In the travelogue of their pilgrimage to the Holy Land in 1562, the, German pilgrims Jacob Wormbser and Count Albrecht of Löwenstein recount their fear of robbery and enslavement by Dorghut ʿAli, just one of the many Barbary corsairs then plundering the Mediterranean, as they sailed along the eastern coast of the Adriatic Sea. This fear was not only shared by travelers and the crews of pilgrim and merchant ships sailing across the Adriatic in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries but also by all inhabitants of the Adriatic coasts.1 Indeed, since the fifteenth century, Barbary corsairs from North Africa had occasionally raided the western coast of the Italian Peninsula, and especially those territories beyond Venetian control. During the same period, Ottoman privateers from Ulcinj (Dulcingno) and Herceg Novi (Castelnuovo) raided and plundered settlements along the eastern coast of the Adriatic, arriving as far north as the Istrian Peninsula. In addition, from the beginning of 1499, the part of the Dalmatian coast from the Neretva River, north of the Republic of Ragusa, to the city of Omiš (Almissa), was held by the Ottomans, who occasionally also raided the surrounding Christian lands. However, in the second half of the sixteenth century, the local corsairs, Uskoks, based in the city of Senj on the coastal border of the Habsburg Empire, posed especially significant threats for ships crossing the Adriatic.2
As a consequence, numerous fortifications in the form of watchtowers, fortified monasteries, churches, and private residences sprouted up along each side of the Adriatic coast, embodying the efforts of the local population to improve the living conditions on the seashore. These, seemingly improvised, locally funded fortifications protected smaller settlements from pirate raiding. Larger, well-planned, and state-funded fortifications like the St. Nicholas fortress, situated at the entrance to Šibenik Bay, protected the towns of strategic importance against presumed Ottoman military naval operations in the Adriatic, as exemplified by the 1539 Ottoman intervention in the Bay of Kotor led by Hayreddin Barbarossa.3 Fear of the Ottoman invasion on Venetian territories and a strong desire to protect the main Venetian maritime merchant route that was attached to Dalmatia also resulted in the subsequent fortification of Venetian-held strategic points along the Eastern Adriatic coast.
The security of this part of the Venetian sea-trade route was of the utmost importance for the economic survival of the Serenissima. The Venetian sea trade routes had, at the beginning of the sixteenth century, three main strongholds, Venice, Corfu, and Crete, complemented by smaller auxiliary strongholds, such as Famagusta on Cyprus, Nauplius on the Peloponnese, Zante, Kefalonia, and along the Eastern Adriatic coast Kotor, Korčula, Hvar, Zadar with Pula, and Rovinj in Istria, and Kopar.4 Traditionally, the Dalmatian towns—even after they came under Venetian rule at the beginning of the fifteenth century—did not participate in the lucrative Venetian trade in the Eastern Mediterranean. Instead, of exceptional importance to the development of the Eastern Adriatic towns prior to Venetian dominion was the “horizontal” East-West trade, which connected them with the Italian Peninsula, specifically with the regions of Abruzzo, Marche, and Romangna.5
In the second half of the sixteenth century the Venetian Republic was presented with the opportunity to establish a new trade route. It was intended to shorten the journey across the Adriatic, favoring the horizontal land movement from the Dalmatian coast toward the hinterland to Istanbul across the Balkan Peninsula. The promoter of this alternative new trade route was the Jewish merchant Daniel Rodriga. In order to successfully implement his project, among other tasks, Rodriga had to build a scala or stopover complex in the town of Split, on the East coast of Adriatic Sea, at that time a Venetian possession. The complex, originally intended to provide housing for Ottoman merchants and storage for their goods, gained additional functions in response to new trade conditions in the Adriatic (Fig. 3.1).
Unlike previous scholarship, my focus here is on Rodriga’s activities as a merchant and mediator in the Balkans, drawing attention to his connections with prominent Ottoman officials. Following him across the network of trade routes we will see that Ottoman influence did not stop at its state border in the hinterland of the Eastern Adriatic coast. I will bring to light the extent of influence Ottoman policy could have had on the creation of a new trade route toward Venice and the extent of influence Ottoman architecture had on the form and function of the Venetian lazaretto in Split by comparing it to analog structures in the Adriatic at a time when sanitary measures to combat the spread of epidemics in the Adriatic had become an inevitable part of trade infrastructure.
1 Daniel Rodriga and a Project for a New Trade Route
Rodriga was probably a Levantine Jew of Iberian origin6 who is first mentioned in Ancona where in 1549 he seems to have founded a company that promoted trade between the Apennine Peninsula and the Ottoman Empire through the Ottoman port of Neretva.7 The oldest-known mention of Rodriga’s presence on the eastern side of the Adriatic dates from 1563.8 In the letter written by an Ottoman public official in Bosnia addressed to the Venetian government, the Ottoman statesman recounts that the governor of Bosnia, Sokollu Mustafa—a close relative of second Vizier Sokollu Mehmed Pasha—seeks to alert the authorities in Venice that he is sending his personal merchant, Ludriga, in order to purchase the necessary textiles for his household on his behalf, specifically the silks and wools for which the town is known.9 One can surmise that the merchant mentioned in this letter was indeed Daniel Rodriga. The merchant Ludriga was traveling to Venice equipped with Mustafa Bey’s money and was supposed to be welcomed and assisted by Venetian authorities in order to successfully accomplish his task. He is also known to have maintained good relations with another Ottoman public official; specifically, in a letter addressed to the Venetian authorities in 1573, Hasan, governor of Hercegovina, announces the arrival of Daniel Lodrisch (Rodriga) to Venice as one of his emissaries in talks concerning slave exchange, calling him my close friend and my merchant.10 During the same period, Rodriga is also known to have acted as Jewish consul in the Ottoman port of Neretva (Drijeva, near Gabela) on the Adriatic coast and was approved by Venetian authorities. During 1574, Rodriga seems to have been a Venetian consultant and an intermediary in negotiations concerning the delineation of the Venetian-Ottoman border in Dalmatia. The main Ottoman negotiator was the Bosnian Ferhad Pasha, another member of the Sokollu family who had been a governor of the Ottoman province of Klis between 1566 and 1573, through which territory Rodriga’s new trade route was supposed to cross.11
While these earliest documents tracing Rodriga’s life depict him as a confidant of the governors of the Ottoman provinces, he always maintained a close relationship with the Venetian government.12 Indeed, he was not a passive player among bigger and more important entities; instead, he was proactively inserting himself into the geopolitical arena in order to create favorable conditions for himself and for the Jewish communities in Venice and the Balkans.
