depth it was no more than about fifty yards. It looked to me as if this opening had been made by the subsidence or falling-in of the roof of some cavern, of which the limestone rock of these mountains, as well in Styria as in Dalmatia is so full. The sides of this depression were notprecipitous except in some places, and an easy descent led me to the bottom, across which stretched from side to side a fantastic ridge of rock pierced by a natural arch about the middle, and under which an opening in the rock gave entrance to another cavern, through which anyone desirous of exploring it could without much difficulty, but at the cost of some fatigue and the risk of some falls, descend by a series of about six hundred high and slippery ledges of rock to where again the river makes its appearance after its subterranean course.
As the day was pretty well advanced, and as the weather, which had been cloudy all the morning seemed now to be threatening rain, I thought it wisest not to venture on going further, although the guide had provided himself with candles for the descent. So I scrambled up the sides of the chasm, and was making for the roadside inn where the carriage was waiting for me, when the storm-clouds, which had been gathering thicker and thicker for some time, broke out at last into such a deluge of rain, accompanied by thunder and lightning, that I was glad to take refuge under the archway of the belfry of San Canziano, and from thence intothe church itself, the door of which was opened for me by a queer little old dried-up chip of a sexton.
I am sure he said to me, "Pray take shelter in here from the rain," though as he spoke Styrian I could not understand a word, but his looks and gestures were as eloquent as words. Having walked into the little church, first taking off my hat, the little sexton became quite eloquent, and pointed out with evident satisfaction to every part of the chapel, which was poor and desolate in the extreme. Four white-washed walls, a wretched altar piece of wood painted in a few gaudy colours, and a crimson damask baldachino in tatters, which, stowed away in a corner, served to shelter the "Santissimo" when carried about in procession, two or three benches, a confessional box, and a lighted lamp hanging in front of the altar, constitutedtoute la baraque! but the poor little old man seemed delighted with himself and everything around him, and kept repeating in a shrill voice the only Italian word he apparently possessed "Bella," "Bella," to which I responded as in duty bound, "molto bella," and I trust I may be forgiven thecram; for I never told a bigger one in all my life!
The floor of this little church was formed of large flag-stones, in some of which iron rings were inserted, while in others there only remained the marks of where rings had formerly been; some had inscriptions, and I should have been interested in hearing something of the ancient tenants of these graves, but here the sexton and I came completely to a dead lock. "Bella" could serve my friend no longer, still he understood perfectly what I required, so when he sat down on a bench, pointing to me to do the same, I complied at once, and all the more willingly as the rain was still coming down in torrents.
The old fellow then commenced, and, pointing with his skinny finger to the central slab, entered at once into what, I presume, must have been a full, true, and complete history of the tenants of that grave, descanting probably on their virtues, and dealing gently with their faults; but alas! I could not understand one word. At last, I suppose the same thought must have struck "Old Mortality," for he suddenly stopped and bursting into a shrill,unearthly, and most discordant laugh, pointed to the sky which was now clearing, and held out his palsied hand, when I discovered he knew another word, not Slave, nor Italian, but this time German, "Geschenk!" I gave him the only bit of silver I possessed, an English sixpence, and left him seemingly contented.
The clouds had all melted away, and the sun shone brilliantly when I left the little roadside tavern of San Canziano to return to Trieste; but, as I wanted to visit a stud-park which the Emperor of Austria keeps in this part of his dominions, we took another route on my return journey. The country we now drove through was prettier than what we had traversed in the morning, and the road passed through some fine oak woods, which constantly prompted one to look out for a mansion, the country appeared so park-like—but in vain.
