AT about one o'clock p.m. we steamed away from Zara while we were at dinner, and at five p.m. reached Sebenico. Should I ever travel again in that part of the world, I think I should try to go from Zara to Sebenico by land in order to see the ruins of Asseria, which I learnt afterwards were well worth a visit; but the journey should in that case be undertaken earlier in the year, to avoid the oppressive heats.
The afternoon between leaving Zara and arriving at Sebenico passed quickly away, for I had the advantage of two most agreeable companions; one the capuchin monk, the other a charming young fellow, an officer in an Austrian Jäger regiment, Baron Heyd von Heydeg.
The Capuchin was a most interesting man, and we chatted many an hour together by moonlight on the deck, when every one else had gone to sleep, when I used to chaff him about the rules of his order, which forbid the smoking of tobacco, while they permit the use of snuff without any restriction. He used to take it most good-humouredly, and laughed as if his sides would split when I would refuse to take a pinch of his snuff unless he smoked one of my cigarettes. I verily think I should have brought him round at last, had he not been constantly under the surveillance, and in mortal "soggezione" of his lay brother.
Heyd was a different fellow altogether, but most agreeable. He was going to join his regiment, then quartered at Budua. We travelled together as far as Cattaro, and I met him subsequently both at Cettigne and Budua, where I went expressly to pay him a visit.
The time sped swiftly and most agreeably in spite of the heat, and at five o'clock p.m. we steamed through the narrow tortuous opening, bordered by steep rocky sides, which leads into the bay, at the further end of which stands Sebenico. It is a noble harbour, and so deep that a frigate can lie alongside the quay. At the narrowest part of its entrance, the approach is defended by what a few years ago would have been considered a masterpiece of fortification, but which at present would offer too fair a target to our projectiles to afford any great protection against an enemy. It is still worth a visit, as its casemates are perhaps among the finest in the world. It was engineered and built in 1546, by the celebrated architect San Micheli. The entrance to the fortress is surmounted by the usual Venetian Lion with the following inscription:—
"Pax tibi Marce Evangelista meus."[4]
Having landed with Baron Heyd, who had been quartered there some time before, for cicerone, I proceeded to inspect the Duomo, or cathedral, the principal object of interest there. Some people are lost in admiration of this cathedral, I really could not see much about it to admire, and the two statues on its façade representing Adam and Eve (they might as well be Gog and Magog) are simply detestable. But the roof of the cathedral is a curiosity in itself, and worth the journey. It is of its kind unique, and though it is said to be perfectly safe, and I suppose must be so, having continued so for so many years, still I could not help feeling a sense of insecurity as long as I was in the church, and enjoyed great relief when I finally came out of it.
This roof is simply a semi-cylinder made of enormous slabs of stone joined edge to edge, but so beautifully adapted and fitted one into the other that, without any other support save what they afford each other, they form the vault of this cathedral. I trust they may never crack; but I, for one, could never say my prayers with comfort under such a roof.
Having taken a ramble through the streets, which were clean and contained many fine mansions, we went up to the fort on the hill behind the town, and which commands the whole place, where we passed a pleasant hour with the officers of the garrison.