Ragusa lies at the foot of Monte Serjio, and is built on its steep slopes. Down to 1805 it was an independent republic, but was annexed by Napoleon, and later in 1814 by Austria. We enter the town from Gravosa by the Porta Pille, where in the niche over the gateway is the statue of St. Biagio, the patron saint of the town, which is entirely surrounded by enormously thick walls, on which it is permitted to walk by an order from the commandant’s office; but we found greater attractions. On passing through Porta Pille you enter the long wide street called the Corso, and here on Sundays they run races, one of which we saw, two men were running backwards and forwards for four miles. The Corso extends from one end of the town to the other, and is flanked by the principal shops and some of the Churches.
On the right, near the gate, is the large fountain called Onofrio, which was built in 1473, and here many picturesque figures come to draw water. To the left is the Franciscan Church, with its fine cloisters and its Gothic portal. Rather lower down the street on the opposite side is the Servian Church, at the east end of the Corso, in a square, is the Church of St. Biagio. On the left is the custom house, formerly the mint. This was built in the Venetian style, about 1520, and is adorned with a statue of St. Biagio, it has also a handsome courtyard. Near, is the clock tower and the guard house with an old fountain. Then comes the Palazzo Comunale and the Museum. The Rector’s Palace with its fine colonnade is most striking, and passing through the doorway is a beautiful courtyard surrounded by pillars, and a noble marble staircase possibly dating from the fifteenth century, but recently restored.
Walking further on you come to the Cathedral, built in the seventeenth century. From here we pass on to the market place, which has a beautiful old Venetian door; there one day I sketched under difficulties, with a curious crowd and a tearing wind, which whirled the dust round and round over me and my easel, in a very aggravating manner.
Returning whence we came, we walked along to the clock tower, which we passed under, and immediately to our left was the Dominican Monastery, up several flights of steps.
My first day was spent in shopping and sight-seeing, the former consisted of buying some of the beautiful gold embroideries. I found what I think will make a beautiful dinner gown, the coat is embroidered nearly all over with the most exquisite gold embroidery; this coat is sleeveless, but belonging to it are sleeves which are also a mass of embroidery, these are cut perfectly straight, so impossible to wear, but I think they can be adapted by wearing them outside others and allowed to fall loose. I also bought a gold embroidered man’s waistcoat which makes a very smart trimming for a coat, or could be used for a winter gown. I found some old silver pins for hats, and a quaint jug which has a secret how to drink out of it without spilling the wine. It is very old, the wine comes up the handle, round the top of the jug to the lip, in which is a hole to drink, all the top of the jug is perforated, so it is necessary to know the secret to avoid spilling the wine. I added many other things to my collection and sent them on to the yacht to be brought home. These shops are too fascinating for words, there are so many things you can’t get at Liberty’s, wonderful to relate. There are quantities of old firearms for sale, old guns with inlaid stocks, pistols of all sizes and shapes, &c., &c. The place was full of visitors speaking in German tongue, but we saw no English, or even the ever present American. There are many old buildings worth visiting, and the streets are very quaint and picturesque, also very narrow, stretching up the hillsides; one wide long street down the centre of the town, where the principal shops are to be found.
Friday and Saturday mornings I spent in painting the cloisters of the Dominican Monastery, and I persuaded one of the young monks to pose for me, sitting near the well. In the afternoon Miss B. and I walked about the quaint old streets and saw many attractive bits for the brush, and then had coffee at a café and sat on the terrace, but the wind was cold, as we were not in the sun which is hot. Certainly the weather as to the intense cold had somewhat improved, and we found it unnecessary to wear so many coats and woolly things as before, which was a blessing.
The peasants were very picturesque, and there is a great variety of costume both in men and women, some of course very shabby, and one wonders how their rags hold together. All these towns are wonderfully clean and about here all the people look clean, though they may be very ragged. The monks at the monastery were very interested in my work, and crowded on to the balcony above me, chattering like magpies. Sunday, I went to high Mass, and in the afternoon took a carriage to drive to San Giacomo, a disused monastery. Karabaich sat on the box with my sketching materials. Carriages are horribly expensive, at the rate of about two shillings a mile. Unfortunately we took it for granted that we could get on to the terrace, and allowed the carriage to go away with instructions to return in three hours. Alas! the doors were all locked, and though we found out where the custodian lived, he had gone to the town, so as it was not very far to walk to the Villa Adrian, Karabaich and I decided to look at it on our way back on foot, as we could not spend three hours doing nothing by the wayside. The Villa Adrian is a pension, a charming situation with several terraces down to the sea; all is quite new except some of the columns used in the pergolas. I made various enquiries about the pension, but was not pleased with the idea of always schinken (ham) for supper, and the rooms I saw did not impress me favourably either. In ten years’ time the garden will be lovely, no doubt, and in the summer when the leaves are out it must now be quite nice.
The next day we went to the much talked of Island of Lacroma, to which a small launch conveys you, and you pay the sum of two krones to go and return, and another krone to the solitary Dominican monk who inhabits the island. Lacroma used to belong to the Emperor Maximilian, and then to Prince Rudolf, but it was then considered so unlucky that the Emperor handed it over to the Dominicans. I asked the monk if he had seen any ghosts, at which he was much amused. Part of the Monastery can be wandered over, and the gardens would be charming if well planted with flowers. These gardens, of which there are several, are surrounded by high hedges, and box borders enough to delight any one. The rooms of the monastery are bare, but over each bedroom door is a rhyme in German, such as:—
“Freund in der Droth
Freund in der Todt