Picture the scene: You’re wandering through the Dorsoduro district of Venice on a spring evening, hand in hand with a loved one. You come to a bridge near Campo San Barnaba, and you step out on it together to the centre, where you lean on the balustrade and drink in the ambiance of the city of love.

But hold on a moment – what beautiful, romantic bridge are you upon? The Ponte dei Pugni – the Bridge of Fists. So called because it was a popular setting for the Venetian guerra di canne, a rather bizarre but hugely popular sort of organised mock fist fight of the sixteenth century.

The Venetian ‘bridge wars’ began as simple ‘stick battles’ (as reflected in the name guerra di canne). Men would come together, wearing helmets and shields, and bash at each other with wooden sticks. The idea was that the battle was mock – like children at play – but with no rules at all, invariably there were injuries, and sometimes even fatalities.

By the 1500s an added dimension to these stick battles was a prize to be fought for: possession of one of Venice’s many bridges. The battles were all the rage; they’d become a popular sort of entertainment. Much like English people would flock to watch a joust, Venetians would line the canal side to watch a battagliole sui ponti. They were arranged to be public events, on high days and holidays, sometimes attracting many thousands of spectators, who would wave their handkerchiefs in support and gamble on the outcome of the battle. The Association for Renaissance Martial Arts notes:

For one afternoon the bridge became an arrengo or arena. To make things safer, sawdust was sprinkled on the bridge stones to prevent slipping, straw padding was placed around the bridge abutments in case of falls, and the water below was cleared of rubbish or debris. Once the battle began the water below the bridge would be jam packed with barges and boats and gondolas until no water was visible.

The crowd was in effect the ultimate arbiters and determined by applause or condemning hisses which fighters and which side had acted honorably or cowardly.

The fighters were commoners, and they took their sport very seriously. They were organised into factions, forty or fifty in each, and were very loyal to their side. In each ‘mock’ battle they faced serious injury, and they did so with pride. Competition lay at the root of all they did. As a Venetian put it at the time:

“The purpose of our combat and contests is not to kill each other or tear each other apart, but only, in the presence of the city, to win and to take possession of the bridge, with competition and with the usual audacity.”

Given the public disorder and personal injury created by the bridge wars, eventually the state began opposing the events. Still the sport developed, though, evolving into a fist-only combat, which was seen as a bigger test of strength and honour. From there, large-scale brawls upon the bridges began to be replaced by mostre – one-on-one shows, increasingly with rules to govern conduct. Ultimately, by the late 1600s the spectacle of a bridge crowded with thrashing men was gone, and in its place was the sport we know today as boxing.

Back to the Ponte dei Pugni. Have I ruined the romantic bridge-top interlude with this history of violence? A little, perhaps. But this is just one of the many facets of Venetian history that make the city unique – quirky, colourful. Fist-fighting en masse may not set the mood, but oh how the passion and energy of the Venetians does!