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Imago Dalmatiae. Itinerari di viaggio dal Medioevo al Novecento

Perasto

"[From the diary]. «Exactly opposite the entrance of Le Catene slumbers the old city of Perasto, on the edge of the bay, on a rocky promontory separating the Bay of Risano from the Bay of Cattaro. The horn and the two bays form a rude capital 'T', with Perasto exactly in the middle, at the top of the letter».

«Two adorably picturesque little islands lie in front of Perasto, islands so tiny and charming that everyone asks their names the moment they set eyes on them. They seem to float on the waves like stray flowers from fairyland. One is the Scoglio St. Giorgio, on which is a wee little monastery, with elfin trees whispering within a garden whose walls are kissed by the sea. This monastery is one of the oldest of the Benedictine order. There are records still extant giving its history and the names of its bishops back to 1166. But the tiny island, with its cloister, lovely campanile, and dark green cypress, looking like long, slender fingers pointing upward to the blue sky, is doomed. The poor little island is gradually wasting away, being slowly but surely devoured by the ever-hungry waves. As small as is the Rock of St. George, it has been fought for bitterly by Perasto and Cattaro. Finally, the Perastines assassinated the bishop and took forcible possession, and Venice permitted them to retain the ill-gotten church, but gave Cattaro a yearly sum of money as a quietus».

«Even lovelier to me was the neighboring island of Santa Maria dello Scarpello. Why the Madonna of the Chisel, I do not know; for the story connected with it is of a fisherman, not a worker in stone. At daybreak, one summer morning, a Perasto fisherman in his boat, on being awakened suddenly, by hearing a celestial voice softly calling his name, in amazement saw standing on the island a figure clad in shining raiment. It was the Blessed Virgin Mary robed in trailing garments of luminous white. 'Make thou here for me a sanctuary, my son', she commanded. So upon the island a chapel was duly erected, and for many years the pious Bocchesi delighted to add to the miniature reef shiploads of stones. To this day, on the twenty-second of July, the anniversary of the vision, a large boat heavily laden with stone goes from Perasto to the tiny island, with its wee white sanctuary — a picturesque church, with a pretty green cupola, and oddly shaped, ribbed dome, each surmounted by a shining cross, turned into gold by the sunshine. Twice a year the church of the Madonna del Scarpello is adorned in festal array in honor of the Virgin. On August fifteenth is observed the Feast of the Assumption, and on September eighth is celebrated the birth of the Blessed Virgin Mary. A quaint Bocchesi proverb says, 'Entre le due Madonne cade la pioggia.' Altho it is true that between the two festas 'falls the rain,' still on those days, rain or shine, the island is crowded with the Bocchesi in their Sunday best, and a multitude of votive gifts, accumulated all the rest of the year over in Perasto, are then publicly displayed. One of the church's greatest treasures is a painting of the Madonna, ascribed to the brush of St. Luke himself. It is lavishly decorated with silver and gold in the Byzantine style. At festas the picture of the Virgin is decked out with long earrings, golden chains, and a jeweled crown, like the garish adornments seen on icons in Greek churches».

«Perasto is solemn, but lovely. Everything is falling to pieces, and there are whispers of 'death in life, the days that are no more.' There is a forlorn air about the deserted palaces; their exquisite Venetian balconies overgrown with vines, and their sculptured doorways, look ready to fall. There is a church which was intended to be a copy of Santa Maria della Saluta in Venice, but it was never finished, and now it never will be. Perasto's greatness has passed away, with the old nobility who once inhabited its palaces. Only a beggarly five hundred souls dwell in what was once a flourishing city».

«We climbed the steep hill by the crumbling stone steps and peeped into many of the dismantled houses. Here and there a face would peer out from the window of some tumbledown abode, but the next moment it would disappear. I caught a view of a forlorn creature standing dejectedly on the narrow steps. She looked at me listlessly, and never budged an inch, altho I know she must have noticed my camera. […]».

«While we were still far up the heights, we heard the warning whistle of our steamer, and lost not a moment in scrambling down the wobbly steps. As we were making all haste along shore, we encountered a squad of soldiers, and saw at once that they were 'raw recruits', an awkward squad, about as different from the natty and trim Austrian troops as could well be imagined. Each man carried his gun as if he was afraid it would momentarily 'go off'. Probably the sergeant noticed we were smiling, for he suddenly gave an order, and away they trotted at double-quick. The moment they reached a safe distance we gave way to our merriment; for they ran so awkwardly we were convulsed with laughter. John declared they were 'the worst ever!' and wondered how long it would take the poor sergeant to lick his unpromising Perasto material into martial shape».

«But the history of Perasto proves that her sturdy sons, in the past at least, were splendid fighters. Centuries ago the city received a banner from Venice for 'signal and most faithful services to the republic'. It is said that when the Austrians came to take possession of Dalmatia, and troops appeared at Perasto, the sacred flag was 'buried with a requiem mass beneath the high altar in the church of St. Nicolò, with all the sorrow seen at the burial of a beloved father'. This gonfalon is red, with a yellow border. In the center is seen the Lion of Saint Mark, ready to defend the Cross rising from the sea, at whose foot he stands on guard. The emblem has been resurrected from its tomb, and, together with captured swords and other Turkish trophies, is sacredly preserved in the museum. Altho Perasto now belongs to Austria, the eyes of her citizens brighten as they recount the story of her glorious part, and they proudly show you the Fedelissima Gonfaloniera, which earned for their city the honored and much vaunted title, 'Most Faithful Banner'»" (pp. 317-322).