The Land Of The Black Mountain: The Adventures Of Two Englishmen In Montenegro

REGINALD WYON and GERALD PRANCE

WITH FIFTY-ONE ILLUSTRATIONS "SOME GLIMPSING AND NO PERFECT SIGHT" CHAUCER NEW AND CHEAPER ISSUE First Published March 1903 New and Cheaper Issue 1905...

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INTRODUCTION

"What a terrible country!" said a lady tourist to me once in Cetinje, "nothing but barren grey rocks; and what poverty! I declare I shan't breathe freely till I am out of it again." This is a common opinion of travellers to Montenegro, and one that is spread by them all over Europe. And yet how unjust! A fairly large number of tourists take the drive from beautiful little Cattaro up that wild mountain-side and through the barren Katunska to Cetinje. A few hours later they return the way they cam

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Montenegro's geographical position—Character of the people—Their honesty, patriotism, and love of arms—Likeness to the Homeric Greeks—The women—Montenegrin manners, vices, heroism, lack of privacy, police—Goodness of the Prince—The national costume—Religion—Hatred of Austria—Russia's friendship.

Roughly Montenegro is diamond-shaped, with its points towards north and south, east and west. To the north-east it is bounded by the Sandjak of Novipazar, held by Turkey and Austria jointly, and dividing it from its parent country, the kingdom of Servia. To the south-east lies Albania, while Austria again borders Montenegro in Bosnia and the Hercegovina in the north-west and in Dalmatia to the south-west. Dalmatia and a narrow strip of the Adria complete the circuit, so Austria practically surro

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History from first conquest by the Romans, 300 b.c., down to the present Prince—Fruits of the last campaign—Education—The military system—Legal administration—Crime—Government—The educated classes.

The district which corresponds most nearly to Montenegro of the present day comes first into notice when the Romans attacked Queen Teuta and drove her back beyond the modern Podgorica in the third century b.c. From this time onwards Roman influence made itself felt strongly in the Prævalitana, an outlying province of Illyria, and the city of Dioclea—whose ruins still exist in the neighbourhood of Podgorica, and which was to play such an important part in the germ state of Crnagora, or the "Land

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The journey to Montenegro—Arrival in Cattaro—Beauty of the Bocche, and the drive to the frontier—First impressions of Montenegro—Njeguši—The national troubadours—Arrival in Cetinje.

The simplest way of entering the Land of the Black Mountain is viâ Cattaro in Dalmatia. The sea-trip from Trieste, which takes a little over twenty-four hours, is a revelation of beauty, for the Dalmatian coast is sadly unknown to the traveller. The journey can also be made from Fiume, whence the "Ungaro-Croata" send a good and very frequent service of steamers. But the idler should take a slow boat and coast lazily down the Dalmatian archipelago, visiting all the smaller towns and islands, whic

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Cetinje and its sights—Prince Nicolas—The Archbishop—The barracks—The princes—A visit to the prison and its system—Our departure for Podgorica.

There is not much for the tourist to see in Cetinje; a day is quite sufficient to do the sights, such as they are. Unfortunately for the country, the tourist usually contents himself with a look round the little capital and returns the way he came to Cattaro, only a few prolonging the tour viâ Rijeka to Scutari. Thus a very erroneous impression is gained of Montenegro and its people. Firstly only a small part of the Katunska is seen, which is the most uninteresting district of the whole country;

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The view from Bella Vista—New scenery—Promiscuous shooting—The market in Rijeka—The shepherds—Their flocks—Wayside hospitality—The plain of the Zeta—The Morača—The Vizier bridge—Old war-marks—First and last impressions of Podgorica.

The drive from Cetinje to Rijeka, and from thence till the final descent to Podgorica, is quite as fine as any other part of Montenegro. For about twenty minutes after leaving Cetinje the road climbs and attains its greatest altitude on this tour, and at its highest point—only half an hour's walk from the town—possesses one of the most striking and beautiful views. It is rightly called "Bella Vista," and a shelter hut and chairs are thoughtfully provided for the visitor. A wonderful panorama mee

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Podgorica—Its central position—Our headquarters—Easter in Montenegro—Our experience of it—We view the town—The prison and its inmates—Christian and Mahometan friction—The modern town—The market and the armed buyers—The Black Earth—Easter customs—Montenegrin methods of doing business.