In 1577, Rodriga began to lobby the Venetian authorities persistently, presenting various projects,13 of which the majority concerned opportunities for commerce between the Republic of Venice and the Ottoman Empire that, in his own words, would benefit the political relations between these two traditional adversaries.14 In order to implement these projects, however, Rodriga needed two concessions from the Venetian government: first was the permission to establish a free-transit “scala” (or stopover) in the town of Split in Dalmatia; the second was granting privileges to Jewish merchants residing in Venice and Split.15 According to Rodriga, this scala or way station in Split was an essential part of the project for a new trading route connecting the Balkans with Venice through Sarajevo and Split, thus channeling commerce from the territories of the Ottoman Empire toward Venice. While providing a more secure route for the merchants by shortening the maritime part of the trip in the pirate-infested Adriatic Sea, Rodriga’s project seems to have been a deliberate attempt to divert trade away from the well-established southern route passing through Neretva, Dubrovnik, and Ancona on the way to Central Italy and as such was clearly aligned with Istanbul politics.16
The oldest-known mention of the scala in Split seems to be in a 1573 letter from Ali Pasha (the nephew of Grand Vizier Sokollu Mehmed Pasha) addressed to the Venetian government, which predated Rodriga’s petition by a full four years. At that time, Ali Pasha was the governor of the province of Klis bordering the territory of Split along the intended passage of the planned new trade route. In his letter, he reminded the Venetian authorities that upon the end of the War of Cyprus (1570–73), the scala and shipment activity in Split could be activated.17
A year later, in August 1574, Grand Vizier Sokollu Mehmed Pasha wrote to Doge Alvise Mocenigo, informing him of his order to all maritime merchants to avoid Ancona and other enemy ports and instead to favor Venice.18 Information from the meeting that took place in Pera in August 1575 between the Venetian special ambassador Giacomo Soranzo and Chiaus Mustafa dei Cordovani further explains the geopolitical reasoning why the Ottomans insisted on redirecting the trade toward Venetian territory and thus could have stood behind Rodriga. From Soranzo’s report, it appears that Mustafa dei Cordovani—who presented himself as a good friend of Grand Vizier Mehmed Pasha’s close relative Sokollu Ferhat, then governor of Bosnia—had informed the Venetian government, following the orders of the grand vizier, about the intention to “lift all trade from Ancona […], which is the city of the Pope, enemy of our Lord [the Sultan].”19
Sokollu’s plan thus lies at the core of Rodriga’s proposal for the creation of a new land route connecting the Balkans with Venice through the Venetian port town of Split, diverting trade away Dubrovnik—Venice’s trade rival in the Adriatic—and papal Ancona.20 Indeed, two years after Soranzo’s meeting with Mustafa de Cordovani, the extremely well-connected Rodriga began to petition the Venetian government for the creation of the new trade route.21
The project was supposed to be a state-owned venture, but probably convinced of its cost effectiveness, Rodriga subsequently presented the project as his private enterprise: the construction of the scala and the organization of roads, inns, and horses was to be funded with his own money. According to his writings, the free-transit scala in Split was envisioned as a customhouse and lazaretto—a quarantine station for merchants and travelers—with enough space to sanitize merchant goods. Moreover, the building had to be both enclosed and defendable in order to prevent attacks on the foreign merchants residing within it. However, the decision about its precise position—whether inside or outside the city walls—was left to the Venetian authorities.22
The senate approved this legislation and Rodriga obtained the permit in 1581. According to his own account, he then moved with his family from Venice to Split and hired a proto, a stonemason suggested by the governor of Split Nicolo Correr, probably Vicko (Vicenzo) Bugardelo, who was active in the cities of central Dalmatia at the time and to whom he paid 600 ducats.23 Bugardelo, together with another anonymous master from Zadar, most likely in consultation with Rodriga, produced a drawing with a plan for the construction of a complex that was sent to Venice for approval. The construction of the customhouse began on public terrain close to the city walls, by the seashore—a location determined in 1577 by the then governor of Split, Marco Corner.24 In preparation for the realization of this project, Rodriga convinced the Ottoman officials presiding over the territories between Sarajevo and Split to construct the necessary roads and to build a bridge over the Cetina River and caravanserais along the roads leading to Split.25 Soon after having spent his money, and disappointed with the lack of state support and presented with the difficulty of the sudden death of the stonemason who had been commissioned to construct the customhouse, Rodriga abandoned the idea of the new trade route and left the city of Split and the unfinished buildings in the city’s port. Moving from Split to Venice, two years later he was back on the east coast of the Adriatic, in Neretva, and subsequently in Dubrovnik, where he was named consul of the Jews of Ragusa.26
Soon thereafter, in 1588, the Venetian Board of Trade, Cinque Savii alla Mercanzia, decided to resume and complete Rodriga’s project of a new overland trade route, turning his private enterprise into a state-owned project, considered to be of the utmost economic importance for the Serenissima.27 In order to put the scala into function as soon as possible by preparing it to host a large number of merchants, the republic did not spare any money, material, or diplomatic effort. According to directives sent from Venice, the governor of Split, Nicola Bragadin, was to organize the work by engaging renowned artisans to follow the original design of the complex, which was therefore sent back to Split.28 With the infusion of a large amount of state money, and building material sent directly from Venice, the once abandoned buildings were soon finished. However, the project needed to be coordinated once again with Ottoman officials in Bosnia. During the next four years, Venetian officials not only consulted Rodriga on matters concerning the scala but also sought his engagement in persuading the Bosnian pasha to redirect the trade route from Neretva to Split.29 It seems that Daniel Rodriga had moved to Split again in order to help launch this project.30 The lazaretto with customhouse was put into function in 1592 (Fig. 3.2).31
2 Una Scalla di negocio di mercantie
According to extant documents, it can be assumed Rodriga was personally involved in the architectural design of the lazaretto, and when it was completed, it comprised several buildings of different purposes. The plan consisted of a quadrangular courtyard enclosed on three sides by buildings, and on the side toward the city port it was closed off by a high wall.32 The arrangement of this complex of buildings is geometrically irregular due to the configurations of the available plot of land. The complex consisted of a customhouse and guesthouse for the merchants on the east, with ground-level storage and residences for merchants above.33 A spacious courtyard in the center provided enough space for the manipulation of merchandise. The entire complex was completely isolated from the surrounding area, and the building’s apertures were limited to the façades facing the internal courtyard, thus providing the security Rodriga had insisted upon. The main entrance was on the north wall through a double gate, with the administrator and guardhouse beside it. There was a well in the courtyard for the provision of water. On the east, buildings were attached to the medieval city wall, which was still in use so the height of the buildings was limited by the height of the wall for security reasons.34 For the purposes of defense and supervision, there was a pentagonal watchtower attached to one of the corners of the complex toward the sea. Beside the tower and opposite to the main entrance was another gate on the sea side of the complex. This opening led to a small pier where ships berthed and loaded the goods. In 1602, in order to augment the capacity for the quarantine of suspected merchants and their goods, a building was constructed on the west side of the courtyard, beside the wall facing the city port. It had open storage space on the ground level that was divided by five arches and surmounted by six rooms above.35
Before long, it became evident that the existing structure was not adequate for the effective implementation of quarantine and the disinfection of goods, so in 1595 work began to enlarge the complex with the construction of a new, larger courtyard and its attendant buildings adjacent to the existing structure.36 This new courtyard, which was financed by the Venetian Republic and probably designed by state engineers, maintained the original plan of the courtyard.37 The big quadrangular void in the middle was surrounded on three sides by buildings with twenty-four storage spaces on the lower level and as many rooms for residing merchants on the upper level. Once again, openings, windows, and entries faced the inner courtyard exclusively. On the fourth, northern side of the courtyard were vaulted stables for horses and horsemen, above which were rooms big enough to host merchants and their goods. Attached to the corner of the complex toward the sea was once again a watchtower to serve as protection as well as for supervision.38 A cistern was located in the middle of the courtyard that was connected to the existing space by an opening in the wall of one of the warehouses. This courtyard served as a fondaco: it housed merchants waiting to be transported to Venice after the quarantine and also on their way back from Venice. The sanitation of goods continued to be performed in the original courtyard, the so-called Lazzaretto Vecchio.39 As commerce boomed,40 the Republic of Venice invested in subsequent enlargements of the lazaretto until 1629, when it reached its maximum capacity, with a final structure consisting of six courtyards. By this time the lazaretto had reached such imposing dimensions that its sea-facing façade was longer than the adjacent southern façade of Diocletian’s palace (Fig. 3.3).
