A Day of Triumph: July 24, 1177

Sunday, the 24th of July, 1177, was a superb day for Venice. The Piazza was alive with princes and peoples from many nations. Two tall masts bearing the banners of Saint Mark rose at the landing stage by the Piazzetta, proclaiming the grandeur of the Republic.

On the previous day, the Emperor—who was not permitted to land in Venice until he had, as it was said, set aside his leonine ferocity and assumed the gentleness of the lamb—had been brought with great pomp from Chioggia to the Lido. There he passed the night at the Abbey of San Nicolò.

At dawn, the Pope, having formally received at Saint Mark’s the abjuration of the schism by the Chancellor of the Empire, solemnly absolved the Emperor from the ban of the Church. The Doge then set forth with a magnificent procession and brought the Emperor from the Lido, seated in the ducal barge between the Doge and the Patriarch.

The Meeting of Pope and Emperor

When the Emperor disembarked, a grand procession was formed. At its head walked the Doge, the Patriarch, and the clergy bearing banners and crosses, followed by the Emperor himself. Upon reaching the Piazza, he beheld the Pope enthroned in full canonicals, surrounded by cardinals, archbishops, bishops, and clergy, awaiting him before the atrium of Saint Mark’s.

Moved, as the chroniclers tell us, by the Holy Spirit, the Emperor cast aside his purple cloak, bowed his neck, and prostrated himself at the Pope’s feet, venerating God in Alexander. The pontiff rose, extended his hand, raised the Emperor, bestowed upon him the kiss of peace, and pronounced his blessing. Bells pealed, the Te Deum rang out, and the doors of Saint Mark’s were thrown open.

Hand in hand, the Emperor led the Pope to the altar. After receiving the papal benediction, he returned to the Ducal Palace, while Venice stood witness to a reconciliation that would echo across Europe.

Solemn Rites and Lasting Glory

The following day, at the Emperor’s request, the Pope celebrated a solemn mass at Saint Mark’s. The Emperor laid aside his mantle, took a wand, cleared the choir of the laity, and personally escorted the aged pontiff to the altar, protecting him from the press of the crowd. He then took his place humbly among the clergy, listening devoutly to the service.

At the sermon, noticing the Emperor standing near the pulpit, the Pope ordered the Patriarch of Aquileia to translate the sermon from Latin into German. When the Credo had been sung, the Emperor approached the Pope’s feet and made his oblations. At the end of the mass, he led the Pope to his white horse and held the stirrup as he mounted, receiving in return a final blessing.

This successful reconciliation shed immense lustre upon the Venetian state. Never before had Venice stood so high in the eyes of Europe. Nor were the gains merely symbolic: the Republic secured valuable spiritual and political privileges from both Pope and Emperor before they departed her shores.

Legend, Ceremony, and the Sea

Around these dramatic events, many legends later gathered. Tales were told of the Pope arriving in Venice in humble disguise, wandering the city until he found refuge and laboured for months as a common servant, before being recognised and restored to honour. Other stories spoke of imperial threats, naval victories, and symbolic acts of submission enacted before Saint Mark’s.

During the Pope’s stay, the festival of La Sensa was celebrated. On this occasion, the pontiff handed a consecrated ring to the Doge, declaring it a pledge of Venice’s perpetual dominion over the sea. From that moment onward, the ceremony grew ever more magnificent, becoming the greatest of Venice’s public pageants.

Aboard the gilded Bucintoro, surrounded by clergy, magistrates, and ambassadors, the Doge sailed into the Adriatic. There, the ring was cast into the sea with the solemn words that wedded Venice to the waters she ruled. Music rang out, masses were heard, banquets followed, and the city surrendered itself to days of celebration—a tradition that endured until the fall of the Republic in 1797.

Columns, Power, and Memory

Among the spoils brought from Syria were three massive granite columns. Two were eventually raised on the Piazzetta through the ingenuity of Niccolò Barattieri, and crowned with the statues of the Lion of Saint Mark and Saint Theodore. The space between them later became a place of public executions, lending the columns a grim and lasting significance in Venetian memory.

The Evolution of the Republic

As Doges succeeded one another, Venice refined its political institutions. Electoral systems were reshaped to limit dynastic power, and the authority of the Doge was increasingly defined and restrained by law.

In the late twelfth century, Venice once again turned her gaze eastward. Crusades, commercial interests, and rivalries with Pisa and Genoa shaped her actions. It was not until the Fourth Crusade that the Republic would fully assert her naval supremacy for her own ends.

In 1193, Enrico Dandolo—already more than eighty years old—was elected Doge. Bound by a carefully crafted coronation oath, he would nonetheless lead Venice into one of the most decisive and controversial chapters of her history, as the cry for aid from the Christian East reached the ears of Pope Innocent III and set the Fourth Crusade in motion.