Before closing these pages, I shall go back a few months and shall translate Giustina Renier Michiel’s touching account of the scene which took place in Dalmatia, in the preceding month of August, when the Austrians came by sea to take possession of the country.
On the twenty-second of August, Rukavina [the Austrian general] arrived with a fleet and a thousand soldiers and landed at Pettana, a mile and a half from Perasto. The
G. R. Michiel, Origini. Compare also Rom. x. 249.
Dalmatians, taken by surprise, and seeing that they had nothing more to hope, resolved to render the last honours to the great standard or Saint Mark. To this end the people of Perasto, and of the neighbouring country, and others, assembled before the palace of the Captain in command; and he, with twelve soldiers armed with sabres, and two colour-sergeants, went to the hall where the standard was, and the colours carried in the field, which Venice had entrusted many centuries ago to the valour and loyalty of the brave Dalmatians. They were now to take away those dearly loved flags; but in the very moment of doing what it broke their hearts to do, their strength failed them, and they could only shed a flood of tears.
The throng of people who waited in the Square, not seeing any one come out again, knew not what to think. So one of the judges of the town was sent up to ascertain the cause; but he, too, was so much moved that his presence [in the hall] only increased the grief of the others. At last the Captain, controlling himself of sheer necessity, made the painful effort; he took down the flags from the place where they were hung and attached them to two pikes; and he handed them to the two colour-sergeants, and they and the soldiers, led by the lieutenant, marched out of the hall; and after them the Captain, the Judge, and all the rest. As soon as the well-beloved standard was seen, the grief and tears of the multitude were universal. Men, women, and children all sobbed and their tears rolled down; and nothing was heard but the complaint of mourning, no doubtful proof of the hereditary devotion of that generous nation to its Republic.
When the sad procession reached the Square, the Captain unfastened the flags from the pikes and at the same time the ensign of Saint Mark on the fort was hauled down, and a salute of twenty guns was fired. Two armed vessels that guarded the port answered with eleven guns, and all the merchant vessels saluted also; this was the last good-bye of sorrowing glory to the valour of a nation. The sacred colours were placed upon a metal salver and the lieutenant received them in the presence of the Judge, of the Captain, and of the people. Then all marched with slow and melancholy steps to the cathedral. There they were received by the clergy and its chief, to whom the sacred trust was delivered, and he placed it on the high altar. Then the Captain commanding spoke the following words, which were again and again interrupted by quick sobbing, and streaming tears that came from men’s hearts more truly than from their eyes:—
‘In this cruel moment,’ he said, ‘that rends our hearts for the fatal destruction of the Most Serene Venetian Government, in this last expression of our love and faith, with which we do honour to the colours of the Republic, let us at least find some consolation, dear fellow-citizens, in the thought that neither our past deeds, nor those we have done in these recent times, have led to this sad office, which, for us, is now become a good deed. Our sons will know from us, and history will teach all Europe, that Perasto upheld to the last breath the glory of the Venetian flag, honouring it and bathing it in universal and most bitter tears. Fellow-citizens, let us freely pour out our grief; but amidst the last solemn thoughts with which we seal the glorious career that has been ours under the Most Serene Government of Venice, let us turn to these well-loved colours and cry out to them, in our sorrow, “Dear flag that has been ours three hundred and seventy-seven years without a break, our faith and courage have ever kept you unstained both on the sea and wheresoever you were called to face your enemies, which were the enemies of the Church also. For three hundred and seventy-seven years our goods, our blood, and our lives have always been devoted to you, and since you have been with us, and we with you, we have ever been happy, and famous on the sea, and victorious on land. No man ever saw us put to flight with you; with you none were ever found to overcome us. If these most wretched times of rash action, of corrupt manners, of dissensions and of lawless opinions that offend nature and the law of nations had not ruined you in Italy, our goods, our blood, our lives should still be yours; and rather than have seen you overcome and dishonoured, our courage and our faith would have chosen to be buried with you. But since we can do nothing more for you than this, let your honoured grave be in our hearts, let our desolation be your highest praise.”’
Then the Captain went up and took a corner of the flag and put it to his lips as if he could not let it leave them; and all thronged to kiss it most tenderly, washing it with their hot tears. But as the sad ceremony had to come to an end at last, these dear colours were laid in a chest, which the Rector placed in a reliquary beneath the high altar.