We indulged in a feast of grapes at M. Vigneau's, and then adjourned to his spacious cellars to try his various wines. The huge casks, which contain enough of the rich fluid to drown the largest elephant, had been brought in sections from Bordeaux—the natives being incapable of constructing them. The wines we tasted were exceedingly good, and the different varieties might pass for the best burgundies, sherries, and ports; there is also an excellent light wine. These wines are improved by a sea voyage. They are cheap, and need only to be introduced into England to be appreciated and widely consumed. Indeed I am sure many of us have unknowingly drunk and enjoyed them, for M. Vigneau told me that not only were large quantities exported to Italy, but—especially since the Phylloxera plague had broken out—also to France, to the Bordeaux district itself, where doubtlessly they are blended with the native product and sent to us under many fair-sounding Châteaux brands.
The Sclav names which the Spalato wines bear are not musical. M. Vigneau gave me all the details and prices. These wines could be sold in England, after paying all transport and custom expenses, at a very low rate indeed. The company is sufficiently old for us to have tasted and approved some choice vintages that had been twelve years or so in bottle, and very excellent they proved.
M. Vigneau had spent a few years in England, and speaks English very well. So between him and the kindly old sea-captain, we did not feel ourselves at all abroad in Spalato. Without them we should not have got on, for our knowledge of Italian was limited, and of Sclav we knew but the names for bare necessaries. At Spalato we had many opportunities of observing the manners and customs of the mixed population of the Dalmatian coasts.
The native Italians and Sclavs keep very much to themselves. There is no society of any kind, and I cannot say I was in any way favourably impressed with them. The Austrian garrison, officers and men, on the other hand, created a very favourable impression. There is none of that swagger and bounce which is too often displayed by the troops of some nations we know of when in the midst of a subject alien and hostile race. The officers are very gentlemanly-looking men, and the Hungarians who were quartered here struck one by their jovial and kindly manners.
The Austrian officers much dislike service in this province; it is the Siberia of Austria. The people do not speak their tongue, and will not mix with them; and the upper classes studiously insult them, as far as they dare. The Morlaks or Sclav peasantry are an interesting race, but not much to be admired.
They are from all accounts great thieves and liars, and more backward, I should say, than any people in Europe. They have no desire for improvement. Any one who endeavours to introduce some new manufacture or industry among them is treated with suspicion; every obstacle is studiously thrown in his way.
The costumes of the male Morlaks are very picturesque, varying in different districts. They wear the baggy trousers coming to the knee; the embroidered vest and red sash of the East. In most parts the head-dress is a skull-cap, flat at the top, sometimes red; generally the colour is indistinguishable for the accumulated grease of years. They wear opunkas on their feet. These are sandals or slippers, with turned-up toe; made of rough thongs of oxhide; they are tied to the foot with straps of the same material. The Morlak is always accompanied by his long pipe with its red clay bowl. He is also addicted to smoking cigarettes through brightly painted wooden tubes fully three feet in length. The dress of the women differs so much in districts that it is impossible to give anything like a general description of it; it is not unlike that of the Southern Italians. They, too, wear the opunka.
The Morlaks have many strange superstitions and customs. To any one who wishes to see in the life the barbarous manners of the Middle Ages in all their picturesqueness, a voyage in these countries can be recommended. However, the Austrians have eliminated one of the most picturesque, if rather objectionable, features of the good old times. Hordes of brigands no longer overrun Dalmatia; the vendetta is now unknown; and travelling, if rough, is unattended with danger; and I may add that Morlaks, despite their other faults, are exceedingly hospitable, and will give up their one bed to the travelling stranger.
The women of this race are treated in true Eastern fashion; that is, not much better than the beasts of burden.
As in the East, those of the higher class rarely leave their houses, but sit lazily in their chamber acquiring a becoming pallor of countenance and fatness of limb. A Sclav will not allude to his wife in conversation without an apology for mentioning so low a thing. "My wife, excuse me, sir," is the common way of bringing her into a sentence. As in the East, too, the unchaste woman is regarded with great abhorrence. What vice there may be has to conceal itself in dark places, for the old punishment of the stoning is by no means unknown here. In the towns of Albania, this outward show of morality—for that is all it really is, just as in the old days, when the virtuous man to throw the first stone was not to be found—is still more ferociously demonstrative, cases of guilty parties of both sexes having been torn to pieces by the mob being of not unfrequent occurrence there.