Through Bosnia and Herzegovina with a Paint Brush

In Short

This travelogue captures a spring excursion through Dalmatia, Bosnia, and Herzegovina at the turn of the twentieth century. Driven by a desire to paint landscapes and architecture beyond the typical tourist path, the author balances artistic ambition with the practical frustrations of travel—inclement weather, transit delays, and language barriers. By documenting the intersection of Venetian history, Islamic influence, and burgeoning Austrian administration, the book serves as both a personal memoir and a keen observer’s look at a region on the brink of significant geopolitical change.

The Story

The journey begins at sea, as a traveling party arrives on a yacht to explore the Adriatic coast. The author is immediately struck by the stark, rocky beauty of Dalmatia, where ancient Roman ruins and Venetian architecture stand in defiance of the barren, wind-swept hills. From the naval base at Pola to the narrow, labyrinthine streets of Sebenico, the narrative follows the author’s persistent, if often interrupted, attempts to capture these scenes with her brush. She encounters a world where life moves to the rhythm of local markets, religious processions, and a complex tapestry of cultures.

Moving inland, the expedition transitions into the mountainous heart of Bosnia and Herzegovina. The atmosphere shifts from the Mediterranean brightness of the coast to the damp, cold, and often muddy reality of a landscape dominated by minarets, graveyards, and traditional wooden structures. The author journeys to cities like Mostar and Saràjevo, navigating the complexities of post-occupation life. Here, the narrative becomes an intimate exploration of local customs, from the curious, protective nature of the mountain inhabitants to the private, sequestered lives of Turkish families.

The final leg of the trip involves a detour into the wild, majestic heights of Montenegro. The author is particularly captivated by the hospitality of the Montenegrin people, who maintain a proud, independent spirit despite the harshness of their environment. Throughout the trek, the author’s resolve is tested by the relentless spring rains, which frequently force her to abandon her easel for the shelter of a cafe or the comfort of a train compartment. The narrative concludes as the party reaches the desolate outposts near the border of the Austrian dominions. Faced with deteriorating infrastructure and the exhaustion of her guide, the author chooses to abandon her final destination of Plitvice in favor of a return to Vienna, concluding her tour with a reflective note on the surprising honesty of the people she encountered amidst the region's rugged isolation.

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins The author boards a yacht in Venice, sailing into the Adriatic with a sense of adventure and a set of paints. She documents early encounters with naval officials and the striking, colorful costumes of the local villagers.

Artistic pursuits in Sebenico The author attempts to paint amidst narrow streets and persistent crowds. Her work is frequently stalled by funeral processions and high winds that send her gear flying.

The shift toward the interior The journey moves from the coast into the heart of Bosnia and Herzegovina. The author observes the architectural contrast between the Ottoman-influenced bazaars and the remnants of Roman and Venetian rule.

A glimpse of private life In Jajce, the author secures an invitation into a traditional Turkish home. She provides a rare, firsthand account of the domestic lives of women and children, highlighting the cultural barriers and the necessity of local interpreters.

The final mountain climb The trip concludes in the high, cold reaches of the mountains where the weather proves to be the greatest adversary. After an arduous trek through the landscape of Montenegro, the author decides to cut her journey short to avoid further hardship.

The People

The author, Mrs. E. R. Whitwell, serves as the keen, determined narrator whose primary goal is to document the "unfrequented" beauty of the Balkans. She is an observer who values aesthetic beauty, often finding herself at odds with the practicalities of travel, yet she remains remarkably resilient and open-minded.

Her guide, Karabaich, is a steady, pragmatic presence who protects her from the curiosity of local crowds and manages the logistical burdens of her sketching equipment. He serves as a bridge between the author and the unfamiliar cultures she visits, ensuring her safety in places where she might otherwise struggle.

Finally, the inhabitants of the region—from the "picturesque" villagers in Dalmatia to the reserved Turkish families in Jajce—act as the soul of the book. The author encounters a variety of figures, including the hospitable Montenegrins and the stoic, independent mountain folk. Their lives are defined by their history and their environment, and they leave the author with a lasting impression of honesty and dignity, challenging her own perceptions of the world outside her "native land."

In Its Own Voice

"After gazing at many fascinating bits, I decided to attempt an old carved door in a narrow street, and forthwith began, to be distracted very shortly by two funerals passing and re-passing, the mourners carrying each a guttering candle held at any angle and walking three abreast in the street five feet wide."

The author describes the chaotic reality of trying to paint in the cramped, active streets of Sebenico.

"The Mahomedan population are those that strike the eye most, probably because of the men’s picturesque dress, and the bazaars which one makes a point of visiting."

The author reflects on the visual impact of the diverse ethnic and religious groups she encounters while traveling through Herzegovina.

What It's Really About

The book explores the tension between romantic idealism and the gritty reality of travel. The author seeks a picturesque, "unfrequented" world, yet she is constantly confronted by the harshness of the climate, the poverty of the terrain, and the political volatility of the era. Beneath the descriptions of landscapes and costumes lies a profound question about how we interpret foreign cultures—whether we view them as static, aesthetic subjects or as dynamic, living communities. The author’s argument for the region’s character is rooted in the belief that true understanding comes from direct, personal observation rather than the distorted lenses of international political anxiety.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in early twentieth-century travel writing will find this book particularly rewarding. Its value lies in its unvarnished, observational style; the author does not attempt to romanticize the discomforts of her trip, making her accounts of flooded streets, freezing temperatures, and rancid food feel remarkably authentic. It is a slow, meditative read that forces the reader to slow down alongside the author, taking in the details of a world that was soon to be irrevocably changed by the onset of global conflict.

One must be prepared for the author’s period-typical attitudes, which occasionally manifest in her descriptions of the "ugly" or "hideous" appearance of local costumes or the "dilapidated" nature of the villages. However, these biases are balanced by her genuine curiosity and her sincere appreciation for the honesty and integrity of the people she meets. For those who enjoy immersive, character-driven travelogues, this volume offers a unique window into a pre-war Balkan landscape that feels both vibrant and hauntingly fragile. It remains a testament to the idea that despite the political "stirring times" of any era, there is beauty to be found in the quiet, everyday lives of those who inhabit the world's hidden corners.