FALSE IMPRESSIONS OF MONTENEGRO—AGRICULTURE ON A MINOR SCALE—FIELD-LABOURERS—MONTENEGRIN FACCHINI AT CONSTANTINOPLE—FEMALE LABOUR—PRODUCTION OF SUMACH—COMMERCIAL RELATIONS WITH OTHER COUNTRIES IMPEDED—IMPOSING PAGEANT.
TRULY very little is known about Montenegro and its mountaineers, and that little is very incorrect. They have been generally represented as wild, savage, bloodthirsty, thieving scoundrels, closely allied to Italian brigands and Greek palikari—if anything, worse than either. Fond of fighting for fighting's sake, and when not engaged in that amiable recreation, spending their time instrutting about in their fine clothes, peacocking in the sunshine, while those too poor to have fine trappings whiled away the weary hours and forgot their fleas and their sorrows in the tones of their nationalguzla, while the women were left to do all the labour in the fields.
Such was certainly not my impression. The part of Montenegro through which I travelled, though sterile and barren to a degree, was a wonderful specimen of what man could do when driven to it. Every little nook, where the least bit of soil could be found, among that wilderness of rocks where stones had rained from Heaven, was carefully taken advantage of; the rocks adjoining these little nooks were often removed by the most laborious exertions, and in some instances earth was scraped up here and there, and carried in small baskets to these spots, in order to increase their depth of soil. I saw clearings of so small a size as barely to admit ofone potatoe plantor three of maize, and little fields notone yardin diameter!
Hard at work, cultivating the soil, I saw not only women but plenty of sturdy mountaineers.At Niegosh I observed one of the Petrovichs, the handsome young fellow who entertained me on my way to Cettigne, superintending himself a number of men who were working in a field near his house; and the only difference I could observe between them and our own labourers was that they were all fully armed, although employed at the peaceful occupation of agriculture. They have not yet turned their yataghans into spades and reaping hooks, but they have done the next best thing by keeping the first at ease while energetically plying the others.
I have seen the Montenegrins in their own valleys and mountain fastnesses, and I utterly deny the charges brought against them. They are not lazy—leaving all the hard work to their women—that is utterly false, and the best proof I perhaps can give, lies in the self-asserting fact of the toiling colony of three thousand Montenegrin Facchini at Constantinople, well known as about the most hard-working and honest labouring men in that capital. It is true that they allow the women to do much of the heavy agricultural work, and carry heavy loads up and down the mountains;but it must be remembered that for years past the Montenegrins, like the proscribed clans of Scotland in the last century, have been treated by their neighbours, the Turks, very little better than wild beasts. They would long ago have been exterminated, but for their indomitable courage and constant fighting, during which period, of necessity, the agricultural duties fell entirely on the decrepit old men and the women, as all men who were at all able to carry arms were engaged in fighting—and many of the women too! It must also be remembered that in all mountainous countries the women toil more heavily than in the plains, and even in civilized Italy hear what a distinguished Italian, Massimo d'Azeglio, writes:
"For example, if a faggot of wood and a bunch of chickens have to be carried down to the shore from one of the villages half way up the mountain, the labour is thus distributed in the family. The wife loads herself with the faggot of wood which weighs half a hundredweight, and the husband will take the chickens which weigh a mere nothing." The Montenegrins are not, therefore, singularly and atrociously barbarous in this respect.
Considering the small extent of the Principality and its great sterility, it is wonderful the amount of produce they are able to export, even with the disabilities under which they labour, being entirely deprived of any seaboard, though clearly entitled to one. One of the most important of their natural products, one which under favourable circumstances might be increased a thousandfold is "sumach," a substance largely used in tanning the more expensive kinds of leather. A small amount is exported to Holland, none comes to England, but a small parcel I brought over with me was declared by competent judges to be equal to the best Sicilian, which is considered the best of all sumachs.
They have vast forests of walnut trees which, under proper management and due facilities of exportation, might be rendered most productive, both as to walnut oil and timber for cabinet work. They export immense quantities of a small dried fish "scoranza," much used in the neighbouring Catholic and Greek countries during their religious feasts; and without further wearying my readers, I will simplyadd that but for the difficulties they labour under, they could export every one of the following articles in very considerable quantities:—
Castradina (dried mutton and goat hams), honey, wax, goat and kid skins to any amount, as also martin, fox, and hare skins, together with many other substances I have forgotten.
