Venice, as drawn by Friedrich Bernhard Werner in 1730. This engraving is part of a large assortment of similar city-views produced by German printers. For the record, these are two conjoined sheets printed in Augsburg by Johann Friedrich Probst in about 1750. Interesting to see that Werner managed to squash some of the more eastern churches into the background on the right-hand edge of the engraving. Inexplicably missing, though, is the church of Sant’ Elena, or rather, its tower, which had been standing there since 1558. Napoleon deconsecrated the church in 1810 and tore down the tower. The regrettable replacement that we see today was built in 1920.
When you think of Venice, you think of canals. I take that as a given. But unless you are a maniac for old maps, you may not have noticed how many towers punctuate the city.
Many (most?) medieval cities in Europe were spikier than a drove of porcupines, and the Venetian skyline in the 1730 engraving can still be discerned. I was all set to blame Napoleon for any that are missing, but he was focused primarily on despoiling churches, not dismantling towers.
The prime destroyer was lightning. It took Venice a surprisingly long time — i.e., more than one disaster — to address the problem of lightning’s propensity to ignite a disastrous fire, but eventually lightning rods were installed on many belltowers. (Along the same lines, gunpowder was originally stored in the Arsenal, and strange to say it took more than one lightning bolt for the administrators to grasp the importance of storing it on neighboring islands. One such island is called San Angelo delle Polvere — Saint Angelo of the Powder. The wisdom of storing gunpowder outside the city was confirmed on August 29, 1689, when lightning struck the island and all 800 barrels exploded.)
Back to towers. There are a few churches whose bells (or budget) didn’t even merit a tower. Exhibit A: The magnificent basilica of SS. Giovanni e Paolo.
Take whatever time you need to locate the bells. Rockstar church, roadie belltower. This certainly never had a chance to feature on the engraving. (Credit: Didier Descouens, own work, CC BY-SA4.0, Wikipedia).True, this is not the same perspective as the engraving above. I put this picture here just because I like it. Someone who had come to Venice specifically to draw the skyline, however, might have had second thoughts on seeing this.On closer inspection, the newcomer would discover that there are plenty of towers, as we see here. It’s just that only a few stick up in any noticeable way. The artist solves that little problem by simply stretching them all skyward, making the city look pricklier than a pincushion.Venice buffs can amuse themselves by identifying the towers. No fair looking at the engraving.
Indulge me as I conduct roll call. I will follow the sequence of church names printed in Latin below the engraving, but I’ll translate them into the common Italian versions we know. The German names, printed above the towers, will be left for you to decipher for whatever weird crossword you may be working that actually asks for this information.
Bear in mind that the image shows three dimensions, so don’t think the churches are all lined up like the Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall, meaning no disrespect. To churches or Rockettes.
1. San Biagio and Cataldo nuns (on the Giudecca, if it isn’t clear). The Blessed Catholdus of Eichstatt was a 7th century Benedictine monk. All that remains of the church is a very worn plaque in Latin on the wall of the present church of Santa Eufemia. 2. SantaMarta 3. San Trovaso 4. Santa Maria Maggiore nuns 5. San Nicolo’ (dei Mendicanti, I am supposing by the location) 6. Sant’ Agnese 7. SantaMaria della Carita’. The belltower fell into the Grand Canal on March 27, 1744, crushing two houses and causing such a huge wave that the nearby gondolas were thrown onto the street. The church is now part of the Accademia Gallery. The belltower is nowhere to be seen. 8. Santo Stefano 9. Sant’Angelo 10. La Salute (Salus is Latin for “health”). 11. San Lucius (a 13th-century shepherd and patron saint of cheese-makers. The church no longer exists). 12. San Vidal 13. San Simeone (doesn’t indicate “grande,” which is small, or “piccolo,” which is large) 14. San Sebastiano 15. San Samuele 16. Santa Maria Benigna (I am still seeking information about this lovely-sounding church, but I am not feeling optimistic). 17. San LeonardoFour towers to rest your tired eyes. (L to R): Far left: The tiniest tower, just visible above the trees, belongs to the church of San Cristoforo on the cemetery island of San Michele. Center left: Torre di Porta Nuova, at the eastern water entrance to the Arsenale; built in the early 19th century for masting ships, it fell into disuse not long afterward due to changing naval engineering. It is occasionally open to visitors. The interior has been redesigned for various uses as a cultural center, but a visit is well worth it if only for the view from the top. Center right: The white belltower of San Pietro di Castello. Yes, it is leaning slightly, but please remain calm, everything is under control. Far right: The brick tower of the church of Santi Maria e Donato on Murano.
