DURING my stay in Montenegro, I had the honour of several private conversations with the Prince of that interesting country, and I was astonished at the amount of practical knowledge he possessed, and the advanced views he entertained, with regard to commerce, administration, and political economy. But he is cramped up in every way, Montenegro has no outlet, and though his native mountains come so near to the Adriatic that a man could almost spring from them into the sea, still there is everywhere a narrow strip of land between them and that sea, which effectually excludes him from direct commercial or other intercourse with the rest of the world.

This strip of land, in some places only a few yards wide, belongs to Austria and forms part of the Province of Dalmatia. During the reign of Napoleon I. the Principality of Montenegro extended for a short period to the sea shore, and Cattaro was occupied by the Montenegrins till the 14th June, 1814, when it was most unjustly taken away from them again and incorporated with the Austrian Empire by the Congress of Vienna. An act of injustice all the more flagrant, that the Turkish territory was allowed to come down to the sea at the opening of the Gulf of Cattaro, dividing the territory of Ragusa from that of Cattaro, and thus affording the Mahommedan rulers of a Christian land advantages which are denied to the neighbouring Christian Principality.

But whilst I am admiring the scene before me and pondering over the wrongs and the resources of these interesting countries, I must not forget that the sun is every moment getting higher in the heavens, and that it is important to get on with our journey, in order to avoid being out on those arid rocks during the heat of the day.

Our caravan was now in motion again, but the road having almost ceased to exist, we had to proceed more cautiously, picking our way among loose stones and boulders, sometimes following a sort of path, and sometimes climbing up the dried up water-courses of Winter torrents. After another short interval of clambering, we reached a fountain where everyone considered it his duty to dismount and drink, as did also our cattle. When we had refreshed ourselves with copious draughts from that cool spring we again faced up the mountain, but this time on foot, as owing to the steepness and ruggedness of the rocks, it was not deemed advisable to attempt it on horseback.

Except climbing up the cone of Vesuvius, where one generally makes two steps in advance and three steps backwards, I never met anything more trying than some parts of this ascent into Tchernagora or the "Black Mountains," as the natives called this region, and which was rendered by the Venetians into "Montenegro," the name it retains to this day.

The sun was becoming extremely hot, and I should have found it considerably difficult to keep my place, but for the occasional assistance afforded me by the powerful hand and arm of my Prince of Mountaineers, Pero Pejovich, who whenever I came to some rugged impediment which seemed to tax my energies more than usual, would quickly, with one hand passed under my arms close below my shoulder, lift me bodily over it, with his broad good-humoured face beaming with smiles; and when I tell you, gentle reader, that I sometimes weigh more but never less than fourteen stone, I leave you to calculate the strength of my amiable giant.

We had now topped the worst of our ascent, and remounting our horses commenced a short descent to a little plain surrounded by steep, rugged, barren rocks seemingly the bed of some ancient dried up lake. At the further extremity of this little plain could be seen half-a-dozen scattered houses forming the village of Niegosch, the birth-place of the Prince of Montenegro, as well as the cradle of his race, from which they take their patronimic of Petrovich Niegosch.

We rode up straight to the principal house where we were expected and received by a young Petrovich, a cousin of the Prince, a very handsome young fellow, with whom unfortunately I could only have conversation by the help of Pero Pejovich, who speaking Italian as well as Montenegrin, always proved himself a most valuable interpreter.

We made a very short stay here, as we wanted to reach Cettigne before the middle of the day; so having partaken of some excellent coffee, served up with toast and such clotted cream as I never before tasted out of Devonshire, and having admired the gorgeous arms which hung round young Petrovich's room, each of which had some story attached to it, all being trophies taken in battle from the Turks, we mounted our horses, and again plunging into a ravine recommenced the difficult ascent.

After a short but arduous climb, we at length reached the top of the pass and the highest point between Cattaro and Cettigne. Here a wonderful panorama spread itself out before us—not beautiful, perhaps, but grand in its way. Right, left, and front, nothing could be seen but barren, grey mountain tops—except right in front of us, where at a short distance lay the valley of Cettigne, also apparently the bed of an ancient Alpine lake. Beyond that plain the bleak and rocky mountains closed in again; and beyond them, far in the hazy distance, shining in the noon-day sun, could be seen the glittering lake of Scutari, or more properly of Skodra, in Northern Albania.

A scene like this could scarcely be conceived, such a wilderness of rocks, such a picture of sterility, had never met my eyes. Peak after peak, desolate and barren, rose in every direction, as far as the sight could reach; and as the point on which we stood must have been more than four thousand feet above the sea, the distance we could see in that bright clear atmosphere may be imagined.