The Prince is doing all he can to spread instruction among his people. He has established numberless schools, and as all over the Principality education is compulsory, in another generation the man or woman unable to read and write will be a phenomenon indeed in Montenegro.
The renewed booming of the cannon and the ringing of the convent bells now gave us warning that the Prince was going to hear Mass, and in a few seconds I saw the wholecortègepass on foot under my window. First a squad of guards, then His Highness the Prince leading the beautiful Princess, immediately accompanied by the Russian Consul in full uniform, and then a number ofVoyvodes in gorgeous costumes, while another squad of body-guards brought up the rear. They walked quickly past, and in a few minutes were lost completely to sight under the buttresses of the old Palace. The pageant was of short duration, but it was well worth seeing, even in that land of sunshine and gorgeous costumes.
Mass over, everyone turned in for his dinner and siesta. The Commandant of the Grahovo went to his own abode, and I followed the general example.
In the afternoon some wonderful foot races were to be held, but not till near sunset, when the great heat of the day would be somewhat abated. I determined therefore to fill up the space between the end of my siesta and the visit to the races, with a call on Monsignor Roganovich, the Metropolitan of Montenegro. I had brought letters of recommendation to the Archimandrite of Cettigne, and in his company I went to the monastery to pay my respects. We entered by the great gate, after crossing the threshing floor, and having crossed the court we ascended by a very rough stone staircase, which landed us in asort of primitive cloister looking on a garden, on which opened the suite of rooms occupied by the Metropolitan.
We were at once shown in, and had not to wait many seconds before Monsignor Roganovich made his appearance. His reception was most cordial. He took me by the hand and made me sit on the divan by his side, expressing his regret that he could not converse with me except through an interpreter, owing to his not speaking any other language than Illyrian and Russian. We got on, however, remarkably well, thanks to the rapidity with which the Archimandrite almost guessed what I was going to say in Italian, translating it into Illyrian with equal rapidity. Coffee, as usual, was served up, unaccompanied however by the customary pipes, as the orthodox clergy are forbidden to smoke.
And now as I am sipping my coffee, let me endeavour to describe what I saw as my eyes wandered about. The room itself was small and low, simply white-washed, with no other furniture than one small table in front of the divan, and four rush chairs of the homeliest description.Around the walls were a few coloured prints of saints, and the floor was utterly uncarpeted. All this simplicity, however, served to bring out in greater contrast and relief the portly figure of Monsignor Roganovich, as he sat on the divan in his ample cassock and gown of violet-purple silk. He was not a handsome man, strictly speaking, his was more a jolly countenance than a handsome one, still it was a face one liked to look at, with his grand black beard flowing down to his waist. He wore his hair in ample curls down his back as if it had never known the shears, and on his head the little Montenegrin cap of black silk. On his breast glittered the star of the Montenegrin order, and round his neck a massive gold chain, from which depended a Panagia or image of the Virgin and Child, nearly as large as a saucer, surrounded with large diamonds.
His manners were courtly and his smile most pleasing, and he gave me the idea of one who would make an excellent companion for a little dinner party of four, and who would be more in his element on the Boulevard des Italiens at Paris,than in his monastic seclusion at Cettigne. We conversed for half an hour or so when I rose to take my leave, and he gave me the Apostolic Benediction, and embraced me on both cheeks. As we walked back to the Palace, the Archimandrite told me he took great interest in the schools, which he visited daily, examining and cross-examining the students, to see that they made good use of their time.
FOOT RACES—MONASTERY OF OSTROG—OTTOMAN ADMINISTRATION—A COURSE À LA MONTAGNE—RACING WITHOUT BETTING—BEN TROVATO—A FLAT RACE—CONVERSATION ABOUT ENGLISH LAWS AND CUSTOMS—LAW OF HABEAS CORPUS.
IN the afternoon I went out into the plain to see the foot races, which the Prince had told me would be very amusing.
On my way to the plain, where the races were to take place, I rambled again through the fair, and a second time got into conversation with the fellow that spoke English so well. We chatted together on many subjects, all more or less connected with the country; he praised the Montenegrins to noend, and told me he would trust them to any amount, they were so thoroughly honest and scrupulous in their dealings. He wanted me to go with him, in a couple of days after the fair was over, to the monastery of Ostrog, but my time was not my own, and I could not give myself that additional pleasure.
