The Venetian Lion: symbol of Venice and its patron saint San Marco
As you stroll through Venice, you'll quickly spot the presence of the iconic Venetian Lion. The more you wander, the more of these majestic creatures you'll discover. They're everywhere — on flags, in paintings, guarding entrances as sculptures, and decorating facades. Everywhere.
Typically, the Venetian Lion has wings and holds a book beneath one of his paws. Sometimes, he holds a sword in his other paw, and a halo crowns his head. With this image being so predominant in Venice and linked to the city's identity, I couldn't help but dive into its history. So, let's take a closer look at the story behind this powerful symbol.
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To understand the story behind Venice's Winged Lion, let me first introduce you to San Marco (St. Mark) the Evangelist. Born around 20 BC in the Levant, in what is now Palestine or Cyprus, Mark became an early Christian convert, taught by Paul and Peter.
According to legend, Mark embarked on a missionary journey to Rome. While traveling from Aquileia, northeast of Venice, to Rome, a storm forced him to seek shelter on a small island in the Venetian lagoon. On that island, an angel appeared to him in a vision, greeting him with the words: "Pax tibi Marce, evangelista meus. Hic requiescet corpus tuum." Translated, this means, "Peace be with you, Mark, my evangelist. Here your body will rest." I'll fast-forward for now, but as you'll see, the angel's words proved prophetic.
After his time in Rome, Mark traveled to Alexandria in Egypt, where he founded what is now the Coptic Orthodox Church. He became the first bishop of Alexandria and passed away in the latter half of the 1st century.
Mark was buried in Alexandria, where his remains remained undisturbed for over seven centuries. In 828, two merchants, Buono and Rustico, traveled to Alexandria, where they somehow obtained the saint's relics. There are various versions of how they acquired his remains. Some say the merchants bought them from monks at the monastery, while others claim they stole them. Regardless of the version, the remains of the evangelist ended up in the hands of the two Venetians, who brought them to Venice.
Saint Mark's Body Brought to Venice, a painting by Tintoretto, depicts the transfer of Saint Mark's relics from Alexandria to Venice. Today, you can find it in the Gallerie dell'Accademia in Venice.
You must know that, back in 828, San Todaro (St. Theodore) was Venice's patron saint. But, of course, San Marco, as the author of the Gospel of Mark, was a far more powerful protector. So, the Venetians chose to adopt Marco as their new patron saint.
Today, Mark's remains rest inside the famous Basilica di San Marco. And so the angel's words proved true: "Here your body will rest."
You might be wondering what St. Mark has to do with a lion. The connection comes from Christian iconography, which links each of the four Evangelists to a specific animal. This tradition finds roots in the vision of the prophet Ezekiel and the Book of Revelation.
"As for the likeness of their faces, they four had the face of a man, and the face of a lion, on the right side: and they four had the face of an ox on the left side; they four also had the face of an eagle." (Ezekiel 1:10)
"And the first beast was like a lion, and the second beast like a calf, and the third beast had a face as a man, and the fourth beast was like a flying eagle." (Revelation 4:7)
The association of the four living creatures with the four evangelists dates back to the 2nd century. Over time, church history has offered different interpretations of each creature. The most common view is that the man represents Matthew, the lion symbolizes Mark, the ox stands for Luke, and the eagle represents John.
So, now you know the association between Venice and St. Mark and the association between St. Mark and the (winged) lion. The last two elements that need an explanation are the book upon which the lion's paw sometimes rests and the sword.
The lion appears in various ways. Some variations feature an open book, and others a closed one. It may also have a raised sword or none at all. While the Venetians never officially codified the meanings behind these variations, some interpretations suggest the following meanings:
An open book and no sword represent the Republic of Venice itself;
A closed book and no sword indicate a time of delegated or diminished sovereignty for Venice;
An open book and raised sword symbolize the justice of the Venetian Republic;
A closed book and raised sword signal that the town earned the honor of being a tax-free zone within the Republic of Venice.
Whether true or not, these interpretations certainly are intriguing. One final detail worth noting is the text often found in the open book. Remember the words the angel spoke when he greeted Mark? If you look closely, you'll read: "Pax tibi Marce, evangelista meus," or "Peace be with you, Mark, my evangelist."
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In addition to the variations mentioned earlier, you'll often see the lion depicted in two ways: 'andante' or 'moleca.'
In 'andante,' the lion is shown walking. Its body appears in full profile, with the right front paw often resting on the book. Sometimes, two paws rest on the ground while the other two are positioned over the sea, representing the Venetian Republic's overseas territories.
Occasionally, the lion appears in 'moleca,' meaning crab-like. The lion faces forward, with its wings circling around its head, almost like the claws of a crustacean. In some depictions, the lion also emerges from the water, symbolizing the connection between Venice, its lagoon, and the sea.
