A former glass warehouse, originally that of the Venezia-Murano Glass and Mosaic Company, and an outpost of Protestantism may strike one as something of an odd connection. Notwithstanding, those of a curious disposition who have ventured into the Campo San Vio, with its outlook to the Grand Canal in Venice, will have almost certainly been drawn to the imposing doors of St. George's Anglican Church which, consecrated in 1906, has occupied the building to this day.
Indeed, the entrance is not without interest, having been designed by Luigi Marangoni in 1920 and which, in part, serves as a memorial to the British soldiers, sailors and airmen who died in Italy in the Great War of 1914 - 1918. A slightly later, 1926, bas-relief by Napoleone Martinuzzi above the doorway depicts St. George slaying the dragon and, together with the statue of St. Michael, alludes to the British military order of valour, the 'Order of St. Michael and St. George'.
It is to St. George's that, when in Venice, we make our way on a Sunday morning, successors to those who in previous times would have been transported to the Campo in a flotilla of gondolas, in time for the Service of the Eucharist where the interior is flooded in light from a series of stained glass window and where the eye is directed towards the altar piece, a C19 copy of 'The Redeemer with Saints George and Jerome' painted by the Venetian Renaissance artist, Giovanni Buonconsiglio.
Sunday in Venice: Going to the English Church [of St George in Campo San Vio] Drawing by W. Logsdail published in The Graphic, 6 July 1895 |
The congregation is not large. Made up of a handful of English speaking residents of Venice, it is supplemented by regular visitors, such as ourselves, to which may be added the occasional tourist who finds himself or herself en route for, and in search of, the Peggy Guggenheim collection. But no-one should be disappointed for, regardless of faith or belief, the service is always uplifting and the Chaplain, the Reverend Canon Malcolm Bradshaw, assisted by Philip Gwynne Jones, will always engender much upon which to reflect.
Interior of St. George's Church before removal of the wooden pews. Image courtesy of Luisella Romeo of www.seevenice.it |
And so, in these days of a global pandemic when to travel abroad is both restricted and unwise, we greatly miss our Sunday mornings at St. George's as they once were and will, most assuredly, be so again. Instead we 'Zoom'. Under the technical expertise of Philip, whose rôle as assistant curate now doubles with that of technician, and led by Father Malcolm from the Chaplaincy house, we are able to participate in an online service which, although different, reaches out to an ever growing number of participants.
Our Budapest drawing room may not contain a C19 classical frieze, is without an organ donated by the Dowager Duchess of Northumberland, cannot boast memorials and tablets to merchants, bankers and benefactors, contains not an echo of Browning or Ruskin, but each Sunday, accessing our computer screen, it serves to bring close to us a very real fellowship of people and a city that we know and love.