Dubrovnik: A History

Praise for Dubrovnik

‘Detailed, scholarly and eminently readable, Dubrovnik is a triumph of book production. This is a splendid volume.’

Literary Review

‘There are few introductions to the city’s past available to general readers ... Harris’s splendid study meets this need admirably.’

TLS

‘Learned, fluently written and lavishly illustrated.’

The Sunday Telegraph

‘A fascinating and scholarly account ... a learned and well-written labour of love.’

The Daily Telegraph

‘Harris tells the whole story more faithfully than any previous English historian has done. A triumph, indeed, to set beside those of the great journalists.’

Michael Foot, Tribune

‘Harris offers up an intense look at a curious world. Truly fascinating.’

Good Book Guide

‘Unravelling the complex history of Dubrovnik takes skills of a high order, and Robin Harris has these.’

Professor Norman Stone

‘Splendid ... the book about Dubrovnik we have all been waiting for.’

Dr Noel Malcolm

‘Robin Harris has written a splendid and discerning history of Croatia’s Adriatic pearl.’

Professor Ivo Banac, Yale University

Territory of the Ragusan Republic

ROBIN HARRIS

DUBROVNIK

A HISTORY

SAQI

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN: 9780863566097

EAN 9-780863-569593

First published in hardback in 2003 by Saqi Books, London

This edition published in 2006

copyright © Robin Harris, 2003 and 2006

The right of Robin Harris to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

SAQI

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London W2 5RH

www.saqibooks.com

Contents

List of Illustrations

Acknowledgments

A Note on Names

A Note on Pronunciation

A Note on Citations

Preface

1. Ragusan Roots and Riddles: The Origins of Ragusa/Dubrovnik

2. Distant Friends and Hostile Neighbours: Dubrovnik Under Byzantine Protection (c. 800–1205)

3. The Serenissima’s Subjects: Dubrovnik Under Venetian Rule (1205–1358)

4. A Kind of Independence: Dubrovnik’s Autonomous Development Under Hungarian Suzerainty (1358–c. 1433)

5. Eastern Approaches: Dubrovnik Within the Ottoman Empire (c. 1396–1526)

6. War, Diplomacy and Chaos: Dubrovnik Between the Habsburgs, Venice and the Porte (1526–1667)

7. Governing Passion: The Institutions of Government and the Challenges They Faced (c. 1272–1667)

8. Merchant Venturing: Economic Development (c. 1272–1667)

9. Ragusan Society: Dubrovnik’s Social Structure and Mores (c. 1300–c. 1667)

10. Religious Life: Ecclesiastical Organization and Spirituality in Dubrovnik (c. 1190–1808)

11. Cultural Life: Literature, Scholarship, Painting and Music (c. 1358–c. 1667)

12. The Construction of Dubrovnik: Settlement and Urban Planning, Fortification and Defence, Public and Private Building in the Ragusan Republic (c. 1272–1667)

13. Death and Resurrection: The Great Earthquake and its Aftermath (1667–1669)

14. Sunset Years: Political, Economic, Social and Cultural Life (1669–1792)

15. The Fall of the Ragusan Republic: The Background to and Circumstances of the Abolition of the Republic in 1808

Postscript: Ragusan Shadows: Episodes from the Later History of Dubrovnik

Appendix 1: A Note on Dubrovnik’s ‘Independence’

Appendix 2: A Note on Money, Weights and Measures

Chronology

Notes

Bibliography

Sources for Illustrations

Index

Illustrations

SECTION ONE

1.  Bull of Pope Benedict VIII in favour of Archbishop Vitalis, the oldest original document in the Dubrovnik archives and the first confirmation of the Ragusan archbishopric (1022)

2.  Trade agreement between Dubrovnik and Pisa (1169)

3.  Charter in favour of Dubrovnik granted by Ban Kulin of Bosnia (1189)

4.  Charter in favour of Dubrovnik’s autonomy granted by King Louis I of Hungary (1358)

5.  Charter in favour of Dubrovnik granted by the Bosnian King Tvrtko I (1367)

6.  Privilege granted by the Council of Basel for Dubrovnik to trade with the Muslim Levant (1433)

7.  Ferman addressed to Dubrovnik by the Ottoman Sultan Bayezid II seeking the Republic’s cooperation against his fugitive brother Dem (1482)

8.  An Example of Dubrovnik’s Code, employed in secret diplomatic transactions (1679)

SECTION TWO

9. Illuminated opening page of the register of the Confraternity of St Anthony (Antunini) (about 1445, possibly by Lovro Dobričević)

10/11. Illuminated opening pages of the register of the Confraternity of St Lazarus (Lazarim) (1531, possibly by Pietro di Giovanni)

12. Charter in favour of Dubrovnik granted by the Sultan of Morocco (1780)

13. The Rector’s Palace

14. Atrium of the Rector’s Palace

15. The Sponza Palace (or Dogana)

16. Atrium of the Sponza Palace

17. The Cathedral

SECTION THREE

18. The Dubrovnik Franciscans’ Cloister

19. Depiction of Dubrovnik inserted into the Liber Viridis (Laws of Dubrovnik 1358–1460: the picture itself is later)

20. Petar Sorkočević’s Villa on Lapad

21. Paolo Veneziano’s painted crucifix (1340s)

22. Matko Junčić: Blessed Virgin with Saints (1452)

23. Lovro Dobričević: The Baptism of Christ (1448)

24. Mihajlo Hamzić: The Baptism of Christ (1508)

25. Detail of Lovro Dobričević’s Virgin and Child (1465)

SECTION FOUR

26. Detail of Lovro Dobričević’s Virgin and Child, St Anthony of Padua (1465)

27. Detail of Lovro Dobričević’s Virgin and Child, St Julian the Hospitaller (1465)

28. Vicko Lovrin: St Michael and other Saints (1509)

29. Detail of Nikola Božidarević’s Blessed Virgin with Saints, St Blaise and St Paul (early sixteenth century)

30. Detail of Nikola Božidarević’s Sacra Conversazione, St Julian the Hospitaller and St James (1513)

31. Nikola Božidarević: The Annunciation (1513)

32. Detail of Nikola Božidarević’s Sacra Conversazione (1517)

SECTION FIVE

33. Nikola Božidarević: Blessed Virgin with Saints (1517)

34. Detail of Nikola Božidarević’s Blessed Virgin with Saints, St Martin and the beggar (1517)

35. Detail of Mihajlo Hamzić (and Pietro di Giovanni): St Nicholas and other Saints, showing St John the Baptist, St Stephen and St Nicholas (1512)

