s.

Cetinje then was a mere red-roofed village conspicuous on the
mountain-ringed plain. Its cottages were but one storeyed for the
most part, and contained some three thousand inhabitants. One big
building stood up on the left of the road as the traveller entered.

"No. That is not the palace of the Prince," said the driver. "It is
the Austro-Hungarian Legation."

Austria had started the great Legation building competition which
occupied the Great Powers for the next few years. Each Power strove
to erect a mansion in proportion to the amount of "influence" it
sought to obtain in this "sphere." Russia at once followed. Then
came Italy, with France hard on her heels. England, it is
interesting to note, started last; by way of economizing bought an
old house, added, tinkered and finally at great expense rebuilt
nearly the whole of it and got it quite done just before the
outbreak of the Great War, when it was beginning to be doubtful if
Montenegro would ever again require a British Legation. But this is
anticipating.

In 1900 most of the Foreign Ministers Plenipotentiary dwelt in
cottages or parlour-boarded at the Grand Hotel, the focus of
civilization, where they dined together at the Round Table of
Cetinje, presided over by Monsieur Piguet, the Swiss tutor of the
young Princes; a truly tactful man whom I have observed to calm a
heated altercation between two Great Powers by switching off the
conversation from such a delicate question as: "Which Legation has
the finest flag, France or Italy?" to something of international
interest such as: "Which washer-woman in Cetinje gets up shirt
fronts best?" For Ministers Plenipotentiary, when not artificially
inflated with the importance of the land they represent, are quite
like ordinary human beings.

Their number and variety caused me to ask: "But why are so many
Powers represented in such a hole of a place?" And the Italian
architect who was designing the Russian Legation replied, more truly
than he was perhaps aware: "Because Montenegro is the matchbox upon
which the next European war will be lighted!"

Cetinje was then extraordinarily picturesque. The Prince did all he
could to emphasize nationality. National dress was worn by all. So
fine was the Court dress of Montenegro that oddly enough Prince
Nikola was about the only ruling Sovereign in Europe who really
looked like one. The inroads of Cook's tourists had stopped his
former custom of hobnobbing with visitors,