Masters of Art - Albrecht Dürer

by Dürer, Albrecht

  It is a singular and unexplained fact, that although Dürer was accustomed to sketch every one about him, yet no portrait of his wife is certainly known to exist, though several of his sketches are so called, without any foundation or proof. What adds to the strangeness of this omission is the fact that all accounts represent Agnes Dürer as a very handsome woman.

  Probably the newly married couple dwelt at the house of the elder Dürer during the first years of their union. In 1494 Albert was admitted to the guild of painters, submitting a pen-drawing of Orpheus and the Bacchantes as his test of ability; and at about the same time he drew the “Bacchanal” and “The Battle of the Tritons,” which are now at Vienna. Herein he showed the contemporary classical tendency of art, which he so soon outgrew. About this same time he designed a frontispiece for the Latin poem which Dr. Ulsen had written about the pestilence which was devastating Nuremberg, showing a ghastly and repulsive man covered with plague-boils. The portrait of Dürer’s father, in oil-colors, which is now at Frankfort, was also executed during this year.

  Dürer’s first copper-plate engraving dates from 1497, and represents four naked women, under a globe bearing the initials of “O Gott Hilf,” or “O God, help,” while human bones strew the floor, and a flaming devil appears in the background. During the next three years the master made twenty copper-plate engravings. The composition of “St. Jerome’s Penance” shows the noble old ascetic kneeling alone in a rocky wilderness, beating his naked breast with a stone, and gazing at a crucifix, while the symbolical lion lies beside him. “The Penance of St. John Chrysostom” depicts the long-bearded saint expiating his guilt in seducing and slaying the princess by crawling about on all-fours like a beast. She is seen at the mouth of a rocky cave, nursing her child. “The Prodigal Son” is another tender and exquisitely finished copper-plate engraving, in which the yearning and prayerful Prodigal, bearing the face of Dürer, is kneeling on bare knees by the trough at which a drove of swine are feeding. In the background is a group of substantial German farm-buildings, with unconcerned domestic animals and fowls. “The Rape of Amymone” shows a gloomy Triton carrying off a very ugly woman from the midst of her bathing Danaide sisters. “The Dream” portrays an obese German soundly sleeping by a great stove, with a foolish-faced naked Venus and a winged Cupid standing by his side, and a little demon blowing in his ear. “The Love Offer” is made by an ugly old man to a pretty maiden, whose waist is encircled by his arm, while her hand is greedily outstretched to receive the money which he offers. Another early engraving on copper shows a wild and naked man holding an unspeakably ugly woman, who is endeavoring to tear herself from his arms. Still others delineate Justice sitting on a lion, “The Little Fortune” standing naked on a globe, and the monstrous hog of Franconia.

  It was chiefly through his engravings that Dürer became and remains known to the world; and by the same mode of expression he boldly showed forth the doubts and despairs, yearnings and conflicts, not only of his own pure and sorrowful soul, but also of Europe, quivering in the throes of the Reformation.

  The artists of Italy, when the age of faith was ended, turned to the empty splendors and symmetries of paganism; but their German brothers faced the new problems more sternly, and strove for the life of the future. Under Dürer’s hard and homely German scenes, there seem to be double meanings and unfathomable fancies, usually alluding to sorrow, sin, and death, and showing forth the vanity of all things earthly. In sharp contrast with these profound allegories are the humorous grotesqueness and luxuriant fancifulness which appear in others of the artist’s engravings, fantastic, uncouth, and quaint. He frequently yielded to the temptation to introduce strange animals and unearthly monsters into his pictures, even those of the most sacred subjects; and his so-called “Virgin with the Animals” is surrounded by scores of birds, insects, and quadrupeds of various kinds.

