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THE HISTORY OF SAN MARCO, VENICE

A Perfect Model for Westminster

Mgr Mark Langham

St Mark stands surrounded by angels, above the Winged Lion of Venice

The Basilica of San Marco is a gorgeous hybrid whose identity reflects the elaborate origins of Venice itself. Part Orthodox cathedral, part Gothic chapel, the building, like the Serene Republic itself, bridges east and west, and testifies to the glittering wealth that was the reward of centuries of trade, exploration and plunder. It is hard to believe that this great church was, for most of its history, a mere private chapel for the Doge, the chief magistrate of the Serene Republic. But, in all that she did, Venice was conscious of the importance of outward display, and so this building was the sumptuous backdrop to the most important moments of Venetian history.

Like Westminster Cathedral, San Marco is Byzantine in style, but unlike Bentley’s masterpiece, its decoration is complete – and more than complete. It shares with Westminster a noble musical tradition, numbering Andrea and Giovanni Gabrieli, as well as the sublime Claudio Monteverdi, as former Masters of Music. With Italian resourcefulness, and the Venetian love of splendour, singers, trumpeters and viol players populated every gallery and balcony in the building; the repetition effect in much Venetian music coming from the double or triple choirs placed around the interior. So proud of their music were the Venetians that clergy were fined should their voices be heard above the choir!

The church was first built to enshrine the relics of St Mark, stolen by Venetian traders from Alexandria. A mosaic on the front of the basilica depicts the theft, the fantastically turbanned Muslim watchguards drawing back in horror from the pork in which the evangelist’s bones were slyly concealed. Possessed with their own patron, the citizens of Venice testified to their strong Catholic faith, but were also able to express an independence from Rome. The Patriarch of Venice, representative of the Holy Father, may have been given due honour, but his cathedral was far from the centre of Venice, banished to the little island of Castello in the far east of the city.

It is thought that San Marco was modelled on the vanished church of the Holy Apostles in Constantinople. Second only to Hagia Sophia in size and magnificence, the Holy Apostles was a Byzantine Westminster Abbey, burial place of Emperors and the great figures of Byzantium. Following the conquest of Constantinople by the Turks in 1453, the great church of Hagia Sophia was appropriated by the victors as a mosque, and the Holy Apostles became briefly the seat of the Patriarch. Alas, covetous eyes noted the commanding site of the Holy Apostles, and after scarcely 50 years, it was razed to make way for the Mosque of Suleiman.

Its memory lives on in San Marco, built by the Venetians who were at first vassals, and then conquerors, of Constantinople. The sack of 1204 by Crusaders, led by the blind Doge Enrico Dandoldo, had a disastrous effect on relations between the Greek and Latin Churches, but provided rich pickings for those who wished to adorn the Serene Republic’s golden church. Most famously, the four horses that now adorn the façade of the basilica were taken from the Hippodrome, to be rechristened imaginatively as symbols of the four evangelists. Many other adornments, however, were ripped from the churches of Constantinople by envious Venetian hands: icons, statues and marbles were looted for the glory of San Marco. The great golden altarpiece, the Pala D’Oro, once adorned an altar in the imperial city.

The interior of San Marco glimmers with suffused magnificence, creating just that atmosphere of mystery and dimly glimpsed glory that is the soul of every Byzantine church. The acres of sparkling mosaic stretch above like a field of gold, representing to Greek minds the wonder of heaven that touches, at its lower portion, the rich marble

The vision of celestial realms within the Basilica

cladding of the walls delineating earth. The vast golden ground is populated by figures – images of Christ, saints and historical personalities. The best of these are from the 10th and 11th centuries, undoubtedly guided by the watchful eye of craftsmen from Byzantium itself. Less successful are the 16th century improvements, where artists of the calibre of Tintoretto sought to reproduce the effect of oil painting in mosaic. But overall, the effect is breathtaking – perhaps representing the nearest we shall come to imagining how a completed Westminster Cathedral might look. Accordingly there are important lessons for us in the mosaic decoration of San Marco.

First, there is no attempt to illuminate the mosaics brightly; natural light, representing to the Byzantine mind the grace of the Holy Spirit, reveals the glory – as dimly glimpsed as the wonders of paradise. The overall effect should be one of wonder, drawing the mind upward to contemplate the mysteries of God, rather than bright decoration.

Secondly, there is a style appropriate to mosaic, and it does neither the artist nor the medium any credit to try to reproduce the effect of a painting. Even famous Renaissance artists produced feeble mosaics at San Marco because they did not appreciate this unique medium. The artists we employ in future at Westminster Cathedral must create effective art, not merely presenting designs which, however impressive on canvas, are ineffectual in this setting.

Lastly, there is a theology to the decoration. However well-meaning (or generous) our donors, we cannot add figures or scenes as is convenient. San Marco’s decoration is sometimes criticised for being cluttered, and it may be that a less figurative scheme will be adopted at Westminster, but the decoration has a meaning, and follows a programme that deepens our understanding of revelation.

The Doges, with their glittering retinue, are long departed, but San Marco still overwhelms its visitors. In part, they come to see an unusual and exotic building. But they are also touched by something deeper, a sense of the divine mystery that enfolds our world, and that is the genius of the Byzantine way. We can be proud that we, at Westminster, are part of that tradition.

As may be judged from this piece, written in 2006, the late Mgr Mark felt a particular affinity for Venice and for the Basilica of San Marco, leading a number of pilgrimages to it over the years.