18. Santa Margherita 19, San Beneto 20. Carmini 21. San Luca 22. San Pantalon 23. San Nicolo’ dei Tolentini 24. Conventual (Frari). 25. San Polo 26. San Moise’ 27. San Bonaventura Riformati (Franciscan Minor friars from S. Francesco del Deserto) 28. Carmelitani Scalzi 29. Sant’ Apollonia 30. Sant’ Alvise nuns 31. San Silvestro 32. San Giacometto 33. San Boldo 34. Sant’ Aponal 35. San Cassian
36. San Stae 37. San Mattia 38. San Salvador 39. Torre di San Marco 40. San Lio 41. church of the Apostoli 42. church of SanMarco 43. Santa Catarina 44. Padri Gesuiti (the Jesuit fathers) 45. San Marino 46. Santi Miracoli 47. San Canciano 48. SantaMaria Formosa 49. San Lorenzo 50. SS. Giovanni e Paolo 51. “Mandicanti” San Lazzaro dei Mendicanti 52. San Zaccaria 53. San ProvoloThis one’s fun because the zoom has tried to confuse things. But intense cross-checking reveals (L to R): The Madonna dell’Orto, the dome of SS. Giovanni e Paolo, the white belltower of San Giorgio dei Greci, San Martino, San Francesco della Vigna.
54. The Capuchin nuns of the church of the Madonna of the Weeping. Napoleon closed it in 1810; in 1814 it was divided into two floors. The upper floor was a little theatre and the ground floor was a factory making pots and pans. Not made up. It was reopened as a church in 1851, but after other vicissitudes, such as the departure of the last nun in 1970, it was definitively closed. You can see its melancholy outlines standing behind SS. Giovanni and Paolo 55. Santa Giustina 56. San Giorgio dei Greci (“Greek church“) 57. San Severo 58. San Francesco della Vigna, the Minor Observant Franciscan friars 59. Celestia. A church and convent dedicated to Santa Maria Assunta in Cielo — St. Mary Taken Up to Heaven, founded in 1119. The usual sequence of events follow, including destruction by a violent fire that began in the nearby Arsenal, rebuilt several times, till 1810, when Napoleon, the Great Suppressor and Closer of Religious Establishments, gave the complex to the navy. Eventually the church was demolished. Many thanks to Herr Werner for leaving us a glimpse of its belltower. 60. Arsenal 61. San Giovanni in Bragora 61. Santa Maria delle Vergini, nuns. Founded in 1224, rebuilt after two fires, the second in 1487. It was given to the Navy in 1806 and used as a prison. Demolished in 1844 and the area dug as a careening basin of the Arsenal. 63. San Daniele, nuns. The buildings have been converted to an apartment complex for Navy officers and their families. Lots of greenery (nice) hosting armies of mosquitoes at summer twilights (not so nice). 64. San Pietro di Castello, patriarchate (at that time the seat of the patriarch, or bishop, of the diocese of Venice). 65. San Domenico. Church and convent gone, demolished by The Little Corporal to make space for the Public Gardens (Giardini). There are some Dominican nuns lodged in a modern building on the earlier land. 66. San Nicolo’ Demolished to leave space for the Giardini. 67. Sant’ Anna As with many convents in Venice, unwilling girls were sent here to remove them from the complications (and cost) of being married off. The 17th-century protofeminist Sister Arcangela Tarabotti minced no words in her famous books The Patriarchal Tyranny and The Monastic Hell. Fun fact: Two of Tintoretto’s daughters were nuns at Sant’ Anna. 68. Sant’ Antonio 69. San BiagioThere used to be a notable quantity of gardens on the Giudecca. Many of them are gone, along with the fabulous boats and ships. Speaking of gardens, not indicated here is the much later women’s prison on the Giudecca. The ladies have been cultivating a vegetable garden since 2001, and also produce a line of natural cosmetics using their flowers and herbs.San Giorgio Maggiore.