3 The Dubrovnik and Venice Lazarettos
It is evident that the initial two courtyards of the lazaretto in Split—1581 and 1611—are distinctive in form. One beside the other, they are almost mirror reflections on a different scale, consisting of buildings organized around a quadrangular courtyard and surrounded in turn by a high wall with a defensive tower in one of the corners. Almost all buildings had storage space on the ground floor and residences for merchants on the upper level. In order to identify possible architectural models that may have influenced the design of the complex, it is necessary to compare it with similar buildings already in existence on the shores of the Adriatic Sea. It is clear in the documents that from the very beginning of design and construction, the new complex of the scala, or reloading station for merchants and their goods, needed to function simultaneously as a lazaretto with enough space to sanitize goods. The practice of sanitizing goods and quarantining merchants appeared at the end of the fourteenth century on the coast of the Adriatic Sea and it was considered and adopted throughout the Western Mediterranean to be the only effective tool for combating the spread of plague and other infectious diseases.41 Indeed, trade networks were not only main arteries for the exchange of people and goods but also enabled the spread of disease, with devastating consequences.
The first to implement quarantine as a prevention tool against the spread of the plague was the Republic of Ragusa (Dubrovnik) along the eastern coast of the Adriatic. In 1377, state regulations required that all passengers coming from infected lands remain thirty days in quarantine; initially, they were confined to the two islands south of Dubrovnik, and later, from 1397, to a monastery on the island of Mljet that had been converted into a lazaretto.42 In 1590, seeking an adequate position to simultaneously favor trade and impede the spread of plague inside the city walls, the Ragusan government intended to build a large lazaretto attached to the city port and southeast of the city walls, in the suburb of Ploče. In this manner, the republic sought to more adequately service the land trade route connecting Dubrovnik with Ottoman Bosnia and further with Istanbul. The construction of this lazaretto, which remained in service until the second half of the nineteenth century, began only in 1627, almost half a century after beginning the construction of the lazaretto in Split and as such could not serve as its model (Fig. 3.4).43
Venice, like the Republic of Ragusa, used islands for the construction of lazaretti as natural, convenient sites of isolation for infected individuals.44 For instance, the so-called Lazzaretto Vecchio, the first permanent lazaretto to be established in Venice and in general, was set up on the island of Santa Maria di Nazareth from which, through a linguistic distortion, the term “lazaretto” was eventually coined. This first permanent establishment was set up in 1423 on the premises of the monastery of the Augustinian order as a plague hospital for the infected inhabitants of Venice and for those who arrived aboard ships presenting symptoms of plague.45
The Lazzaretto Vecchio in Venice first began to expand with the construction of several separate wooden buildings for the accommodations of additional patients. In the second half of the sixteenth century, permanent buildings for treatment of those infected were erected around the original nucleus of monastic buildings with a church and bell tower, a pattern that led to the formation of large intervening courtyards and to the definition of the island perimeter. These elongated single-story buildings with gabled roofs had perimeter walls perforated with window openings placed at regular intervals. Probably after the big epidemic of 1630, a uniform sequence of warehouses in the form of the letter E, separated with courtyards, was constructed on the artificially enlarged portion of the island.46 These single-story constructions were completely opened toward the courtyards, with roofs resting on pillars. This intervention reflects the addition of new functions of quarantine and the sanitation of merchant goods to the complex’s original function as a plague hospital. In these warehouses the goods arriving to Venice by sea were stored and continuously shifted in order to ventilate them and expose them to the sun in the belief that the goods would thus be disinfected. In addition, attached to the narrow warehouses, three multilevel buildings were erected for the bastazzi (merchants quarantined separately) who worked there. As the English prison reformer John Howard reported in 1785, the final layout of the complex was conditioned by the presence of original monastic buildings and the nature of the space remaining for construction (see fig. 3.5). Considering that the quarantine and disinfection function was added only in the seventeenth century and that the complex maintained its original function as a plague hospital, it seems improbable that it served as a model for the Split lazaretto.47
In 1468, the Republic of Venice established a new lazaretto on the island of Vigna Murata.48 This, so-called Lazzaretto Nuovo, provided accommodations for the patients who had recovered in the Lazzaretto Vecchio. During the first phase of its spatial development, a wall was built on the perimeter of the island, framing a quadrangular vast empty space. Attached to this wall was a row of numerous small cottages with arcades in front of them.49 In this case, during the sixteenth century, with the addition of the new function of quarantine for merchants arriving on ships to Venice and the disinfection of imported goods, further construction proceeded from the outside perimeter, thus filling an empty space inside the circumference wall. Andrea Cornello’s drawing shows that in 1687 the entire perimeter of the lazaretto was divided into ten compartments of various sizes. Here, as in the old lazaretto, the same principle was applied, according to which certain sections were used only for disinfection of goods and others for quarantine. Merchants quarantined in the original two-level cottages. Storage compartments occupied the central space, showing that the modifications in the original function of the structure were realized by erecting partition walls toward the inner, central space of the lazaretto. Storage and disinfection spaces were created mainly by adding overhanging rooftops resting on columns along the partition walls. Also, a large, still existing, freestanding warehouse, tezon grando, was built shortly after the mid-1500s.