After a drive of an hour or so we came to the stud-farm, a collection of large buildings, consisting of several dwelling-houses, a spacious riding-house for exercising the horses in severe weather, three large stables intended to accommodate threehundred mares, and one lofty vaulted stable fitted with nice large loose boxes in which were kept the sires. The mares were all out at grass together with their foals, so that I did not see them, as I should have had to drive some miles in a different direction, and turn my back on Trieste in order to visit them. The sires I did see, but as they were not led out I could not form as accurate an opinion of them as I should have wished. They seemed, however, small, and not exactly the style of horse we would select in this country with a view to supplying our cavalry. The loose-boxes were commodious and the stable was well-ventilated; the weather being extremely hot the windows were closed withtatties, which served the double purpose of keeping away the flies, which always seek the light, and keeping the stable cool. The stable was fairly clean, but the grooming did not come up to our ideas. On the whole I was disappointed, and as for the produce, I should think that nothing but the very lightest of light cavalry horses could be expected from them.
We returned to Trieste by nine o'clock, comingby the old post-road from Vienna, and passing by that wonderful quarry of limestone slabs, perhaps the largest in the world.
THE "SAN CARLO" AND HER PASSENGERS—A DALMATIAN'S REMARKS ON THE PRESERVATION OF HEALTH IN INDIA—DALMATIAN DIGGERS FROM AUSTRALIA—COAST OF ISTRIA—PIRANO—CATHEDRAL OF PARENZO—ROVIGNO—POLA—THE AMPHITHEATRE—PICTURESQUE SIGHT—GIOVANNI ASTONISHED—MONTENEGRIN COSTUME—ZARA—EXTREME HEAT.
On the 2nd of July I was up betimes. I had taken my place for Zara on board the 'San Carlo,' a small coasting steamer which trades down the Dalmatian side of the Adriatic, going in and out among that archipelago of islands which fringe the coast of Dalmatia from the mouth of the Guarnero to the entrance of the Gulf of Cattaro. It was a small, slow, and dirty little steamer, but it stoppedeverywhere going on its way, and that was just what I wanted.
Small as the vessel was, we had plenty of passengers, and a strange lot they were. We had two Capuchin monks going to Ragusa, one of them a most interesting man of whom I shall have more to say by and by; his lay brother, a simple, ignorant monk, and no more. We had a tall, handsome Dalmatian from Spalato, returning home to end his days in opulence and comfort after spending twenty years in India, where he had accumulated an independence which in Dalmatia will be considered a large fortune. He spoke English remarkably well. Being struck by his hale and robust looks, I asked him how he had managed to preserve his health so well after residing for twenty years in India. "Many of them," added he, "in unhealthy localities." "Simply by not drinking," he answered. "I don't mean to say that I was a water-drinker—not at all, for I believe that water-drinking is nearly as bad as spirit-drinking, and indeed I think I have observed that those who were 'teatotallers' died even sooner than drunkards. But I never drank anythingbefore breakfast, I drank nothing but good, full-bodied claret, and I never took more than two bottles of it a day, and seldom so much; I smoked, but always in moderation, and I never had a day's illness during those twenty years. India is not a bad climate, it is the reckless habits of Europeans that make it apparently so."
We had two other Dalmatians from Sebenico, who also were returning home after residing many years abroad. These two had been in Australia; one had been a digger, and seemed the reverse of well-off; the other had kept a store at some gold-diggings, and had apparently made plenty of money. Both spoke English well, and the last one brought with him from Australia an Irish wife, who had emigrated to the Antipodes all the way from Lurgan. She was a fine comely young woman of about twenty-six, and was overjoyed at finding I knew her native place. In the afternoon I made some tea in my portable kitchen, and gave her a cup of it with some preserved milk, which she declared the most delicious thing she had tasted for many a long day.
The rest of our passengers consisted of countrypeople returning to their homes along the coast of Istria and Dalmatia, after having been to Trieste to dispose of the produce of their lands.
As the clocks struck five, we steamed out of Trieste on one of the finest mornings that could be imagined. The sea was as smooth as a mirror, and of the most intense blue. How often we stopped as we went down the coast of Istria I cannot tell, as we were constantly heaving to for the convenience of passengers going on shore in boats which put off to receive them; we did stop however at Capo d'Istria, and then at Pirano, where I was able to take a rough sketch of that most picturesque little town, with its beautiful mediæval castle perched on the cliff behind it.