It was a great disappointment, however, as Ostrog is a wonderful place, cut out of the rock, not perched on one as some of the monasteries of Mount Athos are, but partly excavated at a great height out of the face of the rock, and partly built on a ledge which the upper part of the rock overhangs. It is approached by a narrow path cut into steps, where no more than two could walk abreast, and therefore easily defended by a handful of men against any number of assailants. There is an ample supply of water in it at all times, and it is always stored with a good supply of rations, and an immense quantity of ammunition. Except by starving out the garrison, it never could be taken.
My companion wanted me then to go with himinto the interior of Northern Albania, where he was well known, and where under his protection and guidance I should have been perfectly safe; while his knowledge of the languages, both Oriental and English, would have enabled me to make many interesting inquiries. When I asked him about the administration of those countries by the Ottoman Government, and the opening up of the country by the projected railway from Adrianople to Novi-Bazar which has already been surveyed, he shrugged his shoulders, and then, with a toss of his head, said:—
"Railways are all very good, but they are almost useless here. What we want is a good Government, and that we never shall have as long as this Christian country is ruled by the Turks. You talk of the progress of civilization among them; but you simply know nothing about them. I can speak, for I have lived with them and among them from childhood; and as to their civilization, it is simply a farce. Even at Stamboul, among the better educated, among those who have been to Paris and London, their civilization is nothing more than the gilding of Brummagem jewelry—theslightest rubbing will cause the copper to blush out from beneath. Civilization indeed! See what a powerful navy they possess; but let Hobart Pasha go home and take with him all his European officers, men and engineers, leaving nothing behind but pure full-blooded Turks to man it, and the entire Ottoman navy would not be a match for the smallest British ironclad. In making this disparaging statement as to the so-called civilization of Turkey, I have selected the navy as an example because in old times the Turks were able to hold their own at sea, and showed a great aptitude in naval matters; but naval science has progressed and they have remained stationary. But so it is—their civilization is a dream; their finances a colossal sham; and their final exodus from Europe, I trust, is in the very nearest distance. In fact, if all the Christians in Ottoman employ—English, French, Armenian or Greek—were to abandon their several posts, Turkey would simply collapse in six months."
I don't say that these are my opinions, but simply the clearly expressed convictions of asharp trader who had long been intimate with European Turkey.
It wanted not much more than an hour of sunset; the western crags threw long purple shadows along the plain of Cettigne, while the rocks which bound it on the east were steeped in the richest tints of gold, and russet, and purple. Up, near to the old Palace of the Vladikas, was a splendid group of native magnates with the Prince in the midst, while ranged in a row before them were about a hundred and fifty of the most athletic men in Montenegro—competitors all in a coming foot race for a splendid pair of silver-mounted pistols, offered by His Highness to him who should first lay his hands on them. The pistols were placed on a conspicuous rock a considerable way up the cliffs on the south-west side of the plain.
The competitors may have been placed at a distance of three hundred yards from the base of those cliffs; it was, therefore, partly a flat race and partly a "course à la montagne:" as the Prince said, "En Angleterre vous avez les courses au clocher, (steeple-chases)ici nous avons les courses à la montagne."The men had divested themselves of their white coats, and their belts and armour. For an instant there was profound silence, and then, at a given signal, off they went at a good pace, keeping wonderfully together for the first two hundred yards or so; then the line began to get wavy, and with every stride more and more fell behind, till, when they arrived at the foot of the crags, there were not, perhaps, more than fifty that sprang up simultaneously to the cliffs. Then, indeed, began the real race, and the mountaineers took to it in right earnest, scaling the precipice like leopards. It was quite exciting to watch the rapidity with which they swung themselves from point to point, taking advantage of every cleft, every rootlet, that offered the least hold to either hand or foot. At last, three arrived almost simultaneously at the goal; but one, slightly in advance, made a vigorous spring—touched the pistols first—barely winning by a hand!