One can consequently identify an ambiguous use of the term “lazaretto” in historical accounts concerning these two Venetian case studies. The flexibility of the term is attributable to its equally flexible typology: specifically, in many cases, such complexes served a double function, both as a hospital for the sick and as a place for quarantine and the sanitation of goods. It is here in Venice, where the first permanent lazaretto was founded in the fifteenth century, that in the next century the lazaretto became a crucial tool in the fight against the spread of plague, functioning as site for quarantine and sanitation—an indispensable stop on the trade route.50
Upon comparing the plans of the two Venetian lazarettos with the first two courtyards of the Split lazaretto it is obvious that in the latter the typology introduced by the Venetian lazarettos was not used as a model for the design of their Dalmatian counterpart. Indeed, both Venetian complexes only achieved their final form long after they were founded and construction began. The layout is accordingly the result of a succession of expansions that do not adhere to a prescribed architectural or geometric design. The accretive quality of the Venetian examples hence diverges from the Split example, which was governed by a single, unifying design. Buildings of different functions, such as quarantine, disinfection, customs, and accommodations for traders after the quarantine, were located around a single courtyard. Also, the principle according to which the quarantine was performed in separate courtyards from the disinfection of goods was not applied in any of the six courtyards in Split. Almost all the buildings in the lazaretto consisted of a disinfection storage area on the ground floor, with quarantine rooms above them. Therefore, other types of buildings with lodging and commerce that Rodriga may have encountered on his voyages probably served as his models.
4 Venice Fondacos
The fondaco thrived in the Mediterranean port cities during the Middle Ages. The typology traces its roots to the pandocheion, a hostel for travelers in the Byzantine world, which evolved in the Islamic world into the institution of the funduq or khan, a trading post that offered both hospitality and a locus of commercial activity in the eastern and southern Mediterranean.51 The funduq was a building or complex of buildings owned by a local authority intended to lodge foreign merchants, provide storage for their goods and space for their commercial activity.52 Each funduq was designated for a particular national community. In late-fifteenth-century Alexandria, for example, Felix Fabri, a Dominican monk on pilgrimage to Palestine, visited two Venetian funduqs, then those of the Catalan and Genoese nations, as well as those of the Turks from Constantinople and the Tartars.53 The main characteristic of these buildings was their limited access, with a gatekeeper and guards who oversaw the security of the facility upon nightfall.54 The funduq adhered to a standard architectural formula—a central courtyard was used for the movement of goods, business negotiations and transactions, and government taxation. The courtyard was surrounded by storage spaces on the ground level, which were rented to merchants, and perhaps stabling, while the lodgings were located on the upper floors, with a corridor that opened toward the central courtyard through the arcades.55
The concept of the funduq was imported to Europe, Italy, and the south of France by merchants and other travelers who used these facilities as bases for accommodation and commercial practice during their prolonged overseas stay in eastern or south Mediterranean ports.56 Daniel Rodriga could have encountered this type of building during his stay in Venice. The name fondaco was used in Venice inter alia to identify the building intended to accommodate merchants from diverse ethnic communities.57 In Venice, there were fondacos for German and Ottoman merchants, institutions that Rodriga could have visited while living in the Ghetto Vecchio in order to conduct business deals. The biggest, most important architecturally developed fondaco was the Fondaco dei Tedeschi,58 a state-owned facility destined for use only by merchants of German provenance. It was established in the thirteenth century and situated on the Grand Canal, close to the Rialto Bridge, the main trading district in the lagoon city. According to state regulations, merchants had to take lodging, store their goods, and carry out purchase and sale transactions on its premises. After the Fondaco dei Tedeschi burned to the ground, it was completely restored between 1505 and 1508.59 On the ground level were warehouses, on the first floor the offices, and on upper floors numerous living quarters. As in all Venetian fondacos—independent of their main purpose—there was a state appointed official who was permanently present on site to collect taxes on transactions.60
The project of the confinement of Ottoman merchants in Venice in one building was carried out from 1574 to 1621.61 The well-known Fondaco dei Turchi was established by the Venetian authorities in one of the private palaces on the Grand Canal. All Ottoman-Muslim merchants were supposed to reside in the fondaco, with the neat designation of spaces for Balkan (Bosnian and Albanian) and Anatolian merchants.62 Since the function of the fondaco was imposed on a preexisting private residential structure, the Fondaco dei Turchi did not have a central courtyard, as was a characteristic feature of other residential fondaco buildings.63 Another essential characteristic of this typology is the clear distinction of their form from the surrounding urban fabric. This was a result of enclosure, not only necessary to ensure the security for Venetians but also to allow the foreigner communities a certain measure of social autonomy. During the refurbishment of the original, private structure, all openings of the Fondaco dei Turchi toward the outside were closed, a wall was constructed toward a canal, rooms’ windows were displaced toward the central courtyard, and other openings provided with grating.64 The fondaco was also provided with water in a cistern. There were only two exits—one toward the canal and the other on the backside toward the street. The reconstruction of the Fondaco dei Tedeschi at the beginning of the sixteenth century and the subsequent formation of the Fondaco dei Turchi at the beginning of the seventeenth century shows that this widespread architectural institution from the medieval period continued to serve its purpose in Venice very well, even in the early modern period. Even though many Ottomans sought alternative accommodation, the Fondaco dei Turchi maintained its function—with only small modifications to its form—until the end of the republic in 1797.65
Considering that both of the Venice fondacos were city dwellings, and they did not provide enough room for horses or for the sanitation of goods, and were hence developed in height, it is more likely that Rodriga considered their Ottoman architectural “cousins” as a more appropriate model for the construction of the lazaretto in Split.
5 Ottoman Caravanserais in Bosnia
Although there is no direct evidence of Rodriga’s knowledge of Ottoman architecture in Bosnia, he must have encountered caravanserais or khans during his numerous trips through Ottoman Bosnia and used them for his own accommodations, and likely conducted business there. Considering that the lazaretto in Split was intended to accommodate primarily Ottoman merchants arriving from the territory of Ottoman Bosnia, a decision to erect an Ottoman-type caravanserai with a central courtyard used for hosting merchants and to boost mercantile exchange, already present on territory of Bosnia for at least a century, probably seemed both natural and logical to Rodriga.
In period sources, the word funduq is often replaced by the words khan or caravanserai, even though in practice there was no architectural distinction between these commercial buildings.66 With the rise of the Ottoman Empire and the more frequent use of the Turkish language, however, the trend changed, and the former funduqs of the Arab world became known as khans or caravanserais.67 The Ottomans appropriated the Seljuk architectural model of caravanserai and further standardized it.68 With the expansion of the Ottoman Empire in Europe in the fifteenth and especially the sixteenth centuries, the Ottomans imported this institution to the territory of their newly conquered province of Bosnia bordering the Venetian province of Dalmatia. During his overland trip from Split to Istanbul in 1550, the Venetian ambassador Caterino Zen mentions fourteen caravanserai-type buildings, the westernmost of which was located outside of Sinj—an Ottoman settlement only thirty-five kilometers in the hinterland of Split.69 Caravanserais were, along with roads and bridges, one essential part of commercial networks and a tool for the development of towns and regions by facilitating commerce and bringing an influx of capital to the local community.70 They were built on newly conquered territory in the hinterland of Dalmatia as a part of pious foundations (waqfs) established during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.71 This period in Bosnian history is marked by the Ottomanization of the conquered territory and by its intense urbanization. The central government in Istanbul deliberately prompted the foundation of new cities that became new political, economic, and cultural centers and populated them with newly arrived settlers. In addition, it stimulated the construction and maintenance of roads, bridges, and caravanserais, as well as the broader infrastructure that enabled both the development of trade and fulfilled key military functions in this border province.72 All of this was carried out with endowments established largely by high-ranking governors and administrative officers. For example, in 1558, the aforementioned governor of Bosnia Sanjak, Sokollu Mustafa Bey—in whose service we find Daniel Rodriga—built a mosque, mekteb, caravanserai, bridge, hamam, mill, and many shops in an empty meadow, all of which were funded by his endowment. This settlement, named Rudo, very quickly grew to become kasaba Rudo, an important node in regional trade routes.73
During the sixteenth century, almost all larger settlements at the crossroads of trade routes were serviced by caravanserais. In the second half of the sixteenth century, Grand Vizier Sokollu Mehmed Pasha built a caravanserai in Višegrad,74 in the southeast part of the Bosnia eyelet, while before 1587 Sokollu Ferhad Pasha built a large caravanserai covered with lead in Banja Luka, the capital of this Ottoman province. Three of a total of four caravanserais with courtyards in Sarajevo were built during the sixteenth century.
