The sun being now sufficiently low, we sallied forth to take a turn round the place, and see what was to be seen. But before I leave my quarters, let me try to give some idea of the Vladika's Palace, where I was lodged. This quaint old building consists of a quadrangle of about a hundred and fifty paces[7] either way, surrounded by a very massive and high wall, pierced by two large roofed-in gateways, one in front and one at the side, and having at each corner a round squat tower with a conical roof, reminding one somewhat of those that surround, at intervals, the Kremlin at Moscow. Running midway from side to side, and dividing this enclosure into about two equal parts is the palace itself, which consists of two stories, the second of which is divided into a series of chambers, each about sixteen feet square and ten feet high, all opening into each other, and communicating also at the back with a wide corridor which goes the whole length of the building. The windows, of which there are two to each room, look into the front compartment of the quadrangle, while the windows of the corridor look on the back.
The entrance is by a hall door from which one ascends at once to the upper story, by means of a massive wooden staircase formed of solid beams of timber roughly hewn. The lower story has been turned partly into an arsenal, principally filled with ancient weapons taken from the Turks, and partly into a Government school; the upper rooms are occupied at one end by the Archimandrite and some other officials—the rest are untenanted. In the centre of the front court-yard is a deep well of the most delicious water, and so cold that I used it to cool my wine and beer with nearly as much success as if I had been using snow. The back compartment was a kitchen-garden and orchard.
Leaving the old Palace by the side gate which opens upon one of the two streets that constitute the town of Cettigne, we found ourselves opposite to the new Palace lately built by the Prince—the style of which I in no wise admire, though I do not doubt it is comfortable enough inside; but it has no character whatever, and looks insignificant when compared with the old Palace. If the money spent on building the new had been judiciously laid out in adding to the old, a truly fine Palace could have been erected, with all the old characteristics preserved, which the eyes of the people, as well as of travellers, would have had an historical stamp as the abode of all the old Vladikas, those ancient Prince-Bishops—Bishops of the Church Militant—who for many years had valiantly defended their country, their liberty, and their faith against the unceasing attacks of the Infidels.