It would be difficult to imagine a greater contrast to the Croatian costume than was presented here. The dress of the Croats is light and airy, as if they had strayed from a land of perpetual sunshine. The Bulgars are armoured against the elements—you would fancy they were fresh from some hyperborean land of frost and storms—not yet acclimatised to the sunny South. The flowing tunics of the Croats invite the slightest breeze; the brilliant red and white hues seem to tell of a land where the roses bloom all the year round. But the heavy mantles of the Bulgars, the woollen coats, the close sleeves and leggings, are made as if to exclude the wind and frost; the cold dark colours shadow forth a sky to match. Yet the climate of the modern Bulgaria, in its widest sense, does not differ in any considerable degree from that of the Croats, except that parts of the Bulgarian area are hotter. Both are lands of vines and fig trees. Yet the language is almost the same. The modern Bulgar can talk with the Croat without an interpreter. Whence, then, this startling divergence of attire? The reason is to be sought far away in the dim twilight of history. Originally the Bulgars were not a Sclavonic people. Their kinship lies with mysterious Huns and Tartars. The fatherland whence they wandered forth lies on the shores of the Caspian and the mounts of Turkestan or more northern Altai. Since their arrival in Europe they have been lost, as it were, in a great Sclavonic sea. They have been Sclavonized by the multitude of their subjects, just as the Mantchu Tartars have within the last two centuries been Celestialized by the Chinese they subdued. But it is the northern nomads who have formed the backbone to this large unwieldy body. It was the Ugrian dynasty that erected in the tenth century the Bulgarian Czardom, as civilized as any state in contemporary Europe; that humbled Byzantine Cæsars in the dust with their own weapons, and planted the standard of the crowned lion at the gates of Constantinople. It was the Ugrian dynasty that took the lead in the first great Rouman-Sclavonic revolt against Byzantium, that ruled for awhile from the Ægean to the Danube, and from the shores of the Black Sea to the Adriatic. But much as the Mantchus, though lost among their subjects, have given the Chinese their bows and pigtails, so the Bulgars have given their tails and dress, at least in part, to their Sclavonic subjects; and these shaggy sheepskin mantles, and close-fitting woollens, still remain to tell of the chill Central-Asian plateau whence their forefathers migrated.

But the Bulgars before me had other proofs of their origin even more unmistakeable than their attire. Their pedigree is written on their faces. These are not Sclavonic. They are of that type, more easily recognised than described, Mongolian in its widest sense, which extends from the White Sea shores, among Lapps and Samoyeds, Beormas and Voguls, to the Tartars and Chinese. Here are the curiously prominent cheek-bones, the broad and otherwise flat face, the small sunken eyes, the nose flat at top and inclined to be globular below; their eyebrows are strong and relieved; their complexion is dark, their head shaven save one black tuft or tail; these are true Ugrians, the ogres of our nursery stories. The purity of their breed, as evinced by this strangely Asiatic physiognomy, was partly explained by the locality of their home. They had come, so they said, from Ternova, the holy city of the Bulgarians, the destination of their pilgrimages, the seat of their old metropolitans. This was the last stronghold of the national dynasty, and to the last the original Ugrian nucleus of the race may have clustered round it—nay, who knows? even these poor peasants may have been descendants of Bulgarian Czars!

They had come all the way up the Danube and Save to scrape together money by their superior agricultural industry among the lazier Croats, and having brought with them some of their native seeds, were able to expose for sale gherkins of peculiar forms, and finer kinds of onions, in the Agram market. While I was there two more of the party came up; and one of them, a fine young fellow, dressed in European costume, I did not suspect to be a Bulgarian till he told me in German that he belonged to the settlement, and had come with them for a still more laudable purpose, namely, to obtain a good education. They had been here now three years, and, having scraped together some earnings, proposed to return this autumn. The savingness of the race was noticeable in their clothing, which was the same they had brought with them from Bulgaria; but I do not think that any amount of patching and mending could make it hold together much longer. The good humour which also distinguishes their race beamed forth from their every feature; they were evidently very pleased to see a visitor, were delighted to let me sketch them, and one sat quietly while I took his profile. They invited me to visit the inside of their hut, whose thatch was partly eked out with vine leaves and fir branches. Inside it was very dark, the only light coming through the door, itself overshadowed, and from a low-burning wood fire placed in a semicircular bay of brick which formed a chimney above. Over the fire was suspended a copper caldron, in which their homely supper was then brewing, and this was hung up by a hook such as I have seen in Wallachia, made of two pieces of wood instead of iron. Round the room ran a low wooden platform or daïs, such as throughout the barbarous lands of Eastern Europe serves as seat by day and bed by night, and on which the Turks spread their gorgeous divan. Hung round the wall were several more of the black sheepskin mantles, which imparted an additional gloom to this poor earth-floor den; and from another peg was suspended the national guitar, so that they could sing their own songs in a strange land. This is not the same as the Croatian Tamburitza; it is larger, and resembles the Serbian Ghuzla, by which name it was known to the Bulgarians. Unlike, too, the Croatian instrument, which is twanged by the fingers, this was played by a bow. This had not been brought from Bulgaria, but was made here by one of the settlers, who, seeing me examining it, took it out into the porch, and seating himself on a low three-legged stool, played an air which was meant to be lively. It was a dance tune, and much like those to which I have seen the Roumans dance one of their stamping Can-cans; it was the Bulgarian Igraja, Croatian Igrati, but better known by its Serbian equivalent the Kolo, or Sclavonic waltz. The plodding Bulgars, however, did not waltz, but plied their work harder, with a smile of inward enjoyment on their faces, which I imitated with difficulty, as the tune was wofully monotonous, there being only three strings to the instrument, all told; nor can I imagine any one who could tolerate such strains long—unless he wear a kilt. When the serenade was ended I took leave of the party, who most affectionately pressed on me a large nosegay of zimnias and rosemary, the ornaments of their little garden.

