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 stopped everywhere 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 anything before 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 country people 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 had to 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 a _meraviglia_, 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 of saints 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 silver
gilt, of the Renaissance date. The interest appertaining to this is
that it is placed at the _back_ of the altar for high mass, facing the
Bishop, who is seated _behind 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 three P.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 deep and 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 columns of 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, and to
take a stroll through the Piazza. I did so, and still further improved
the passing hour by eating an excellent dinner _al fresco_ under a
_pergola_ of vines at the _Trattoria_ of 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 dreaded even 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 down than 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 a _camerino_
(cabin) to make my toilet in. Having completed my ablutions I called in
Giovanni to empty my tub, for as the _camerino_ was extremely small it
was next to impossible to stand in it, unless with one's feet in the
water. Never was steward so astonished and 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 the _camerino_, 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, a Montenegrin 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 rich _repoussé_ work in _alto rilievo_, and from a side-piece hung
down several ornaments of the châtelaine species, while from the other
side depended an exquisite little dagger in a sheath of silver _repoussé_.
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 way between 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. Very
nice, 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'clock A.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 some _café à la glace_, however, which I
knew was to be obtained in 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'clock P.M., 105° Fahrenheit, was the hottest
I experienced in all my journey.