A TYPE OF SHYLOCK—SCENE IN THE STREET—VARIED
COSTUMES—MORLACCHI—TURKS FROM THE HERZEGOVINA—WOMEN OF
SPALATO—INSPECTION OF THE CITY—THE PORTA AUREA—COURT OF THE
VESTIBULE OF THE PALACE—INTERIOR OF THE CATHEDRAL—ILLUSTRIOUS
MEN OF SPALATO—MARK ANTONY DE DOMINIS—ST. JEROME—THE MORLACCHI.
Sitting down cross-legged on the very oldest and dirtiest of rugs, and
just outside our fragrant hedge of oleander, is to be seen an old Jew,
the finest type of a Shylock that could be imagined; with ample, heavy,
flowing beard, aquiline nose with sharp cut nostril, and deep-set piercing
eyes shadowed by an ample turban. He has before him, on his rug, a
collection of arms, pistols of the old approved Turkish form and yataghans
of every price, from the common horn-handled weapon in a wooden sheath
to the jewel-hilted Kharjar in a sheath of _repoussé_ silver. Around is
a motley group of countrymen, all talking at the top of their voices in
their several languages, whilst examining and praising or depreciating
the weapons there for sale, just as they are either simple _flâneurs_
in the square, or really intending purchasers. The varieties of costume
rendered this picturesque group most interesting, there were Morlacchi
from the neighbouring mountains with full blue Turkish trowsers fast to
the knee; gold embroidered crimson jackets without sleeves, and gaiters
to match; the whole finished off by an immense Albanian scarf of many
colours wound round the waist, holding a perfect armoury of weapons in
the front. On the head most of them wore a small red fez, others wore
a turban, but it was not put on like the Jews, they did not seem _au
fait_ in settling it; but whatever head-gear they adopted they all were
decorated with a tail—a genuine plaited tail coming down their backs with
such luxuriance that it might have been the envy of any Celestial. I could
not bring myself to like it—though report says that the Morlacchi are
wonderfully attached to their tails, and cherish and pet them somewhat
in the manner of our old tars in the days of Collingwood and Nelson.
There were Turks from the Herzegovina, ill-looking, badly-clad, scowling
Mussulmans, who would willingly have earned ten paras by sending a
Christian to his latter home, but still gorgeous in their tatters and
vermin. There were Christian Albanians with their white fustanellas,
high aquiline nose, glittering eyes, and false smile, in dress somewhat
similar to the Morlacchi, but wearing a smaller fez with a long blue
tassel. Conspicuous above them all was a Risanese from the Gulf of
Cattaro, in full Montenegrin costume; but with a green instead of the
white characteristic coat, all overladen about the breast and shoulders
with plates of solid gold of considerable thickness, especially over the
shoulders, where they would, if required, afford some protection from
the blow of a sabre.
Mingled with the men were several women—some very good-looking—with
golden-brown hair and dark eyes and eyelashes; their hair in plaits, not
hanging but coiled round their heads, which were further adorned with
Turkish piastres and other coins. The dress is a mixture of red, white,
and blue artistically combined, with coral and coins twisted round their
necks.
The noise of this Babel of tongues was deafening, and the scene not to be
described. One wretched, tattered old man, but armed to the teeth like
the rest, long tried to persuade me to buy a hank of onions, and would
not be gainsaid when told by one of the waiters of the _café_ that I
was a traveller and did not require onions; what better or more portable
provisions could I carry with me in my travels than onions? said he.
Having finished my _granita_, I again started to explore the city; this
time under the guidance of a most obliging gentleman, well versed in the
antiquities of the place, and to whom I had brought an introduction.
We first went outside the city to inspect the grand Porta Aurea. This
had only lately been thoroughly excavated, and even in its present
dilapidated condition, not so much the effect of time as of the plundering
propensities of man, is still most beautiful and grand. What must it
have been before the eight columns which decorated its front were taken
away to adorn some modern church?