  It is interesting to hear of the rarity of the early impressions of Dürer’s engravings, and the avidity with which they are sought and the keenness with which they are analyzed by collectors. In many cases the copies of these engravings are as good as the originals, and can be distinguished only by the most trifling peculiarities. The water-marks of the paper on which they are printed form a certain indication of their period. Before his Venetian journey Dürer used paper bearing the water-mark of the bull’s head; and, after his return from the Netherlands, paper bearing a little pitcher; while the middle period had several peculiar symbols. A fine impression of the copper-plate engraving of “St. Jerome” recently brought over $500; and the Passion in Copper sold in 1864 for $300.

  “The Portfolio” for 1877 contains a long series of articles by Prof. Sidney Colvin on “Albert Dürer: His Teachers, his Rivals, and his Scholars,” treating exhaustively of his relations as an engraver to other contemporary masters, — Schongauer, Israhel van Meckenen, Mantegna, Boldini and the Florentines, Jacopo de’ Barbari (Jacob Walch), Marc Antonio, Lucas van Leyden, and certain other excellent but nameless artists.

  Vasari says, “The power and boldness of Albert increasing with time, and as he perceived his works to obtain increasing estimation, he now executed engravings on copper, which amazed all who beheld them.” Three centuries later Von Schlegel wrote, “When I turn to look at the numberless sketches and copper-plate designs of the present day, Dürer appears to me like the originator of a new and noble system of thought, burning with the zeal of a first pure inspiration, and eager to diffuse his deeply conceived and probably true and great ideas.”

  In 1497 Dürer painted the excellent portrait of his father, which the Rath of Nuremberg presented to Charles I. of England, and which is now at Sion House, the seat of the Earl of Northumberland. It shows a man aged yet strong, with grave and anxious eyes, compressed lips, and an earnest expression. Another similar portrait of the same date is in the Munich Pinakothek. He also executed two portraits of the pretty patrician damsel, Catherine Fürleger; one as a loose-haired Magdalen (which is now in London), and the other as a German lady (now at Frankfort).

  In 1498 Dürer painted a handsome portrait of himself, with curly hair and beard, and a rich holiday costume. His expression is that of a man who appreciates and delights in his own value, and is thoroughly self-complacent. This picture was presented by Nuremberg to King Charles I. of England; and, in the dispersion of his gallery during the Commonwealth, it was bought by the Grand Duke of Tuscany. It is now in the Uffizi Gallery, though Mündler calls this Florentine picture a copy of a nobler original which is in the Madrid Gallery.

  During this year Dürer published his first great series of woodcuts, representing the Apocalypse of St. John, in fifteen pictures full of terrible impressiveness and the naturalistic quaintness of early German faith. The boldness of the youth who thus took for his theme the marvellous mysteries of Patmos was warranted in the grand weirdness and perennial fascination of the resulting compositions. This series of rich and skilful engravings marked a new era in the history of wood-engraving, and the entrance of a noble artistic spirit into a realm which had previously been occupied by rude monkish cuts of saints and miracles. Jackson calls these representations of the Apocalypse “much superior to all wood-engravings that had previously appeared, both in design and execution.” The series was brought out simultaneously in German and Latin editions, and was published by the author himself. It met with a great success, and was soon duplicated in new pirated editions.

  It has of late years become a contested point as to whether Dürer really engraved his woodcuts with his own hands, or whether he only drew the designs on the wood, and left their mechanical execution to practical workmen. It is only within the present century that a theory to the latter effect has been advanced and supported by powerful arguments and first-class authorities. The German scholars Bartsch and Von Eye, and the historians of engraving Jackson and Chatto, concur in denying Dürer’s use of the graver. But there is a strong and well-supported belief that many of the engravings attributed to him were actually done by his h
and, and that during the earlier part of his career he was largely engaged in this way. The exquisite wood-carvings which are undoubtedly his work show that he was not devoid of the manual dexterity needful for these plates; and it is also certain that the mediæval artists did not hold themselves above mechanical labors, since even Raphael and Titian were among the peintres-graveurs. Dürer’s efforts greatly elevated the art of wood-engraving in Germany, and this improvement was directly conducive to its growth in popularity. A large number of skilful engravers were developed by the new demand; and in his later years Dürer doubtless found enough expert assistants, and was enabled to devote his time to more noble achievements. He used the art to multiply and disseminate his rich ideas, which thus found a more ready expression than that of painting. Heller attributes one hundred and seventy-four wood-engravings to him; and many more, of varying claims to authenticity, are enumerated by other writers. Twenty-six were made before 1506. The finest and the only perfect collection of Dürer’s woodcuts is owned by Herr Cornill d’Orville of Frankfort-on-the-Main.