The rocks of which those mountains are formed looked ashy grey in the bright sunlight, except here and there in some of the ravines where a scanty, scrubby vegetation, struggling for existence, offered a precarious subsistence to considerable flocks of small wild goats, herded by still wilder-looking children. These grey rocky masses, when it rains, become of a dark slate colour, nearly black, and hence arose the name of the country, Tchernagora.

To account for the presence of such immense quantities of stones in their country, the Montenegrins have a legend which says that after the Creator had made this earth, the Devil was permitted to go and scatter stones all over it. He carried the stones in a bag over his shoulder, but as he passed in his flight over their country, the bag suddenly burst, and thus a greater share of stones fell to their lot than they were fairly entitled to.

I don't know which was the most fatiguing, the climb up to the top of the pass, or the scramble down; I think the latter, and if I did reach the bottom without a fall or a sprained ankle, I owe it all to my excellent fellow-traveller, Pero Pejovich, who kept a sturdy hold of me all through, and saved me, I am sure, from many an ugly tumble.

At last we found ourselves in the little plain of Cettigne, and putting spurs to our small horses cantered over the turf till we reached the first houses of the straggling street which constitutes the capital of one of the most interesting countries in Europe.

The next travellers who visit Cettigne will find there good accommodation in a spacious hotel, which was all but completed before I left; but when I was there, nothing existed in the shape of an inn except a couple of very wretched khans, where it would have been difficult to get rest, owing to the activity of the insect population and the total absence of every accommodation. Thanks to the liberal hospitality of His Highness, I was provided, by his orders, with apartments in the ancient fortified palace of the Vladikas, or Prince-Bishops of Montenegro, to which I was conducted by one of His Highness's aide-de-camps, who had come to meet me. This gentleman had been educated in France, at the Military School of St. Cyr, spoke French like a Parisian, and was most kind in never allowing me to want for anything. Guessing that I did not know a word of Slave, he had most thoughtfully appointed a man in the town, who could speak a few words of Italian, to attend me during my stay, and to provide me daily with food from a sort of very primitive restaurant in the place.

Having rested a couple of hours after eating an early dinner, according to the fashion of southern countries, I received a visit from Mr. Nico Matanovich, the gentleman alluded to above, and to whom I was indebted for the comfort with which I was installed, who in company with the Russian Consul (who was residing at the new Palace with the Prince), came to propose a walk about the place as soon as the sun should be somewhat nearer to the horizon. Having ordered up coffee, as is always expected in these countries, Mr. Nico Matanovich conveyed to me the agreeable information that His Highness would receive me the following day at eleven o'clock in the morning. In reply, I begged he would present my humble respects to His Highness, and my unbounded thanks for the handsome manner in which I was treated.

The sun being now sufficiently low, we sallied forth to take a turn round the place, and see what was to be seen. But before I leave my quarters, let me try to give some idea of the Vladika's Palace, where I was lodged. This quaint old building consists of a quadrangle of about a hundred and fifty paces[7] either way, surrounded by a very massive and high wall, pierced by two large roofed-in gateways, one in front and one at the side, and having at each corner a round squat tower with a conical roof, reminding one somewhat of those that surround, at intervals, the Kremlin at Moscow. Running midway from side to side, and dividing this enclosure into about two equal parts is the palace itself, which consists of two stories, the second of which is divided into a series of chambers, each about sixteen feet square and ten feet high, all opening into each other, and communicating also at the back with a wide corridor which goes the whole length of the building. The windows, of which there are two to each room, look into the front compartment of the quadrangle, while the windows of the corridor look on the back.

The entrance is by a hall door from which one ascends at once to the upper story, by means of a massive wooden staircase formed of solid beams of timber roughly hewn. The lower story has been turned partly into an arsenal, principally filled with ancient weapons taken from the Turks, and partly into a Government school; the upper rooms are occupied at one end by the Archimandrite and some other officials—the rest are untenanted. In the centre of the front court-yard is a deep well of the most delicious water, and so cold that I used it to cool my wine and beer with nearly as much success as if I had been using snow. The back compartment was a kitchen-garden and orchard.

