Diocletian and His Palace

Like many other Emperors in the so-called period of “Military Anarchy” which he successfully put an end to, Diocletian’s rule was proclaimed by his legions, after the two sons of the Emperor Carus died in swift succession in 284-285.

Through various reforms, Diocletian consolidated the Emperor’s power but then divided the role between himself and three other men (the Tetrachs), in order (among other things) to ensure smoother transfers of power. In order to facilitate this he abdicated in 305, and had a palace (or, more properly, a fortress) built for himself near his birthplace.

The old walls of the palace are still visible (and impressive) in many places. The best way to get some sense of what must have been an impressive structure is to walk along the Riva, and then duck down through the relatively anonymous Bronze Gate and walk down a flight of stairs. In Diocletian’s time, the sea came up to the edge of the palace, so boats would have docked here. The vaulted subterranean halls, which today are mostly given over to knick-knack stands (although you can visit some empty ones for a fee) are impressive largely for their size, but they’re of interest because their floor plans are believed to present a mirror image of the imperial living quarters that were directly them. At their end you emerge up another flight of stairs into the Peristyle, and this was the central courtyard of the palace (and remains its best-preserved area). Today it’s a much photographed square and popular meeting place.

The small domed building directly above these stairs is the Vestibule – which gives a good sense of how the complex’s minor structures must have looked. To the right, a pair of amazingly well-preserved black sphinxes guard what was originally Diocletian’s Mausoleum. Ironically, as the Campanile attests, it’s now the world’s oldest Christian Cathedral, dedicated to St. Dominius. Although a choir was added to the original tomb, the building is quite shallow and still feels more like a mausoleum than a church. In a further affront to the legacy of Diocletian, who particularly loathed Christians, the former Temple of Jupiter, located down an alley opposite the Cathedral, is now its attractive Baptistery.

The view from the Campanile offers an excellent insight both into the former size of the Palace and the extent of its decay. It’s no substitute, however, for exploring the Old Town’s streets, which contain a fascinating jumble of buildings, many of which make use of or build upon the original Roman structure. Unlike most archaeological sites, which are literally and figuratively roped off, Diocletian’s Palace lives on as Split’s heart.

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