From the Porta Aurea, we again got into the city, proceeding straight to
the court of the vestibule of the Palace, where all that is best worth
seeing in Spalato is collected together. Here in front of us was the
façade of the peristyle, consisting of four large and beautiful granite
columns, supporting a triangular pediment, and which occupied the whole
breadth of the court. On each side were a row of six Corinthian columns,
equally large, and also of rose-coloured Egyptian granite, supporting
not an architrave as is generally the case, but a series of arches
which sprang from their capitals. On the right was the smaller temple,
dedicated to Esculapius, now converted into a baptistry, and dedicated
to St. John. On the left, the Temple of Jupiter—now the Cathedral of
Spalato, by the side of which rises that most elegant campanile, the
Giralda of Spalato, only one hundred and ninety-nine feet high, since
the two upper stories were thrown down by lightning.
The interior of the Cathedral does not offer much to admire—nevertheless
its general effect is sufficiently imposing. But it is outside in the
court, the present piazza, that all the beauty of the place reveals
itself. It is not a ruin—of the sixteen original granite columns not one
has been displaced, and this portion of the Palace of Spalato is as in
the days when Diocletian came into his Temple to pray. Can the reader
believe that all this is really within five days of London?
Dalmatia has been the birthplace of many men of letters and science,
and Spalato can boast of having even given a Protestant Dean to our
royal Windsor, in the person of the celebrated Mark Anthony de Dominis,
once Catholic Archbishop of Spalato, whose life and death would furnish
materials for a sensational novel. As his history is not commonly known,
it may, perhaps, interest some of my readers to hear it now.
He was born about the year 1570, and educated at the Illyrian College
of the Jesuits, in Loretto, from whence he passed to Padua, where he
became Professor of Mathematics. In the year 1600, he was created Bishop
of Segna, and in 1602 he was raised to the Archbishopric of Spalato,
where, during the terrible plague of 1607, he nobly distinguished himself
by his liberality to the poor, and his fearless and humane attendance
on the sick in the administration of his sacerdotal duties—emulating
the courage and devotion, under similar circumstances, of Borromeo of
Milan. He occupied the Archiepiscopal throne of Spalato for fourteen
years, during which period his time was divided between the performance
of his ecclesiastical duties, and the investigations of science. He
converted the upper part of the Palace, at Spalato, into a Laboratory
and an Observatory, and the window is still shown where he is supposed
to have made the discovery of the prismatic colour of light, "by the
falling drops of water;" which discovery, including a description of the
nature of the rainbow, he published to the world in a work printed at
Venice in 1611. His fickleness in matters of religion, however, proved
his ruin; his Chapter accused him of heretical opinions, upon which he
withdrew to Venice at the close of 1615, having previously vacated his
See in favour of his nephew Sforza Ponsoni. During his residence in that
city, he wrote a work in favour of the Republic, which was condemned
by the Inquisition, when he determined on withdrawing, for safety, to
a Protestant country.
He went first to Heidelberg, and thence came to England in the suite
and at the invitation of Sir Henry Wotton, Ambassador of James I. to
the Venetian Republic. In England, he published and dedicated to James
I. a history of the Council of Trent, which had been lent him, it is
said, by its author, Fra Paolo Sarpi. He also edified the Protestant
public by an open recantation of his religion in St. Paul's Cathedral,
and then published a work against the Papacy, entitled, "Scoglio del
Naufragio Christiano." He was particularly well received in England;
and was patronized by the King, who made him Dean of Windsor. He seems,
however, to have expected more, and to have been disappointed at not
getting a bishopric; and on Gregory XV., who was a friend and relative of
his, succeeding him to the Papal throne, he changed his religion again,
and yielding to the solicitations of the Pope, conveyed to him through
the Spanish Ambassador, who promised him a Cardinal's Hat, he returned
to Rome in 1622.