36. Detail of Frano Matijin’s Virgin and Child (1534)

37. Votive painting of Ragusan ketch (1779)

38. Votive Painting of Ragusan brigantine (nineteenth century)

39. Detail of Nikola Božidarević’s Annunciation (1513): the donor Marko Kolendić’s ship at anchor in Lopud harbour

40. The Coat of Arms of the Ragusan Republic

41. The Minčeta Tower

SECTION SIX

42. The Principal Fortifications of Dubrovnik

43. Detail of Statue of St Blaise, showing Dubrovnik (probably mid-fifteenth century)

44. Depiction of Dubrovnik in Konrad von Grünemberg’s account of his pilgrimage (1486)

45. Detail of Nikola Božidarević’s Blessed Virgin with Saints, showing Dubrovnik (early sixteenth century)

46. Painting of Dubrovnik by Giovanni Batista Fabri (1736), showing the city and its suburbs as they were before the Great Earthquake of 1667

47. Engraving depicting the Great Earthquake of 1667

48. Reliquary of (the head of) St Blaise (eleventh/twelfth century)

49. Statue of St Blaise (probably mid-fifteenth century)

50. Lorenzo Vitelleschi’s depiction of Veliki Ston (1827)

51. Ruined Zvekovica, in Konavle (February 1992)

52. Burning house in Dubrovnik’s Široka ulica (6 December 1991)

Acknowledgments

The history of the Ragusan Republic can be told in considerable detail because it is so well documented in the Dubrovnik Archives, which contain some 7,000 volumes of documents and about 100,000 separata. As the eighteenth-century French consul there, André-Alexandre Le Maire, noted with pardonable exaggeration: ‘The archives of the town are perhaps those of all Europe which are the best conserved and which go back furthest.’1

Indeed, so extensive is the information that they contain that those archives also provide insights into the history of other states – such as medieval Serbia – whose traces would otherwise be largely lacking.

In the preparation of this study I made only limited direct use of that manuscript material. Many of the key documents have already been published in the series listed in the bibliography. Those manuscript documents to which reference is made in the text were chosen mainly for illustrative purposes or to elaborate in more detail a point contained in secondary sources. In any case, what this book seeks to do is something different from the various excellent monographs on which it draws. Its purpose is to bring together the conclusions of the best available scholarship, most of which are inaccessible to those unable to read Serbian or Croatian, and then to provide a clear, critical and readable synthesis. The reader must judge for himself whether that has actually been accomplished.

To the extent that it has, much of the credit should go a number of individuals and institutions without whose help the task would have proved quite impossible. In London I benefited from the resources of the British Library and the Library of the School of Slavonic and East European Studies. In Zagreb I was helped by the staff of the spanking new National and University Library (Nacionalna i sveučilišna knjižnica). In Dubrovnik I received invaluable advice and assistance both at the State Archives (Državni arhiv) from its (now former) director Ivan Mustać, from Ante Šoljić, from Ivana Lazarević and from their colleagues. At the Dubrovnik Institute for Historical Science of the Croatian Academy of Arts and Sciences (Zavod za povijesne znanosti hrvatske akademije znanosti i umjetnosti), I was offered advice and assistance by the director Nenad Vekarić and his colleague Stjepan Ćosić. Pater Mijo Horvat allowed me to consult the work of Crijević (Cerva) in the Dominican friary’s library – the latter’s must, dust and bullet-indented shutters reminding the researcher of things old and new. Fra Marijo Šikić made available the work of Matijašević (Mattei) stored in the Franciscans’ library – still disabled by damage incurred during the fighting a decade ago.

My time in Dubrovnik was made infinitely more agreeable by the generous hospitality of Andrija Kojaković and of Marija Kojaković and by the kindness of many others. I also benefited from discussions with Pave Brailo, Slavica Stojan and the director of the City Museum, Mišo Đuraš, who helped me obtain material for illustrations used in this book. (Others appear thanks to the co-operation of the State Archives.)

Perhaps the single greatest difficulty in writing such a book as this in the time available after (quite unconnectedly) trying to earn a living is that, no matter how fascinating the subject matter, one can risk losing heart. Among those who ensured by their interest that this did not happen I would mention Ivo Banac, Jadranka Beresford-Peirse, Chris Cviić, Miroslav Kovačić, Norman Stone and Mike Shaw. And Nile Gardiner generously gave of his time in preparing the final text.

Two people, though, had a special role. Branko Franolić enthused, advised and guided me along the way: without him I would not have reached my goal. I am also enormously grateful to Noel Malcolm who read the manuscript, offered many helpful suggestions and provided – as he does for all those writing on these subjects – a gold standard against which to measure achievement.

Finally, I am delighted to acknowledge the help of the Croatian Ministry of Culture; INA; The Lukšić Group and Karlovačka pivovara; and Vartex Textiles Ltd. in ensuring that this book appears in such good shape.

A Note on Names

Both personal and place names in Dubrovnik and elsewhere in Southeast Europe are subject to many variants reflecting political change and cultural mixture. The great families of Dubrovnik had both Italian and Croatian variants of their names. Scholars have chosen one or the other form or even the Latin version that most often appears in official documents. All these options are equally valid, and none is absolutely so. I have used the Slavic form throughout, simply because that is the one most commonly found in the historiography.1 No other significance is implied. The most important Italian/Slavic alternatives are as follows:2

Basilio – Basiljević

Bobali – Bobaljević

Bona – Bunić

Bonda, Bionda – Bundić

Bucchia – Buća

Caboga – Kaboga, Kabužić

Cerva – Crijević

Ghetaldi – Getaldić

Giorgi – Đorđić, Đurđević

Gondola – Gundulić

Gozze – Gučetić

Gradi – Gradić

Luccari – Lukarević

Menze – Menčetić

Palmotta – Palmotić

Pozza – Pucić

Ragnina – Ranjina

Resti – Rastić, Restić

Sorgo – Sorkočević

Stay – Stojković

Zamagna – Zamanja, Zamanjić

For Christian names I have tried to use the appropriate Dubrovnik variant, e.g. Frano (Francis) rather than Frane (as in Split) or Franjo (as in the North).

Place names are generally given in their modern form – thus, for example, Durrës, not Durazzo (Slavic: Drač). I use, however, Constantinople rather than Istanbul, Adrianople rather than Edirne and Salonika rather than Solun, because to do otherwise – however strictly logical – smacks of anachronism. In other cases – as with Duklja, Zeta, Montenegro – the name alters in line with what is known of current usage. Throughout the book I use Ragusa and (more frequently) Dubrovnik alternately and without distinction, since both names are equally applicable to the settlement/town/city/community/state/ Republic which is the object of this study. But there being no elegant English equivalent of Dubrovčani, I describe the inhabitants as ‘Ragusans’ (though naturally only until 1808). Similarly, I use Konavljani for the inhabitants of Konavle, Kotorani for the inhabitants of Kotor and Pelješčani for those who dwelt on the Pelješac peninsula.