Then we came to Parenzo, where I should very much have liked to go ashore for a couple of hours to look at the cathedral, of which I had heard so much, but unfortunately the little business the steamer had to transact was done in a few minutes, and the Captain would not delay (probably because my bribe was insufficient), so I hadto comfort myself with the hope of seeing it on some future occasion, when I trust to be able again to visit all those spots which interested me so much then, as also many other places in the same countries, which accidental circumstances prevented me from seeing.
The Cathedral of Parenzo, which I was so anxious to see, and which had been described to me by a friend at Trieste as ameraviglia, was founded by Bishop Eupatius, and completed in the year 526; it is therefore as old as St. Sophia of Constantinople, and older than any other Cathedral in Europe. "It is said to have a semicircular apse behind the altar, with the Bishop's throne, and seats on either side for the clergy, instances of which are now so rarely to be met with."[2]...
"At the east end is a round apse, as glorious in its mosaics as St. Mark's, or St. Sophia. Every part of the wall and rounded roof is covered with mosaics, &c. A group of nine saints and angels surrounding the Blessed Virgin and Child, on a golden background, is exquisitely done. Heads ofsaints adorn the arches, all are beautiful. Below these, to about ten feet high, the walls are inlaid with whole shells of mother-of-pearl let into a dark brown stone; it looks just like a piece of Damascus furniture, and though rude it is effective and beautiful.
"The flooring of the whole church is of course mosaic, in Byzantine patterns, the same as in Murano and St. Mark's; but one can scarcely look at anything after the wall mosaics, save the capitals of the columns. The pillars themselves are of a fine brown marble; the capitals are identically the same as those in Santa Sophia, one more exquisitely under-cut than the other into lace-work of leaves, flowers, birds, &c.; they are perhaps a little bolder than those of St. Sophia, but full of life and spirit, not a line wasted nor a thought thrown away. I longed to sketch them, but I could only hope they may one day be photographed; Jerusalem and Constantinople alone can rival them.
"The Baldacchino is exceedingly curious and fine, as are also the very ancient altar hangings. There is a splendid altar front, of solid silvergilt, of the Renaissance date. The interest appertaining to this is that it is placed at thebackof the altar for high mass, facing the Bishop, who is seatedbehind the altar, as at Torcello; this is an ancient and I believe unique privilege.
"The Chapel of St. Andrew, at the north-east corner of the church, is very interesting and curious. There has been a porch or cloister at the west entrance, but only two or three columns remain of it. I venture to think this church is well worth a special journey from England to see. I could think of nothing else the rest of the day, although our onward voyage was full of beauty."[3]
We then came to Rovigno with its beautiful campanile, and here again I could not get half an hour to go on shore to look at it, though I believe there is not much more to be seen beside it.
At threep.m.we came in sight of the harbour of Pola—the Portsmouth of Austria;—but Pola itself we could not see, as it lies at the bottom of a bay communicating with the sea by a deepand winding channel, apparently well defended by numerous forts which surround it. The harbour itself is of very considerable dimensions, and so deep that the largest vessels can come alongside the quays.
Although so important a place, there did not appear to be much life or bustle about it. The country around it is flat and marshy, and sometimes in the year very unhealthy. It must have been, however, an important place in the days of ancient Rome, judging from the size of its amphitheatre, and the beauty of the Temple and triumphal arches which still remain, and which constitute after all the great attractions of Pola. They are quite close to the landing, so they can be visited with the utmost facility during the stay which the steamer generally makes there. The amphitheatre alone is worth a special visit, as the exterior of it is perfect, and at a short distance does not even look like a ruin. It dates from the third century and is very fine. It consists of a basement story about four hundred and thirty feet in length, by three hundred and fifty feet in width, surmounted by two tiers of arches, with half columnsof the Tuscan order between each, all about eighty feet high.
Beautifully preserved as is the exterior, the condition of the interior is most disappointing, as nothing remains of the internal arrangement except on one side, the one furthest from the sea, where there are still a few seats cut in the rock, some even bearing what most probably were the initials of their owners carved into them.