70. Le Prigioni 71. Palazzo Ducale 72. Procuratie Nuove 73. La Zecca (the Mint). The first mint, in the 9th century C.E. was at the Riva di Ferro (Embankment of Iron) near the Rialto Bridge. The name refers to its iron coins. The mint was transferred to San Marco in 1277, to make it easier for the Great Council to oversee its work. This mint continued under the Austrians, and was closed only in 1870, shortly after Venice joined the new Republic of Italy. 74. La Sanita’ 75. La Dogana 76. Spirito Santo 77. Le Convertite 78. San Cosmo eDamiano friars 79. Santa Eufemia 80. San Giacomo Serviti 81. Redentore Capuchin friars 82. La Croce nuns 83. Zitelle more nuns 84. San Giovanni Battista 85. San Giorgio Maggiore Benedictine monks 86. Gulf of Venice. The “Gulf of Venice” more typically referred to the Adriatic sea, but Herr Werner had to save space and opted to use the bacino of San Marco as a symbolic stand-in. It is somewhat justifiable to call the lagoon part of the Adriatic, but seems a little forced.The more I look around, the more I admire Herr Werner’s ability to list them all, not to mention fit them onto two small pieces of paper.Of course it’s merely an obelisk, but it certainly looks towerish. The obelisks seen atop important palaces indicate that one of the family’s sons had been elevated to the rank of capitano generale da mar. He was the supreme commander of the Venetian fleet in times of war. Chatting aimlessly with a little Venetian boy years ago, I asked if he would like to become a capitano da mar one day and he didn’t hesitate even one second. “No,” he said, quite firmly, as if it didn’t even need thinking about. And why not? He was ready for that one too. “Troppo faticoso,” he stated. Too tiring.Chimneys evidently want to be towers, so I said fine. Upside down? Also fine.The Molino Stucky, imposing even as it is dissolving.San Pietro di Castello. Summer dusk and festival lighting are perfectly happy together.San Marcuola: It’s a bell, it’s up in the air. They threw in a clock, too. Who needs to add a stack of bricks?Santi Apostoli.San Giorgio dei Greci, with SS. Giovanni e Paolo in the background. Forget the towers — this is the battle of the domes. San Giorgio wins, having placed a dome atop the tower.
The worse the weather, the better the belltower at Torcello appears. This view is looking from Burano during the last Venetian-rowing race of the official season. I realize that Herr Werner didn’t range far afield from Venice, but I think we need to add this.One of the Arsenal watchtowers, now standing guard over the drying laundry. Also a worthy occupation.Obviously not a tower. It’s a work of art, created by somebody for the Biennale a few years ago to represent something. Not what you think, but something ethereal and conceptual. Belltowers are beautiful and useful, while this is neither. It does take courage to install something that you present as beautiful or meaningful in Venice, which is already so full of creations that are both, so I suppose this artist gets a few points for that.I take my towers where I find them.
It’s easy to remember the central church’s name — San Simeon Piccolo — simply because it is so big. (Irony alert: “Piccolo” means “small.”) The dramatic disproportion between the building’s elements is its main claim to fame. Napoleon, on seeing it for the first time, is reported to have quipped “I’ve seen plenty of churches with a dome, but this is the first time I’ve ever seen a dome with a church.”Come back, Herr Werner. The towers are waiting for you.
Fun and witty as always. Thank you for including Torcello. The sole time I’ve been there, the tower was encased in scaffolding, giving it the proportions and gridiron look of a New York City skyscraper.
Fascinating stuff. The picture of the tower reflected in the puddle, with the people climbing the stairs, is a hell of a picture, EZ. Great seeing! Bravo!
This was completely delightful! I especially loved the little reflections of the towers in the puddle. As long semi-residents, we took special pleasure in the towers of Burano, some of which seem to be leaning perilously. As always, your work is a revelation.. Thank you.
Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful. And always so informative. On our next visit I need to pay closer attention to some of those magnificent towers. Love the reflection shot. Thanks for sharing your knowledge.