It was, without exception, the prettiest thing by way of a race I ever saw. The whole scene was before you like a panorama; the costumesof the runners and the spectators; the gorgeous tints of the setting sun; the enthusiasm of all, together with the shouts of the multitude, rendered it a scene never to be forgotten; and as I watched them clambering up the cliffs in front of me, guessing at the chances of the race, and mentally gambling with myself on who would be the winner, I could not help feeling a certain degree of surprise that no betting was going on in any part of that vast assemblage. The chances were so many, the combinations so varied, and the probabilities so constantly changing, that a fairer game to try the luck of Dame Fortune could not have been devised, and all the more, too, as all were honestly in earnest in striving for the prize. There were no dark horses, no sickened favourites, no hard-pulling jockeys to bewilder the backers; all was before you, fair and serene, and the excitement was tremendous when some one fine mountaineer, well in advance of the rest, maybe by five or six yards, would suddenly lose his foothold through the giving way of some small projection of rock to which, he was clinging, and after remaining suspended a short time by his hands above hishead, he would eventually have to let go his hold and drop down some few feet, losing all chance in the race; while those who had been nearest to him would redouble their efforts, and thus at times the one who at first starting had seemed the least likely to win would actually come to be in the first flight of the race; but he, in his turn, by some unlucky chance would slip, and another would as instantly get on before him. These constant changes of chances made the race a most exciting one; still not a bet among the multitude of lookers-on!
One of the Prince's aide-de-camps having heard me express surprise at the absence of all betting, said, "Betting is quite a characteristic of you others (vous autres) in England. I am told you would bet on anything. I have heard a story of a poor girl who once threw herself off a bridge in London. The police-boat, fortunately, was near, and pulled away to her rescue, when two lords happening to pass by, stopped on the bridge for a bet as to whether the girl would be saved or not, and lost and won an immense sum on the event."
I laughed, and replied,
"Se non è vero è ben trovato."
After this we had a flat race for about a mile across the plains. So far as running went, it was aflatrace indeed, and I have often seen better at an Irish country fair; but it was well worth seeing from the rich colouring of the costumes of those taking part in it, as they ran with their clothes on; and as every one was eligible to compete, and not Montenegrins alone, the effect was most singular and picturesque. The prize was in this case also a pair of silver-mounted Turkish pistols, given by the Prince, and I was glad to hear that the winner was a Montenegrin.
In the evening I had the honour of dining at the Palace, when the Prince again asked me many questions concerning England, its habits and customs, of which, although he had read much in French books, he knew absolutely nothing.
We again spoke about the law of primogeniture, about which he could not exactly make up his mind, and could not understand how it didnot produce disastrous occurrences in families. He understood, however, quite well what I explained to him concerning the Law of Habeas Corpus, and again declared it to be a grand institution,so far as the people were concerned.
I left at a late hour, after spending a most delightful evening, and as I went back to my rooms to pack my small valise for my early start next morning, I felt an undefinable regret at leaving Tchernagora and its interesting mountaineers. I had enjoyed among them a courteous hospitality and a patriarchal welcome, the prominent characteristics of which will, I fear, before very long disappear under the pressure andvis a tergoof our so-called European civilization. I should like, above all things, to visit them again; but should it never be my lot to enjoy that pleasure, I cannot take leave of Montenegro without expressing my deep sense of the cordial reception I met with there on every side.
DEPARTURE FROM CETTIGNE—RUGGED ROAD—DELIGHTFUL VIEW—USEFUL OLD HELMET—NIEGOSH—EXCESSIVE HEAT—THE SCALA DI CATTARO—THE BOCCHESI—THE RUSSIAN CONSUL—SUNSET AT CATTARO—UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE OF PERO PEJOVICH.
AS the clock struck three in the morning of the 15th of July, 1873, the guide walked into my room to say it was time to start; at the same moment my servant brought me in a cup ofcafé-au-laitwith some hot toast. My toilette was soon made, and my breakfast swallowed, and I moved away from Cettigne as the clock chimed the half-hour after three.
It was still night, but not dark, as the moon had not yet set, and a band of rose-coloured light streaked the Eastern horizon. We started at a rapid trot, startling the echoes up the solitary and deserted street of Cettigne, and we never slackened our pace till we came to the verge of the little plain in which it is situated, when the path up the ravine which led westward to the Adriatic became so rugged that we were compelled to walk our horses, and in less than half-an-hour more had to dismount and proceed on foot.
In a short time we reached the crest of the range which encircles the Plains of Cettigne, and the track becoming less precipitous, we remounted; but before leaving the spot I turned my horse round to have a last look at that mountain capital where I had been so hospitably entertained, and where, most probably, I might never have the pleasure of being again.
