Through Bosnia and Herzegovina with a Paint Brush

by Mrs. Edward Robson Whitwell

At Sebenico, they talk Italian and Slav; Italian made me quite happy as it enabled me to converse with the natives. The national costumes here are most fascinating, lovely brilliant colouring mixed in the women’s head-gear and shawls, and some of the contadine that come in, with dark blue dresses striped with red, green and orange, and embroideries of every hue, are most striking. The men, too, dress very smartly, and finish off their costumes with very large silver buttons.

I took a room at the Hotel Krka; the rooms are quite nice, but the Restaurant rather dirty. The landlady wanted to ask me fourteen krones as pension—rather a lot for this out of the way place, but as I came off a yacht, I am, no doubt, expected to pay accordingly; however, I decided to take my room, and then have my meals à la carte, and by this means I exactly halved the pension terms. My first meal was composed of soup, veal, salad and cheese. I had not intended to have soup, as I ordered spagetti, which I naturally thought would be macaroni and tomato sauce, and was disgusted to find it the name of a soup. Wine was given free, and all the other customers seemed to drink it, but I found it horribly bitter, and to take off the taste I allowed myself a mareschino—the only part of my lunch I enjoyed! At night I had macaroni in pieces three-quarters of a yard long, these I found most difficult to negotiate, as when I twirled it round my fork, and was about to put it in my mouth, the whole thing flew off like a spring. I think it took me twenty minutes to tackle this dish.

The Porta Marina, Sebenico.

The streets here are very quaint, as the town is built on the hill side, there are a great many steps. At the entrance to the town, near the Quay, is a beautiful gateway which I tried to draw, but the intense cold and wind soon sent me away. The Cathedral has fine doors east and north. My guide and I wandered about the town looking for paintable spots of which there are many, we went into the gardens where is a statue to Tommaseo (the author), and in a fountain I saw a fat goldfish who seemed to look at me out of the corner of his eye, in surprise at a stranger. There are many remains of old Venetian days, in old doorways and on beautiful carvings, and I came across a fine lion of St. Mark let into the wall of a building: very old columns, Roman, are used as corner stones to many of the houses. The streets are very narrow and the houses high. May here would be a charming month, but the end of March is far too early. My guide and I sat in the gardens for awhile in the sun, but the wind sent us indoors, it rose so high and the dust blew in clouds.

I told my guide to come early next morning if it was fine and warmer, but the piercing wind still prevailed, so we waited till nine, and I drew the pretty view from my window. I was longing to draw the gate which I had kept in view from my earlier trip down this coast and for which particular reason I came to Sebenico, however we had no luck, and again I could do nothing but wander in the streets. I saw some wonderful Easter offerings, chickens made of a sort of yellow bread, with two red paste eggs reposing in their breasts, one cock’s feather in the tail and another in the head.

I took a few photographs of the fruit market, but the non-picturesque people were very tiresome, coming immediately in front of my camera at the most critical moment. One man’s waistcoat was covered with embroidery and masses of silver buttons in clusters down the front and others at the sides; they were very handsome buttons, large, round, and filagreed, and others were flat. Those I have on my coat were a source of great interest, and as the natives talk Italian, they were a subject of much conversation between them and myself.

The bread market is very quaint, rows and rows of long loaves of bread, which my guide says is sold very cheap to the poor people. The vegetable market is close to the bread market, but vegetables are few just now; where anything green came from I was at a loss to know, as a fresh blade of grass even was nowhere to be seen, all is bare rock and thoroughly winterly in appearance.

On the second day I sallied forth to paint my gate at 12-30, so as to sit in the sun and avoid the crowd of natives who had gone to their mid-day meal, and luckily did not seem in any hurry to come out after it. On account of the cold I left early next day, instead of by the evening train. There are only two trains, so I decided to leave by the 7-20 a.m. I had hoped to be able to go to Knin, but we found it took too long for me to reach the yacht in time. Of course, as usual, we arrived ages too soon at the station. A small boy carried most of my luggage and my guide the rest. The station was about a mile from the hotel, there are no carriages in the town, so walking is compulsory. The train was already in the station, and I naturally wanted to get into it, but I was waved back by an official, and was told I must wait till the appointed time. At Petrovic we changed trains, and I had time to sketch one or two natives, the woman wore very thick dark blue cloth with stripes of red applique, and green and orange pipings and strappings, with patches of wool embroidery at intervals, and an apron of many colours, edged with a hair fringe; her head was covered by a white embroidered cotton kerchief. Also a fine old man made an imposing figure with his long brown coat, blue trousers hooked tightly at the ankle, his many coloured embroidered waistcoat and his silver buttons, and wide leather belt, in which were tucked weapons and pipes. He was smoking a long wooden pipe, holding the bowl in his hand, chatting to me while I was sketching him.