Isa Bey Ishakovic, the founder of Ottoman Sarajevo, built one of the oldest caravanserais in 1462, on the territory of today’s Bosnia and Herzegovina, in the center of the Baščaršija district in Sarajevo, a commercial center of Bosnia.75 Known as the Kolobara Han, it had stable accommodations for thirty horses, four warehouses, and forty rooms on the upper floor. Since it was built of wood and mud bricks, it was destroyed in the fire of 1937, and there is no detailed information about its appearance.
Another courtyard caravanserai in Sarajevo was Tašlihan (see fig. 3.6) built through the endowment of the governor Gazi Husrev Bey in 1543.76 Tašlihan was the most monumental of all the caravanserais in Bosnia. It had a rectangular base and layout typical of all the caravansaries built as two-story buildings and was constructed entirely of stone. Unlike other caravanserais in Sarajevo, in which the central courtyard was used for the loading and unloading of goods, Tašlihan’s courtyard had a row of shops on the ground level, which characterized it as a commercial han. In the center of the rectangular courtyard was a fountain for water and mesdžid, a place for prayer supported by pillars. From the courtyard, close to the main caravanserai entrance, there were two stone staircases leading to rooms and hallways on the top floor. The sleeping quarters were vaulted with small domes, and hallways with barrel vaults, and lead was used throughout as a roof cover. This caravanserai provided lodging for travelers and merchants and also functioned as a bazaar. Toward the completion of Tašlihan, between 1542 and 1543, craftsmen skilled in the construction of domes and vaults were called from the nearby Republic of Ragusa, with a specific request for the dispatch of thirty stonemasons specializing in the construction of walls, vaults, and domes (Fig. 3.6).77
The Morića Han in Sarajevo (see fig. 3.7) is the only surviving large commercial caravanserai in the region that almost entirely preserves its original form.78 The caravanserai, which housed three hundred beds, was built as part of Gazi Husrev Beg’s waqf in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. For a number of years, it marked the center of the political and social life of artisans, merchants and scholars. The caravanserai consists of a ground and first floor, with a rectangular ground plan;79 while the top floor was constructed with wood, the ground floor was built of stone, partly so it could hold the weight of the top floor and partly as a protection against fire for the goods stored there. The central courtyard is mostly situated under the top floor, supported by a colonnade of oak columns, forming a porch encircling the space. This solution maximized the capacity of the space, as all four sides of the courtyard were thus full of shops, storage spaces, and horse stables that almost always faced the main entrance. The top floor was used for living quarters, with a layout completely independent of that characterizing the ground floor. There, rooms were located on both sides of a wide central hallway. Two staircases, located far from one another, led from the ground to the top floor. Like the other three large Sarajevo caravanserais, the Morića Han had its own waterworks as well as a fountain with a cistern situated adjacent to the structure. In addition to the main entrance, it also had another side entrance (Fig. 3.7).80
Even the Jewish community of Sarajevo that had settled there since the mid-sixteenth century lived collectively in a separate building, which adhered to a caravaserai typology.81 A document from 1728–29 states that in 1581 Siavush Pasha, the grand vizier, ordered the construction of a separate large caravanserai for Jews living in Sarajevo.82 This building was a part of Siavush Pasha’s waqf, and residents of this daira were contributing to it by paying annual rent.83 The building was constructed around a courtyard, but had only one level, and it was surrounded with a high wall.84
Rodriga certainly visited Sarajevo, which was a major commercial center of the region, on his business trips. He lived in Neretva, a key Ottoman export port on the Adriatic with a customhouse, warehouses, and boat docks. He probably also visited Mostar, located on the road from Dubrovnik to Sarajevo, where sanjak beys often temporary resided.85 There, Karagöz Mehmed Bey, a significant fief holder, built a caravanserai before 1570.
While Donatella Calabi has already noticed similarities between the eldest courtyard of the lazaretto in Split and the typology of the fondaco,86 in my opinion Rodriga’s project used the model of the Ottoman courtyard caravanserai in Bosnia for the construction of the lazaretto in Split, as it was the type of building he was more familiar with and was most functionally compatible with the intended purpose.
Although the building plot was restricted, Rodriga’s project in Split emulated the quadrangular plan of the Bosnian caravanserai, with a central courtyard surrounded by buildings. Since the goods were delivered to Split with caravans that were sometimes composed of a great number of people and animals, the central spacious caravanserai courtyard where goods were loaded and unloaded was an essential feature for the scala, together with the front door that needed to be so wide and high so that a loaded horse could pass through it.87 The horse stables in many caravanserais were located on one side of the courtyard. Considering that the stable was built on the entrance side of the second, subsequent courtyard in Split, which was formed on the model of the first one, it is to be assumed that the stable was in a similar position in the original courtyard. The premises of the caravanserai governor were usually located either above or opposite the entrance in order to control the entry and exit of the merchants. Similarly, the apartment of the custodian of the scala was located next to its entrance. Just as in a typical courtyard caravanserai, there was water fountain in the courtyard of the Split lazaretto too.
On the ground floor of the caravanserais there were usually warehouses, shops, or workshops, while on the upper floors were rooms for the accommodation of merchants and travelers. The same vertical allocation of spaces was applied in the scala in Split, and not only in the first courtyard but throughout the entire complex of the lazaretto. Also, as in the caravanserais, in Split the ground-floor rooms were illuminated by openings toward the inner courtyard, but in order to maximize security and control movement, all openings in Split, even the ones of the rooms on upper floor, were limited to the central courtyard. It is evident, however, that the Rodriga-backed project did not imitate all the architectural features of the Ottoman courtyard caravanserai closely but reproduced those characteristics that seemed most important to him. A series of adjustments were made to the typical design of the caravanserai building, but the most prominent one is the lack of a row of arcades on two levels in front of the buildings in the courtyard.
