Venice Gold: The Treasures of Saint Mark’s Cathedral

View of the Basilica di San Marco from the Piazzetta di San Marco

The ‘skip-the-line’ line looked a little bit longer than the regular line outside Saint Mark’s Cathedral in Venice. When the time on my ticket arrived, the threads of tourists snaked into Piazza San Marco, where puddles of rainwater were already pooling, a downpour underway. Perfectly timed for my booking, the storm that had gathered all morning had just now broken, as had the umbrella I’d bought for €5 nearby, almost as soon as I’d opened it up for the very first time. I scrambled to jig the thing into shape as the wind turned sideways, making it even more useless and silly, rain gushing from all sides. Brooding over the piazza ahead, the cathedral’s dazzling portal seemed ages away.

Some fled their lines, even owners of far better umbrellas, but I was going to hang on: my one chance to glimpse the inside of San Marco during this visit. It would be my very first time. Midway through a guidebook commission, I was somewhat aware of the immense treasures that awaited inside.

Saint Mark’s Square

Disgracefully, without excuse, on previous visits I’d been fine to admire the Basilica di San Marco from afar, strolling the vast Piazza San Marco, entranced by the gem-studded, marble exterior of the cathedral, its riotous mashup up of styles, strangely irregular domes and mysterious horses, anciently crafted, perched outside on a ledge high over the crowds below.

On a typical day, many hundreds of tourists are content to do as I’d done: lounge in one of the many overpriced cafes along the timeworn square—the settings of dramas untold: executions, ducal pronouncements, failed revolutions aimed at toppling the state yet surviving 1100 years (697–1797): La Serenissima, the Most Serene Republic of Venice. As Napoleon—who finally succeeded in ending this span—is said to have said, the grand piazza is ‘the finest drawing room in Europe.’ And it may be (on a nice, sunny day).

Of the piazza’s subsequent drama, nature has played a big part, not least in the historic flooding of 1966, submerging the piazza in more than a meter of water from the lagoon. The incident sounded the alarm that led to the construction of MOSE, a series of mobile gates now in place. Completed and (successfully) tested in 2025, it now protects the city from a steep surge in occurrences of acqua alta (high water), first noticed whenever it’s starting to hit right here at Venice’s lowest point: Piazza San Marco.

As rain pounded down on the merging puddles in the square at the time of my skip-the-line booking, I wondered about MOSE, but was far more concerned with the camera and lens wrapped in t-shirts inside of my tote bag (backpacks aren’t allowed). I pulled what was left of my shoddy umbrella tight over my head, arching my body over the dripping bag and inching forward for what felt like much, much more than the likely only five or maybe ten minutes outside in the rain.

Gathering storm over cathedral domes, viewed from the courtyard of the Doge's Palace
Darkening skies from the Riva, looking across the gondola piers to La Salute beside Punta Dogana
Church of San Giorgio Maggiore (Abbazia di San Giorgio Maggiore), Venice

Stepping into the Narthex

Though nothing else was, my camera and phone, miraculously, were dry when I cleared the shower’s reach, sloshing into the warmth and stillness of Saint Mark’s Cathedral to scan with wet fingers the barcode on my ticket, feeling pleased with myself. Then, upon looking up, I forgot all about being all soaked.

The mosaics of San Marco are sublime. Neck craned in the narthex, I admired the Dome of the Creation, lush with scenes from the Garden of Eden. Moving along with the solemn crowd, I then circled the high altar, slowly, joining the crush at the famous Byzantine Pala d’Oro (Golden Panel), first commissioned in the late 900s but greatly embellished with later loot from Constantinople.

Mosaic-adorned interior of Saint Mark's Basilica, Venice
View toward the alter of Saint Mark's Basilica, Venice
Mosaic-adorned interior of Saint Mark's Basilica, Venice
Mosaic-adorned interior of Saint Mark's Basilica, Venice
Detail of the Byzantine Pala d'Oro, situated behind the altar
The Pala d'Oro in Venice's Basilica San Marco
Christ Pantocrator in the semi-dome of the apse, backed by the Christogram

Venice’s Rise

From humble beginnings as a rough, island refuge from the armies ravaging the mainland with the collapse of Rome, Venetians rose gradually over centuries through ingenuity and grit. First a Byzantine satellite, its doges accumulated power and prestige, notably through a 9th-century heist in Alexandria.

