there were "jobs." Therefore, if you had a republic
you would have "jobs." The new Parliament roused no enthusiasm. The
Prince could veto its decisions, and its members had but childish
notions. The old idea of local soviets was not extinct, nor their
rivalry with the tribe next door. Many a member consequently thought
it his duty to his constituents to veto a road for another district,
until his own had been supplied, without seeing that at this rate
nothing could be done. Dr. Marusitch was clamouring to remove the
capital to Danilovgrad, and make other sweeping changes.
Tomanovitch, the Prime Minister, and his son, aide-de-camp to the
Prince, were hated and reported to have sinister influence. Those
still faithful to the Gospodar blamed him for giving up his official
power. Cetinje, however, was excited over a new subject. A manager
from Earl's Court had come to invite Montenegro to take part in a
Balkan States Exhibition. Highly flattered, Montenegro had signed
the agreement without the ghost of idea what to do or how to do it.
The show was to open in May. Montenegro, of course, could not
possibly be ready by then, so I was asked by the committee to write
a letter informing the management that the exhibition must be
postponed till July, or whenever Montenegro was ready. I explained
that this was no use in England. Montenegro must be ready--or drop
out. They argued: "But when the London people hear there is going to
be an exhibition they will change their season to suit it." I
retorted: "Whenever I want you to do something you say: 'Nije nash
obitchaj!'" (It is not our custom). "Now we say this to you." And I
hustled them. Petar Plamenatz was the Secretary for Home Affairs. He
was to give me facts--imports, exports, education, post, telegraph,
etc.--for an article on Montenegro for the catalogue. Every morning
he said: "To-morrow without fail I will give you all the figures."
And every evening: "Mon Dieu, it is impossible. I am tired!" He had
two hours free at midday and all his evenings. At the last minute,
when told the thing must go to press, he said: "But why all this
anxiety about facts, Mademoiselle? Write what you please. I am sure
it will be charming!" I wrote an essay, which necessarily contained
no point of commercial importance, and insisted that he must hear it
before it was sent as an official Montenegrin production. "But I
have a headache," said Petar. "What does that matter?" said I, and I
made him hear