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If we had to choose
which corner of our old world to show our friends how blue the sea can be and how magical
nature in its solitude can be and how magnificent, in spite of bareness, we can send them,
whitout fear to the, to the shores of the Adriatic Sea. And if we had to find that one
place in Europe which would aeaken historical feelings in our friends, I would, whitout
hesitation send them to Split
E. Maury, Aux portes de i'Orient, Paris
1886.
And we sailed into the
Port of Split. The sun had just set behind the mountain top to our left. The full height
of the stepp fiery land it's blazing gold: that was Marjan. Two dark blue eyes were behind
us in the sea: Šolta and Brač. At the end, as if it had melted into the heavens, was the
dark blue mountain of Biokovo and extending from it was another moutain, scalloped an
aflame. That was Mosor. And farther down, set off by its white transparent tower lying
there was a large beautiful city - Split.
Newer before have I seen a city with such a wide backdrop of absolutely
beautiful colors, but I also have never before seen such a throng of people in such narrow
streets nor have I ever heard such a noise. It was a real storm of voices and what a
storm.
Ida von Dueringsfield, Aus Dalmatien,
Prague 1857
Today when we mention
Split, we think of the tower... Split remains the castle of our national ideas,
representative of sared resisance. Many boras have passed over Split and many wild waves
have bettered that hard rock. There is continuous fighting around that small point of
resistance; it is resisting, it will never fall.
Tin Ujevic, Zora sa Mosora, Sloboda,
Split 22 May 1914
There is not a city in
which there is a strong demand for life. From the high towers, deep cellars, narrow
streets between columns, and through stone doors life calls and staggers. The residents
number 40,000 (now about 300,000 people) but it seems as if one is moving around hundreads
of thousands. How loudly the steps of life echo here. And now upon arriving on the square
at the Troccoli Caffee - House, it is as if I am on Faust's magic cloak flying into some
unknown area. Outside is the Orient in all coloursm but inside is the LAtin Quarter whit
long hair, fluttering cravats and the noise of unending speechs. Those are young painters
who are here by Diocletian to setablish their Boul Mich.
Herman Bahr, Dalmatinische Meise, Berlin
1912
Split; not by chance on
the Adriatic and not by chance quite the way it is. Seventeen hundred years ago, an
exhausted emperor could not have imagined a more perfect locale on which to construct a
magnificent palace with marvelous stone slabs from nearby Brac. Far from the bustle of
Rome, this famed emperor chose to enjoy his later years in Split. Christians would later
carry to the bones of a persecuted, tortured Duje to Diocletians royal mausoleum. From
this moment forward, Split's spiritualness was defined by glagolites and humanists. Even
Marul, the father of Croatian literature, found words of praise for us all in his prose,
introducing us to the marvel of renaissance Split in "Judith." A century later
feudals would unite with revivalists and patriots in defense of Split's uniqueness and
native tongue. In the shadow of the Mediterranean and blessed from the heavens above Split
city has for centuries inhaled the wondrous scent of the local "brnistra,"
which gave Aspalatos, Spalatum, Spljet and Split its name. Eras of history gone by
are here trapped in eternal dialogue and discussion. Lest, in one passing moment we can
experience Antiquity, Romance and Renaissance, along with Baroque, Secession and
Contemporary, within its historic chambers. From Split's bell tower shines a view of a
city filled with magic; not only of Marjan's villa but also of sunglazed fruits and
vegetables (verdute) where life is lived to the fullest precisely where the lands comes
together with the sea.
The imperial
peristlyle, which intersects each path and waterway, Diocletian's cellars and the sphinx'
unsolved mysteries intertwine the desires of an emperor with those of an entire city. For
centures, the narrow columns of the palace were a measure of unity; a stage for the common
man and a home for countless spectacles. It is precisely from here that a city turns
inward in an escape from reality enamored by the St. Duje's bells as the town fountain
parlays a certain spiritualness.. Split would, however, not be Split without its theatre,
lights and illusions... images created by Botic and Uvodic, sounds composed by Gotovac,
Hatz, Tijardovic. In this city, the theater occurs on street corners, town squares and
piers each and every moment. Townfolk believe a piece of them will continue to live as
long as Split survives. Split remembers those that made Split great; from masters Guven to
Vidovic, from Juraj Dalmatinac to Mestrovic. Our beautiful Split glistens in the
smoldering sun surroundering to a sea, from which it gains its color and joy, its
"bonace" and "jug" (types of adriatic winds). "Tko te spljeo
lijepo li te spljeo," (Whoever created you created you beautifully sings the poet
from Marjan's hill as if the "agave" (latin), pine and cypress trees are
captured in a fantasy of ageless wonder; and as if they descend into a city which has born
countless legends by its rare, specialized temperament. One such legend continues on this
very day and leaves us breathless on Poljud's beauty (stadium). This modern legend is
known as Hajduk.
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