Otherwise, my aim has been accuracy without pedantry. Thus I have used English equivalents or spellings of the names of rulers. I have generally, though not without exception, used Slavic equivalents of Turkish terms applying to the Balkans, e.g. harač for the tribute paid to the Sultan.

Finally, where it was necessary to insert a Croatian noun in its plural form in the text I have generally (as in English) added an ‘s’ – thus knezs not knezovi: such a solution seemed preferable on the grounds that this is a book written, in the first instance at least, for English-speaking readers.

A Note on Pronunciation

Croatian and Serbian are spoken very much as they are written, and each letter is pronounced. But English speakers should note the following:

c – is pronounced ts as in ‘its’

č – is pronounced ch as in ‘chatter’

ć – is pronounced similarly, but more like ty as in ‘future’

đ – is pronounced j, but harder (as in ‘D’ye ken John Peel?’)

h – is pronounced ch as in ‘loch’

j – is pronounced y as in ‘yet’

š – is pronounced sh as in ‘shape’

ž – is pronounced s as in ‘pleasure’.

A Note on Citations

Yugoslav historiography developed something of an obsession with numbering of series and sub-series: I have sought to simplify these a little, and so only the main series numbers are given. With a few exceptions – notably Serbian, Yugoslav and Croatian ‘national’ publishers’ major series and some American university publishers – the names of publishers are not generally noted, only places and dates of publication.

The following abbreviations have been used throughout:

Anali – Anali zavoda za povijesne znanosti hrvatske akademije znanosti i umjetnosti u Dubrovniku (and other earlier equivalents).

DAD – Državni arhiv Dubrovnika (i.e. the Dubrovnik State Archives).

Dubrovnik – Dubrovnik, časopis za književnost i znanost (publisher: Matica hrvatska, Dubrovnik).

HAZU – Hrvatska akademija znanosti i umjetnosti.

JAZU – Jugoslavenska akademija znanosti i umjetnosti.

PSHK – Pet stoljeća hrvatske književnosti (publisher: Matica hrvatska, Zagreb).

Rad – Rad JAZU, filologički-historički i filosofički razredi.

SAN – Srpska akademija nauke.

SKA – Srpska kraljevska akademija.

SPH – Stari pisci hrvatski (publisher: JAZU, Zagreb).

Subject to these qualifications, the first mention of any work in a reference contains the full title. If there is reference to only one work by an author, subsequent references are made by means of the op. cit. formula. If there are several such works, a shortened version of the title is given. Cyrillic titles are transliterated into Roman. Translations into English are my own, unless otherwise stated.

Preface

‘I can’t bear Dubrovnik... I find it a unique experiment on the part of the Slav, unique in its nature and unique in its success, and I do not like it. It reminds me of the worst of England.’1

Rebecca West’s prejudice against Dubrovnik – unlike some of her other prejudices – has, thankfully, not rubbed off on her fellow countrymen. Until the 1991–1992 crisis the British, like thousands of other foreign visitors, flocked each year to the city. At the time of writing, with what I later optimistically but confidently term ‘The Last Siege’ a quite distant memory, the visitors are back again. Unfortunately neither they, nor the general reader, nor indeed scholars, as yet have access to a modern, well-sourced and readable account in English of the history of the Ragusan Republic whose cultural traces all but Dame Rebecca regard with fascination. It has been my aim to fill that gap.2

Dubrovnik’s history is, in any case, less well appreciated than it deserves. One partial explanation for this was given in 1766 by Le Maire, a distinctly unsympathetic observer:

The little Republic of Ragusa is rather little known. It has experienced, like other states, the alternatives of good and bad fortune; but since its most brilliant periods have never permitted it to play a certain role among the other nations, it has not sufficiently excited the curiosity of historians or politicians to obtain a distinguished place in the annals of the world.3

There is, however, another perspective on Dubrovnik’s past, as expressed by that enthusiastic Ragusophile Italian Francesco Maria Appendini, who wrote, in 1802, in his episodic literary history:

A long series of wars, of feats of arms, of leagues, of treaties and of other striking events – this is what is usually required to arouse the enthusiasm of the historian and to charm the reader. But a history that instead of presenting scenes of desolation and horror embraces the acts of a nation which not by force, that easy resource of great empires, but rather by the most subtle policy, has known how to maintain its freedom over many centuries despite the most dangerous circumstances – such a history can be all the more interesting for both writer and reader in that it more fully displays the admirable powers of the human spirit. Such is the history of the Republic of Ragusa.4

In actual fact, neither Le Maire nor Appendini fully appreciated Dubrovnik’s historical significance. Ragusa was, of course tiny. But it had a recognisable social, economic, religious, cultural and political identity over some six centuries.5 That in itself makes the story of the place distinctive. In its heyday, moreover, the Republic had an impact far beyond that which its size or power would have normally warranted. This importance stemmed from Dubrovnik’s strategic significance at the intersection between the Mediterranean basin and the Balkans, between Christendom and Islam, and between West and East. It reflected the little Republic’s maritime prowess and great commercial wealth. It was magnified by the Ragusans’ sophisticated and astute international diplomacy. Finally, it was manifested in a rich cultural achievement of unique value for Croatia, for the wider Slavic world and – at times – for Europe as a whole.

ONE

Ragusan Roots and Riddles: The Origins of Ragusa/Dubrovnik

Natural Advantages

The precise circumstances of Ragusa/Dubrovnik’s foundation will, it seems safe to predict, continue to be the subject of almost disproportionate scholarly debate involving not just distinguished historians but eminent archeologists and linguists. The subject has always had a burning importance, not least for the inhabitants of Dubrovnik itself who, over the centuries and uninhibited by excessive scruple, devised a number of reassuring myths to reinforce their ancient but tiny city-state’s legitimacy.

Why, though, might the first inhabitants have chosen to settle in Dubrovnik? After all, the whole Dalmatian coastal stretch enjoys the benefits of a typical Mediterranean climate, conducive to the cultivation of olives, vines and citrus fruit. There are long months of productive fishing, though mariners have always feared the destructive violence of the cold northeast wind – the bura. Unlike the western (Italian) coast of the Adriatic, the eastern (Dalmatian) is endowed with sheltered bays and harbours, while the mountains, though they make access inland more difficult, offer valuable navigation points. Unlike the people of the hinterland, those who live along the Dalmatian coastal strip have always enjoyed easy communications with each other’s settlements and manageable ones with the rest of the Mediterranean world. Whereas inland the rugged mountains and thick forests marked off one rural community from another and induced a certain isolationism and backwardness that would come to be synonymous with the term ‘Balkan’, the Dalmatian communities were more open and sophisticated. They were also richer. And from this point of view the mountains, which hindered access to the less civilised hinterland, had an added benefit: they constituted a useful barrier against at least casual raiders from the interior, lured by the prospect of easy pickings along the more developed coast.