If it were not for the dangerous proximity of the Albanian border, Podgorica would have been made the capital of Montenegro. It is favourably situated for a trade centre, and, owing to this fact, has naturally gathered a large population (the largest in Montenegro), approaching ten thousand. Lying on a rich and fertile plain, within easy reach of the Lake of Scutari, and connected by good roads with Cetinje and Nikšić, it is within market distance, so to speak, of Kolašin and Andrijevica. From t

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Medun—Voivoda Marko—His life and heroism—His part in Montenegrin history—Our ride to Medun—His widow—We visit his grave—The death dirge—Montenegrin customs at death—Target practice—Our critics—The hermit of Daibabe—We visit Spuž—A typical country inn and a meal—The Turkish renegade gives his views on warfare—Dioclea.

During our repeated sojourns in Podgorica we made several excursions to places of interest in the neighbourhood, chief amongst which was a visit to Medun, Voivoda Marko Drekalović's grave. Medun lies in the heart of the mountains, about four hours' ride from Podgorica, and is the capital (if one can apply such a high-sounding name to a ruined fortress and two or three houses) of the Kuć. The Kuć is a large province inhabited by one of the most warlike tribes of Montenegro, and only recently came

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Achmet Uiko tells his story—Sokol Baćo, ex-Albanian chief—Shooting on the Lake of Scutari—Our journey thither—Our frustrated nap—Arrival at the chapel—The island of Vranjina—The priest—Fishing and fishermen—Our visitors—We return to Podgorica.

One market day, walking through the streets of Podgorica, we overheard a strange conversation. A Montenegrin Turk was sitting on a stone, when two Albanians approached him. Touching his revolver, one of the Albanians said— "Sooner than own the whole of Montenegro, would I empty this into thy body." The Turk, a small man, with slightly grey hair, looked up, and said indifferently— "And thy desire is mine." So they separated. Almost immediately an acquaintance joined us, and we asked him the meani

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Stephan our servant—Virpazar—The drive over the Sutormann Pass—Antivari and Prstan—The beauty of the bay—We are delayed by contrary winds—We are rowed to Dulcigno—We make the acquaintance of Marko Ivanković—A story concerning him—We shoot together—An episode on a lake—Vaccination—The Turkish inhabitants.

For our journey to the sea-coast towns of Antivari (Bar) and Dulcigno (Ulcinj) we deemed it advisable to take a servant with us, and our choice fell on Stephan, a Hungarian by birth, but a ten years' sojourn in the Land of the Black Mountain had completely Montenegrinised him, if we may coin a word. As he was our constant companion for several months, it would be well to describe him. Every statement that Stephan made had to be liberally discounted—this we found out afterwards—for he was a born

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We ride to Scutari—The Albanian Customs officials—We suffer much from Turkish saddles—Arrival at Scutari, and again pass the Customs—"Buon arrivato"—Scutari and its religious troubles—The town and bazaar—A slight misunderstanding, Yes and No—We return to Rijeka by steamer—The beauties of the trip—Wrong change—The prodigal son's return, when the fatted calf is not killed.

Before we left Dulcigno it was necessary to have our passports viséd by the Turkish Consul, as we intended returning to Podgorica viâ Scutari. We had to go through a lot of tedious formality, though the Consul was a most pleasant man, and laughed at the precautions which his orders forced him to take. But as he supplied us with horses and an escort—for the path is considered somewhat dangerous—we resigned ourselves to the inevitable with a good grace. Our guns and carbines we were forced to send

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Preparations for our tour in the Brda—We start—Where it is not good to be giddy—A trying ride—Our inn—Nocturnal episodes—The journey continued—Pleasant surroundings—The Montenegrin quart d'heure—Arrival in Kolašin—We meet the Governor—Visiting—The Band of Good Hope—The Crown Prince's birthday—We are ashamed.

The preparations for our tour through the mountainous districts of North-East Montenegro, known as the Brda, took a few days. We had some difficulty about horses, though ultimately P. and I secured two good animals for ourselves, but the third, destined for the bulk of our baggage and Stephan, was a dilapidated apology for the equine race. As a matter of fact, it stood the trying journey in a remarkable manner. Then there were a few pots and pans for cooking purposes to purchase, some necessary

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Montenegro's oldest building—The ride to the Morača Monastery—A perilous bridge and ascent—The Abbot's tale—We inspect the monastery—The health of the King is drunk—The relative merits of Boers and Montenegrins—The Abbot makes us presents—We visit a peasant's house and a Homeric feast—A feu-de-joie—Departure from Kolašin—We are mistaken for doctors again—Raskrsnica.

