Where East Meets West 



3>9 



tation was to be seen. We stopped to 

 water the horses at a wayside hut, wild 

 young girls shyly waited on us, then 

 passed a solitary dwelling and heard the 

 minor wail of the one-stringed gusle 

 (the national musical instrument) and a 

 strong bass voice singing one of the old 

 ballads, probably about the Tzar Lazar 

 and the field of Kosovo, or possibly of 

 the doings of the singer's own immediate 

 forefathers in a border fray against the 

 hated Albanians. 



the; capital of montenegro 



The Europe we know is left far behind. 

 We drop suddenly from the complexities 

 of modern life into the peace and sim- 

 plicity of the patriarchal system, still in 

 force in this strange little state where 

 east and west meet so subtly. Here a 

 man's life is of small account, but he will 

 hold his honor above all earthly price, 

 while the ambition of every boy is to be a 

 warrior and rival the deeds of the heroes 

 of old. 



Twenty years ago Cettinje was a col- 

 lection of hovels. Now it is a clean, neat 

 little town with wide streets and low 

 stone houses roofed with red tile. There 

 are no attempts at architectural decora- 

 tion — all is plain and bare and seems to 

 have sprung from the very soil of the 

 mountain-locked plain. It has been called 

 a kindergarten capital, and though but a 

 village in size, conducts itself with the 

 importance befitting the center of the 

 country. It boasts a theater and the 

 Prince's very modest palace, while the 

 large, pretentious embassies of Austria 

 and Russia guard opposite ends of the 

 town like two great bloodhounds waiting 

 to pounce on their prey. 



Sights, in the strict sense of the word, 

 there are none, but one may entertain 

 oneself by bargaining in the market with 

 the handsome girls for colored strips of 

 embroidery with which they trim their 

 blouses, chatting with some one who has 

 a word or two of German or Italian, 

 admiring the medals of the older men 

 gained in the last war with the Turks 

 (proudly shown off by the younger men, 



the wearers modestly deprecating their 

 own glory), taking a friendly cup of cof- 

 fee with the tailor who is making one 

 a national costume, or waiting for a 

 glimpse of some member of the royal 

 family to pass by, possibly the Prince 

 himself. 



But the amusement of all others that 

 never palled on us was watching this 

 handsome race airing their finery in the 

 open streets of Cettinje. The national 

 costume seems designed to show off the 

 grace and dignity inherent in even the 

 humblest Montenegrin — crimson and 

 gold sparkle in the sunshine, in dazzling 

 contrast to the somber tints of the en- 

 circling mountains, real gold, too, which 

 is elaborately worked in the garment by 

 hand. - From the royal family down, the 

 men wear a long, wide-skirted coat of 

 light grey, white, robin's egg blue, or 

 dark green cloth, embroidered in gold, or 

 dark red, open wide in front over a crim- 

 son waistcoat heavily decorated in gold, 

 and confined about the waist by a broad 

 sash of plaid silk. The belt is stuck full 

 of weapons, knives, pistols, etc., for our 

 friend considers his toilette incomplete 

 without such accessories, and indeed one's 

 eyes become so accustomed to seeing 

 every man a walking arsenal that on re- 

 turning to work-a-day Europe people 

 look strangely undressed ! Dark blue 

 breeches, baggy to the knee, with the 

 leg either incased in white homespun and 

 low string shoes on the feet, this is thor- 

 oughly characteristic, or if the wearer be 

 a bit of a dandy a pair of high black 

 riding boots will be worn instead ; a cane 

 for dress occasions and the cocky stiff- 

 brimmed cap complete the costume. 



A tale hangs by the cap. The Montene- 

 grins are a conservative people and, like 

 all the Serbs of the Balkans, look back 

 to the days of the great Servian Empire 

 when the Slavs held most of the Penin- 

 sula. The highest point of glory was 

 reached under Stephen Dushan, 1337- 

 1356, who planned to keep the Turk out 

 of Europe, but who unfortunately died 

 ?t the height of his career. In 1389 the 

 different Slav peoples made their last 