Dubrovnik, however, had particular natural and other advantages which marked it out from the rest of coastal Dalmatia. Most important from the very beginning must have been its harbour. This faced southeast, and so escaped the unwelcome force of the bura. But the harbour was also sheltered in large measure from the southeast wind (known locally as šilok) by the island of Lokrum, which acted too as a kind of breakwater against the incoming swell. Similarly, while the southwest wind (or lebić) often sent waves thundering against the western part of the town, the cliffs and, later, walls of Dubrovnik afforded good protection for ships riding in the harbour. In Greek, Roman and early medieval times – before the invention of rudders and primitive compasses – ships travelled whenever possible during spring and summer and, unless in the direst emergency, during the hours of daylight. Along the eastern Adriatic coast in these seasons the prevailing wind was the northwesterly maestral which would usually blow quite steadily from mid-morning till sunset. For ships using sail and oars to make their way up the coast, for example from the Greek settlement of Budva to that on Korčula, Dubrovnik would have served as an ideal, secure haven – all the more so since in ancient times it was usual to pull ships ashore, and Dubrovnik’s harbour had (in those days) to the west a sandy bank against which to do so. A further benefit was that in these early times there were sources of drinkable water to the east of the harbour: many centuries later, as the sea level rose and the land sank, the water in these wells became brackish and other water had, particularly in summer, to be brought by ships from the springs of Mlini some four nautical miles down the coast.1

Dubrovnik had other benefits as well. It is the only one of the Dalmatian towns that looks straight out onto the Adriatic. This enabled those within to gain early warning of approaching danger.2 Moreover, while Dubrovnik’s harbour offered by far the best protection, there were also more or less satisfactory alternatives for ships unable to reach it by nightfall or because of adverse conditions. Thus for ships seeking shelter along the coast there were the possibilities offered by the bay of Župa, the bay of Zaton and the Channel of Koločep, which lies between the ‘Elaphite Islands’, as the older Pliny termed them (that is Šipan, Lopud and Koločep), and the shore. There was also, at a pinch, the nearby inlet of Rijeka Dubrovačka, though it was unpleasantly open to both bura and maestral.

The mouth of the Neretva river, further up the coast, provided another haven. But above all, it was from the earliest times – when travel by boat was so much swifter and easier than travel overland – the easiest access point to the interior and had indeed been the site of the flourishing Roman trading centre of Narona (Vid, near modern Metković). Not surprisingly, once Dubrovnik began to develop as a trading centre, the Neretva estuary quickly fell under Ragusan influence.3

Situated towards the southeastern end of the Adriatic, with prevailing winds and currents operating in its favour, Dubrovnik must from the earliest times have enjoyed a modest coastal trade with its Dalmatian neighbours. But once the size of its ships and the experience of its mariners grew, it was also well-situated to exploit the valuable East-West link with Italy – Ancona (which became for many Ragusans a home from home, and where a Ragusan colony flourished up until the nineteenth century) and the grain-rich lands of Apulia.4 Looking further ahead, however, it was Dubrovnik’s development of the Balkan trade which, in association with its commercial fleet, would be the basis of the Republic’s economic success: so the fact of the town’s proximity to ancient roads into the hinterland, via Župa and Konavle to the southeast and Slano to the northwest, should also be mentioned when listing Dubrovnik’s natural advantages. These were the routes by which the Ragusans would exploit the mineral wealth of Serbia and Bosnia. And later it would be by way of the dubrovački drum – the famous Dubrovnik Road – that the Ragusans would establish their fraught but fruitful relationship with the Ottoman Empire.

But this, of course, is to anticipate by many centuries. What sort of people were the inhabitants of Dalmatia from among whom, in uncertain combinations, under obscure circumstances and with a contentious chronology, the little settlement at Ragusa would emerge?

Ragusan Prehistory – Epidaurum

The Eastern Adriatic was already populated at the start of Neolithic times, and the near surrounds of Dubrovnik – and perhaps the cliff site of Ragusa itself – were inhabited in the Bronze and Iron Ages.5 But the precise movements or even identity of the peoples who populated Dalmatia in these early times are extremely obscure. The Illyrians are regarded as the oldest historically established people in the region, but who they really were – and what ultimately happened to them – is less clear.6 One tribe called the ‘Histri’ occupied what is modern Istria, to which they gave their name. A second tribe called the ‘Liburni’, who may or may not have been ethnically Illyrian, lived along the Croatian littoral as far as the River Krka. A third tribe, the ‘Delmati’, who gave their name to Dalmatia, inhabited the Dalmatian coast as far as the River Cetina and inland to the territories (in what is modern Bosnia) of Livanjsko Polje, Duvanjsko Polje and Glamočko Polje.7

The Celts appeared in the Balkans in the fourth century BC and lived with or integrated among the Illyrian population they found. But the earlier (fifth/sixth century) Greek colonisation of much of the eastern Adriatic left a more abiding impression. Under the leadership and protection of the city of Syracuse, there grew up the Dorian colony of Issa on the island of Vis, which itself spawned other Greek towns on the neighbouring islands and coastal region.

Interestingly, in view of so much subsequent myth-making down the centuries, and in spite of its sharing a name with a famous classical Greek city, it is clear that Dalmatian Epidaurum – later known as Ragusa Vecchia (‘Old Ragusa’), the modern Cavtat situated some miles down the coast from modern Dubrovnik – was not a Greek settlement.8 In fact, Epidaurum does not even figure in accounts of those Roman-Illyrian Wars which convulsed the region beginning in 230–229, continuing in 220–219 and 167 BC and only coming to a bloody close with a Roman victory in 9 AD.9 From then on, Dalmatia was subject to strong social, cultural and political influence from Rome, which would have decisive consequences for its future. In particular, the new rulers settled colonists and built up towns as centres for them. Epidaurum was one of these centres.

The place is first mentioned in 47 BC, when Pompey’s legate, Marcus Octavius, attacked it because it was held by a garrison loyal to Caesar. Epidaurum was besieged by land and sea but got word to Caesar, who sent an army to relieve it. Marcus Octavius’s fleet and army, however, withdrew before the relief force arrived.10 Epidaurum was described as a ‘colony’ by Pliny the Elder (who died in 79), but when it formally became one is unknown. Probably, it received that designation at the same time as Narona and Salona (modern Solin, a suburb of Split) under Augustus.11 The name ‘Epidaurum’ deserves some explanation, because the – false – assumption that it was Greek had such a strong bearing on the myths subsequently attached to it and to Dubrovnik.12 It seems, in fact, to be a Latinised Illyrian expression, perhaps meaning ‘behind the forest’. The place was probably first established as an Illyrian fishing village, or perhaps as a fortified place useful for pirates, and then was seized and developed by the resourceful Romans for their own purposes.

