Moving in the official set, I was soon able to see for myself the social life in Belgrade, which I found very bright and very entertaining. In the mornings the streets are filled with well-dressed ladies and gallant officers, in perhaps the smartest uniforms in Europe. The hour of the siesta is from one till three, then at five the cafés overflow till seven. Someone is always giving a dinner or reception, and bridge is played everywhere; for in no other city in Europe has it “caught on” more than it has in Belgrade.
The British Legation is, of course, the smartest house among those of the diplomatists, and that of Madame Vesnitch among the Cabinet Ministers. French and Italian are the languages spoken in society.
Prime Minister of Servia.
The city of Belgrade is in a transition state. Already in many of the principal streets fine new buildings have been completed, and many are now in the course of construction. The roads, it must be said, are execrably paved, so uneven that driving is a torture. But the reason they have not been repaved during the present régime is because a new drainage system is about to be carried out, and when this is done they will be asphalted and converted into boulevards. The natural situation of “Beograd”—or the White Fortress—is magnificent, high up on a hill at the junction of the Save and the Danube. Behind rises the extinct volcano of Avala, where, according to one tradition, a great treasure is hidden, and to another that the mountain is rich in gold and silver deposits.
The centre of life in Belgrade is the gay café of the Grand Hotel. From five to seven in the afternoon everyone is there, card-playing, smoking, sipping slivovitza (plum gin) or drinking bock, and listening to the excellent band, while the inner hall is filled with smart ladies and their cavaliers. Save the peasantry one sees about the street, the oxen drawing primitive carts, and now and then a man wearing a fez, there is little that is Eastern in Belgrade, save the slightly dark complexion and cast of features of the Servians. For the most part the women are very handsome, but they seem, like most Eastern races, to lose their beauty at an early age.
Though I made it my duty to hear and study both sides of political questions in Belgrade, and though I spent many hours with those in fierce opposition to the present régime, I must say that I received on every hand the greatest kindness, while everybody seemed ever ready to render me a service.
The Servians are a highly intelligent and thoughtful race. The young officers in the streets are not of the ogling, giggling genus one knows so well in Germany, France, and Italy, but though smarter in appearance than either nation, they are serious, polite, and gentlemanly to a degree. The King, when speaking to me of military matters, pointed out a curious fact, namely, that so intelligent was the average Servian recruit that in six months he usually learnt what in France took him eighteen months.
In feminine circles it struck me that there was a great extravagance in dress. I saw the very latest Paris hats and smart, well-cut gowns, which bore evidence of the expensive couturière worn by the wives of struggling officials, and I learnt that about ten pounds was no uncommon price for a hat. All classes seem to vie with each other to dress well, and in the brilliant salons at night one sees some of the smartest gowns in Europe.
As regards cooking, I fear I cannot say very much that is favourable. That at the Grand is decidedly poor, save perhaps the dishes of delicious sterlet; and of the various restaurants I tried, the only one which reached excellence was that kept by an Italian, one Perolo, who was for many years chef to King Milan. There one can dine well—if one knows what to order. The younger diplomatists dine there in a room together, entrance to which is forbidden, save to a few chosen ones.