Gregory XV. received him kindly, and as long as he lived De Dominis
remained unmolested, but at his death Pope Urban VIII., who succeeded
him, saw no reason to extend his protection over the ex-Protestant Dean
of Windsor; he was accused of heresy, handed over to the tender mercies
of the Holy Inquisition, and thrown into a dungeon of the Castle of St.
Angelo, where he died in 1625—it is supposed by poison, and his body was
subsequently burned, together with his writings, in the Campo dei Fiori.
De Dominis was a very distinguished philosopher, and we must not be too
severe when judging him by the light of the present day. There can be no
doubt that the change from Popery to the Reformed religion was principally
due, not to a feeling of animosity against the Church of Rome, as many
have maintained, but chiefly to those doubts concerning the truth of the
things taught by that church, and to its conduct in persisting to refuse
the results of the investigations of science, as evinced by its treatment
of Galileo and others. His return to the church is more difficult to
account for on generous grounds; but he, himself, is stated to have said
that by becoming a Cardinal he might be of greater use in effecting a
reformation in that community to which he had originally belonged. The
Holy Inquisition had hoped to have enjoyed the satisfaction of publicly
roasting, "ad majorem Dei gloriam," a professor of Natural Science, a
renegade Catholic Archbishop and a Protestant Dean all in one; but some
charitable friend robbed that holy confraternity of its anticipated
triumph by passing in some poison to the unfortunate De Dominis, who
learnt too late that Rome never changes, "che il Lupo perde il pelo, il
vizio no" and that according to Papal ethics to keep faith with heretics
is at best a grievous sin.
Spalato, in common with the rest of Dalmatia, has given birth to many
able men, among which they claim even St. Jerome, the most learned of
the ancient fathers and the talented author of the noblest translation
of the Bible; but I fear on insufficient grounds, as all the authorities
I have looked into seem to make him a Pannonian and not an Illyrian;
Carrara, however, claims him as a compatriot in his "Uomini Illustri di
Spalato."
Within a few miles of Spalato are the ruins of Salona, I had not time to
visit them. There is not comparatively very much of interest to be seen
above ground, but I believe that methodically conducted diggings have
yielded some valuable results. It was the Roman capital of Dalmatia and
was destroyed by the Avars in 640, when the inhabitants who escaped from
the slaughter took refuge in Spalato and there founded the new city,
by grouping themselves around and under the protection of the Palace of
Diocletian.
The majority of the inhabitants of Spalato are Roman Catholics, with an
admixture of Greeks and a good number of Jews, who wear the turban and
the Oriental costume, and are principally descended from those who were
expelled from Spain in 1493. For many centuries they were subjected to
the same indignities as in other Christian countries, and compelled to
inhabit the Ghetto where they used to be locked up at night; but such
practices have long been abolished in Dalmatia, and the Jews of Spalato
have enjoyed for many years the same privileges as the other citizens
of that place.
My stay at Spalato was much too short for enjoyment; I saw indeed most
that was to be seen there, but it was not much more than a glance, and
I longed to be sketching amongst those picturesque nooks.
Having several times mentioned the Morlacchi, it will, I think, be
interesting to my readers to know something about them. Again I have to
regret that I was unable to visit them in their villages, and that the
only information I can give of them is, that they are inhabitants of the
wild mountainous district lying to the East of Dalmatia. They are a fine
race of men, though much smaller and inferior to the Montenegrin; their
women, on the contrary, are often very beautiful, and they have many
strange customs in their dealings with foreigners which would make an
excursion into the fastnesses of their mountains of more than ordinary
interest.
With the Lowland Dalmatians and the inhabitants of the towns on the
coast, the name of Morlacchi is always associated with plunder and
cattle-lifting, just as in Scotland a hundred years ago every Highlander,
in the eyes of a Lowlander, was a cateran and a robber; but I heard
from people that had been among them, that they are very hospitable, and
that their country can be freely traversed in any direction without the
smallest danger. They are Catholics and apparently of the same stock as
the Montenegrins, though these latter are schismatic Greeks.