In any case, it quickly became an important stop on the Roman road which stretched north to Narona, Salona, Jadera (Zadar), Senia (Senj), Tergeste (Trieste) and finally Rome itself. To the south the road led to Resinium (Risan), Butua (Budva), Ulcinium (Ulcinj) and through modern Albania to Solun (Thessalonika). The link with Narona, which flourished mightily at this time, was particularly important.13 Of Epidaurum’s buildings and monuments hardly anything survives: a few inscriptions are the most important remaining evidence of the life once lived there.14 For centuries, though, there remained other, more impressive visible reminders. The Ragusan historian and man of letters Junije Rastić (Giunio Resti), writing in the early eighteenth century, noted that the magnificence of ancient Epidaurum could be judged by the evidence of twenty miles of ruined aqueduct – some underground, some spanning arches – on which could be read Latin inscriptions. The aqueduct, as he rightly observed, gave its name to the district of Konavle (from canales). He also remarked on the number of vases and medals, and on the tomb of a certain Dolabella, a Roman pro-consul.15

In fact, given reasonably settled political conditions, Epidaurum was naturally well situated to thrive. It was built on a peninsula, protected from the elements by the three little islands of Mrkan, Bobara and Supetar, and on the land-side from attack by the walls and fortifications of Spilan. It boasted two small, sheltered harbours, one on each side of the peninsula, allowing ships to moor in whichever gave better protection against the wind that happened to be blowing.16

The Destruction of Epidaurum

There are two historical conundrums bearing on the origins of Dubrovnik, neither of which can be definitively solved. The first relates to the circumstances of Epidaurum’s destruction, the second to the relationship between Epidaurum and Ragusa. Fortunately, the most appropriate starting point for consideration of both is a well-known passage in the Emperor Constantine Porphyrogenitus’s De Administrando Imperio – a kind of manual on statesmanship drawn up, on the basis of extensive documentation, for the benefit of his son – which remains the single best source available to historians seeking answers to the Ragusan riddle. It runs:

The city of Ragusa is not called Ragusa in the tongue of the Romans, but, because it stands on cliffs, it is called in Roman speech ‘the cliff, lau’; whence they are called ‘Lausaioi’, i.e. ‘those who have their seat on the cliff’. But vulgar usage, which frequently corrupts names by altering their letters, has changed the denomination and called them Rausaioi. These same Rausaioi used of old to possess the city that is called Pitauru; and since, when the other cities were captured by the Slavs that were in the province, this city too was captured, and some were slaughtered and others taken prisoner, those who were able to escape and reach safety settled in the almost precipitous spot where the city now is; they built it small to begin with, and afterwards enlarged its wall until the city reached its present size, owing to their gradual spreading out and increase in population. Among those who migrated to Ragusa are: Gregory, Arsaphius, Victorinus, Vitalius, Valentine the archdeacon, Valentine the father of Stephen the protospatharius. From their migration from Salona [sic], it is 500 [sic?] years till this day, which is the 7th indiction, the year 6457. In this same city lies St Pancratius, in the Church of St Stephen, which is in the middle of this same city.17

Historians have disputed the significance of this passage, and since the controversies bear directly on Dubrovnik’s early history they cannot be ignored. Some details of the Emperor’s account are fairly clearly wrong. ‘Salona’ is an error for ‘Pitauru’, which itself is evidently Epidaurum. Since Constantine wrote in the mid-tenth century, and since the destruction of Epidaurum is usually placed in the early seventh century and associated with the destruction of Salona, it is widely believed that ‘500 years’ is similarly an error for 300 – except, at least, by those who argue that it was not barbarian invaders but an earlier catastrophic earthquake and tidal wave that destroyed the city.18

According to Constantine Porphyrogenitus here, it was the Slavs who destroyed Epidaurum, though elsewhere he says that it was the (Turkic) Avars who conquered Salona and Dalmatia and settled down there.19 In fact, it seems likely that the Emperor drew no very clear distinction between the two peoples. Did the Croats and Serbs form part of the original (undifferentiated) ‘Slavic’ mass incursions? Or did they constitute a distinct second wave of aggressive migration, probably in the 620s, of peoples from somewhere north of the Carpathian mountains? Modern scholarship inclines to the second of these hypotheses.20 But it also stresses that we cannot regard the disputable origins of the Croats and Serbs as the last word about their early identity. For certainly in the case of the Croats who settled in Dalmatia, that identity was deeply influenced, probably from an early date, by the Romanised inhabitants among whom they had come.21

This latter perception is also relevant to an appreciation of Constantine Porphyrogenitus’s account of the destruction of Epidaurum and the foundation of Ragusa. What the Emperor described as occurring suddenly and catastrophically was in all probability one particularly dramatic episode in a more protracted series of events.

Perhaps the greatest impact of the decline of the late Roman Empire was on the towns. The Roman Balkan towns in the interior completely disappeared, with the exception of some modest continuity of settlement in places like Jovia Botivo (Ludbreg) and Aquae Iassae (Varaždinske Toplice) in modern Croatia. Circumstances were only slightly less difficult for Roman towns on the Dalmatian coast. The once-great emporium of Narona decayed as communications became more uncertain, and it was soon almost deserted. Salona – the administrative capital of its province – was simply too big to survive as the imperial provincial administration itself crumbled. The ‘fall’ of these towns may have been the result as much of economic decay and social decline as feats of arms. Equally important, archeological research in recent times has shown continuity of settlement on their sites. Even though the secular and religious authorities transferred (according to tradition, in 614) with most of the population from Salona to rebuild the community amidst the remains of the Emperor Diocletian’s palace in modern Split, it is now clear that Salona itself remained inhabited. Indeed, after their first plundering raids, it is likely that the Slavic invaders established some kind of understanding with the Empire. Certain tribes established their own territories. But alongside them much of the original Romanised population remained. A modus vivendi between the two is evidenced by the large number of Christian place names of late antique origin which are preserved outside those areas that remained under the Empire’s direct control. A similar conclusion can be drawn from the survival of Christian churches during this period within the as-yet pagan Slavic territories.22

The Slavic Myth of Ragusa’s Foundation

The relevance of this to the beginnings of Dubrovnik is confirmed, albeit in a confused manner, by the Ragusan and Dalmatian Chronicles.23 These manage to combine with varying degrees of unease two accounts of the foundation of Ragusa: one based on Constantine Porphyrogenitus and another which is entirely mythical, though also historically revealing if only because of its illumination of the mentalities of those who constructed it.