What can have caused this utter ruin of all the accommodation for the spectators? Have the natives from time to time removed the building materials from the inside, for the purpose of building the modern town? not daring to lay a sacrilegious hand on the shell of the building itself, which bore no semblance to a ruin, while at the same time they treated the interior as a quarry! or were the seats made of woodwork, and destroyed by fire, as some have imagined?
The steamer always remains long enough to permit the traveller to visit the amphitheatre and the temples, as well as the triumphal arches, andto take a stroll through the Piazza. I did so, and still further improved the passing hour by eating an excellent dinneral frescounder apergolaof vines at theTrattoriaof the place.
It was just dark as I got on board again, having been warned by the unmusical steam-whistle that the vessel would soon be under way again. Just before starting, a military band came to play before the Commandant's house, which is on the quays just opposite to where the steamer was moored. It being now dark, the band was accompanied by a score of soldiers carrying a peculiarly shaped lantern fastened to the top of a pole, to enable the men to see their music. At first as the band came marching down the quays with their lights dancing high up in the air before and behind, I could not make out what it was, and only for the liveliness of the music I might have thought it was a funeral, the whole thing was very picturesque and the music excellent. At last we got under way and steamed out of the harbour on our way to the coast of Dalmatia, across the Gulf of the Quarnero, so well known for its dangerous navigation and so much dreadedeven by the hardy sailors of the Adriatic, when swept by the fierce impetuous Bora.
Fortunately for me, who am not the most intrepid of mariners, and who prefer admiring a tempestuous sea from off a rocky vantage point upon the shore, to tossing on its stormy waves, the dreaded Quarnero was as smooth as a millpond. The night was magnificent; the heavens cloudless, and studded with countless stars, but scarcely as bright as I have seen them at other times, owing to the intense brilliancy of the moon now nearly at the full. The track of the steamer was clearly marked out far in the rear by a broad phosphorescent wake, while the water which was dashed off from the paddles seemed like liquid fire.
The cabins were all occupied, so I had to make my bed on deck; but even if I could have got one, I never could have slept below, it was so hot and stuffy. I was soon settled for the night; a doubled-up rug laid lengthwise on the deck was my bed, and my dressing-bag was my pillow. It was so warm that I required no covering save my light tweed suit, and I was no sooner downthan I was fast asleep. I don't know how long I slept; but I would have slept still longer, if I had not been awoke by the steamer stopping to put down and take up passengers and goods at some place on the coast of Dalmatia.
We had safely crossed the mouth of the Quarnero, the moon had set, and the blue black vault of heaven was studded with countless stars sparkling like diamonds. The steamer was hove to a little distance from the shore, while scores of boats, each with a coloured lantern at the prow, came and went, making as pretty a scene as can be imagined; but for all that, after sitting up and admiring it for a few minutes, I lay down again on my rug, and falling asleep never awoke again till the sun was high in the heavens the next morning.
By degrees the passengers one by one came on deck, when by making interest with Giovanni, the steward, I obtained the use of acamerino(cabin) to make my toilet in. Having completed my ablutions I called in Giovanni to empty my tub, for as thecamerinowas extremely small it was next to impossible to stand in it, unless with one's feet in the water. Never was steward so astonishedand so puzzled as Giovanni was at the sight of my flimsy mackintosh tub; he had no idea of how to take it up to empty it, he was afraid to touch it until I had taken it up on three sides and showed him how to lift it, when he was so delighted with the whole arrangement that he placed it on the table of the cabin just as it was, and fetched down the passengers to see the ingenious English device. By the time it had been well examined and then emptied, I was up and dressed. When I came out of thecamerino, I showed the assembled company how it could be rolled up into the smallest compass, and stowed away in a travelling bag.
There was no regular breakfast on board, but everyone as he wanted it got a cup of coffee and a bit of bread or a biscuit; preserved milk also could be had, but of butter there was none.
Our passengers had somewhat varied since leaving Trieste. We had deposited many on the coast of Istria as we went along, and taken up others in their place. We had a remarkable Oriental-looking woman, plain perhaps, and yet handsome, aMontenegrin of rank, a cousin of the present Prince, dressed in full native costume. She was on her way to her native country to petition the Prince to permit certain of his cousins, who had been expatriated for political causes, to return to their homes.