Ronda
Thanks so so much Erla for pulling this together.
History, slices of life, and your welcomed humor, combined with beautiful photographs, has made for a lovely morning. Would that this were longer…
Delightful, and informative, as usual. Well worth waiting for. I was pleasantly surprised how
many I could recall and name. Must’ve spent even longer staring about me with wide open eyes than I thought, in Venice over the years.
Thank you yet again. (Sighs)
How does this happen? I have spent the last few weeks slowly going through a book called Venice from the Bell Towers and now you write this wonderful, wonderful post. My obsessive little heart is delighted. What an incredible amount of work you must have put in! As always I love your photos and your touches of wit. Thanks also for the link to your post on Santa Marta, written before I discovered your blog, as the evolution of the Campo di Marte is one of the rabbit holes I disappeared down recently.
Wonderful pictures, Erla. In a way I envy that kind of devotion that drove people to building these magnificent places of worship. In Leshan in China I have also visited a giant Buddha-figure carved in the bedrock and I can only imagine the hard work put into it. To be a part of a community of faith is truly a blessing. Then I The part about “drove of porcupines” cracked me up though!
I guess San Simeon Piccolo is called so just because the church itself is small however huge the dome might be, a wonderful irony indeed.
Regarding the golden thingy a quote from Tom Lehrer immediately sprang to mind; “When correctly viewed, everything is lewd”, but that’s quite another story.
Glad to hear, or read as the case might be, from you again!
All the best from Solna!
/Andreas
14 Comments
Fun and witty as always. Thank you for including Torcello. The sole time I’ve been there, the tower was encased in scaffolding, giving it the proportions and gridiron look of a New York City skyscraper.
Fascinating stuff. The picture of the tower reflected in the puddle, with the people climbing the stairs, is a hell of a picture, EZ. Great seeing! Bravo!
Very interesting!!! Unfortunately, the photos did not “come up” in my email.
I take that back- I had to scroll farther to find your very fine photos.
Lovely, as usual, and some smiles as well. Thank you, Erla
Thanks so much. Would you check your inbox? My emails to you keep getting bounced back.
This was completely delightful! I especially loved the little reflections of the towers in the puddle. As long semi-residents, we took special pleasure in the towers of Burano, some of which seem to be leaning perilously. As always, your work is a revelation.. Thank you.
Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful. And always so informative. On our next visit I need to pay closer attention to some of those magnificent towers. Love the reflection shot. Thanks for sharing your knowledge.
Ronda
Absolutely lovely, Erla, and so interesting, thank you so much.
Thanks so so much Erla for pulling this together.
History, slices of life, and your welcomed humor, combined with beautiful photographs, has made for a lovely morning. Would that this were longer…
Delightful, and informative, as usual. Well worth waiting for. I was pleasantly surprised how
many I could recall and name. Must’ve spent even longer staring about me with wide open eyes than I thought, in Venice over the years.
Thank you yet again. (Sighs)
How does this happen? I have spent the last few weeks slowly going through a book called Venice from the Bell Towers and now you write this wonderful, wonderful post. My obsessive little heart is delighted. What an incredible amount of work you must have put in! As always I love your photos and your touches of wit. Thanks also for the link to your post on Santa Marta, written before I discovered your blog, as the evolution of the Campo di Marte is one of the rabbit holes I disappeared down recently.
If you start looking at the old maps of Venice — I mean, back hundreds of years — you will never get out. I’m glad you have sensed this in time!
Wonderful pictures, Erla. In a way I envy that kind of devotion that drove people to building these magnificent places of worship. In Leshan in China I have also visited a giant Buddha-figure carved in the bedrock and I can only imagine the hard work put into it. To be a part of a community of faith is truly a blessing. Then I The part about “drove of porcupines” cracked me up though!
I guess San Simeon Piccolo is called so just because the church itself is small however huge the dome might be, a wonderful irony indeed.
Regarding the golden thingy a quote from Tom Lehrer immediately sprang to mind; “When correctly viewed, everything is lewd”, but that’s quite another story.
Glad to hear, or read as the case might be, from you again!
All the best from Solna!
/Andreas