In Montenegro there are, strangely enough, with one famous exception, no buildings of any great antiquity. This, however, can be easily accounted for by the repeated invasions of the Turks, who ravaged the land with a merciless fury. Montenegro was the only Balkan state which they were unable to bring to obedience, and the struggle, which began after the battle of Kossovo, has, perhaps, not reached its final stage yet, though other enemies have supplanted the Turk. Far away in the heart of the m

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A typical mountain hut—Costume of the north-eastern borderers—Supper and a song—We go out hunting, and cause excitement—The Feast of Honour—We ride to Andrijevica—Andrijevica and our inn—The Voivoda—We go to church—Turkish visitors—Alarums.

It was nearly dark by the time that we were unloaded and had got our traps into our hut. As half our time was spent in similar constructions during our mountain tour, it may be as well to describe them now. They are usually built entirely of wood, rough, irregularly hewn planks, and no attempt is made to make them air-tight; often great crevices gape, through which a hand can be put. The roof is generally fairly water-tight. A man can stand up-right in the middle, but the roof slopes steeply dow

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The Voivoda's invitation—Concerning an episode on our ride to Velika—The fugitive from a blood-feud and his story—We arrive at Velika—The men of Velika—The ménu—Border jurisdiction—A shooting-match—The Kom—Pleasant evenings—A young philosopher—Sunset.

One evening the Voivoda invited us to ride with him on an official visit to Velika, an offer which we eagerly accepted. Velika is a narrow strip of Montenegrin territory lying practically in Albania, or rather Gusinje, for the men of Gusinje owe and give no allegiance. Velika is not cut off from Montenegro, but the mountain connecting it with, so to speak, the mainland is steep and almost inaccessible, besides entailing a long and weary détour of many hours. Therefore our path to-day would lead

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We leave Andrijevica—Our additional escort—The arrival at our camping-place—In an enemy's country—The story of one Gjolić—Our slumbers are disturbed—Sunrise on the Alps—We disappoint our escort—"Albanian or Montenegrin?"—A reconnaissance—The Forest of Vučipotok—The forbidden land—A narrow escape—We arrive at Rikavac—Rain damps our ardour—Nocturnal visitors.

We left Andrijevica finally one morning about eight a.m. for our many days' ride along the Albanian frontier to Podgorica. Everyone turned out to bid us farewell, from the Voivoda, who expressed his regret that we had seen no one shot, downwards. The Voivoda's son and a small party accompanied us to the outskirts of the town, where a quaint notice-board bears the inscription that, on pain of a fine, shooting is forbidden within the prescribed limits. Here, after much hand-shaking and promises to

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More memorial stones—We get wet again—Unwilling hosts—A fall—The Franciscan of Zatrijebać—The ravine of the Zem—Methods of settling tribal differences—A change of diet and more pleasant evenings—A fatalist—Sunday morning.

Punctually at eight a.m. next morning we took an affectionate farewell of the Fathers, though I mounted hurriedly first to avoid the repetition of the welcoming chaste salute. Our path lay for two hours over a rocky and barren country similar to the naked Katunska district round Cetinje. Gone were the rich green pasturages and wooded valleys in exchange for a waste of grey rocks. But a large wood was ultimately reached, only a little less dangerous than the wood of Vučipotok. Similar precautions

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A modern hero, and our sojourn under his roof—Kećo's story—The laws of Vendetta and their incongruity—We return to Podgorica—The Montenegrin telephone—An elopement causes excitement—The Sultan's birthday—The reverse of the picture—A legal anomaly.

"At Fundina," said Dr. S., "you will meet one of the modern heroes of Montenegro. A man named Kećo, whose fame has reached to the uttermost ends of the land." We had bidden farewell to our host and were riding past the last houses and huts of the clan of Zatrijebać on our way to Fundina. The path tended downwards, and shortly the great plain of the Zeta burst suddenly into view as we rounded a corner of the mountains. Beyond lay the Lake of Scutari with its background of mountains. It was early

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S. Vasili and Ostrog—Our drive thither—Joyful pilgrims—Varied costumes—We meet the Vladika of Montenegro—The ordeal of hot coffee—A real pilgrimage—The shrine of S. Vasili—The ancient hermit—A miracle—Nikšić—The gaudy cathedral and the Prince's palace—We are disappointed in Nikšić.

