Just off Campo Santa Margherita’s southwest tip is the Scuola Grande dei Carmini , once the Venetian base of the Carmelites. Originating in Palestine towards the close of the twelfth century, the Carmelites blossomed during the Counter-Reformation, when they became the shock-troops through whom the cult of the Virgin could be disseminated, as a response to the inroads of Protestantism. As happened elsewhere in Europe, the Venetian Carmelites became immensely wealthy, and in the 1660s they called in an architect – probably Longhena – to re-design the property they had acquired. The core of this complex, which in 1767 was raised to the position of a Scuola Grande, is now effectively a showcase for the art of Giambattista Tiepolo , who in the 1740s painted the ceiling of the upstairs hall.
The Scuola Grande dei Carmini is open Mon-Sat 9am-noon & 3-6pm; L8000/4.16.
The central panel, framed by four
Virtues in the corners of the ceiling, was recently restored after the cords that suspended it rotted away, causing it to crash from the ceiling. Depicting
Simon Stock Receiving the Scapular , it is not the most immediately comprehensible image in Venetian art. The Carmelite order was in some disarray by the mid-thirteenth century, but it acquired a new edge when the English-born Simon Stock was elected prior general in 1247; under his control, the Carmelites were transformed into a well-organized mendicant order, with houses in the main university cities of Europe – Cambridge, Oxford, Paris and Bologna. Some time after his death the tradition grew that he had experienced a vision of the Virgin, who presented him with a scapular (two pieces of cloth joined by cords) bearing her image: as the scapular was the badge of the Carmelites, its gift was evidently a sign that Simon should undertake the development of the order. Tiepolo has translated this crucial episode from the place where it allegedly happened (Cambridge) to his customary floating world of blue skies and spiralling perspectives (a world seen at its most vertiginous in the painting of an angel rescuing a falling mason). The painting was such a hit with Tiepolo’s clients that he was instantly granted membership of the scuola, a more generous reward than you might think – a papal bull had ordained that all those who wore the scapular would, through the intercession of the Virgin, be released from the pains of Purgatory on the first Saturday after the wearer’s decease, “or as soon as possible” (sic). The edict was probably a forgery, but the Carmelites believed it, and from the passion of his work here, it would seem that Tiepolo did too.
The Carmini church (or Santa Maria del Carmelo) is a collage of architectural styles, with a sixteenth-century facade, a Gothic side doorway which preserves several Byzantine fragments, and a fourteenth-century basilican interior. A dull series of Baroque paintings illustrating the history of the Carmelite order covers a lot of space inside (the same subject is covered by the gilded carvings of the nave), but the second altar on the right has a Nativity by Cima da Conegliano (before 1510), and Lorenzo Lotto’s St Nicholas of Bari (1529) – featuring what physiologist Berenson ranked as one of the most beautiful landscapes in all Italian art – hangs on the opposite side of the nave.
The Carmini church is open Mon-Sat 3-6pm.
The most imposing building on Fondamenta del Soccorso (leading from Campo dei Carmini towards Angelo Raffaele) is the
Palazzo Zenobio , built in the late seventeenth century when the Zenobio family were among the richest in Venice. It’s been an Armenian college since 1850, but visitors are sometimes allowed to see the ballroom: one of the city’s richest eighteenth-century interiors, it was painted by Luca Carlevaris, whose trompe l’oeil decor provided a model for the decoration of the slightly later Ca’ Rezzonico. In the late sixteenth century a home for prostitutes who wanted to get off the game was set up at no. 2590 – the chapel of Santa Maria del Soccorso – by
Veronica Franco , a renowned ex-courtesan who was as famous for her poetry and her artistic salon as she was for her sexual allure; both Michel de Montaigne and King Henry III of France were grateful recipients of samples of her literary output.
Between here and Piazzale Roma lies a predominantly residential area that constitutes the largest completely uninteresting sector of central Venice. Santa Maria Maggiore, the only church before you reach the bus station, is now part of the city prison . The fifteenth-century church of Sant’Andrea della Zirada , in the lee of the Piazzale’s multistorey car park, is rarely open and only has its Baroque altar to recommend it anyway; and the diminutive Neoclassical Nome di Gesù , cringing underneath the flyover, has absolutely nothing going for it.