The plague re-appeared from time to time, and in 1580 and 1639 the town was again visited by earthquakes.
But the historical bench-mark of Ragusa was the great seismic disturbance of 1667. With this as the basis, the dates of all subsequent or previous events of importance were calculated; even to-day the people of the town will tell you that the church of San Biagio was destroyed by fire “thirty-nine years after the earthquake.”
Early in the morning of April 6th, 1667, this great disaster descended without any warning upon the people of Ragusa. The earth seemed to roll and vibrate under the internal pressure; immense fissures were cleft in the surface and almost every house in the city was razed to the ground; five thousand citizens, the Rector of the Republic included among them, perished. The ruins took fire and the town was looted by hordes of plunderers; even the treasures of the churches were carried away.
Because the Ragusans had made some armed resistance against the Turks, many of whom were among the chief looters, the Sublime Porte demanded an explanation. Nicola Bona and Marino Gozze were chosen as peace commissioners to Turkey, but both were thrown into prison at Silistria. Two others that followed suffered the same fate.
Although deluged with misfortunes Ragusa prospered, but her continued prosperity was not watched without some jealousy on the part of the powers of Europe. At the height of her ascendency, Russia and France both grew hungry for her, and Russia, aided by the Montenegrins, bombarded and sacked the city. In 1806 Napoleon took Ragusa, and eight years later the combined efforts of England and Austria caused the haughty, supercilious little principality to be annexed to Austria.
You will find such an exaggerated air of independence among the Ragusans of to-day that you will little wonder that they held themselves for four hundred years against the nations of Europe and outlived the effects of their calamities.
I was talking with a native on the Corso one day and happened to ask him, casually, what was the nature of the reception the people of Ragusa tendered the Austrian Emperor upon the occasion of his visit a short time before. He seemed offended that I even intimated that they had given the Emperor a reception, and assured me that the Ragusans had taken the matter of his visit as an occasion of no importance whatever. But he hastened to tell me in detail of the demonstration planned for the Crown Prince of Montenegro, who was expected soon to make a short stay in the city.
Ragusa, as I have said, is the much favoured winter resort of the Austrian and Hungarian aristocracy, and it would be difficult to imagine a more delightful one. The climate is ideal. Although the atmosphere is free from humidity the sun of a summer’s day is quite hot—so hot, in fact, that you will be tempted to indulge in a three-dollar white duck suit at one of the little shops along the Corso.
The evenings, however, are always agreeably cool. Then the band plays in the “piazza,” on the top of the cliff, and the town awakens from its apparent lethargy. From the docks the sardine fishermen, after overhauling their tiny craft, put out to sea in the evening twilight, to make their nightly catch among the bays and inlets of the rock-bound coast. Beyond the bastiles and sea-fortresses the afterglow of the brilliant sunset tinges La Croma in hues of purple and gold.