Under the noses of the Arab authorities, the Venetian hero-thieves made off with the remains of Saint Mark the evangelist, credited for the spread of Christianity up the Nile. According to the story, they hid the loot under a hunk of pork to evade inspection. These events as well as the body’s subsequent interment in Saint mark’s Cathedral are all depicted on the golden lunettes over the doorways outside.

Their prize brought great prestige to Venice, but was lost in a fire in 976, one that destroyed the entire cathedral, leaving very little doubt that Mark’s relics were gone for good. During reconstruction in 1094, however, they were reported to have miraculously reappeared (hidden in a pillar), reaffirming the saint’s presence in Venice and the republic’s divine favor moving forward. The upswing continued over the next several centuries, in which Venice became unrivaled in the Adriatic and a power to be reckoned with as far as the eastern Mediterranean. While cashing in on trade with the Islamic powers, they’d play an outsized role in waging the Crusades.

Lunette over the entrance to the Basilica di San Marco, depicting in Byzantine style the saint's 10th-century interment
Close-up of the above
Close-up of the heist in Alexandria, stealing the body of Saint Mark under the noses of Arab officials (the body is presumably in the basket or barrel to the left, hidden under vegetables and pork)

The Museo di San Marco & Enrico Dandolo’s Plunder

I was already half-dry when I squished up the narrow old stairway to find what I’d most wanted to see: San Marco’s Quadriga (Four Horses). At the top of the steps, the views from the gallery over the church’s nave certainly do not disappoint. Darkly shaded in the ethereal gloom all around, the gold-tinged mosaics—roughly 8,000 square meters, representing some 800 years of Venetian devotion, from the 11th century on—took me aback. Open-mouthed, I forgot again about the squeaky shoes and, for a minute, about the ancient horses.

Of the scenes to unfold over the centuries in the space just below, one moment came to mind. In 1201, Doge Enrico Dandolo famously addressed the Crusaders amassed in the candle-lit cathedral. Virtually blind and over 80 years old, yet fiercely intelligent and strong, his pronouncement was much awaited, arriving after long, restive months of frustrating delays to the launch of the Fourth Crusade, stymied by the need for ships (and a shortage of funds to pay for their construction).

Donning the cross of Crusaders himself, Dandolo announced to great rapture and much weeping, according to reports, that Venice would throw its full weight behind the venture. It would procure the ships. The Doge himself would fight, leading the charge. In return, the Frankish Crusaders agreed on an added pitstop to capture the rebellious Zara (today’s Zadar), a detour forbidden by the Pope. However, this remained a secret to nearly all but the Doge.

12th-century 'King of Kings' mosaic, viewed from the upper gallery of Basilica di San Marco
Mosaic decoration inside Saint Mark's Basilica, Venice
Mosaic decoration inside Saint Mark's Basilica, Venice

After capturing Zara, the Franks themselves came out with no small secret of their own: Jerusalem wasn’t their first destination. Instead, they were bent on another diversion: to seize the Byzantine capital and place a pro-Western ruler on the throne. They succeeded, but the newly installed emperor, unable either to pay the Crusaders their dues or allay his citizens’ unrest, lost favor with both. Ousted by his general, the emporer was strangled. The usurper declared no payment would be forthcoming, bolstering the city’s defenses.

This second siege of the city, just a year after the first, was worthy of a Hollywood epic. The Venetian attack was initially repulsed from the walls of Constantinople, but the elderly doge singlehandedly turned the tide, ordering his galley to double back. According to the accounts, he stood on the prow, fully armed with the banner of Saint Mark held before him. The sight of the old doge sparked the courage of the Venetians and Franks. Though blind, Doge Dandolo was the first on the beach, planting his banner as his army pitched ladders to scale the walls. In the brutal sack that followed this second siege, the Venetians went about their plunder with a selective eye, spotting the objects of greatest worth to pack into ships headed home. As for Enrico Dandolo, he remained in Constantinople, buried in the Hagia Sofia the very next year.

