One of the most iconic monuments in Venice, the bronze Winged Lion of St. Mark that dominates Piazza San Marco, may not be Venetian at all. New research reveals that this emblem of the medieval Republic was originally cast in Tang Dynasty China (AD 618–907), before being modified in Europe to serve as the city’s ultimate political and religious symbol.
The study, published in the journal Antiquity, combines stylistic analysis with advanced scientific testing to argue that the Lion was first created as a zhènmùshòu (镇墓兽)—a funerary guardian sculpture placed in Chinese tombs—before making a remarkable journey along the Silk Road.
A Mysterious Statue at the Heart of Venice
The great bronze ‘Lion’ of St Mark’s square, Venice (Scarfì 1990). The statue is about 4m long from muzzle to tail and 2.2m high at the head
Atop one of two monumental columns in the Piazzetta beside St. Mark’s Basilica stands the bronze Winged Lion. For centuries, this hybrid creature has been more than a piece of decoration: it is the embodiment of the Republic of Venice itself. The lion, one of the four apocalyptic symbols, became associated with St. Mark the Evangelist, the city’s patron saint. By the late-thirteenth century, the Lion had been elevated into a super-symbol of Venice’s identity.
Originally a religious figure, the Lion developed into a civic emblem and was even depicted on the Republic’s flag. Its presence on coins, seals, banners, and official documents reinforced the message that Venice was both divinely protected and politically powerful.
Despite its centrality, however, the statue itself has long been an enigma. Historians have struggled to establish where it came from, how it arrived in Venice, or who adapted it into its present form. The first documentary reference dates from 1293, when it was already noted as damaged and in need of repair. After Napoleon’s conquest of Venice in 1797, the Lion was dismantled and transported to Paris, before being returned in pieces in 1815. Its final restoration added new wings, further complicating its long history of alteration.
As Dr Massimo Vidale, co-author of the new study, explains: “We don’t know when the sculpture arrived in Venice, where it was reworked, who did it, or when it was erected on the column where it is still visible today.”
From Venice to China: Challenging Old Theories
A Tang-dynasty painted and gilt earthenware zhènmùshòu (镇墓兽 ‘tomb guardian’) excavated from Tomb M2 at Fujiagou Village in Lingtai County (Gansu, China) – image courtesy Antiquity
Until now, theories about the Lion’s origin ranged widely. Some scholars suggested it was created in a twelfth-century Venetian foundry. Others traced it to Anatolia or northern Syria during the Hellenistic period, while still others saw influences from Mesopotamian, Etruscan, Sassanian, and Persian art. B.M. Scarfì’s landmark 1990 study leaned toward a Hellenistic interpretation, viewing the Lion as a descendant of Persian lion-griffins. But as Vidale and his co-authors argue, this perspective underestimates its clear stylistic ties to Tang Dynasty China.
When examined closely, the Lion diverges from Romanesque and Gothic lions familiar in Europe. Instead, it shares a striking resemblance with Tang Dynasty zhènmùshòu, hybrid creatures placed in tombs to ward off evil.
The Lion’s bulbous nose, gnashing canines, and unusual side-placed ears align closely with Tang funerary sculptures. Even more telling are the scars on its head, which indicate the removal of horns. Traces of plumage near the shoulders suggest it originally bore wings, though these were altered in Europe.
Additional modifications include a “wig” added to cover horn scars, and ears that appear to have been shortened or sawn off. These changes made the hybrid more convincingly leonine, aligning it with St. Mark’s symbol.
Although the Lion’s flowing mane of waves lacks a direct Chinese parallel—Tang lions typically display solid or curled manes—the researchers see this as part of its transformation, not evidence against a Chinese origin.
Scientific Proof: Lead Isotope Analysis
View of the top of the head of St Mark’s ‘Lion’ once the ‘wig’ was removed. Note the linear-angular contour of the ears and the signs that something—probably horns—has been cut off. The abrupt end of the fur flocks – image courtesy Antiquity
To move beyond stylistic interpretation, the team conducted lead isotope analysis, a powerful method for tracing metals back to their source ores. “Lead isotopes provide a reliable means to link metals to their original ore deposits,” the authors note.
The samples taken from the Lion were consistent across multiple casting phases, pointing clearly to ore deposits in the Lower Yangzi River basin in China, particularly in Anhui and Zhejiang provinces. This finding rules out other possible sources in the Mediterranean and Near East. Even after centuries of restoration and recasting, the Lion’s metallurgical “fingerprint” ties it firmly to China.