This second – what might be termed ‘Slavic’ – account of Dubrovnik’s foundation begins with a certain Radoslav the White, King of Bosnia, who in 458 was overthrown by his son, Berislav (Časlav, according to the chronicle of the Priest of Dioclea). Radoslav initially fled to Albania and then sailed with his loyal barons across to Apulia and journeyed on to Rome. There he was given command of the Roman city guard. He married a noble Roman lady and had three sons by her, one of whom, Stefan the White, succeeded his father as guard commander. He in turn had a son called Radoslav the White. In 524 King Berislav died without a successor. So ambassadors from Bosnia were sent to Radoslav to ask him to return as their king. Radoslav accordingly left Rome with his men and sailed from Ancona to Ragusa where he was greeted by a great gathering of Bosnians. He was advised to build a castle over against the sea for his protection in which he could place the treasure and holy relics he had brought with him from Rome. This he accordingly did in the place called Chastel Lave. Such is the account given by the Anonymous Ragusan chronicler. The Priest of Dioclea’s version adds various details – about the fate of the treacherous Časlav (who was mutilated and drowned), about Radoslav’s reasons for leaving Rome (quarrels with his family’s enemies) and about his later departure to Trebinje and exploits there.

The other Ragusan chronicles supply further elements. Nikola Ranjina, who repeats Constantine Porphyrogenitus’s account of the destruction of Epidaurum, interestingly links it with a somewhat longer and slightly different account of Radoslav the White’s arrival on the Adriatic coast (which he specifically places at Gruž). Among those who awaited the hero were apparently the people and bishop of Epidaurum.

The story of the Slavic foundation is, of course, historically specious and consists of imagined events placed in a later political context – that of the early medieval Balkans. But the need to ensure Slavic involvement, represented by Radoslav and his barons, shows how from an early stage Ragusa’s identity was confessedly inclusive of a strong Slavic element. Yet equally this was an identity which was determinedly something more than Slavic: the hero Radoslav has, after all, proved himself by defending the Eternal City, and he is of Roman as well as Slavic stock. The wisdom of Rome is thus called upon to bring order to the barbarian chaos of the Balkans. It is easy to see why this idea appealed to successive generations of sophisticated, Roman Catholic Ragusans as they played their inspired game for survival confronted with wayward, violent, semi-barbarian Slavic neighbours.

The Slavic myth did, though, also reflect a more tangible reality – the presence of a Slav settlement on the lower slopes of Mount Srd from a very early date. This is also evident in the early use of an alternative Slavic name for Ragusa – ‘Dubrovnik’. The first known use of the word Dubrovčani for the inhabitants of Ragusa is to be found in a charter of 1189 from Ban Kulin, ruler of Bosnia; the first known use of ‘Dubrovnik’ occurs in a charter of 1215 from the ruler of Serbia, Stefan Nemanja. But both the eleventh century verse-chronicler known as Miletius and the Priest of Dioclea state what subsequent linguists have accepted – namely, that the reference is to the forest of oak trees (Slavic: dubrava) which once covered the mountain of Brgat, or Srđ as it was subsequently known. Mount Brgat (a name which would later come simply to refer to a particular village on the site) was called in Latin Vergatum, which comes from virgetum, a wood of saplings.24

The Site and Construction of Dubrovnik

The Ragusan chroniclers also let slip some assertions, however, which imply greater continuity than either their accounts of the flight of the inhabitants of Epidaurum or of the arrival of Radoslav and his barons suggest. They speak, for example, of how the Epidaurans initially sought refuge in fortified places, which are differently named but which have been plausibly located at Spilan and Gradac, before finally settling in Ragusa.25 This is very much in line with what archeological research shows of the use to which these two sites were put. The remains of buildings from the second century suggest that together with Ragusa they already had a strategic significance for the Roman control of the area. When Epidaurum became economically weaker, less populated and more exposed, it is easy to imagine the inhabitants seeking refuge – temporary at first, later permanent – in each of three little fortified settlements. The final decision in favour of Dubrovnik may simply have reflected its combination of security with opportunities for fishing, and it was probably gradual rather than the result of any sudden administrative decision.

Certainly, archeological research in recent years has supported the theory of gradual development by emphasising the continuity of settlement in Ragusa. The chronology of the evidence is as follows:

–   A find of bronze jewellery in Iron Age graves on Lokrum (probably fifth-sixth century BC)

–   Finds of Illyrian and Hellenistic money on the sites of today’s Dubrovnik cathedral and Bunićeva poljana (third-second century BC)

–   Remains of a wall between the fortresses of Our Saviour (Sveti Spasitelj) and St Stephen (Sveti Stjepan), variously dated between first century BC and the fifth-seventh centuries AD

–   Fragment of a gravestone, found in Pustijerna, in commemoration of a member of the Roman Eighth Volunteer Cohort, which was stationed in Dalmatia from the start of the first to the end of the third century

–   A granite column, part of a now-disappeared late antique basilica, and twelve stone catapult balls

–   The latest archeological finds on the site of the cathedral and Bunićeva poljana: remains of a late antique castle (probably sixth century) and of a Byzantine basilica (seventh-eighth century).26

So great is the evidence of continuous settlement on the site of Dubrovnik, in fact, that for one scholar at least, on the basis of discoveries made in the course of excavation under Dubrovnik’s Cathedral and elsewhere, ‘there is no point in linking the histories of these two settlements – Epidaurum and Ragusium’.27 This, though, seems unnecessarily dismissive of the traditions relayed in the chronicles, and perhaps overly confident of archeological technique as a fail-safe source of historical illumination.28

Certainly, however, there is enough evidence to suggest that the defining features of the oldest settlement date from the sixth century: as noted above, in the Pustijerna district, remains of the early Christian era (fifth and sixth centuries) have been discovered. It has, therefore, been suggested that Ragusa was constructed by the Byzantines in their struggle with the Ostrogoths (on what was doubtless an earlier Illyrian site), as one of the fortified centres erected from Durrës to the western shores of Istria, designed both to control the shipping route and to provide a place of refuge for the local population in case of attack.29 In any case, Ragusa was evidently a place of some importance well before the likely date of Epidaurum’s destruction.

The original site of Ragusa was clearly on the south-facing cliffs above the Adriatic in the place referred to as Castellum or Chastel Lave, but how did it acquire its name? Some scholars have followed Constantine Porphyrogenitus in deriving it from the Greek root lau, meaning cliff. The term thus became a toponym, reflected later in ‘Labes’, the early name for the town’s oldest district, in ‘Labusedum’ used in papal letters referring to the town itself and finally (with replacement of ‘l’ with ‘r’) in the form ‘Ragusa’.30 Others, however, suggest that ‘Ragusa’ is derived from an Illyrian root and always referred to the whole of the area on which the settlement began and expanded, while lau, lava or labes just referred to the cliff.31

By whatever name it was called, this southern cliff-top was always the most easily defensible place. Long after the original Castellum had been pulled down to make way for the Benedictine convent of St Mary’s (Sveta Marija) which rose in its place, this spot remained the heart of the sexterium ‘od Kaštela’ (or Kaštio), the oldest of the administrative districts of Dubrovnik to which it gave its name. Kaštio, though, only covered a small part of what would be included within the walls of Dubrovnik. Later the settlement spread out to form the sexterium of St Peter (named after the church of St Peter the Great, Sveti Petar Veliki) and then into the easternmost area of what today is called the Old Town, the third sexterium of Pustijerna.