  In 1500 Dürer painted the noble portrait of himself which is now at Munich, and is the favorite of all lovers of the great artist. It shows a high and intellectual forehead, and tender and loving eyes, with long curling hair which falls far down on his shoulders. In many respects it bears the closest resemblance to the traditional pictures of Christ, with its sad and solemn beauty, and large sympathetic eyes, and has the same effeminate full lips and streaming ringlets.

  During the next five years Dürer was in some measure compensated for the trials of his home by the cheerful companionship of his old friend Pirkheimer, who had recently returned from service with the Emperor’s army in the Tyrolese wars. At his hospitable mansion the artist met many eminent scholars, reformers, and literati, and broadened his knowledge of the world, while receiving worthy homage for his genius and his personal accomplishments. Baumgärtner, Volkamer, Harsdorfer, and other patricians of the city, were his near friends; and the Augustine Prior, Eucharius Karl, and the brilliant Lazarus Spengler, the Secretary of Nuremberg, were also intimate with both Dürer and Pirkheimer. During the next twenty years the harassed artist often sought refuge among these gatherings of choice spirits, when weary of his continuous labors of ambition.

  Dürer pathetically narrates the death of his venerable father, in words as vivid as one of his pictures, and full of quaint tenderness: “Soon he clearly saw death before him, and with great patience waited to go, recommending my mother to me, and a godly life to all of us. He received the sacraments, and died a true Christian, on the eve of St. Matthew (Sept. 21), at midnight, in 1502.... The old nurse helped him to rise, and put the close cap upon his head again, which had become wet by the heavy sweat. He wanted something to drink; and she gave him Rhine wine, of which he tasted some, and then wished to lie down again. He thanked her for her aid, but no sooner lay back upon his pillows than his last agony began. Then the old woman trimmed the lamp, and set herself to read aloud St. Bernard’s dying song; but she only reached the third verse, and behold his soul had gone. God be good to him! Amen. Then the little maid, when she saw that he was dying, ran quickly up to my chamber, and waked me. I went down fast, but he was gone; and I grieved much that I had not been found worthy to be beside him at his end.”

  At this time Albert took home his brother Hans, who was then twelve years old, to learn the art of painting in his studio; and his other young brother, Andreas, the goldsmith’s apprentice, now set forth upon his Wander-jahre. Within two years his mother, the widowed Barbara, had exhausted her scanty means; and she also was taken into Dürer’s home, and lovingly cared for by her son.

  In 1503 Dürer’s frail constitution yielded to an attack of illness. A drawing of Christ crowned with thorns, now in the British Museum, bears his inscription: “I drew this face in my sickness, 1503.” In the same year he executed a copper-plate engraving of a skull emblazoned on an escutcheon, which is crowned by a winged helmet, and supported by a weird woman, over whose shoulder a satyr’s face is peering. A contemporary copper-plate shows the Virgin nursing the Infant Jesus. The painting of this same subject, bearing the date of 1503, is now in the Vienna Belvedere, portraying an unlovely German mother and a very earthly baby.

  The celebrated “Green Passion” was executed in 1504, and is a series of twelve drawings on green paper, illustrating the sufferings of Christ. Some critics prefer this set, for delicacy and power, to either of the three engraved Passions. The theory is advanced that these exquisite drawings were made for the Emperor, or some other magnate, who wished to possess a unique copy. The Green Passion is now in the Vienna Albertina, the great collection of drawings made by the Archduke Albert of Sachsen-Teschen, which includes 160 of Dürer’s sketches, designs, travel-notes, studies of costume and architecture, &c.