I was now standing on the highest point of the pass, and I enjoyed a most delightful view. The sun was just in the act of rising. My back was to the Adriatic, while my face was turned to the East. At my feet lay the Plain of Cettigne,girt round on all sides with precipitous rocks and mountains. Beyond the plain, far in the hazy horizon—not foggy—but rendered slightly indistinct by a faint cobalt haze, I could see the Lake of Skodra glittering in the morning sun with the thin silver streak of the Zeta river losing itself in it, while in the still further distance I could perceive the faintest outline of the Albanian mountains. Right and left, as far as the eye could reach, nothing but rocky peaks and precipices met the view—nothing but rocks with here and there a few scanty bushes, on which were browsing large herds of goats tended by wild-looking men, carrying round their waist, as usual, the inevitable arsenal of weapons, and the long Albanian gun over their shoulders.
I would have lingered over this scene, and I was already thinking of getting down and sketching it, when the guide remonstrated against any such proceeding on my part. "It was very near the dog days," he said, "and to be caught by the noon-day sun on those bare rocks, was a thing to be avoided;" so I was compelled to move on, after givinganother long look at the picture to which I was about to turn my back.
The guide was right; the track was abominable, and we could only proceed at a slow pace. At the same time, the sun was gaining strength with every inch it rose above the horizon, and by the time we reached theclachanof Niegosh, its rays come down upon us like molten lead; but my old helmet was proof against them, and an excellent protection, while the faint breeze which came up from the Adriatic prevented all feeling of oppression.
At Niegosh, where a week before I had been so kindly entertained by young Pejovich, we rested five minutes. I did not even dismount, but the guide went into the very primitive khan to light his pipe; but, by the way he smacked his lips on coming out, I suspect a glass of wodky was not forgotten, while the fire for his pipe was being handed to him.
After a little, the path again became impracticable for riding, so I had to dismount and walk, though the heat was something marvellous (I afterwards heard from Signor Jackschich thatin Cattaro, in the shade, the thermometer stood at 33° Reaumur at four o'clock in the afternoon—about 105° Fahrenheit.) After some difficult scrambling, when I sorely felt the want of the stout arm of Pero Pejovich, we reached the fountain, and here we rested ten minutes; then having remounted, we soon arrived at the top of thescala, with the Adriatic before us and Cattaro hundreds of feet down below.
It seemed now as if I should be at the end of my journey in a few minutes; the road was all before me, and I could count the zig-zags as they unfolded themselves on the face of the rock, still they seemed as if they would never come to an end. I counted one, two, three, twenty, thirty, fifty, up to one hundred bends, and still more appeared beneath me, so at last I gave it up through sheer exhaustion.
Everything, however, has an end eventually, and so the apparently interminable Scala di Cattaro came to an end also. How I got on during the last few turns and twists I forget—I was in a sort of doze; all I remember is finding myself suddenly among those heavenlymulberry trees of the Esplanade, and hearing the friendly sound of Signor Jackschich's welcome.
Cattaro is innocent of either inn, hotel, khan, or caravansary, but good accommodation had been prepared for me inside the town. I therefore rode on to the gate where I had to dismount, as no horse is allowed to enter, just as no carriagecan enterthe narrow gateway.
The Bocchesi (as the natives call themselves) have one cause of heart-burning and envy, less than we in our country; there are no carriage-people in Cattaro to look down uponyouwho have to trudge on foot, and the nearest approach to anything of the sort is an antique sedan-chair mounted on wheels exactly like the celebrated oldpushat Hampton Court, which was occasionally brought into requisition on gala days, when such happened to be wet ones also.
Having reached my rooms I quickly made my toilet, and then returned to the mulberries, under whose welcome shade I made an excellentbreakfast and lunch in one, while many of the natives were taking their dinner.
My further steps became now somewhat uncertain. I thought I should have found the steamer here to take me down the Adriatic, but I had miscalculated; it was not due till the following day. So I determined on resting in Cattaro till evening, and then riding across the isthmus (about eighteen miles only) to Budua, where Baron von Heydeg was quartered, and picking up the steamer when it would call there in a couple of days. I at once telegraphed to Heydeg that I was going, in order that the officer on guard might open the gates for me on arrival, as no one is let in or out of Budua after sunset, without an order from the Commandant. Then I went to my room, and being fairly tired, I threw myself on the bed and slept.
