Friday, 29 November 2024

More Venetian than the Venetians - Michelle Lovric

There is a little corner of Venice that is forever Slav.

I’m devoting this blog to that corner, which is best known for its jewel-box of paintings by Vittore Carpaccio, the artist commissioned by the Slavs of Venice to depict their own saints in their own sacred place, the Scuola Dalmata dei Santi Giorgio e Trifone.

It’s a thousand years since Venice and the Slavs, known as the Schiavoni, were first drawn into a warm and symbiotic relationship by proximate geography and mutual interest. With the Ottomans encroaching ever further west and Mediterranean pirates increasingly audacious, Venice represented both a place and source of safety for the threatened Christian populations of the western Balkans. And Dalmatia in turn stood as Venice’s last line of defence against a Turkish domination of the Adriatic.

In 998 AD, the Dalmatian city-states appealed to Doge Pietro Orseolo for protection. The Venetian fleet swept in, hunting down and suppressing the pirates. Orseolo was welcomed as a liberator. He and his successors took the title ‘Duke of the Dalmatians’.
Domenico Tintoretto, ritratto dei dogi
Pietro Orseolo II ed Ottone Orseolo, Palazzo Ducale,
courtesy of Wikimedia Commons


Over the next four hundred years, the whole Dalmatian coast became part of the Stato da Màr, the name given to la Serenissima’s overseas possessions. Trade relations flourished; so did the population of Schiavoni living in Venice.
 
In 1368, Perast – in modern Montenegro – was named Venice’s "FEDELISSIMA GONFALONIERA" – most faithful flagbearer. In peace-time, the Venetian war standard was held by the Captain of Perast. In times of war, that banner was hoisted on the navy’s flagship. Each year, twelve Perastini, chosen from the most valiant, swore to die rather than allow the Venetian flag to fall into enemy hands. More on this later.
image from Bozholidays website

One of Venice’s great thoroughfares took its name from the Dalmatian merchants who landed their goods there – the Riva degli Schiavoni.
Gabriele Bella, Passeggio sulla riva degli Schiavoni, Querini Stampalia,
courtesy of Wikimedia Commons 

By the mid-15th century there were over 5000 Slavs resident in Venice, of a total population of 120,000. Whether German, Albanian, Greek, Armenian or Jewish, immigrants were welcomed by Venice, because there were simply not enough Venetians to do the work of the city, particularly the more menial, low-paid work. Pragmatically, Venice assimilated and socialised her immigrants – folding them into the existing system of scuole or guilds, by which the city neatly organised her social, religious, economic and civic life. It was also the scuole that commissioned some of Venice’s greatest art.

Each national scuola operated as a nucleus of resident foreigners, who were never fully integrated but defined, accepted and welcomed as insider-outsiders, licensed to provide the manpower and trades Venice needed, while self-governing within their own confraternity. The scuola was a gateway to work, patronage, housing and alms for all new immigrants. Meanwhile, the intimate geographies of Venice gradually bound together all those who lived there, whatever their origin – as did intermarriage. In the wider picture, common causes against common enemies did the same.

So in 1451, the Council of Ten said yes, when Venice’s Slavs asked to set up their own scuola, with a mission to support the Dalmatian community, especially the families of soldiers and sailors who had suffered or died while serving la Serenissima in battle.

The Schiavoni were to meet in the disused hospice of Santa Caterina, leased from the Order of St John of Jerusalem, in Calle dei Furlani in the east of the city. Two hundred confratelli were present on the day of their first meeting. Just under 50% came from the cities of Kotor and Bar in Venetian Albania. Over a third were sailors, crewing the Republic’s galleys; another third were tradesmen, many working on the construction and maintenance of the Venetian fleet.

The aims and responsibilities of each Venetian scuola were embodied in its Mariegola, a book of statutes. The Mariegola established the days of the Schiavoni’s religious services, permitted them to worship in their own language, defined their charitable works including dowries for poor girls, their financial obligations to the State, and also the roles of the different officers. This image of their precious Mariegola comes from the scuola's website.

For its coat of arms, the new scuola adapted the antique heraldry of Dalmatia … three lion heads on an azure base. Azure turned crimson, echoing Venice’s own flag. Dalmatian soldiers and sailors wore red tunics – later jackets – and spoke in their own ‘Illyrian’ dialect, a language heavily contaminated with Venetian.4

The scuola immediately began to acquire relics and sacred art relating to its patron saints, Trifone, George and Jerome.

In 1502 the Venetian patrician Paolo Valaresso presented the scuola with a relic of Saint George that had once belonged to the Patriarch of Jerusalem. The bone fragment was delivered to the scuola on St George’s Day, in a grand musical procession. The fragment joined the precious trove of saints’ remains already collected by the Scuola Dalmata, chief among which was St Trifone’s jaw.

Within five years, Vittore Carpaccio had completed his cycle of paintings there. (Image from the scuola's website).

After various disputes with the Order of St John, the Schiavoni raised their own funds to remodel their building. In 1551, a new façade emerged. The two large windows on the ground floor provided a theatrical framing for charitable acts – the confratelli would distribute food to the poor.

Slav writers, editors and publishers soon became part of the successful Venetian printing industry. Inside and beyond Venice, her Schiavoni were becoming known for their loyalty. Their scuola was recognised – with privileges and indulgences – for the enthusiasm with which they raised money for Venice to pursue war against the Ottomans. Carlo Goldoni prefaced his hit play La Dalmatina, saying that it was "about a loyal nation worthy of La Serenissima".