A Statue on the Move
If the Lion was cast in Tang China, how did it end up in Venice? The authors offers one tantalising possibility: that it was sent back along the Silk Road by Niccolò and Maffeo Polo before being modified to resemble the Venetian emblem. Niccolò and Maffeo Polo, the father and uncle of Marco Polo, spent four years at the court of Kublai Khan in Beijing (Khanbaliq) between 1264 and 1268. This coincided with the period when Venice formally adopted the Winged Lion as its official emblem. It is possible, the authors suggest, that the Polos encountered a dismantled Tang bronze in China—perhaps left over from earlier persecutions of Buddhism, when thousands of statues were destroyed—and arranged for its shipment westward.
Alternatively, the Lion could have reached Europe through other channels of Silk Road trade, perhaps via Constantinople, before being adapted for Venetian use. It also could be evidence of other unknown trade connections between medieval China and Venice.
A Global Symbol of the Medieval World
Six different phases of casting and casting-on identified by Scarfì (1990: tab. XV). Phase 1 (from which two of our samples came) and Phase 2 are ascribed to the original Tang sculpture (credit: authors, modified from Scarfì 1990)
What is certain is that the Lion was heavily reworked after its arrival. Horns were removed, ears shortened, wings recast, and the hybrid turned into a lion more recognisable as the patron symbol of St. Mark. These modifications underline how cultural artifacts could be reshaped to serve new political and religious identities.
The discovery challenges long-standing narratives of Venice as a purely Mediterranean power. Instead, it reveals the global dimension of medieval connections, where Chinese funerary art could be repurposed into the symbol of a European republic. Dr Vidale concludes: “Venice is a city full of mysteries, but one has been solved: the ‘Lion’ of St. Mark is Chinese, and he walked the Silk Road.”
Reframing Venice’s Icon
The findings invite us to rethink how we view the Lion of St. Mark. Far from being a purely Venetian creation, it may represent a remarkable case of cultural recycling: a Tang Dynasty tomb guardian, transformed into the political lion of Venice.
In this light, the Lion is not only a symbol of the Republic’s religious devotion and statehood, but also a silent witness to the entanglements of East and West in the Middle Ages. Its Chinese origins underline the extent to which Venice’s power and identity were shaped by global interactions long before the early modern age of exploration.
The article, “The Chinese identity of St Mark’s bronze ‘Lion’ and its place in the history of medieval Venice,” by Gilberto Artioli, Roberto Ciarla, Ivana Angelini, Valentina Cantone, Antonella Gnutti and Massimo Vidale, is published in Antiquity. Click here to read it.
Top Image: Bronze lion of Saint Marc on a column on Piazzetta San Marco in Venice – photo by Wolfgang / Wikimedia Commons
One of the most iconic monuments in Venice, the bronze Winged Lion of St. Mark that dominates Piazza San Marco, may not be Venetian at all. New research reveals that this emblem of the medieval Republic was originally cast in Tang Dynasty China (AD 618–907), before being modified in Europe to serve as the city’s ultimate political and religious symbol.
The study, published in the journal Antiquity, combines stylistic analysis with advanced scientific testing to argue that the Lion was first created as a zhènmùshòu (镇墓兽)—a funerary guardian sculpture placed in Chinese tombs—before making a remarkable journey along the Silk Road.
A Mysterious Statue at the Heart of Venice
Atop one of two monumental columns in the Piazzetta beside St. Mark’s Basilica stands the bronze Winged Lion. For centuries, this hybrid creature has been more than a piece of decoration: it is the embodiment of the Republic of Venice itself. The lion, one of the four apocalyptic symbols, became associated with St. Mark the Evangelist, the city’s patron saint. By the late-thirteenth century, the Lion had been elevated into a super-symbol of Venice’s identity.
Originally a religious figure, the Lion developed into a civic emblem and was even depicted on the Republic’s flag. Its presence on coins, seals, banners, and official documents reinforced the message that Venice was both divinely protected and politically powerful.
Despite its centrality, however, the statue itself has long been an enigma. Historians have struggled to establish where it came from, how it arrived in Venice, or who adapted it into its present form. The first documentary reference dates from 1293, when it was already noted as damaged and in need of repair. After Napoleon’s conquest of Venice in 1797, the Lion was dismantled and transported to Paris, before being returned in pieces in 1815. Its final restoration added new wings, further complicating its long history of alteration.
As Dr Massimo Vidale, co-author of the new study, explains: “We don’t know when the sculpture arrived in Venice, where it was reworked, who did it, or when it was erected on the column where it is still visible today.”