It used to be thought, in the days when the line of today’s Placa was believed to trace that of a marshy stream which allegedly divided the ‘island’ of Ragusa proper from the land at the foot of Mount Srđ, that Pustijerna was only settled in the eighth and ninth centuries and the rest of Dubrovnik a good deal later.32 But this view must now be revised. A proper understanding of the change in sea level, combined with evidence from probes put down into ground in the wake of the 1979 earthquake, confirms that the centre of the town was not uninhabitable marsh at this time but eminently inhabitable dry land. It was probably first used for agriculture – hence its ancient name of campus – and then for building. This process doubtless long preceded the area’s inclusion within the walls.33

Life in Early Dubrovnik

Originally built (and perhaps rebuilt) with primarily military purposes in mind, Dubrovnik’s development as a civilian settlement was probably sharply accelerated in the early seventh century with the flight of many or all the people of Epidaurum via Spilan and Gradac to find a more secure refuge. This early Dubrovnik was under Byzantine authority. Constantine Porphyrogenitus judiciously recalls as much when he mentions ‘Valentine the father of Stephen the protospatharius’ (that is, a Byzantine patrician official). The settlement was within the political-territorial unit of Dalmatia, which was first governed from Zadar by a Byzantine pro-consul and then in the ninth century when, as part of the Empire’s reorganisation, Dalmatia was made an Imperial ‘theme’ by a strategos. There is no evidence about Dubrovnik’s internal administration in these early centuries. By 1023, however, a praeses was in charge of its affairs, and by 1052 this official was called a prior, as in the other Dalmatian towns.

Also from the very first we know that Dubrovnik would have been Christian, as Epidaurum had been – probably from at least the mid-fourth century (when St Hilarion was apparently greeted by the Epidaurans). A Christian burial ground discovered at Slano shows that the area around Dubrovnik had been converted by the fifth century. There was probably a bishop of Epidaurum by then; certainly, one was present at the first Dalmatian church synod held in Salona in 530. The bishopric was transferred to Dubrovnik under obscure circumstances but probably, as tradition and the Ragusan historians suggest, on the fall of Epidaurum.34 (Dubrovnik’s claims to be the seat of an archbishopric were to be the subject of later hot dispute, but not its inheritance of the see of Epidaurum).35

The Ragusan chronicles dwell upon the marvellous relics which were kept in the town. Radoslav the White was said to have brought with him those of Saints Petronilla, Domicella, Nereus, Archileus, Pancratius and two pieces of the Holy Cross, all of which were placed in silver reliquaries. Within the precincts of the Castellum he is said to have built a church dedicated to Saints Sergius and Bacchus, and to have established outside the walls a church dedicated to St Stephen (Sveti Stjepan).36 In truth, these relics probably only reached Dubrovnik much later. But the strength of the tradition is itself significant of the pride taken in the town’s early distinction as a centre of Christian piety. (In later years the cult of Ragusa’s patron saint, St Blaise [Sveti Vlaho, San Biagio] dwarfed those of the other traditional intercessors.)37

The ethnic and cultural make-up of early Dubrovnik and the relationship between Roman/Latin and Slavic elements within it have provoked much controversy. The information from the chronicles is of limited help. The names of Constantine Porphyrogenitus’s six key figures who originally migrated from Epidaurum are, as one would expect, Romano-Greek. The Ragusan chronicles give (slightly different) lists of the noble families of Ragusa with their alleged places of origin – Epidaurum, Rome, other Italian cities, Germany, Albania, Kotor, the territories of the Vlachs, Slavs and so on.38 For the year 743 the Anonymous chronicler signals, in his confusing way, political upheavals which sent more refugees fleeing to Dubrovnik – ‘Morlachs’ (or Vlachs) from above the Neretva who brought with them their cattle, which they were allowed to pasture on Mount Srđ.39 For the following year he records in a still more mysterious passage that an assembly was held and a ‘division’ made among all the people of Ragusa into three social classes – nobles (gentilhomeni), common people (populi) and servants or slaves (servidori). Among the groups participating were ‘Bosnian’ families, each household with its own patron saint, and rich Vlachs who owned gold, silver and cattle.40

In spite of all these outside elements, Ragusa can only properly be understood for the first centuries of its existence as essentially a post-Roman community, having far more in common with the little proto-urban communities on Italian soil than with the life of the Balkan hinterland. Ragusan territories were divided like theirs into the civitas (city) and districtus or distretto (surrounding district). The latter was itself divided between the mainland Astarea (sometimes called terra firma or hereditas) and the Islands (insulae). Astarea stretched from Epidaurum/Cavtat (derived from the Latin civitas, i.e. city) to the bay of Zaton. The whole territory had, in fact, been settled long before the arrival of the Slavs. The inflow of Slavic settlement, when it came, was from the northwest and was accordingly strongest near Zaton. But these settlers lived under Ragusan administration and their property rights were governed by Roman law. Generally, the ethnic mix in early Astarea is shown by the interweaving of Roman and Slavic place names, while other areas of the mainland like Primorje and Konavle, which would eventually fall under Ragusan control, were much more heavily Slavicised.

Also under Dubrovnik’s authority from the earliest times were the three principal islands of Koločep, Lopud and Šipan, the smallest inhabited islands of Mrkan, Supetar, Daksa, Lokrum, Sveti Andrija (St Andrew) and Jakljan (all given by the Ragusan community to ecclesiastical foundations) and the other tiny deserted islands of Bobara, Grebeni and Rudo.41 Of the Elaphite Islands, Constantine Porphyrogenitus’s generalisation seems to hold true: ‘... After the said Slavs had settled down, they took possession of all the surrounding territory of Dalmatia; but the cities of the Romani took to cultivating the islands and living off them.’42 The archeological and toponymic evidence from Koločep, Lopud and Šipan shows that Slavicisation proceeded only very gradually as this earlier Romanised population died out.43

The picture which the sources – narrative, archeological and linguistic – present of Dubrovnik in the early ninth century, 200 years or so after the ‘fall of Epidaurum’ (with the qualifications which must be made to that expression), is therefore of a modest but growing community, heavily shaped by Roman culture, Byzantine administrative habits and Christianity. As its location emphasises, and as the slow expansion inland of Ragusa from its original craggy nucleus confirms, security was the first consideration. This and its direct access to the sea, with the fishing and local trade which went with it, would have attracted many; upheavals and conflicts in the hinterland doubtless drove more to seek shelter within its originally primitive defences. Either through the intermediary of the Byzantine authorities or possibly of the Church, the Ragusans were able to establish good relations with the Slavs, who appeared first as barbarian raiders but who quickly settled to farm the land. Roman, Slavic and Vlach communities co-existed, with the Romanised population dominating the town itself and its near surrounds, the Slavs increasingly changing the ethnic balance in their favour in the more distant territories under Ragusan control and a shifting population of Vlachs taking advantage of the relatively settled conditions around Ragusa to pasture their livestock on the slopes of Brgat. And all the while Ragusa, in search of legitimacy and prestige, fiercely clung to its claim to be the successor of Epidaurum, inheriting its episcopal status and the rich myths which fertile imagination would bestow on that modest Augustan colony.