The odd local insurrection still occurred in Dalmatia and Albania – for we Slavs are a fiery nation! – but many of the Schiavoni resident in the city prided themselves on being almost more Venetian than the Venetians. The Schiavoni were among the few to protest when Venice ceded to Napoleon in May 1797. While the city’s patricians withdrew to their palaces for passive lament, the Schiavoni mobbed the streets, crying "Viva San Marco!" Lower right in the rather fanciful image below – we see the Schiavoni vainly waving their yellow and red Venetian flags against French horses and canon.
Jean Naudet le Beau, Prise de Venise par Napoléon en mai 1797,
Musée de la Révolution française - Vizille,
Wikimedia Commons
Even after Venice fell, her flag still flew in Dalmatia. Perast was the very last Venetian town to cede to Napoleon. Only on August 23, 1797 did the Perastini gather to bury the Republic’s flag under their cathedral’s altar, to prevent it falling into enemy hands. This painting by Giuseppe Lallich (from the Museum of Perast) shows them kissing the flag farewell.

Giuseppe Lallich, Il Bacio di Perasto al Gonfalone di San Marco
painted in 1930. Associazione nazionale dalmata. © Cace 2006




Unknown artist, portrait of
Giuseppe Viscovich, 
courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Their commander, Count Giuseppe Viscovich (left), delivered an emotional speech about the Gonfalon, or flag: "Our sons will know of us, and the story of this day will be known in all of Europe – that Perast has worthily sustained the pride of the Venetian Gonfalon to the last, honouring it with this solemn act, and setting it down wet with our bitterest universal tears.
"Let us rage, citizens, let us rage, and in these, our last sentiments with which we seal our glorious career under the Most Serene Venetian Republic, we turn towards the flag that represents us, and, upon it, we vent all our sorrow.

"For three hundred and seventy-seven years our being, our blood, our lives were always for you, O San Marco; and, always your most faithful, we have  known You to be with Us, Us to be with You; and on the sea we were always with You, illustrious and victorious. No one ever saw us in retreat, defeated or afraid!

"But what else is left to do for you? May our hearts be your most honoured tomb, and your purest and greatest praise be our tears!
"

Giuseppe Praga, in his Storia di Dalmazia, says – and I agree with him – that these are "words that could be found only to frame a last farewell to a parent, from whom you have received your soul and your life."

Unlike the grander guilds of Venice, the tiny Scuola Dalmata would survive the fall of the Venetian Republic. Of more than three hundred Venetian scuole, only the Scuole Dalmata and di San Rocco saved their confraternities and their art treasures from Napoleon’s closures and larceny.

The Schiavoni’s cry of "Viva San Marco!" was heard once more in 1848, when the scuola’s members took part in the revolt against the Austrians. Among the leaders was the linguist Niccolò Tommaseo, originally from Sibenik. Tommaseo is commemorated in a statue in Santo Stefano. It was a Schiavoni commander, Antonio Billanovich, who began the bombardment of the Austrian’s new railway bridge into Venice.

When bombs fell on Venice in World War I, the Carpaccio paintings were removed from the scuola’s walls and packed in sealed cases. This proved prudent, as the scuola was damaged when nearby buildings suffered direct hits. In 1940, the paintings were again taken to a place of safety. After the war, they were extensively though imperfectly restored, arriving home only in 1947.

Save Venice restored the scuola’s façade 2001 – and will soon also complete the restoration of the paintings, a work dedicated to art historian Patricia Fortini Brown, author of the key work, Venetian Narrative Painting in the Age of Carpaccio.

Venice has never stopped attracting the Schiavoni, generation after generation. Following World War II, many – including my own father, uncle and grandfather – found the Tito regime repressive and left Yugoslavia. My people went to Australia, but many Slavs ended up in Venice, reuniting with old branches of their families who’d emigrated in the time of la Serenissima. I’m always looking for the Lovric name on Venetian doorbells – especially after I discovered a certain Giovanni or Ivan Lovrich, - a writer born in Croatia but living and publishing in Venice in 1776. I never did find the Lovric name on a Venetian doorbell. So in the end, I put one there myself.


The confratelli of the Scuola Dalmata have remained loving custodians of their own Venetian history, setting up a library and archive in the 1980s. They publish books and a magazine. In 1997, the Schiavoni were honoured with this plaque on the Riva named after them. It celebrates the bonds of fidelity that unite Dalmatia with Venice via their five-hundred-year-old scuola
plaque image by Didier Descouens,
courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

It’s no coincidence that Ruskin, in setting up the Guild of St George (the organisation of which I am so proud to be a Companion) chose ‘Guild’ for its title. The word is probably the best translation of ‘scuola’. Both words give the sense of a lay confraternity, a meeting place, a site of good thinking, a state of mind looking to give, rather than take.

And what place needs that more than Venice?  

This blog is adapted from a talk about Ruskin and the Scuola Dalmata that I presented in February 2022 for the Guild of St George, the organisation devoted to Ruskin’s ideas, with Joseph Mydell playing the part of the Master.

Scuola Dalmata website 
The Guild of St George website 
Michelle Lovric’s website

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