Leaving the old Palace by the side gate which opens upon one of the two streets that constitute the town of Cettigne, we found ourselves opposite to the new Palace lately built by the Prince—the style of which I in no wise admire, though I do not doubt it is comfortable enough inside; but it has no character whatever, and looks insignificant when compared with the old Palace. If the money spent on building the new had been judiciously laid out in adding to the old, a truly fine Palace could have been erected, with all the old characteristics preserved, which the eyes of the people, as well as of travellers, would have had an historical stamp as the abode of all the old Vladikas, those ancient Prince-Bishops—Bishops of the Church Militant—who for many years had valiantly defended their country, their liberty, and their faith against the unceasing attacks of the Infidels.

Opposite this gate, and just midway in the very broad street between the old and the new Palace, stands a large carob tree, with a stone bench of roughly hewn blocks round its trunk, and here in Summer from about nine o'clock every morning the Prince sits for some hours administering justice. I often watched him with the greatest interest from a window in the old Palace. It was like acting a chapter in the Old Testament—Deborah judging Israel under a palm tree, "between Ramah and Beth-el in Mount Ephraim!" Beyond the "Tree of Justice" one came to the new Palace, a homely structure, as I said before, and of no pretence. At the gate two sentries of the Prince's bodyguard, in full Montenegrin costume, mount guard, and are constantly relieved every hour, their barracks being exactly opposite. The process of relieving guard is very simple—two privates walk out of the barracks with their long breechloaders over their shoulders "À volontÉ," and take their station on each side of the gateway of the Palace, while the other two walk back into barracks, and that is all.

We now turned our backs on the "Tree of Justice," and walked up the street, which is but short, until we came to the main street which crosses it at right angles. This main street is not paved, but is wide, and the houses on each side, though seemingly poor and wretched in the extreme in our eyes, are, most probably, comfortable enough in theirs; and as they do not even possess a word in their language to denote "comfort," what we would consider such, would, perhaps, be only considered by them an uneasy restraint.

Turning now to the right we walked to the end of the street, where is the new hotel with the post and telegraph office. The hotel, as I previously said, was not yet opened, though the building was completed, and when supplied with beds, tables, and chairs will be a very creditable affair, incomparably better than any hotel in Dalmatia. Near the hotel, a little to the left, is another modern institution, evincing in no small degree the enlightened anxiety of the Prince for the advancement of his country. It is a Pensionnat de demoiselles for the education of the daughters of the better classes, both of Montenegro and the surrounding countries; it can accommodate forty pupils, and is superintended by a charming and highly accomplished Russian lady, assisted by efficient governesses. The charge being very small, only £20 per annum, it must be largely subsidized by His Highness.

Being vacation time, I had not the satisfaction of seeing any of the boarders, much to the regret of Mademoiselle Pakievitch, who kindly showed me all over the institution, which was admirably neat and clean. She was anxious that I should have heard some of the pupils speak English and French. "I think you would have been both pleased and surprised," said she. The majority spoke Illyrian, Russian and German, while several were proficient in addition with both English and French, and one with Albanian also. The institution is under the special patronage of the Empress of Russia, who takes the greatest interest in it, and constantly sends presents to it.

Keeping now a little to the right, and following the path which leads to the town of Rieka, we soon came to the foot of the crags which on that side close in with an impassable barrier the little plain of Cettigne. We now turned sharp round and set our faces towards the town, as the lengthening shadows warned us that the sun was already setting behind the mountains which we had traversed in the morning. The smooth plain covered with short grass was delightful to walk over, though one had to be careful of one's steps owing to the many wells with which it is dotted for the purpose of getting water for the cattle, and which, quite level with the ground and without the semblance of a parapet, might have swallowed one up before one would have had time to see them.

Right before us, standing a little to the left and just beyond the old palace, could be seen in the distance the ancient monastery which in old times used to be occupied by the Archimandrite, in the days when the Vladika used to inhabit the palace; but now that Church and State are separated, it is occupied by Monsignor Roganovitch, the Metropolitan of Montenegro.

Just above it, perched upon a rock and standing out in bold relief against the glowing sky, could be seen the old tower of Cettigne, an ancient piece of masonry which until three or four years ago used to be constantly decorated with the heads of Turks killed and decapitated in their several skirmishes and forays. This barbarous custom has now been abandoned, never to be resumed again it is to be hoped, and the present Prince, further to turn away the thoughts of the natives from the barbarous habit of their forefathers, has caused a belfry to be erected on the top of the tower wherein is placed a large bell, which is only rung in cases of great alarm to gather the tribes. The bell is very heavy, and much ingenuity and labour were required to transport it on men's backs from Cattaro to Cettigne.

By the time we got back to the Palace it was dark, so wishing good night to my kind friends I made a frugal supper and went to bed.