Though we visited the famous Monastery of Ostrog at the very beginning of our visit to Montenegro, and Nikšić at the conclusion, both places lie so near together that we put them now in this order for the sake of simplicity. It was our good fortune to be enabled to witness the annual pilgrimage to the shrine of S. Vasili, which takes place during the Greek Whitsuntide. Ostrog is the Lourdes of the Balkans, as many equally miraculous cures take place as at the Roman Catholic rival in the Pyrenees

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The Club and its members—Gugga—Irregularities of time—The absence of the gentle muse and our surprise—The musician's story and his subsequent fate—The Black Earth—A typical border house—The ordeal of infancy—A realistic performance which is misunderstood—Concerning a memorable drive—A fervent prayer.

Before we leave Podgorica for good our readers must be introduced to the Club. It was not a club in the English sense of the word, but P. and I always called that hour or two at sunset so delightfully spent in the company of that cosmopolitan gathering, the Club. Podgorica was our base, from which we made all our trips and excursions, so that we were there off and on during the whole of our lengthy sojourn amongst the sons of the Black Mountain. From the "members" we gleaned many stories of past

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We reconsider our opinion of Cetinje—A Montenegrin wake and its consequences—A hero's death—Montenegrin conversation—Needless appeals to the Deity—We visit the hospital.

We have said that there are not many stirring events happening in Cetinje. But this was due to the fact that we had only a very superficial knowledge of the town. To appreciate it fully, though, it is absolutely necessary to know the country and the people first. We had quite made up our minds to go down to Cattaro the day following the memorable drive from Podgorica, but a mutual acquaintance, a Montenegrin of high standing, met us as we strolled aimlessly down the main street that morning. Whe

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The Law Court in Cetinje—The Prince as patriarch—A typical lawsuit—Pleasant hours with murderers—Our hostel—A Babel of tongues—Our sojourn draws to a close—The farewell cup of coffee and apostrophe.

The Law Court in Cetinje is distinctly quaint. All civil cases are conducted in public, and the method of procedure is simplicity itself. [9] Firstly there are no lawyers and no costs, the rival parties conducting their case in person—that is to say, they are present, and are examined and cross-examined by the judge and his six assistants. All the preliminaries have been committed to writing and are read out by the clerk of the court, the only other official present. In a small inclosure sit the

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THE END

Colonial Editions are published of all Messrs. Methuen's Novels issued at a price above 2s. 6d. , and similar editions are published of some works of General Literature. These are marked in the Catalogue. Colonial editions are only for circulation in the British Colonies and India. An asterisk denotes that a book is in the Press....

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Part I.—General Literature

Abbot (Jacob) . See Little Blue Books. Acatos (M.J.) . Modern Language Master at King Edward School, Birmingham. See Junior School Books. Adams (Frank) . JACK SPRATT. With 24 Coloured Pictures. Super Royal 16mo. 2s. Adeney (W.F.) , M.A. See Bennett and Adeney. Æschylus . See Classical Translations. Æsop . See Illustrated Pocket Library. Ainsworth (W. Harrison) . See Illustrated Pocket Library. *Alderson (J.P.) MR. ASQUITH. With Portraits and Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 6d. net. Alexander (William)

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Antiquary's Books, The

General Editor, J. CHARLES COX, LL.D., F.S.A. A series of volumes dealing with various branches of English Antiquities; comprehensive and popular, as well as accurate and scholarly. ENGLISH MONASTIC LIFE. By the Right Rev. Abbot Gasquet, O.S.B. Illustrated. Second Edition, revised. Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net. REMAINS OF THE PREHISTORIC AGE IN ENGLAND. By B.C.A. Windle, D.Sc, F.R.S. With numerous Illustrations and Plans. Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net. OLD SERVICE BOOKS OF THE ENGLISH CHURCH. By Christopher Wo

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PART II.—FICTION

Marie Corelli's Novels Crown 8vo. 6s. each. A ROMANCE OF TWO WORLDS. Twenty-Fifth Edition. VENDETTA. Twenty-First Edition. THELMA. Thirty-Second Edition. ARDATH: THE STORY OF A DEAD SELF. Fifteenth Edition. THE SOUL OF LILITH. Twelfth Edition. WORMWOOD. Fourteenth Edition. BARABBAS: A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY. Fortieth Edition. 'The tender reverence of the treatment and the imaginative beauty of the writing have reconciled us to the daring of the conception. This "Dream of the World's Traged

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