It was about half-past three when I was awoke by some one knocking at my door, and to my surprise, in walked Mr. Yonin, the Russian Consul. I had forgotten to mention that we had agreed to travel from Cettigne together, and were tohave met in the street opposite the Palace at threea.m.; but the servants had forgotten to call him, and when after waiting half an hour he did not come, and the guards on duty would not allow my guide to knock at the Palace gate, I started without him, thinking he had changed his mind. He had breakfasted late and then ridden to Cattaro in the middle of the day in order to catch the steamer for Ragusa that was to leave the same evening. I told him how long I had waited, and how I had tried in vain to get the sentinels to allow us to knock. He could only lament his misfortune, as, mopping his face, he added, "I assure you the heat on those bare rocks was something to be remembered all one's life." We then arranged to dine together at five o'clock before parting.
Punctual to the hour appointed, we met on themarina. The heat of the day had considerably diminished, for although the sun was still high in the horizon, it had long ago set for the good folks at Cattaro, as the city being built at the foot of the mountains looking to the West, and having a range of high cliffs infront of it, behind which the sun sinks long before it dips into the Adriatic, sunset at Cattaro occurs hours earlier than at any other place on the Adriatic. In Summer this is a great advantage, as it enables the inhabitants to walk out in the shade on themarinaat a much earlier hour, the opposite cliffs protecting them from the hot rays of the sun, and at the same time affording them a sort of twilight, elsewhere unknown in those latitudes; but in Winter it must be very gloomy, as the rising sun being shut out by the rocks and mountains of Montenegro till near eleven o'clock in the morning, and again disappearing so early in the afternoon, reduces the actual day to as short a space as in the latitude of St. Petersburg.
Availing themselves of the comparative coolness of the hour, thebeau mondeof that primitive little place, among which the Bishop and the Commandant of the garrison were conspicuous, had turned out for their evening promenade, and the esplanade presented quite a gay appearance. I ordered the horses for seven o'clock, and then we went to look for our dinner at the café; but heresomething of a difficulty arose. The Bocchesi dine at twelve noon, or at one at latest, and sup at nine, no one ever thinking of a meal at five! so that nothing was ready. The cook, however, was equal to the emergency, and in fifteen minutes served us up a most excellent and varied dinner, to which we were about to sit down and do ample justice, when who should turn up but Pero Pejovich!
He was returning to his post in the Grahovo, and found it easier to get to it by coming round to Cattaro first, then going by sea to Risano and thence, as it were, coming back on his own steps, thus going a round of something like four times the direct distance. This will convey some idea of the difficulties to be encountered in endeavouring to cross some of the rocky regions of Montenegro.
I was delighted at seeing him again; we all dined together, and enjoyed ourselves immensely notwithstanding the heat. After dinner, Pero Pejovich pulled out from among the ample folds of his sash some Trebigne tobacco, which had never seen the countenance of a Custom Houseofficer, and we set to work to make cigarettes, when we were joined by Signor Jackschich and Signor Radanovich, the Prince's Agent at Cattaro. Coffee and maraschino were brought out, fresh relays of cigarettes were manufactured, and we could have enjoyed ourselves for hours more, but the inexorable bell of the steamer rang out a summons that bade Mr. Yonin prepare for departure, while the increasing darkness served to remind myself that I had yet a journey before me ere I should be able to lie down to rest.
We stood up reluctantly, and in a body accompanied the Russian Consul to the steamer, and there bade him adieu, probably for ever; though who can tell? I have had at times the most unexpectedrencontresin the most unlikely places. I first met him at Ragusa, where also I made my first acquaintance with Mr. Paton, now unfortunately no more; both very able and highly educated men, yet they seemed not to appreciate each other as they might have done, perhaps from the diametrical opposition of their political views.
Poor Paton is lost to us for ever, and we shall never have a better member of our Consular service; a shrewd, sagacious man, and a first-rate Oriental scholar.
As to Mr. Yonin, I trust I may yet meet him, and renew some of the pleasant hours I spent with him.
BEAUTIFUL ROAD—ATTACK OF FEVER—ARRIVAL AT BUDUA—BARON HEYDEG AND SIGNOR MARCO MEDIN—A RESTAURANT—OUR HOST—DOCTOR, DENTIST AND APOTHECARY—WALK ROUND THE FORTIFICATIONS—EXPLORATION OF BUDUA—THE PARTING GLASS.