It should be noted that while the scala successfully welcomed caravans of merchants, stored their goods, and shipped them to Venice, it was not significantly adapted for the function of quarantine and disinfection of goods by strictly separating those who were suspected of being infectious from those who had already undergone quarantine and were able to move freely. Thus, already three years after the opening of the scala, by multiplying its original form with the construction of a new quadrangle the problem was solved, allowing “the Spalato area [to] become a funnel conducting vast riches from the Levant directly and exclusively to Venice, diverting the traffic away from Ragusa.”88
The Rodriga project successfully appropriated the Ottoman architectonic model of the caravanserai and exploited it in the very heartland of the Venetian province of Dalmatia. Thus, as the engine behind it, Rodriga proved to be an entrepreneur with a unique vision and personal ambitions, who as a member of the Jewish ethnic group effectively annulled the frontiers between Cristian “West” and Muslim “East.” Commercially and culturally, he connected two worlds, though he ultimately belonged to neither.
One can notice parallels between Rodriga’s initiative to develop a new trading route and the contemporary activities of high-ranking Ottoman officials who, during the fifteenth and the especially sixteenth century, almost completely changed the Bosnian landscape. These entrepreneurs invested in the infrastructure of trade, created new towns like Sarajevo and Rudo, and built roads, bridges, and caravanserais. Within the context of Venetian historiography, Rodriga’s initiative is remarkable, yet it is fully in accordance with the numerous contemporary initiatives of provincial governors and prominent individuals in Bosnia where Rodriga spent most of his life. Thus, following Rodriga’s activities as merchant, go-between, and community leader on both sides of the frontier, one acquires an image of the Renaissance Adriatic, its shores and hinterland, as a space of cultural interactions and fluid borders.
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Grga Novak, “Ratovi i bitke na Jadranskom moru,” in Pomorski zbornik—povodom 20-godišnjice Dana mornarice i pomorstva Jugoslavije, eds. G. Novak and V. Maštrović (Zadar: Institut za historijske i ekonomske nauke, 1962–63), 1: 195.
Luka Dančević, “Maritimno-političke prilike na Jadranu početkom XVI. st.,” Radovi Instituta za hrvatsku povijest Filozofskoga fakulteta Sveučilišta u Zagrebu 10 (1977): 183.
Tomislav Raukar, “Venecija i ekonomski razvoj Dalmacije u XV i XVI stoljeću,” Radovi Instituta za hrvatsku povijest 10 (1977): 209.
Benjamin Ravid, “An Autobiographical Memorandum by Daniel Rodriga, Inventore of the Scala of Spalato,” in The Mediterranean and the Jews: Banking, Finance and International Trade (XVI to XVIII Centuries), eds. A. Toaff and S. Swarzfuchs (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1989), 189–213; Viktor Morpurgo, “Daniel Rodriguez i osnivanje splitske skele u XVI stoljeću,” Starine JAZU 52 (1962): 185–248; Duško Kečkemet, Židovi u povijesti Splita (Dugi Rat, Poljica: Židovska općina, 2010), 31–42; Maren Frejdenberg, Židovi na Balkanu na isteku srednjeg vijeka (Zagreb: Dora Krupićeva, 2000), 96–106.
Renzo Paci, La “scala” di Spalato e il commercio veneziano nei Balcani fra Cinque e Seicento (Venezia: Deputazione di storia patria per le Venezie, 1971), 49; “Gli Ebrei e la ‘scala’ di Spalato alla fine del Cinquecento,” in Gli Ebrei e Venezia: secoli XIV–XVIII: Atti del convegno internazionale organizzato dall’Istituto di storia della società e dello stato veneziano della Fondazione Giorgio Cini, Venezia, Isola di San Giorgio Maggiore, 5–10 giugno 1983 (Milano: Edizioni Comunità, 1987), 829–34.
Morpurgo, “Daniel Rodriguez” (1962), 186.
“One of the grand vizier’s favored relatives […] his paternal cousin” Mustafa Bey would be appointed the governor of Buda, the former capital of the Kingdom of Hungary, by Sultan Suleiman. Gülru Necipoğlu, “Connectivity, Mobility, and Mediterranean ‘Portable Archaeology’: Pashas from the Dalmatian Hinterland as Cultural Mediators,” in Dalmatia and Mediterranean: Portable Archeology and the Poetics of Influence, ed. Alina Payne (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2014), 329.
Morpurgo, “Daniel Rodriguez” (1962), 188–89, 194.
Morpurgo, “Daniel Rodriguez” (1962), 196–97; Elma Korić, “Uloga Ferhad-bega Sokolovića u utvrđivanju granica između Osmanskog carstva i Mletačke republike nakon završetka Kiparskog rata 1573. godine,” Anali Gazi Husrev-Begove biblioteke 33 (2012): 139.
Morpurgo, “Daniel Rodriguez” (1962), 191; Benjamin Arbel, Trading Nations: Jews and Venetians in the Early Modern Eastern Mediterranean (Leiden and New York: E.J. Brill, 1995), 146; Paci, La “scala” di Spalato, 50.
The year mentioned in documents is 1566, but Benjamin Ravid attributes this year to a slip of the pen and corrects it to 1576. Ravid, “An Autobiographical Memorandum,” 193.
Morpurgo, “Daniel Rodriguez” (1962), 187.
Benjamin Ravid, “A Tale of Three Cities and Their Raison d’Etat: Ancona, Venice, Livorno, and the Competition for Jewish Merchants in the Sixteenth Century,” Mediterranean Historical Review 6, no. 2 (1991): 148.
Ravid, “A Tale of Three Cities,” 148; Maurice Aymard, “Le commerce dans la mer Adriatique au XVI siecle,” in Gli Ebrei e Venezia: secoli XIV–XVIII: Atti del Convegno internazionale organizzato dall’Istituto di storia della società e dello Stato Veneziano della Fondazione Giorgio Cini, Venezia, Isola di San Giorgio Maggiore, 5–10 Giugno 1983, ed. Gaetano Cozzi (Milano: Edizioni Comunità, 1987), 704–5.
Morpurgo, “Daniel Rodriguez” (1962), 187–89; Cemal Kafadar, “A Death in Venice (1575): Anatolian Muslim Merchants Trading in the Serenissima,” Journal of Turkish Studies 10 (1986): 204; Maria Pia Pedani and Alessio Bombaci, eds., Inventory of the Lettere e Scritture Turchesche in the Venetian State Archives (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2010), 54: 237; 3: 11–12.
Pedani and Bombaci, Inventory of the Lettere, 57: Grand Vizier Mehmed Pasha writes on August 7, 1574 to Doge Alvise I Mocenigo that he ordered all maritime merchants to go to Venice instead of to Ancona and other Ottoman-hostile places. However, merchants complained to him that in Venice, in addition to paying higher taxes, they also suffered from mobbing, while in Ancona they were well received, and they paid the usual amount of duties. Therefore, the grand vizir invites the Venetians to reintroduce the old taxes, and he ordered corsairs attacking Venetian subjects in the waters near Corfu and elsewhere to be punished.