  Over 600 authentic sketches and drawings by Dürer are now preserved in Europe, and are of great interest as showing the freedom and firmness of the great master’s first conceptions, and the gradual evolution of his ultimate ideas. They are drawn on papers of various colors and different preparations, with pen, pencil, crayon, charcoal, silver point, tempera, or water-colors. Some are highly finished, and others are only rapid jottings or bare outlines. The richest of the ancient collections was that of Hans Imhoff of Nuremberg, who married Pirkheimer’s daughter Felicitas, and in due time added his father-in-law’s Dürer-drawings to his own collection. His son Willibald further enriched the family art-treasures by many of the master’s drawings which he bought from Andreas Dürer, and by inheriting the pictures of Barbara Pirkheimer. He solemnly enjoined in his will that this great collection should never be alienated, but should descend through the Imhoff family as an honored possession. His widow, however, speedily offered to sell the entire series to the Emperor Rudolph, and it was soon broken up and dispersed. The Earl of Arundel secured a great number of Dürer’s drawings here, and carried them to England. In 1637 Arundel bought a large folio containing nearly 200 of these sketches, which was bequeathed to the British Museum in 1753 by Sir Hans Sloane. The museum has now one of the best existing collections of these works, some of which are of rare interest and value, especially the highly finished water-colors and pen-drawings.

  The interesting sketch-books used by Dürer on his journeys to Venice and to the Netherlands remained forgotten in the archives of a noble Nuremberg family until within less than a century, when the family became extinct, and its property was dispersed. They were then acquired by the venerable antiquary Baron von Derschau, who sold them to Nagler and Heller. Nagler’s share was afterwards acquired by the Berlin Museum; and Heller’s was bequeathed to the library of Bamberg.

  In 1504 Pirkheimer’s wife Crescentia died in childbirth, after only two years of married life. Her husband bore witness that she had never caused him any trouble, except by her death; and engaged Dürer to make a picture of her death-bed. This work was beautifully executed in water-colors, and depicts the expiring woman on a great bedstead, surrounded by many persons, among whom are Pirkheimer and his sister Charitas, the Abbess, with the Augustinian Prior.

  The exquisite copper-plate engraving of “The Nativity” dates from this year, and shows the Virgin adoring the new-born Jesus, in the shelter of a humble German house among massive ancient ruins, while Joseph is drawing water from the well, and an old shepherd approaches the Child on his knees. The “Adam and Eve” was also done on copper this year, with the parents of all mankind, surrounded by animals, and standing near the tree of knowledge, from which the serpent is delivering the fatal apple to Eve.

  In the same year Dürer painted a carefully wrought “Adoration of the Kings,” for the Elector Frederick the Wise of Saxony. It was afterwards presented by Christian II. to the Emperor Rudolph, and is now in the Uffizi, at Florence, which contains more pictures by Dürer than any other gallery outside of Germany. Here also is the controverted picture of “Calvary,” dated 1505, displaying on one small canvas all the scenes of the Passion, with an
astonishing number of figures finished in miniature.

  “The Satyr’s Family” is an engraving on copper, showing the goat-footed father cheerily playing on a pipe, to the evident amusement of his human wife and child. “The Great Horse” and “The Little Horse” are similar productions of this period, in which the commentators vainly strive to find some recondite meaning. Sixteen engravings on copper were made between 1500 and 1506.

  Dürer has been called “The Chaucer of Painting,” by reason of the marvellous quaintness of his conceptions; and Ruskin speaks of him as “intense in trifles, gloomily minute.” His details, minute as they were, received the most careful study, and were all thought out before the pictures were begun, so that he neither erased nor altered his lines, nor made preliminary sketches. He was essentially a thinker who drew, rather than a drawer who thought.