The coffin was in the midst, and about it, on their knees, were the family, a typical gondolier all in black being the chief mourner.  Such prayers as he might have been uttering were constantly broken into by the repeated calls of an attendant with a box for alms, and it was interesting to watch the struggle going on in the simple fellow’s mind between native prudence and good form.  How much he ought to give?  Whether it was quite the thing to bring the box so often and at such a season?  Whether shaking it so noisily was not peculiarly tactless?  What the spectators and church officials would think if he refused?  Could he refuse? and, However much were these obsequies going to cost?—­these questions one could discern revolving almost visibly beneath his short-haired scalp.  At last the priests left the high altar and came down to the coffin, to sprinkle it and do whatever was now possible for its occupant; and in a few minutes the church was empty save for the undertaker’s men, myself, and the Bellini.  It is truly a lovely picture, although perhaps a thought too mild, and one should go often to see it.

[Illustration:  MADONNA AND CHILD WITH SAINTS FROM THE PAINTING BY GIOVANNI BELLINI In the Church of S. Zaccaria]

The sculptor Alessandro Vittoria, who did so much to perpetuate the features of great Venetians and was the friend of so many artists, including Tintoretto and Paul Veronese, is buried here.  The floor slabs of red stone with beautiful lettering should be noticed; but all over Venice such memorials have a noble dignity and simplicity.

It will be remembered that the site of this church was determined by the vision of Bishop Magnus, S. John appearing to him and commanding it to be built in honour of his father.  The first structure probably dates from the seventh century; the present is fifteenth century, and beneath it is the ancient crypt adjoining the chapel of S. Tarasio, where in the twelfth century a hundred nuns seeking refuge from a fire were suffocated.  In the chapel are ecclesiastical paintings, but no proper provision is made for seeing them.  Eight Doges lie in S. Zaccaria.

Outside I found a great crowd to see the embarcation of the corpse for its last home, the Campo Santo.  This, I may say, was rather a late funeral.  Most of them are at eight or even earlier.

It is best now to return to the Riva by the calle which comes out beside Danieli’s and then walk Lido-wards over two bridges and take the first calle after them.  This brings us to S. Giovanni in Bragora, S. John’s own church, built according to his instructions to Bishop Magnus, and it has one of the keenest little sacristans in Venice.  From altar to altar he bustles, fixing you in the best positions for light.  The great picture here is the Cima behind the high altar, of which I give a reproduction opposite page 136.  A little perch has been made, the better to see it.  It represents “The Baptism of Christ,” and must in its heyday have