The costume of the Montenegrin women is not becoming; even this handsome woman, and the beautiful Princess whom I subsequently had the honour of seeing at Montenegro, failed to render it attractive to my eyes, whereas the costume of the men is eminently becoming. This lady's dress consisted of a sort of white chemise of fine lawn, tight, but gathered very full round the neck, without any frill, and open down the front for six or eight inches, where it was closed by a row of very small buttons. This white garment, which reached down to the ankles, was fastened round her waist by a massive silver belt, made in compartments three inches by four and joined together by hinges. Each compartment was highly ornamented with richrepousséwork inalto rilievo, and from a side-piece hung down several ornaments of the châtelaine species, while from the other sidedepended an exquisite little dagger in a sheath of silverrepoussé.
The sleeves of this white garment were tight at the shoulders, but grew wider and wider as they approached the wrist, where they were upwards of two feet six inches in diameter. They were bordered with a rich margin of embroidery in gold and silver thread, mingled with red and blue silk, in excellent taste, and the same embroidery was continued up the external seam of the sleeve on the outside of the elbow up to the shoulder. From below the silver belt she wore a large apron of rich black silk coming down to her ankles, and over all a peculiar white cloth coat without sleeves, the typical garment of the Montenegrins, both male and female. This coat was made of a very soft white cloth, so close and yet soft and pliable, that although sitting next to her and touching it with my finger, I could not at once determine if it was cloth or some sort of beautifully tanned leather. As I said before, this coat was without sleeves or collar, but scooped tight to the back of the neck. In front it did not come further forward than about half waybetween the point of the shoulders and the middle of the neck, and then straight down like a sack till just below the calf of the leg. This coat was bound right round the whole way with a narrow pattern of embroidery in the same style as round the sleeves of the muslin dress, and in addition had a row of very small round silver buttons down the front on one side. On her head she wore a very large black Indian silk kerchief fastened into her hair with pins, and hanging down behind her back as low as her waist.
The costume is decidedly ugly, though containing the elements of great beauty, if only put together with taste and harmony. Nothing, for instance, can be more attractive and becoming than that black kerchief, be it of silk, gauze or lace, when gracefully put on the head, as the women of Spain or Genoa know so well how to wear it; but the Montenegrin arrangement is as clumsy and inelegant in the women as it is manly and picturesque in the men.
We had on board also several Austrian officers going to join their quarters, some to Zara and some to Cattaro, Budua, and Kosmatch. Verynice, pleasant, gentlemanlike fellows they were, some of them speaking French, but all able to converse freely in Italian, and all well-informed, agreeable companions. Acquaintances are made much more easily abroad than in England, so we were soon quite at home together, and what with chatting, smoking and walking up and down the deck, we quickly passed over the time, till at ten o'clocka.m., we came in front of Zara, celebrated in ancient times for its long siege, when "in 1346 Marino Faliero earned his laurels by the most daring assault," and in modern times for its excellent Maraschino!
Zara is an important place even at the present time. It is the capital of Dalmatia, and the seat of the Archbishop of the province. It is well-built, clean, and tolerably well-paved, and well-worth a visit. The time, however, allowed by the stay of the steamer is amply sufficient to enable one to see it; but the heat was so great that I felt more inclined to stay on board smoking cigarettes under the awning of the steamer than to go on shore. The prospect of somecafé à la glace, however, which I knew was to be obtainedin the Piazza, added to the more important fact that I was to receive here a letter for the Archimandrite of Montenegro, induced me to shake off my apathy.
Having landed on the quay, I passed through the gate over which is sculptured the grim effigy of the Lion of St. Mark, everywhere seen down the Eastern shores of the Adriatic wheresoever the Venetians had established their authority, I proceeded to execute my plans; but the heat was so intense that I was glad to come back to the steamer where I imagined it was something less stifling. But this day was unusually hot and close, and with the exception of one at Cattaro, when the thermometer registered at four o'clockp.m., 105° Fahrenheit, was the hottest I experienced in all my journey.