1. Bull of Pope Benedict VIII in favour of Archbishop Vitalis, the oldest original document in the Dubrovnik archives and the first confirmation of the Ragusan archbishopric (1022)

2. Trade agreement between Dubrovnik and Pisa (1169)

3. Charter in favour of Dubrovnik granted by Ban Kulin of Bosnia (1189)

4. Charter in favour of Dubrovnik’s autonomy granted by King Louis I of Hungary (1358)

5. Charter in favour of Dubrovnik granted by the Bosnian King Tvrtko I (1367)

6. Privilege granted by the Council of Basel for Dubrovnik to trade with the Muslim Levant (1433)

7. Ferman addressed to Dubrovnik by the Ottoman Sultan Bayezid II seeking the Republic’s cooperation against his fugitive brother Dem (1482)

8. An Example of Dubrovnik’s Code, employed in secret diplomatic transactions (1679)

TWO

Distant Friends and Hostile Neighbours: Dubrovnik Under Byzantine Protection (c. 800–1205)

The Eastern Adriatic in the Ninth, Tenth and Eleventh Centuries

The ninth century in the lands of the Eastern Adriatic was dominated by interlocking power struggles, which provided a turbulent background for the early establishment of Dubrovnik as an effectively self-governing commune and a modest commercial power under Byzantine protection. Such protection was sorely needed – not least from the Arabs (called ‘Saracens’) of Tunis and Algiers, who began a systematic occupation of Mediterranean bases in the ninth century. In the 820s they seized Crete and various Sicilian towns from Byzantium, and their destruction of Brindisi in 837/8 ominously signalled their entry into the Adriatic. Osor (on the island of Cres) was burnt down in 841. An Arab fleet shattered the Venetian opposition and then returned to seize Budva, Rosa and Kotor. The following year the Saracens were again in the Adriatic.1

It was thus only a matter of time before Dubrovnik was singled out for Saracen attack. Legend, as recorded in the anonymous Ragusan chronicle, has it that a Frank, Orlando (based on the hero Roland) had helped the Ragusans drive off the Saracens in 783 after the latter had earlier destroyed (whatever remained at the site of) Epidaurum.2 Dubrovnik was for perhaps a second time subjected to a fifteen-month siege by the Saracens in 866. The Ragusans sent envoys to Constantinople for help, and the new Emperor Basil I despatched a large fleet to relieve the town. When the Saracens heard of its imminent arrival, however, they lifted the siege and sailed away.3 The effect was to secure the Ragusans (and indeed the neighbouring Slavs) in their allegiance to Byzantium, the value of whose protection had thus been amply demonstrated.4

Dubrovnik’s recurrent problem was that the Byzantine Emperor was a somewhat unreliable protector. Consequently, the Ragusans had to reach their own arrangements with their neighbours in order to preserve their security. Byzantium was happy to enable that, as long as its ultimate sovereignty was still recognised. Basil I (867–886) therefore decreed that the Dalmatian towns should henceforth give to the neighbouring Slavic rulers the financial tribute they had previously paid to the Byzantine strategos. In the case of Dubrovnik, this involved the payment of 36 numizmata each to the rulers of Hum (the future Hercegovina) and Trabunija (the territory attached to Trebinje).5 By contrast, any failure by Dubrovnik to make provision to ward off threats from the hinterland when Byzantium was weak could be disastrous. Thus, at the end of the tenth century, the Macedonian-Bulgarian Tsar Samuilo (974–1014) ravaged the Dalmatian coast as far as Zadar and burnt Dubrovnik as he passed.6 After Samuilo’s death, a Byzantine counter-offensive restored the Empire’s control in the region. But in the meantime had occurred a development of much greater long-term significance for Dalmatia in general and Dubrovnik in particular: the first assertion of Venetian imperial ambitions.

Venice’s origins had – in everything but scale – obvious parallels with those of its tiny Ragusan counterpart. Like Dubrovnik, it had maintained a continuity with Roman tradition; it, too, had been a refuge for those fleeing from invaders; its lagoons had served something of the same protective role as Ragusa’s cliff-top; of necessity, its inhabitants had from the first exploited maritime trade; and it had accordingly developed a navy which was valuable militarily to it and to others. But of course, Venice’s wealth, population and reach were always greater than Dubrovnik’s, and this disparity only increased as in the tenth century it skilfully maintained the friendship of both the Byzantine and German Empires, widened its autonomy and developed its commerce. That trade was most threatened in the middle Adriatic by the Croat pirates living at the mouth of the Neretva, who had killed one Doge in battle, defeated other Venetian expeditions and forced on the Serenissima the humiliation of paying them tribute for half a century.7 Under Doge Pietro II Orseolo (991–1002), Venice sought to deal decisively with the Neretvan Croats and to exploit political conditions so as to project its power along the Dalmatian coast.

In 992, in exchange for Venice’s help in protecting Byzantine possessions in southern Italy and Byzantine shipping, Venice received significant trading privileges within the Empire. Whatever Byzantium may have intended, Venice interpreted this as a right to take action to provide for security of navigation in the Adriatic as a whole, and indeed to do so in the most aggressive fashion.

The precise details are obscure; but perhaps with the authority of the Byzantine Emperor, quite probably at the request of the Dalmatian towns, and in either 998 or 1000, Doge Pietro II Orseolo set out with a fleet and army down the Dalmatian coast. He occupied the towns and islands one by one – Osor (on the island of Cres), Zadar (where there awaited him to make their submission representatives from the islands of Krk and Rab), Biograd, Trogir and Split. Sufficiently impressed to make concessions, even the Neretvan Croats agreed no longer to demand their tribute. The Venetians had, though, to fight to overcome the tenacious resistance of the inhabitants of the islands of Korčula and Lastovo. Near the little island of Majsan, off Korčula, a delegation from Dubrovnik headed by its archbishop met the Doge. Exactly what occurred then was hotly disputed in later years. Venetian writers claimed that Dubrovnik made a formal submission to Venice; the Ragusan historians denied any such thing.8 It seems likely, though, that Venice did indeed demand Dubrovnik’s submission – as it had that of the other Dalmatian towns – and highly improbable that the Ragusans could have resisted such a demand.

The Venetian Doge