Rambles in Istria, Dalmatia and Montenegro

In Short

This travelogue serves as a firsthand account of a journey through Istria, Dalmatia, and Montenegro during the late nineteenth century. Originally intending to explore the Caucasus, the author finds his plans thwarted by a cholera outbreak in Hungary and instead navigates the Austrian-governed coast and the rugged, independent mountains of the Balkan interior. It remains a valuable historical record for its vivid descriptions of a region then emerging from isolation, capturing the intersection of imperial influence, ancient architecture, and the resilient character of the local mountain populations.

The Story

The narrative begins in London, where the author prepares for a grand excursion to the East. However, upon reaching Pesth, he is forced to abandon his route due to a local cholera epidemic. Faced with the unpleasant prospect of a lengthy quarantine, he pivots toward the Adriatic. He travels through Vienna, observing the city’s urban expansion and social life, before moving into the limestone-rich territories of Istria and Dalmatia. His prose is driven by a restless curiosity for the "unvisited," as he explores the intricate, cave-pocked geography of the region, including the fascinating subterranean river systems of San Canziano.

As he transitions from the coastal cities—like the ancient, palace-laden town of Spalato—into the interior, the tone of the book shifts from leisurely observation to respectful anthropological inquiry. He arrives in Montenegro, a place then surrounded by myths of barbarism and lawlessness. Far from the "savage" stereotype, the author describes a society defined by a deeply ingrained warrior culture and an arduous, communal struggle against a barren, rocky landscape. He gains an intimate audience with the Prince of Montenegro, engaging in spirited debates about the preservation of national identity versus the inevitable encroachment of modern European fashion and custom.

The journey continues through the dramatic landscapes of the Scala di Cattaro, where the traveler looks down upon the Adriatic as if viewing a map. Throughout these encounters, the author consistently bridges the gap between his own background and the local customs, whether by sharing a meal with a bridal party, discussing missionary tactics with a monk, or observing the Prince as he holds court under a "Tree of Justice." The book concludes as the author departs from the final Austrian outposts, leaving behind the rugged peaks of the Balkans to continue his voyage toward Corfu. The journey is one of gradual enlightenment, moving from a superficial interest in the "picturesque" to a profound appreciation for the tenacity of the Montenegrin people and the lingering ghosts of antiquity found in places like Perasto.

How It Unfolds

The aborted plan After a cholera epidemic halts his path down the Danube, the traveler chooses to bypass the quarantine and redirect his exploration toward the southern coast of the Adriatic.

Architectural encounters He finds himself wandering through the living ruins of Spalato, where modern dwellings are built into the ancient, massive stone walls of Diocletian’s Palace, creating a unique layers-of-time aesthetic.

The descent into darkness In the limestone regions of Istria, he explores terrifying, circular chasms and subterranean rivers, noting the way the earth collapses into hidden voids and forcing him to rely on local guides to navigate the treacherous, slippery terrain.

The Montenegrin contrast Crossing from Austrian territory into the mountains of Montenegro, the narrative captures the stark transition from imperial structure to a decentralized, armed society where even the simplest agricultural work is performed by men carrying weapons.

The Prince’s court He spends significant time observing the social and political life of the mountain capital, Cettigne, culminating in a dinner at the palace where he defends the value of traditional, national costumes against the Prince’s desire for modernization.

The final vantage Before departing, he stands at the precipice of the Scala di Cattaro, reflecting on the panoramic view of the Adriatic coastline and the missed economic potential of a region devoid of timber and proper forest management.

The People

The author acts as a detached yet sympathetic observer, seeking to understand a world that views his own presence with both hospitality and caution. In Montenegro, he encounters the Prince, a forward-thinking yet burdened leader who hopes to elevate his country through education and social reform, while simultaneously struggling with the economic costs of his people’s traditional, ornate attire. The Prince challenges the author’s tendency to treat his country as a "menagerie," forcing a more nuanced, egalitarian dialogue.

He also interacts with the Commandant Pero Pejovich, whose graphic, firsthand accounts of Montenegrin warfare mirror the author’s own observations of the population's martial spirit. In his lighter moments, the author meets Padre Anselmo, a thoughtful monk who offers a critical, philosophical perspective on the failures of foreign missionary work. These figures, along with the unnamed, spirited Montenegrin noblewoman he encounters on a steamer, complicate his understanding of the region. They are not merely exotic subjects, but individuals navigating the tension between their ancestral heritage and the pressures of a rapidly changing European political landscape.

In Its Own Voice

"I had intended visiting the Crimea, and then crossing over the Straits of Kertch, I meant to have rambled over the Caucasus, finishing my trip with a visit to the Monastery of Echmiadzin, at the foot of Mount Ararat."

The author describes his original, abandoned travel plans at the start of his journey.

"I saw clearings of so small a size as barely to admit of one potatoe plant or three of maize, and little fields not one yard in diameter!"

The author observes the intense, back-breaking labor required to farm the rocky, barren soil of Montenegro.

"Ah!" replied the Prince sharply, "you look upon us only from a picturesque point of view; in fact, you would like to keep us here like a sort of menagerie of wild beasts, to come and look at us occasionally for your amusement."

The Prince of Montenegro confronts the author regarding the patronizing way Western tourists often perceive his people.

What It's Really About

The book is a study in the conflict between the "picturesque" curiosity of the Victorian traveler and the harsh realities of the lives he observes. It grapples with the question of how a nation maintains its identity when faced with external pressure to modernize or conform to Western standards. The author moves beyond the superficial charm of the Adriatic coast to investigate the economic and social struggles of the Balkan interior, repeatedly questioning why certain regions fall into ruinous poverty—like the abandoned palazzos of Perasto—while others, like Montenegro, persist through an iron-willed, collective dedication to tradition and survival.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate a slow, deliberate pace and the observational depth of nineteenth-century travel writing will find much to admire here. The book is not a modern guide; it is a time capsule, capturing a Europe that was on the brink of profound transformation. You will enjoy the author’s keen eye for architectural detail and his genuine attempts to challenge the xenophobic stereotypes of his era. However, the reader should be prepared for the author’s period-specific perspectives; he is a man of his time, and his assessments of the "savagery" of local populations, while ultimately corrected by his own experiences, start from a place of significant cultural distance. The prose is precise and unadorned, devoid of the aggressive marketing tone found in contemporary travel blogs. What stays with the reader is the image of the "Tree of Justice" in Cettigne—a simple, powerful scene of a ruler dispensing law under an open sky—and the haunting, quiet beauty of the decaying coastal towns that once held the riches of the Adriatic. It is a thoughtful read for those who prefer their history served with a side of personal encounter rather than dry analysis.