THE twilight of Cattaro was fast merging into darkness when I returned with my companions to the esplanade, where my horses were ready to take me on to Budua. Our adieux were short but cordial, and in a few minutes I was cantering away in company with Signor Jackschich, who lives in a villa a couple of miles away from Cattaro.
If the tracks and paths of Montenegro are rugged and wild, the beautiful road we were now travelling on made ample amends for the discomfort I had endured in riding during the last few days. As we passed Signor Jackschich's villa, I insisted on his remaining there, or his courtesy would have induced him to keep me company ever so much further on; so wishing him adieu for the twentieth time, I lit my cigar, and sticking spurs into my pony, cantered away on my road to Budua. The ride was not interesting. I started too late; I should have remembered that in those latitudes, except at Cattaro, there is no twilight.
On leaving Cattaro the road is at first directly south, leading across the isthmus of the peninsula which forms the western shore of the gulf of that name. Having reached the sea, it continues to skirt the Adriatic, except in those places where to avoid rounding a headland it runs inland straight across the base of the promontory.
The night was fine, and we got on famously, but whether in consequence of the good dinner, or the genial sensation produced by the atmosphere,or the early hour I had risen in the morning, when it came to be about eleven o'clock an indescribable feeling of lassitude and intense sleepiness came over me. I would have given anything to lie down even for half-an-hour; but it was out of the question, as we were at that time crossing a sort of marsh, and there was not a dry spot to lie down on. So I was compelled to ride on; but I suspect I dozed, and then during those moments of extreme lassitude and prostration, when my vital powers were standing at their lowest, I fear I imbibed some of those zymotic germs, some malarious molecules, which a few days later manifested themselves by a smart attack of fever. Thanks, however, to a good constitution and a few doses of quinine, I was able to cut it short in three days, though it stuck to me for a little while longer in the shape of an indescribable sort ofmalaise.
At one o'clocka.m., we reached the gates of Budua, where I was met by Baron Heydeg and Signor Marco Medin. Heydeg was an officer quartered with his regiment at Budua, whose acquaintance I had made at Pola, and with whomI had subsequently travelled. Medin was a native of Budua, who had left his country many years before, had made money in California, had married there a buxom Irish girl, a native of Ballinrobe, and had now returned, a rich man, to end his days among his relations in Dalmatia.
They had been waiting for me a long time, and had walked some miles on the road to Cattaro to meet me, but were beginning to think I was not going to keep my word.
We were soon seated together at a comfortable supper, and at half-past twoa.m.I was finally allowed to retire to my bed, which Medin had kindly procured for me in a private house—because here, as in Cattaro, there is no hotel of any kind.
Tired and sleepy as I was, I passed but an indifferent night, for, notwithstanding that my room had two large windows overlooking the sea, and that I kept them both open, the heat was perfectly stifling.
I was just thinking of going out the next morning about ten, when in walked the Baron and Signor Medin, and we at once adjourned forbreakfast at the same place where we had supped the previous night; I say place, as it was neither an inn nor acafé. How shall I describe it? The following is the way we got at it, anyhow. In the main street of Budua, near to the land gate, on the left hand as you come in, you meet with five rugged stone steps, flanked by a shaky single iron railing. These lead up to a strong wooden door, which at some period, of its existence may have enjoyed the privilege of paint, but of which no trace remains at the present moment, not even enough to enable one to make a guess at the colour it once enjoyed.
Entering by this door, I found myself in a stuffy, dirty hall, "a terreno" pervaded by a multitude of vile smells, one more awful than the other, but all so dovetailed and commingled that it was perfectly impossible to tell what the composition was. Turning sharp to the left, we mounted a steep stone staircase, at the top of which we were greeted by the same odour that had met us on entering, in which now the smell of assafœtida and garlic clearly predominated. We found ourselves in the kitchen of the establishment, overwhich reigned supreme a good-humoured, fat GermanFrauof fifty or more, assisted by two bright-eyed, sharp-looking Dalmatian lads, begrimed with dirt and shining with grease and perspiration. TheFraupiloted us through this kitchen, where the heat must have been 110°, if not more, and brought us into the dining-room, a pretty good-sized room with windows round the three sides of it, the furniture consisting solely of one long deal table down the middle, and a score of rush-bottomed chairs around it. At this table were seated a dozen or so of German officers demolishing their "early bit."