Aug. 6.—Next day, having heard that there was to be a large market at Karlovac,[156] about twenty-five miles south-west of Agram, towards the Bosnian frontier of Croatia, we hurried thither by rail, through fine oak forests and maize-covered champaign. On arriving we found the whole town swarming with country-folk, and the streets lined with varied booths. Several new features appeared in the costumes, and, above all, the greater propinquity to the Dalmatian frontier asserted itself in brilliant fezzes, such as are worn by the Morlachs and Uskoks of the Adriatic coastlands. They are of brighter scarlet than the Turkish, covered with rich embroidery or minute tassels of brilliant silk, like the tufts on some gorgeous caterpillar, and culminating in a peak. Some, however, wore varieties of the Agramer’s ‘pork-pie,’ which seemed to have been taken from patterns in the ‘Nuremberg Chronicle,’ and are very fashionable still in Sclavonic Istria. Some of the men wore blue vests or sleeveless jackets in place of the red of Agram; their belts were broader, and often displayed aching voids, in which outside the walls they carry arms; for within the towns here this is forbidden to all but Turks, who have managed to associate the practice with their religion, and are allowed to wear pistols and daggers under a conscience clause.

But the most curious costume belonged to a people whose jet-black hair and physiognomy suggested Zingar relationship. The colours of their dress were as much darker than those of the surrounding Croats as their tresses than the prevailing tint of hair. The women wore over their black tunic and apron-skirt two black aprons, one before and one behind, with a long fringe attached; both sexes had satchels of black slung over their shoulders, and great black or dark blue mantles. On enquiry we found that they were called Wallacks, or in its Croatian form, Vlach. This curious word, used by Teutonic races[157] under different forms to characterise Roman strangers, is also used among the Southern Sclaves to qualify strangers of Latin blood such as the Wallacks of Roumania; besides, as a term of contempt for any strangers, and especially strangers in religion. Thus the Sclavonic Mahometans of Herzegovina apply it to Christians generally, the Croats of the Latin Church apply it to the members of the Greek communion, while the Serbs of the interior, who are mostly Greek, call their brothers of Dalmatia, who are mostly Roman Catholics, Morlachs or Mor-vlachs—that is, sea-Welsh. In the case of these peasants in the Karlovac market it simply meant, not that they were Roumans or Tzintzars, but that they belonged to the Greek Church, and the explanation of this is found in their tradition that they migrated hither in former times from Serbia. Now, however, they speak the Croatian dialect and call themselves Croats. Their homes are about Sluin, twenty-five miles south of Karlovac, on the Bosnian extremity of the Military Frontier.

Excepting the gypsy-like faces of these Sluin folk, the features of the Karlovac Croats agreed with those of the Agramers, to such an extent as emboldens me to delineate certain main characteristics. The nose is finely cut, but flattens out towards the forehead, between which and it runs a deep furrow, which I recollect noticing among many Roumans. The face is hairless save for a moustache on the upper lip, sometimes twirled into ferocity; and scanty whiskers under the cheek-bone, as in Serbia, Bosnia, and Dalmatia. The hair is often light, in the children sometimes quite auburn; the eyes are of varying shades of grey and blue, lurking, as so frequently among the Illyrian Sclaves, in a pan-like socket. Hence shadow surrounds the eyes below as above, which gives a peculiar character to South Sclavonic beauty from the Bocche di Cattaro to the Lower Danube. So deep at times is the surrounding shade that a poet of the race might compare his mistress’s eyes to turquoises chaliced in a setting of ebony! But the deepset roving eyes of the Croat, on which he prides himself so highly, are often at first sight repellent, suggesting suspicion and cruelty, though redeeming lines of good-humour eddy round. Taken as a whole, the face is wanting in the power and massiveness of the Teutonic. Contrasted with the Serbs, the Croats are neither so tall nor so finely proportioned; their countenance is less open, beauty rarer. The Croats bitterly lamented to us over the idleness of their peasants; their neighbours, Italian and Slavonian,[158] were much better workers. They are incorrigible drunkards; indeed we saw enough intoxication at Karlovac Fair, and all the wine shops of the town were filled to overflowing; wine, not slivovitz or plum-brandy, being here the drink. But with all their faults the Croats are kind and good-humoured, and certainly neither at Agram nor at Karlovac had we any reason to complain of a want of friendliness. The hospitality of a Karlovatzer was quite overpowering. We were passing his house during a slight shower, when he literally dragged us in and forced on us his native wine—on which for politeness’ sake, I will express no opinion—diluted with flat Seltzer-water from Croatian springs, till we begged for mercy. The Croats make flat Seltzer-water effervesce with a small wooden instrument rejoicing in the name of ‘Didlideilshek.’

