On the far right side of the basilica, there is a monumental tomb to memorialize Pope Clement XIII's legacy in the Church. The pope kneels in prayer as he is bracketed on either side by religion (left) and genius (right). The first neoclassical sculpture to be added to St. Peter's, it is considered to be a masterpiece in its own right. While the beautiful stone, the flowing robes, and the stern heroism of the three characters are certainly attractive, what really drew my attention were the two lions lying in wait and guarding the foot of the tomb.
The lion on the left was particularly fascinating to examine closer. When facing the statue, the lion looks like it's snarling and vicious—guarding the pope with the ferocity one would expect from a lion. Facing the lion up close reveals a different portrait entirely. Here, the wide eyes look searchingly out and away from the pope; an image of loyal vigilance.
Rotating around the lion and facing the rear, the sculpture morphs into something else entirely. With a little bit of squinting and a small dose of imagination, the lion's rump looks almost like an elephant. The trunk of the elephant protrudes from the back and swings to the right, the rest of the face extends from the surface at the same plane, and the large ears on either side are set back and flop away from the face.
This particular animal sculpture encapsulates the idea behind the leadership and strategy behind the might of an institution like the Catholic church. Those in power must fiercely defend their beliefs and loyally protect their subjects like a lion yet they must also possess the wisdom and peacefulness of an elephant.