From Venice to China: Challenging Old Theories
Until now, theories about the Lion’s origin ranged widely. Some scholars suggested it was created in a twelfth-century Venetian foundry. Others traced it to Anatolia or northern Syria during the Hellenistic period, while still others saw influences from Mesopotamian, Etruscan, Sassanian, and Persian art. B.M. Scarfì’s landmark 1990 study leaned toward a Hellenistic interpretation, viewing the Lion as a descendant of Persian lion-griffins. But as Vidale and his co-authors argue, this perspective underestimates its clear stylistic ties to Tang Dynasty China.
When examined closely, the Lion diverges from Romanesque and Gothic lions familiar in Europe. Instead, it shares a striking resemblance with Tang Dynasty zhènmùshòu, hybrid creatures placed in tombs to ward off evil.
The Lion’s bulbous nose, gnashing canines, and unusual side-placed ears align closely with Tang funerary sculptures. Even more telling are the scars on its head, which indicate the removal of horns. Traces of plumage near the shoulders suggest it originally bore wings, though these were altered in Europe.
Additional modifications include a “wig” added to cover horn scars, and ears that appear to have been shortened or sawn off. These changes made the hybrid more convincingly leonine, aligning it with St. Mark’s symbol.
Although the Lion’s flowing mane of waves lacks a direct Chinese parallel—Tang lions typically display solid or curled manes—the researchers see this as part of its transformation, not evidence against a Chinese origin.
Scientific Proof: Lead Isotope Analysis
To move beyond stylistic interpretation, the team conducted lead isotope analysis, a powerful method for tracing metals back to their source ores. “Lead isotopes provide a reliable means to link metals to their original ore deposits,” the authors note.
The samples taken from the Lion were consistent across multiple casting phases, pointing clearly to ore deposits in the Lower Yangzi River basin in China, particularly in Anhui and Zhejiang provinces. This finding rules out other possible sources in the Mediterranean and Near East. Even after centuries of restoration and recasting, the Lion’s metallurgical “fingerprint” ties it firmly to China.
A Statue on the Move
If the Lion was cast in Tang China, how did it end up in Venice? The authors offers one tantalising possibility: that it was sent back along the Silk Road by Niccolò and Maffeo Polo before being modified to resemble the Venetian emblem. Niccolò and Maffeo Polo, the father and uncle of Marco Polo, spent four years at the court of Kublai Khan in Beijing (Khanbaliq) between 1264 and 1268. This coincided with the period when Venice formally adopted the Winged Lion as its official emblem. It is possible, the authors suggest, that the Polos encountered a dismantled Tang bronze in China—perhaps left over from earlier persecutions of Buddhism, when thousands of statues were destroyed—and arranged for its shipment westward.
Alternatively, the Lion could have reached Europe through other channels of Silk Road trade, perhaps via Constantinople, before being adapted for Venetian use. It also could be evidence of other unknown trade connections between medieval China and Venice.
A Global Symbol of the Medieval World
What is certain is that the Lion was heavily reworked after its arrival. Horns were removed, ears shortened, wings recast, and the hybrid turned into a lion more recognisable as the patron symbol of St. Mark. These modifications underline how cultural artifacts could be reshaped to serve new political and religious identities.
The discovery challenges long-standing narratives of Venice as a purely Mediterranean power. Instead, it reveals the global dimension of medieval connections, where Chinese funerary art could be repurposed into the symbol of a European republic. Dr Vidale concludes: “Venice is a city full of mysteries, but one has been solved: the ‘Lion’ of St. Mark is Chinese, and he walked the Silk Road.”
Reframing Venice’s Icon
The findings invite us to rethink how we view the Lion of St. Mark. Far from being a purely Venetian creation, it may represent a remarkable case of cultural recycling: a Tang Dynasty tomb guardian, transformed into the political lion of Venice.
In this light, the Lion is not only a symbol of the Republic’s religious devotion and statehood, but also a silent witness to the entanglements of East and West in the Middle Ages. Its Chinese origins underline the extent to which Venice’s power and identity were shaped by global interactions long before the early modern age of exploration.
The article, “The Chinese identity of St Mark’s bronze ‘Lion’ and its place in the history of medieval Venice,” by Gilberto Artioli, Roberto Ciarla, Ivana Angelini, Valentina Cantone, Antonella Gnutti and Massimo Vidale, is published in Antiquity. Click here to read it.
Top Image: Bronze lion of Saint Marc on a column on Piazzetta San Marco in Venice – photo by Wolfgang / Wikimedia Commons
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