{"id":2666,"date":"2026-06-13T06:41:49","date_gmt":"2026-06-13T06:41:49","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lacortedimarga.com\/?p=2666"},"modified":"2026-09-03T10:06:46","modified_gmt":"2026-09-03T10:06:46","slug":"silkworm-museum-vittorio-veneto","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lacortedimarga.com\/en\/museo-baco-da-seta-vittorio-veneto\/","title":{"rendered":"Gold spun by women: the forgotten epic of the Silkworm Museum in Vittorio Veneto"},"content":{"rendered":"

If you look out of the windows of The Court of Marga<\/strong> As you walk through the rows of vines, you will certainly notice large, majestic, gnarled and proud trees, which the elders here still call with profound respect. \u201cTomorrow\u201d<\/em>. They are mulberry trees. Today we see them as splendid guardians of the landscape, but until a few decades ago they were the pillars of an economic, scientific and human epic that forever changed the destiny of the Veneto region.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To rediscover this world suspended between the warmth of peasant kitchens and the steam of great factories, you need to venture to the hamlet of St James of Veglia<\/strong>, in Vittorio Veneto. There, inside an imposing monument of industrial archaeology, stands the Silkworm Museum<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Prepare yourself for an emotional and profound journey: this is not the chronicle of an extinct industry, but the story of how an entire people conquered destitution by clinging to the thinnest thread of silk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Silk Worm Museum: the Maffi Filature, a brick cathedral where time has stopped<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

The museum finds its ideal location within the Ex Filanda Maffi (formerly Banfi)<\/strong>. This is no ordinary exhibition space, but one of the most substantial, ancient, and architecturally striking industrial complexes in the entire Piave Left Bank.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Permanently decommissioned in the 1960s with the advent of synthetic fibres like nylon, the silk mill is a monument that still breathes history. Crossing the threshold, you'll be enveloped by grand heights, enormous windows designed to capture every glint of natural light, and stone floors worn down by the passage of time. In this solemn silence, it almost feels as though you can still hear the echo of wooden clogs on the floor, the constant hiss of steam boilers, and the pungent smell of cocoons. Industrial archaeology comes alive here, becoming flesh and memory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The domestic miracle: when the bugs slept in the beds<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

The first part of the route documents a symbiotic and almost sacred bond between science and rural life. From the end of the eighteenth century to the early decades of the twentieth, silkworm farming was the main economic resource of the area. And it all began inside the farmhouses, in the spring.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSeed\u201d kept warm on women's chests<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

The cycle began with the purchase of the tiny silkworm eggs, poetically called \u201csemenza\u201d<\/em>. To hatch them, a constant temperature was required, which the cold farmhouses of the past could not guarantee. And so came the anthropological insight: it was the women of the family \u2013 mothers, grandmothers, daughters \u2013 who kept the small pieces of paper with the eggs under their clothes, directly in contact with their chest skin, or under mattresses, to make use of human warmth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Summer rain indoors<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Once hatched, the grubsThe knights<\/em>, (as they were respectfully called) occupied every available space. Entire houses were emptied of furniture to make room for Trellises<\/em> of reeds. Families lived crammed into the kitchen to leave the bedrooms to the silkworms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The museum uses historical photographs and period tools to document the immense labour involved in silkworm rearing: men and children would spend their days climbing mulberry trees to gather tonnes of fresh leaves. The elderly still recall that, when they entered those rooms at the time when the silkworms were at their most ravenous, a constant, clear and hypnotic rustling could be heard in the silence. It sounded like the patter of summer rain on the leaves: thousands of mouths weaving the family\u2019s wealth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Lace Makers: golden hands, hearts of stone and songs of freedom<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

If the silkworm grew in the countryside, the industrial miracle took place in the silk mill. Vittorio Veneto achieved levels in this field national avant-garde<\/strong>, becoming the productive engine of the province. But the true backbone of this economic empire was female employment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The absolute protagonists were the Flinders<\/strong>. Young girls, often not yet teenagers, mothers, and elderly women who spent twelve hours a day on their feet, in environments saturated with humidity and steam. Their task required an uncommon tactile sensitivity and grace: they had to immerse their bare hands in the almost boiling water of the basins to scald the cocoons, and find the microscopic \u201cleader\u201d<\/em> and guiding it with nimble fingers towards the machine's bobbins, preventing the thread from breaking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Their hands were perpetually chafed, reddened and stripped of layers of skin due to the boiling water and sericin. Yet those women brought about a silent social revolution: for the first time in the history of rural Veneto, women were bringing home a fixed wage in cash. The spinning mill, despite its harsh conditions, became the first place of women\u2019s emancipation, solidarity and redemption.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To steel their courage, to overcome fatigue and to protest against the inhumane rhythms of the supervisors, the women sang. The songs of the silk mill \u2013 recordings and lyrics of which are preserved in the museum \u2013 are a heritage of poignant beauty: hymns of toil, songs of nostalgia, but also songs of fierce political and social satire.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The collections: saving the traces of collective memory<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

What makes the Silkworm Museum a vibrant and exciting place is the honesty of its collection. There are no pieces bought from international collectors; every machine, every photo, every object on display has been donated by private individuals, families of former workers, and local businesses<\/strong> who had worked in the field of bacteriology.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Strolling through the halls, you can admire:<\/p>\n\n\n\n