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1630, the plague
Alvise Zen
The plague's devastating effects on the population. How a tragedy became a solemn State festivity.
Your Excellency, monsieur d'Audreville,
I shall tell you of those terrible days only because I am convinced that without remembrance there is no history and that, however unpleasant it may be, the truth is a heritage we share. And since, after all the horror, that event was changed into a feast - one of the most dearly beloved of Venetian feasts - it is really not so very hard to recall it. But let us come to the facts. For centuries there was no calamity so frightening as the plague. The disease came from the Orient and therefore the trade routes, which for Venice were the main source of wealth, were likely to spread the contagion.
It was the year 1630 when the ships of the Serenissima brought back spices and precious materials... as well as the black death.
Ah! my dear friend, neither war nor famine can present such a desolate spectacle. The Republic immediately took the necessary steps to stem the epidemic. Delegates were nominated to check on the cleansing of the houses, to forbid the sail of dangerous produce, to close public places and even churches. Prisoners were made to carry and bury the dead.
Only we doctors could circulate freely. Nurses and gravediggers had to wear distinctive signs visible from afar; we wore a long closed gown, gloves, and high boots; we covered our faces with a mask with a long hooked nose and large spectacle that gave us frightening appearance. We held up the clothes of the sick with a long stick and operated on the swellings with scalpels as long as beanpoles.
Sick men and women were carried to the island of Lazzaretto Vecchio; persons who had been in contact with plague victims were transferred to the Lazzaretto Nuovo for a period of over twenty days as a precaution. A gallows was made ready on a ship to punish those who did not respect the hygiene and food regulations.
The plague lacerated bodies, covering them in 'boils, pustules, and itchy rashes' that gave off a foul stench. The rich died in the same way as the poor. Would you like to know how many Venetians passed away to their Eternal Father?
Eighty thousand,
just think, in seventeen months; twelve thousand in November of 1630; in a single day, on the 9th, five hundred and ninety-five. There was no one left to bury the corpses. There were boats passing along the canals from which the cry arose, 'Anyone with dead bodies in the house, toss them down into the boat'. Grass was growing in the streets. No one went about. Illustrious doctors from the University of Padua, called for consultation, even denied the existence of the disease; healers and charlatans invented useless antidotes; priests and friars thought the divine wrath of the Lord was the real cause of all the horror that had befallen Venice.
The situation was really tragic. So the Doge, Nicolò Contarini, in the name of the Senate, made a solemn vow to build a 'magnificently ornate church' to the Madonna of Good Health, if only the Virgin would free the city from the terrible disease. He promised as well that every year on the 21 November, day of Mary's Presentation in the Temple, he would make his way to the church in procession. During the winter, the plague abated, but in March 1631 there was a further outbreak that only died down the following autumn. Contarini had died, and the new Doge, Francesco Erizzo, wished to fulfil the vow at once. He called a competition for the building of the church, but in the meanwhile had a richly adorned wooden church erected. The government and the populace crossed a bridge of boats to get across the Grand Canal and made their way in procession to express their gratitude to the Madonna.
This is the report I would like to entrust you with, monsieur, to pass on for posterity.
A painting of Gabriel Bella