But to return to the market, which was on a very large scale, embracing nearly the whole town and suburbs, and a scene of exceeding gaiety. The booths for similar wares were ranged together; here were mighty piles of crockery, the stutzas, the scalicas, and all the varied throng; there a store of glass ware from the Slavonian forests, light, hand-made, Venetian. Then the vegetable market embarrassed us with a choice of fine figs, peaches, pears, water-melons with salmon-coloured slices ready cut, rosy and beautiful apples, and delicious yellow plums like small Orleans; further on we saw what might be mistaken for row on row of gigantic black-beetles hung up like vermin in a wood, but on coming nearer they turned out to be black opankas, of which the peasants were laying in great stocks. At other shops you might procure wondrous leather wallets, or Turkish knives, from the famed Bosnian forges of Travnik or Serajevo; and beyond we came to the crowning glory of all—the clothes stalls, and the gold-embroidered Dalmatian fezzes glittering in the sunshine. But the chief attraction, for the peasants at all events, was the cattle-market in the field outside the town, where might be seen herds of small Arab horses, long-haired Merino-like sheep with spiral procerity of horn, soft-eyed strawberry-coloured cows, innumerable pigs, and throngs of brown long-haired goats, butting each other and pushing at each other as if they were playing the Rugby game of football! Over which animals, collectively and individually, the peasant farmers were shaking hands in the most orthodox manner, as each bargain was struck. The goats and sheep were driven in by Bosnian Rayahs from the distant mountains of Turkish Croatia, and the way in which they expended the profits of their sales in buying powder and bullets was anything but reassuring to those about to trust themselves to their tender mercies.

Of Karlovac and its inhabitants proper there is little to chronicle except that the inhabitants possess a certain gift of inventiveness; for a report spread through the town in no time that we had walked from Rotterdam for a bet, and the report did all the more credit to the fertility of the Karlovatzan imagination in that it had no particle of foundation whatsoever. The town is divided into the citadel and fortified part, containing the churches, official houses, and a chilling square; and the Varoš or suburb, which comprises the bulk of the houses. There is nothing here of interest; the churches are bare, with the usual bulbous spires; the houses are devoid of ornament, and guiltless of architectural pretensions. They are mostly wooden; but here there are none of the mediæval survivals of an old German town—none of the elaborate carvings that speak of ancient civilization and the taste of old merchant princes. Such relics one does not find in the Sclavonic East of Europe. Karlovac is situated well for trade. She lies on the Kulpa, which connects her with the Savian and Danubian commercial basins, and into which, hard by, debouches the Korana, opening out a valley route into the mountains of North-West Bosnia; while a little above the town the river Dobra performs the same service in the Dalmatian direction. She is situated on the chief pass over the Dinaric Alps, just where the watershed between the Adriatic and Black Sea is lowest. Karlovac is, in fact, the meeting-place of the three high roads which bind the interior of Hungary and Croatia with their seaports—the Carolina-, Josephina-, and Louisa-ways; and a new railway has opened out steam communication with Trieste and Fiume. But despite these advantages Karlovac has no commercial past, and her commercial present, if we except a little timber transport and rosoglio distilling, is confined to the petty huckstering of these peasant gatherings. Her very origin was military. She owes her name and foundation to the Austrian Archduke Charles, chief lieutenant of the Emperor Rudolf in the Croatian military frontier, who began building the town in 1577, and finished its walls in 1582. He planted here a colony of soldiers, for whom, ‘whether German or Hungarian or Croat, or of any other nation,’ he gained certain privileges and immunities from the Emperor,[159] the chief of which was the right to hold in perpetuity any house built here. It was peopled chiefly by refugees from Southern Croatia, then annexed by the Turks, against whom in 1579 the still unfinished town was successfully defended. For we are now on the borders of the Military Frontier, the nine-hundred-mile-long line of battle prepared by the Hapsburgh Cæsars against the Infidel.