Horses of St. Mark.
Above them is the winged Lion of St Mark, that had such a curiously opposite effect on the minds of the Venetians and those of their enemies, imparting his traditional boldness to the former, and dissipating whatever of that quality existed in the latter. This lion is ubiquitous in Venice, and can be found of almost any age required; but this one is very modern. He is brave in his coat of gold, and the field of azure sown with golden stars which makes his background is very becoming. He rests one paw on the open book to emphasize the words "Pax tibi Marce Evagelista meus." Above him towers the statue of that saint whose symbol he is, the lion-hearted Mark,—the saint whose crumbling bones below, in the great Basilica, seem by some subtle spell to have made invincible the hearts and arms of those who look to him as their protecting guardian.
Rising from the pavement below, and towering far above the Bronze Horses, are the three cedar pili (flag-staffs), from which in the old days floated the banners of Cyprus, Candia, and the Morea, ever recalling to the Venetians the glorious victories they had gained. On Sundays and festivals the Italian colors are now seen on these masts, rising from the same magnificent bronze pedestals which have held them almost four hundred years, and which, according to ancient pictures, must have replaced still older ones. These were given by Paolo Barbo in 1501 and by the Doge Leonardo Loredano in 1505, and were all the work of Alessandro Leopardo. If the graceful tritons and sirens chiselled there could speak, how many questions we should like to ask them!
But alas! the only bronzes of the Piazza that give any sign of life are the two Moors on the top of the Torre dell' Orologio, and they only to strike the bell which each time reminds us that we have one hour less in Venice. There is a story that one of these Moors is a murderer, but not with malice aforethought. A poor workman, unconscious of the hour, was within the swing of the Moor's hammer, and so was thrown to his death below.
The azure and gold dial on this tower gives much information. The Italian hours, one to twenty-four, the quarters of the moon, and the twelve signs of the zodiac are there. On the upper story, above the dial, is a gigantic lion, with the starry background which he seems to affect, and beneath him is a gilded statue of the Virgin Mary. During the month of May, at certain hours, a door near her opens, and the Magi appear, pass before her, salute her with their crowns, and disappear by another door.
When all this happens at a quiet midnight hour, when the weird moonlight leaves much in shadow, bringing out only the most prominent objects, as the Moors and the Magi come to life, one involuntarily looks around, expecting to see the lion between the Clock Tower and the church shake his mane and come down from his block, to hear the horses neigh, and to behold a long line of saints and angels who have left their dizzy heights to walk around the square in grand procession.
There are few objects in all Venice which have a greater variety of interesting associations than the Campanile, which so dominates the city and the surrounding sea that from its summit the fleets that have sailed away for war and for the pursuits of peace have been watched for many centuries, and followed by prayers and blessings until lost in the dim distance.
From this same height, what anxious eyes have been strained to catch the first glimpse of victorious, home-coming galleys! Or, in times of need, as during the Chioggian War, it was from the Campanile that the welcome aid-bearing vessels were first seen; and in all times of great events, for joy or sorrow, it was the tocsin of the Campanile that called the people to the Piazza to hear the news and take counsel for action. Nine hundred and ninety-two years has it performed these offices; and could a diary have been written of all its experiences, what book would be more wonderful?