Walter Panciera, “Building a Boundary: The First Venetian-Ottoman Border in Dalmatia 1573–1576,” Radovi Zavoda za hrvatsku povijest 45 (2013): 32.; “Tagliare i confini: la linea di frontiera Soranzo-Ferhat in Dalmazia (1576),” in Studi storici dedicati a Orazio Cancila, eds. A. Giuffrida, F. D’Avenia and D. Palermo (Palermo: Associazione Mediterranea, 2011), 270–72; Maria Pia Pedani, Venezia porta d’Oriente (Bologna: Il mulino, 2010), 170.
Sergio Anselmi, “Venezia e i Balcani: La ‘Scala’ di Spalato tra Cinque e Seicento,” Studi Storici 13, no. 2 (1972): 410–11.
Morpurgo, “Daniel Rodriguez” (1962), 221, 226. It seems improbable that Rodriga, who interacted personally with Sokollu family members and other important Bosnian state officials, did not receive word from the Ottomans that guarantees that a new trade route passing through their territory could be established before presenting his elaborate project to the Venetian authorities; also taking into account that for the realization of a new trade infrastructure, it was necessary for Ottomans to accomplish extensive work, like cutting down forests and building bridges, roads, and caravanserais.
Although no concrete involvement of Istanbul in Rodriga’s venture has been documented, the Venetian modus operandi some fifteen years later, at the moment when Venice became the main driving force behind the new trade route project, indicates the possibility of analogous behavior. It appears that the Venetian government was convinced that no one in the Ottoman capital had been informed of the project to divert trade through Split a few years before its realization. Out of fear of adverse reactions, the Venetian government preferred to keep the extent of their involvement in the project of scala a secret and sent its own confidants disguised as merchants in Bosnia to negotiate necessary affairs. Vera Costantini, “Fin dentro il paese turchesco: Stabilimento della scala di Spalato e potenziamento delle reti mercantili e diplomatiche veneziane nell’entroterra bosniaco,” Studi veneziani 67 (2013): 275.
Morpurgo, “Daniel Rodriguez” (1962), 206.
Ravid, “An Autobiographical Memorandum,” 194; Morpurgo, “Daniel Rodriguez” (1962), 226; Cvito Fisković, “Splitski lazaret,” in Četiri priloga historiji grada Splita XVII i XVIII stoljeća (Split: Muzej grada Splita, 1953), 12.
Morpurgo, “Daniel Rodriguez” (1962), 220.
Morpurgo, “Daniel Rodriguez” (1962), 238.
Ravid, “An Autobiographical Memorandum,”196, 209; Morpurgo, “Daniel Rodriguez” (1962), 227; Renzo Paci puts Rodriga in Dubrovnik immediately after his departure from Split, in 1583, see Paci, La “scala” di Spalato, 53.
Ravid, “An Autobiographical Memorandum,” 201; Viktor Morpurgo, “Daniel Rodriguez i osnivanje splitske skele u XVI stoljeću,” Starine JAZU 53 (1966): 363–66.
Morpurgo, “Daniel Rodriguez” (1966), 369, 371.
On the Cetina River, near the settlement called Han, there was a bridge with fifteen pillars, probably constructed as a result of this endeavor; see Arsen Duplančić, “Stari mostovi u Blatu na Cetini,” Omiški ljetopis 3 (2004): 195.
Paci, La “scala” di Spalato, 57.
Morpurgo, “Daniel Rodriguez” (1966), 363–65, 383; Grga Novak, Povijest Splita II (Split: Škuna, 2005), 93–94.
Snježana Perojević conducted a meticulous reconstruction of the different phases of the construction of the lazaretto and each of its buildings in Snježana Perojević, “Izgradnja lazareta u Splitu,” Prostor 10 (2002): 125.
Duško Kečkemet, “Prilozi opisu i povijesti splitskog lazareta,” in Kulturna i umjetnička baština u Dalmaciji I: Izabrani radovi (Split: Marjan tisak, 2004), 369.
Perojević, “Izgradnja lazareta,” 125.
Perojević, “Izgradnja lazareta,” 126.
Perojević, “Izgradnja lazareta,” 126.
About engineers working for the Venetian Republic in Dalmatia, see Darka Bilić, Inženjeri u službi Mletačke Republike. Inženjeri i civilna arhitektura u 18. stoljeću u mletačkoj Dalmaciji i Albaniji (Split: Književni krug, 2013).
Grga Novak, ed., Commissiones et Relationes Venetae 1591–1600, Monumenta Spectantia Historiam Slavorum Meridionalium (Zagreb: Jugoslavenska Akademija znanosti i umjetnosti, 1966), 5: 302.
Novak, Povijest Splita, 158.
Novak, Povijest Splita, 162.
Nelli-Elena Vanzan Marchini, ed., Rotte mediterranee e baluardi di sanità (Ginevra and Milano: Skira, 2004); Sabine Florence Fabijanec, “Hygiene and Commerce: The Example of Dalmatian Lazarettos from the Fourteenth until the Sixteenth Century,” Ekonomska i ekohistorija/Economic- and Ecohistory 4 (2008): 115–33.; Perojević, “Izgradnja lazareta,”120–21. For the contemporary situation in the Ottoman Empire, see Nukhet Varlik, Plague and Empire in the Early Modern World the Ottoman Experience, 1347–1600 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2015).
Zlata Blažina Tomić, Kacamorti i kuga. Utemeljenje i razvoj zdravstvene službe u Dubrovniku (Zagreb and Dubrovnik: HAZU, Zavod za povijesne znanosti u Dubrovniku, 2007), 232.
Antun Baće and Ivan Viđen, “Lazareti na Pločama od pada Dubrovačke Republike do danas (1808.–2013.),” Prostor 21, no. 2 (2013): 328.
Paolo Morachiello, “Howard e i Lazzaretti da Marseiglia a Venezia: Gli spazi della prevenzione,” in Venezia e la Peste: 1348–1797 (Venezia: Marsilio, 1980), 158–59.
Paolo Morachiello, “Lazzaretti e Contumacie,” in Storia di Venezia: Dalle origini alla caduta della Serenissima. Il Mare, eds. Alberto Tenenti and Ugo Tucci (Roma: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1991), 820; Nelli-Elena Vanzan Marchini, “Venezia e l’invezione del Lazzaretto,” in Rotte mediterranee e baluardi di sanità, ed. Nelli-Elena Vanzan Marchini (Ginevra and Milano: Skira, 2004), 18–19.
Francesca Malagnini, Il Lazzaretto Vecchio di Venezia. Le scritture epigrafiche (Venezia: Marcianum Press, 2018), 21, 23.
John Howard, An Account of the Principal Lazarettos in Europe (London: J. Johnson, C. Dilly, and T. Cadell, 1791), pl. 12.
Morachiello, “Lazzaretti e Contumacie,” 820, 823; Vanzan Marchini, “Venezia e l’invezione del lazzaretto,” 27, 200; Gabriele Mazzucco, “Una grangia del monastero di San Giorgio Maggiore di Venezia: L’isola della Vigna Murata poi Lazzaretto Nuovo,” in Venezia, Isola del Lazzaretto Nuovo, ed. Gerolamo Fazzini (Venezia: Archeoclub d’Italia, 2004), 22.
