countered. It was the humanistic and naturalistic side of Donatello
which touched Giovanni Bellini, more than all his classic lore. It
chimed in, too, with his father's graceful and fanciful quality, and
there is no doubt that the Venetian painters soon exercised a marked
influence on Mantegna. They "fought for him with Squarcione," and even
in the Eremitani frescoes he begins to lose his purely statuesque type
and to become frankly Renaissance. In the later scenes of the series a
pergola with grapes, a Venetian campanile and doorway replace his
classic towers and arches of triumph. In the "Martyrdom of St. James"
the couple walking by and paying no attention whatever to the tragic
event, are very like the people whom Gentile introduces in his
backgrounds.

There are few documents more interesting in the history of art
than the two pictures of the "Agony in the Garden," executed by the
brothers-in-law, about 1455, from a design by Jacopo in the British
Museum sketch-book. Jacopo draws the mound-like hill, Christ kneeling
before the vision of the Chalice, the figures wrapt in slumber, and the
distant town. In few pictures up to this time is the landscape conceived
in such sympathy with the figures. As we look at this sketch and examine
the two finished compositions, which it is so fortunate to find in
juxtaposition in the National Gallery, we surmise that the two artists
agreed to carry out the same idea and each to give his version of
Jacopo's suggestion, and very curious it is to see the rendering each
has produced.

Mantegna has made use of the most formal and Squarcionesque contours in
his surroundings. The rocks are of an unnatural, geological structure.
The towers of Jerusalem are defined in elaborate perspective, and a band
of classic figures fills the middle distance. The sleeping forms of the
disciples are laid about like so many draped statues taken from their
pedestals. The choir of child angels is solid and leaves nothing to the
imagination, and if it were not for the beautifully conceived Christ,
the whole composition would leave us quite unmoved. On the other hand,
we can never look at Bellini's version without a fresh thrill. He, like
Mantegna, has followed Jacopo's scheme of winding roads and the city
"set on a hill," and has drawn the advancing band of soldiers; but,
independent of all details, he gives us the vision of a poet. The still
dawn is breaking over the broadly painted landscape, the rosy shaf