As I mentioned earlier, the Venetian Lion is all over the city, showing up in many different ways. Some have become real symbols of Venice, like the one on top of the column near the Doge's Palace — undoubtedly the most famous.
This specific Venetian Lion is an ancient bronze sculpture of a winged lion. It sits in the Piazzetta San Marco (Google Maps), at the southeast corner of Piazza San Marco. The sculpture surmounts one of two large granite columns, which people believe were erected around 1175. Atop the other column, you'll find a figure of St. Theodore, Venice's former patron. He holds a spear and stands on a crocodile, symbolizing the dragon he is said to have slain.
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Now, let's return to the bronze lion sculpture. The figure is a composite of different bronze pieces, and its origins are up for debate. That said, it's pretty safe to say the original lion looked quite different from the one we see today and probably didn't have any connection to Saint Mark at first.
In the 1980s, researchers suggested that the sculpture dates to the period between the late 4th and early 3rd century BC and finds its origins in the Hellenistic Greek or Oriental Greek world. They believed that the original parts — such as the head, mane, and sections of the chest and paws — came from a winged lion-griffin statue. This statue likely adorned a monument dedicated to the god Sandas.
Sculpture and bas-relief of griffins adorning the Basilica di San Marco.
Recent studies in 2024, however, suggest that the statue likely comes from the regions near the lower Yangtze River in eastern China. Experts think Chinese crafters cast the statue during the Tang Dynasty between the 7th and early 10th centuries. The figure then probably started as a guardian lion, protecting a tomb from evil spirits.
We may never be certain about the statue's true origins or when it arrived in Venice. Its earliest known reference dates back to 1293, when records confirm its restoration after a long period of neglect. We also know that since then, the lion left the city once. In 1797, after the fall of Venice, Napoleon Bonaparte took it to Paris and mounted it on a plinth in the Fontaine des Invalides. After Napoleon's downfall, the lion returned to Venice.
There's one last story about the Venetian Lions I want to share. If you wander through the Castello district and pass the Venetian Arsenal, you'll notice four stone lion statues. While you might not be surprised to see yet another lion, these four are part of an urban and bloodstained legend.
The four stone lion statues in front of the Arsenal's entrance.
The most imposing statue is the sitting lion on the left side of the entrance. Dating back to the 300s or 400s BC, this lion, known as the Lion of Piraeus, once stood in Athens' ancient port (Piraeus). It was such a prominent statue that the port earned the nickname Porto Leone during the Middle Ages. The lion remained in Piraeus until 1687 when the Venetians conquered Athens from the Ottoman Turks. To commemorate their victory, the Venetians brought the Lion of Piraeus, along with the other lion on the right side of the Arsenal's entrance, to Venice.
Though barely visible today, Nordic runes appear on both shoulders of the sitting lion. But how did they end up on a Greek statue? Well, Scandinavian Vikings, who served the Byzantine Empire in the 11th century, stationed themselves in the harbor of Piraeus several times. They likely carved the runes on the ancient statue.
Close-up of the (barely visible) Nordic runes on the sitting lion.
Locals believed the runes on the lion had magical powers, and a new urban legend took shape in the early 1700s. According to the story, after some stormy days in November 1719, people discovered two lifeless bodies near the Arsenal. The bodies looked like a wild beast had torn them apart, but the police ruled it out — there was no evidence. Six days later, however, after another stormy night, they found another ripped-up corpse.
When the news spread, the Venetians panicked. Was there a serial killer in town? A young captain, Enrico Giustiniani, led the investigation and quickly identified an old merchant named Fosco as his prime suspect. But how could an older man have harmed the victims so brutally? Giustiniani knew he had to dig deeper.
Ten days later, on another stormy night, Enrico hid in the shadows near the Arsenale, watching the square. After hours of waiting, Fosco showed up and slowly approached the lions. He placed his hand on the sitting lion and began muttering an ancient enchantment. Before long, the gigantic lion started to come to life! The other lions soon began to move as well.
As you can see, the head of this lion clearly doesn't belong to it. Does it mean the legend is true?
In disbelief, Enrico drew his sword, rushed to Fosco, and quickly stabbed him to death. A loud roar echoed, and the lions turned back into stone. But the head of one lion stayed alive, roaring from its stone body. Seeing this, Enrico grabbed his sword again and sliced off the lion's head. It flew into the air and burst into pieces. Nothing moved anymore, and everything fell silent.
If you're skeptical about ghost stories like this, take a look at the second lion on the right. It's wearing a head that clearly doesn't belong to it. So, who knows? The legend may be true, and you might want to be cautious on stormy November nights.