Morachiello, “Lazzaretti e Contumacie,” 824; See the detail of the 1552 drawing of the Venetian lagoon by Domenico Gallo in Archivio di Stato di Venezia, Savi ed esecutori alle acque, serie Lidi, dis. 3.
Morachiello, “Lazzaretti e Contumacie,” 823; Paolo Morachiello, “Lazzaretti dello ‘Stato da Terra,’” in Venezia e la Peste: 1348–1797 (Venezia: Marsilio, 1980), 172–75.
Olivia Remie Constable, Housing the Stranger in the Mediterranean World: Lodging, Trade and Travel in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 41; Ennio Concina, Fondaci: Architettura, arte e mercatura tra Levante, Venezia e Alemagna (Venezia: Marsilio, 1997), 21–26.
Donatella Calabi, “Magazini, Fondaci, Dogane,” in Storia di Venezia: Dalle origini alla caduta della Serenissima. Il Mare, eds. Alberto Teneti and Ugo Tucci (Roma: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1991),790–91; Deborah Howard, Venice and the East: The Impact of Islamic World on Venetian Architecture 1100–1500 (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2000), 120–25; Concina, Fondaci, 21–65.
Constable, Housing the Stranger, 272–73.
Constable, Housing the Stranger, 260; Howard, Venice and the East, 123.
Howard, Venice and the East, 121.
Constable, Housing the Stranger, 353–54.
Howard, Venice and the East, 126, 128; Concina, Fondaci, 117, 120–22, 146–52.
Howard, Venice and the East, 152–81; The name fondaco was also used in Venice to describe a building in which certain goods were stored and which acted as a venue for specialized goods such as flour. However, in this study the focus is on structures that offered lodging for merchants along with storage of the goods.
Massimo Costantini, “Le strutture dell’ospitalità,” in Storia di Venezia: Dalle origini alla caduta della Serenissima. V. Il Rinascimento, eds. Alberto Tenenti and Ugo Tucci (Roma: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1991), 902; Donatella Calabi, “Gli stranieri e la città,” in Storia di Venezia: Dalle origini alla caduta della Serenissima. V. Il Rinascimento, eds. Alberto Tenenti and Ugo Tucci (Roma: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1991), 925.
Calabi, “Magazini, Fondaci, Dogane,” 793–94.
Donatella Calabi, “Gli stranieri nella capitale della Repubblica Veneta nella prima età moderna,” Mélanges de l’Ecole Française de Rome. Italie et Méditerranée 111, no. 2 (1999): 727–28.
Calabi, “Gli stranieri e la città,” 933–34; Kafadar, “A Death in Venice,” 202.
Deborah Howard, The Architectural History of Venice (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2002), 36.
Calabi, “Gli stranieri nella capitale,” 728.
Calabi, “Gli stranieri nella capitale,” 728.
Constable, Housing the Stranger, 256, 359.
Constable, Housing the Stranger, 251, 260–61; Concina, Fondaci, 28; Deborah Howard, “Venice and Islam in the Middle Ages: Some Observations on the Question of Architectural Influence,” Architectural History 34, no. 1991 (1991): 68.
Concina, Fondaci, 39–40; For Doğan Kuban Ottoman hans and caranserais: “[…] exhibited, throughout the whole of history, a monotonous typology”; Doğan Kuban, Ottoman Architecture (Woodbridge: Antique Collectors’ Club, 2010), 156.
Concina, Fondaci, 39; Predrag Matković, “Dva talijanska putopisa po Balkanskom poluotoku iz XVI vieka,” Starine JAZU 10 (1878): 204.
Necipoğlu, “Connectivity, Mobility, and Mediterranean,” 338–39.
Hamdija Kreševljaković, Hanovi i karavansaraji u Bosni i Hercegovini, Knjiga VII (Sarajevo: Naučno društvo Bosne i Hercegovine, 1957).
Adem Handžić, “O značaju putova za razvitak naselja u Bosni u XVI i XVII stoljeću,” Prilozi Instituta za istoriju 13, no. 13 (1977): 73–78.
Alija Bejtić, “Spomenici osmanlijske arhitekture u Bosni i Hercegovini,” Prilozi za orijentalnu filologiju 3–4 (1953): 235; “Stari trgovački putevi u Donjem Polimlju,” Prilozi za orijentalnu filologiju 22–23 (1972): 163–89.; Kreševljaković, Hanovi i karavansaraji, 29.
Kreševljaković, Hanovi i karavansaraji, 105.
Bejtić, “Spomenici osmanlijske arhitekture,” 271; Kreševljaković, Hanovi i karavansaraji, 20–21; Behija Zlatar, “Sarajevo kao trgovački centar bosanskog sandžaka u XVI vijeku,” Prilozi za orijentalnu filologiju 38 (1988): 237.
Kreševljaković, Hanovi i karavansaraji, 24.
Hamdija Kreševljaković, “Naši bezisteni,” Naše Starine 2 (1954): 235–36.
Kreševljaković, Hanovi i karavansaraji, 21–24.
Kreševljaković, Hanovi i karavansaraji, 22–23.
While caravanserais served primarily for lodging and trade, they also became places where coffee was served when its consumption spread in the second half of the sixteenth century. Indeed, the first coffee house in Sarajevo was in the Morića Han, opened in 1592; Husref Redžić, “Revitalizacija Morića Hana—Morića Han kroz istoriju,” in Studije o islamskoj arhitektonskoj baštini (Sarajevo: Veselin Masleša, 1983), 287.
There were different names for this building: daira, Čifuthana, Velika avlija, Kortiž; see Alija Bejtić, “Sijavuš- pašina daira u Sarajevu,” Prilozi za proučavanje istorije Sarajeva 2 (1966): 61, 64.
Bejtić, “Sijavuš-pašina daira u Sarajevu,” 66–67; Moritz Levy, Sefardi u Bosni: Prilog historiji Jevreja na Balkanskom poluotoku (Sarajevo: Bosanska Biblioteka, 1997), 11–16.
Bejtić, “Sijavuš-pašina Daira,” 66.
Bejtić, “Sijavuš-pašina Daira,” 78–79.
Kreševljaković, Hanovi i karavansaraji, 144–45.
Donatella Calabi, “Città e territorio nel Dominio da mar,” in Storia di Venezia: dalle origini alla caduta della Serenissima: Dal Rinascimento al Barocco (1994) accessed September 9, 2020,
For the features of Ottoman caravaserai, see Lidija Kumbaraǆi-Bogoeviḱ, Üsküp’te Osmanlı mimarî eserleri (İstanbul: Mas Matbaacılık. 2008), 270.
Fernand Braudel, The Mediterranean and the Mediterranean World in the Age of Philip II, trans. Siân Reynolds (London: Collins, 1972), 1: 286–88.