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.