Mosaics over the altar, Basilica di San Marco
Christ Pantocrator in the semi-dome of the apse, backed by the Christogram
Magi meeting Herod, Museo Marciano, Venice

At Last: The Horses!

Around a corner in the upper gallery, the Museo di San Marco, I spotted the greatest of the spoils of the Fourth Crusade: the fabled Four Horses of Saint Mark, sculpted in the haze of antiquity (Greece? Rome?), placed over the Imperial Hippodrome of Constantinople for centuries until stolen to Venice in 1204.

A sign nearby explains that the many small scratches on their gold-leaf surface were made on purpose: to minimize the sun’s reflection; but it seems more likely that it was because it was gold. But they hardly detract from the horses’ beauty, frozen in perfect motion, an immortal tetrad. The craftsmanship appears superhuman. To glimpse them alone is well worth the €10 ticket to climb the stairs.

Four Horses of Saint Mark, looted from Constantinople in 1204
Cavalli di San Marco in the Museo Marciano, Venice

Before heading down, I stepped outside to the Loggia dei Cavalli, the balcony overlooking the square. The rain was a drizzle as I stood at the foot of the replica horses. These horses were placed in the 1980s to better protect the originals, kept inside.

Golden Age, Decline & Reinvention

In the wake of the Fourth Crusade, Venice’s star kept on rising. They acquired key territories in the east, expanded to the Italian mainland and bested the Genoese in a protracted war (in which they came within a hair of losing control of their lagoon). The Ottomans proved greater, longer rivals, though latter’s decline would shortly shadow the Venetians’ in the 17th century, thanks to long, costly wars and westward shifting trade routes. When La Serenissima finally fell in 1797, it was under the boot of Napoleon, who stole their prized four horses, shipping them off to Paris. Soon after Waterloo, they came back to Venice, while Paris replaced their short-lived loot with replicas of their own, still capping the Arc du Carrousel, a stone’s throw west of the Louvre.

But the Republic was dead. From then on, its haunting beauty would serve in the same way that it still does today: as a destination. Since the very first waves of Grand Tourists, Venice has welcomed its share of astonished guests, long the lifeblood (and the bane) of Venice. 2024 saw over 5 million tourist arrivals, with a marked increase of Americans making the trip. To curb excess, the city has introduced a cruise ship ban (2021) and a day-tripper fee (2024).

But sloshing through much of the city over the next two days, I hardly noticed the infamous crowds. Blending in, I was completely won over.

But I’m now convinced that skipping a visit to Saint Mark’s Cathedral—the Basilica di San Marco, among the most grand and evocative on earth—should be counted as a punishable offense. While there, go upstairs. But check out the forecast and perhaps even splurge on a respectable umbrella.

Entrance to Basilica San Marco
Four Horses of Saint Mark (Venice), looted from Constantinople in 1204
Mosaics in the narthex of the Basilica di San Marco
Sant’Alvise Church, Venice: La Vergine col Bambino by Giammaria Morlaiter (1699–1781)
Donatello’s wooden statue of St John the Baptist, Church of the Frari
Altarpiece over the crypt of the Church of San Zaccaria, a short walk east of the cathedral
Nave of the Chiesa di San Zaccaria
Chiesa di San Zaccaria's brilliant facade
Cannaregio Canals
Facade of the Scuola Grande di San Marco
Monument to the Doge Pietro Mocenigo (Pietro Lombardo) inside Santi Giovanni e Paolo Basilica
Capella di San Domenico inside Santi Giovanni e Paolo, resting place of doges
Facade of the Scuola Grande di San Marco, Campo Santi Giovanni e Paolo
Lombardo's Santa Maria dei Miracoli
Chiesa Parrocchiale di San Moisè
Domes of Saint Mark's
Roof of Basilica di San Marco

spread the word!

Found this worthwhile? Know someone else who might? Share via the buttons below!

Facebook
Reddit
LinkedIn
Email
WhatsApp
Threads
X

traveling soon?

Planning a trip? Click below when booking to help keep this blog alive. Every completed booking will throw me a small affiliate commission—at no added cost to yourself. If you’re liking these entries, you can also click below to ‘buy me a coffee’ today. Thank you for your support!