I was here received by theFrau'sworse half, a portly man of sixty or thereabouts. His coat was off, but he had on instead a huge pair of silver spectacles. He at once showed me to my seat at the table, when I apologised, through the Baron, to the officers for disturbing them at their breakfast.
Notwithstanding the unpromising condition of things, the breakfast was excellent; but mine host in the shirt sleeves, with whom I kept up a running conversation in Italian, was even better.An Italian by birth and education (for he was very well educated), he had rambled all over the Austrian dominions and the Turkish provinces in Europe. He had forgotten most of his native tongue without learning any other, and the jargon he spoke was something marvellous. Still, he varied thispot-pourriaccording to the nationality of those he addressed. The foundation was always Italian, but if he spoke to an Austrian the German element would predominate, while if he spoke to a Montenegrin the Slave would be in the ascendant. He was a most amusing character, and combined in himself the functions of doctor, dentist and apothecary, as well as that of keeper of a restaurant in Budua—hence the villainous combination of the odours of a scullery, a kitchen, and a pharmacy.
In spite of his griminess and the vile odours, I had some very pleasant conversation with him. I found him very well informed, and he gave me a most interesting account of the last descent of the Montenegrins. He had a most unconquerable horror of my favourite mountaineers, and believed there could be no peace nor prosperityin that part of the world until they should be all exterminated.
Having finished our breakfast, Heydeg and I strolled outside the walls to where the market is held under some magnificent old carob trees, and there, as at Cattaro, were numbers of Montenegrins disposing of their produce. Here we had some delicious fresh figs, and then lighting our cigars we went round the old fortifications, which are now only just sufficient for protection at night against any sudden incursion of the wild tribes of the interior. Then we had a good bathe in a most delicious little cove, entirely girt round with rocks, and with a sandy bottom that felt like velvet under our feet. We then again lit another cigar, and started on a tour of exploration through this old town.
Budua, situated at the extreme end of Dalmatia, in what used to be called Northern Albania, is the last Austrian city on the coast of the Adriatic. It is built on a low rocky promontory, and possesses no interest, save in its picturesque appearance, which it derives from its mediæval walls and machicolated towers—useless, indeed,against a civilized enemy, but still offering some protection against possible irruptions from Albanian freebooters. It is especially picturesque as seen from the sea, with its rugged background of naked mountains. Immediately about it there is some cultivation on the narrow strip of land which lies between the mountains and the sea; and corn, vines, olive trees, and mulberries for the rearing of silk-worms, are diligently grown.
Inside, it is not attractive—its streets are extremely narrow, no more than six feet wide in many instances; they are, however, well paved, and would do well enough, were it not for the utter disregard to cleanliness and drainage. Still there are some wealthy people living there, and many of the houses are very good and substantial. There are several good shops, (perhaps the word stores would best describe them), where a brisk trade seemed to be carried on. The Baron and I poked our way through all the nooks and crannies of the place. We found nothing to invite attention, but a great deal to shock the sight, and even the sense of smell. So we hurried on and went to pay a visit tomy buxom Ballinrobe friend, who had not only quite forgotten her ancestral brogue, but had actually exchanged it for a decided American accent, which, to my ears, was not an improvement. She offered us neither English tea nor Irish whiskey punch, but gave us some delicious lemonade and maraschino; and showed by her manner that, if the brogue was gone, the hearty Irish welcome was there still.
From thence I went with the Baron to his own little apartment, which opened on to an enchanting little terrace, covered over with a grand "pergola" of vines, under whose refreshing shade we smoked away the time till we should go to dinner.
We had not been long enjoying an excellent repast at our pharmaceutical (deuced hard name to spell, by-the-by) restaurant when we were informed that the steamer for Corfu was entering the harbour, and would leave in two hours.
The time for parting had come at last, fresh bottles were tapped, and we all drank each others' health, and a happy journey to me amidst noisy demonstrations and much clinking of glasses. Dinner being at last completed, we all arose andwalked in a body to the Mole, where, my luggage having preceded me, I went at once on board. There was no time for lengthy adieux, the steamer was whistling, and almost while we were shaking hands she cast off her moorings, and we were off.