David's Sling. Victoria C. Gardner Coates

an additional and more ancient significance. The details of their creation were obscure, but the prevailing impression was that they had originally come from Greece. Fantastic rumors said they were created by Phidias for Pericles, or by Alexander the Great’s favorite sculptor, Lysippus, as the quadriga, or four-horse team drawing the chariot of the sun. While neither attractive attribution could be proved, the horses were undeniably of the highest quality.

      The Tetrarchs, c. 300 AD.

      When the horses first arrived in Venice, they were stored for a time at the fortress known as the Arsenale. Representatives of Florence, whose rising republic was beginning to rival Venice, circulated a spiteful story that they were saved from being melted down only by the intervention of some Florentines who truly understood art (although it would have been easier to do the melting in Constantinople had that indeed been the intent). But even if the Venetians had been incapable of recognizing the horses as great works of art, their connection with the revered Enrico Dandolo would have protected them.

      In any event, their period in storage was brief. By 1267 they had been hoisted up over the main entrance to St. Mark’s onto a marble platform where the doge customarily addressed the Venetian people after his election. From here on out, he would deliver his oration flanked by a pair of horses. But they were not there solely as an accessory for the doge, although they remained closely linked with the office.

      According to Saint Jerome, the four Evangelists – Matthew, Mark, Luke and John – were the quadriga of Christ, who drew his light into the world through the Gospel.¹⁷¹⁷ So while the mosaics on the lower walls of the church focused on the story of Mark and his miraculous transfer to Venice, here at the base of the dome he took his place as one of a sacred foursome that transcended the earthly realm. It would not have escaped the notice of the visiting Byzantines that the position of the horses over the five entrances to St. Mark’s also echoed the traditional arrangement of a Roman triumphal arch, thus not only filling a sacred function but also commemorating in perpetuity the Venetian-led capture of Constantinople.

      Freeman, The Horses of St. Mark’s, 100.

      Detail of the façade of St. Mark’s Basilica.

      The Byzantine retinue moved on into the church and were shepherded up to the main altar. While many churches had large, elaborate altarpieces, the one in St. Mark’s was unique: it was solid gold, glimmering in the light of the hundreds of candles that had been lit for these special visitors. (The winter weather had been miserable, depriving them of the famous reflecting sunlight of Venice.)¹⁸¹⁸ The doge led the way into the apse so they could walk all the way around the altar, known as the Pala d’Oro (or Golden Altar), and see the brilliant gems and exquisite enamels embedded in the gold. The main dignitaries then gathered symbolically under the great central dome for a staged display of unity, while a smaller group of courtiers lingered by the Pala d’Oro to examine it more closely.

      The Memoirs of Sylvester Syropoulos IV.21, available at the Syropoulos Project, www.syropoulos.co.uk.

      “It is something of a hybrid,” one of the Venetians explained. “The main body was made for us in your city many years ago, with the story of Saint Mark across the bottom. Then the top part, with the icons, came after the Latins took Constantinople.” He paused awkwardly before adding, “It was all legal, of course, as captured enemy property.”

      Pala d’Oro, 976 and 1342–45.

      Detail of the Pala d’Oro with Empress Irene.

      “We understand these things,” replied George of Trebizond, a classical philosopher who was a close aide to the emperor. “But how did they become a single object?”

      “Andrea Dandolo – descendant of our great doge Enrico Dandolo – was the procurator of this church before his own election as doge, and he is responsible for much of what you see here. It was his idea to unite the old and the new, and make the most beautiful altar in Christendom. There are thousands of jewels and pearls – so many that it is impossible to count them all. The enamels came from your own Hagia Sophia – and as you know, Doge Enrico has the honor of being the only man buried there.”

      The Byzantine philosopher was quiet for a moment, and then he remarked, “Is it not curious, my friend, how the sight of these beautiful things fills you with pride and delectation, while for us they are objects of sorrow and dejection?” As the Venetians nodded sympathetically, he continued: “But are you certain the panels came from Hagia Sophia? What do you think, Sylvester?”

      One of his companions, Sylvester Syropoulos, happened to be a high official at Hagia Sophia. “According to my reading,” he replied, “they are actually from the Pantocrator monastery. There can be no doubt – the inscription around the image of Empress Irene, who was a great patroness of the monastery, proves it.” His satisfaction was obvious. “This is undisputedly a glorious and most artful object, but imagine how much more impressive it would be if the panels had indeed come from the great church!”¹⁹¹⁹

      The Memoirs of Sylvester Syropoulos IV.25.