There are several saints named Theodore, but the protector and patron of the Venetians in the early days before Mark’s body was stolen from Alexandria, is S. Theodore of Heraclea.  S. Theodore, surnamed Stretelates, or general of the army, was a famous soldier and the governor of the country of the Mariandyni, whose capital was Heraclea.  Accepting and professing the Christian faith, he was beheaded by the Emperor Licinius on February 7, 319.  On June 8 in the same year his remains were translated to Euchaia, the burial-place of the family, and the town at once became so famous as a shrine that its name was changed to Theodoropolis.  As late as 970 the patronage of the Saint gave the Emperor John I a victory over the Saracens, and in gratitude the emperor rebuilt the church where Theodore’s relics were preserved.  Subsequently they were moved to Mesembria and then to Constantinople, from which city the great Doge Dandolo brought them to Venice.  They now repose in S. Salvatore beneath an altar.

The west side of the Piazzetta consists of the quiet and beautiful facade of Sansovino’s Old Library.  To see it properly one should sit down at ease under the Doge’s arcade or mount to the quadriga gallery of S. Mark’s.  Its proportions seem to me perfect, but Baedeker’s description of it as the most magnificent secular edifice in Italy seems odd with the Ducal Palace so near.  They do not, however, conflict, for the Ducal Palace is so gay and light, and this so serious and stately.  The cherubs with their garlands are a relaxation, like a smile on a grave face; yet the total effect is rather calm thoughtfulness than sternness.  The living statues on the coping help to lighten the structure, and if one steps back along the Riva one sees a brilliant column of white stone—­a chimney perhaps—­which is another inspiriting touch.  In the early morning, with the sun on them, these statues are the whitest things imaginable.

The end building, the Zecca, or mint, is also Sansovino’s, as are the fascinating little Loggetta beneath the campanile, together with much of its statuary, the giants at the head of Ricco’s staircase opposite, and the chancel bronzes in S. Mark’s, so that altogether this is peculiarly the place to inquire into what manner of man the Brunelleschi of Venice was.  For Jacopo Sansovino stands to Venice much as that great architect to Florence.  He found it lacking certain essential things, and, supplying them, made it far more beautiful and impressive; and whatever he did seems inevitable and right.

Vasari wrote a very full life of Sansovino, not included among his other Lives but separately published.  In this we learn that Jacopo was born in Florence in 1477, the son of a mattress-maker named Tatti; but apparently 1486 is the right date.  Appreciating his natural bent towards art, his mother had him secretly taught to draw, hoping that he might become a great sculptor like Michael Angelo, and he was put as apprentice to the sculptor Andrea Contucci of Monte Sansovino, who had recently set up in Florence and was at work on two figures for San Giovanni; and Jacopo so attached himself to the older man that he became known as Sansovino too.  Another of his friends as a youth was Andrea del Sarto.