Doge Enrico Dandolo was a man of undying energy, and he was 92 and blind when, in 1202, several Christian leaders from all over Europe came to Venice to ask for help before launching the 4th Crusade onto Jerusalem.

During a council with Dandolo, the princes kneeled before him requesting to hire the Venetian fleet, the best there was in the world, to free the Holy Land. Dandolo put the question to the Venetian people and finally, after Mass in the Basilica, before all those present he cried: “Noi accettiamo”, “We accept”. The smiles upon the faces of the Crusaders must have been short lived, when the doge set the
price for renting his war-ships. even it they had all chipped in, it was still too much money. So Dandolo, seeing an opportunity to capitalize on this, had a follow-up suggestion. The Venetian Republic would join in the Crusade on condition that he himself lead the mission and that half of the booty collected
return to Venice. It was now their turn to accept.

And so it was, they set sail for Jerusalem in 1204; however, Dandolo, 94 years of age and still blind, decided to stop at Constantinople, which was the real prize he was after. The Byzantine empire was already on its knees, and uncapable of stopping the attacks, the Venetians virtually stole some of the most precious art works of the city and took them back to Venice.

Dandolo himself died the year after in Constantinople, aged 95, but not before he sent the chariot of four bronze horses back to Venice. These had arrived in Constantinople from ancient Rome,
and although their sculptor is unknown, they have been around since the 2nd century b.C., and probably sculpted by a nameless sculptor in Greece.

Centuries later, upon his arrival in Venice, Napoleon Bonaparte was obviously impressed by the horses too, and after putting an end to Venice’s Republc, he took them back to Paris, although they didn’t settle there for long. In 1815, the Austrians had taken over control of Venice from Napoleon, but unlike him they didn’t wish to destroy the city; instead they wanted to annex it to their own Empire: it would be their jewel in their crown, but it had to remain unspoilt to be enjoyed. So they returned the horses and placed them back where they belonged, here on the Pronao of the Basilica. Unfortunately, in an effort to fully preserve them, the originals are kept inside the church’s museum; the chariot looking out onto the Piazza is a copy, but a commanding one nonetheless.