Masters of Art - Albrecht Dürer

by Dürer, Albrecht

  “The Melencolia” is the most weirdly fascinating of Dürer’s works, and the most mysterious and variously interpreted. It represents a woman, goddess, or devil, fully clad, and bearing keys and a purse at her girdle, her head wreathed with spleenwort, and great wings springing from her shoulders; the while she gazes intently, and with unutterable melancholy, into a magic crystal globe before her. On one side a drowsy Cupid is trying to write, near a ladder which rises from unseen depths to unimagined heights; and on the wall are the balanced scales, the astrological table of figures, the hour-glass running low, and the silent bell. The floor is strewn with scientific and necromantic instruments, and a great cube of strange form lies beyond. The prevailing gloom of the picture is but dimly lighted by a lurid and solitary comet, whose rays shimmer along an expanse of black ocean, and are reflected from a firm-arched rainbow above. Across the alternately black and blazing sky flies a horrible bat-winged creature, bearing a scroll inscribed with the word Melencolia, before the blank negations symbolized by the disastrous portent of the comet and the joyous sign of the rainbow.

  Under the guise of this mystic black-browed woman the artist probably typifies the profound sorrow of the human soul, checked by Divine limitations from attaining a full knowledge of the secrets of nature or the wisdom of heaven. The discarded implements of natural and occult science are alike useless; and nought remains but gloomy introspection and a consciousness of insufficiency.

  Dürer describes his mother’s death with mournful tenderness and touching simplicity, saying: “Now you must know that in the year 1513, on a Tuesday in Cross-week, my poor unhappy mother, whom I had taken under my charge two years after my father’s death, because she was then quite poor, and who had lived with me for nine years, was taken deathly sick on one morning early, so that we had to break open her room; for we knew not, as she could not get up, what to do. So we bore her down into a room, and she had the sacraments in both kinds administered to her, for every one thought that she was going to die, for she had been failing in health ever since my father’s death. And her custom was to go often to church; and she always punished me when I did not act rightly, and she always took great care to keep me and my brothers from sin; and, whether I went in or out, her constant word was, ‘In the name of Christ;’ and with great diligence she constantly gave us holy exhortations, and had great care over our souls. And her good works, and the loving compassion that she showed to every one, I can never sufficiently set forth to her praise. This my good mother bore and brought up eighteen children; she has often had the pestilence and many other dangerous and remarkable illnesses; has suffered great poverty, scoffing, disparagement, spiteful words, fears, and great reverses: yet she has never been revengeful. A year after the day on which she was first taken ill ... my pious mother departed in a Christian manner, with all sacraments, absolved by Papal power from pain and sin. She gave me her blessing, and desired for me God’s peace, and that I should keep myself from evil. And she desired also St. John’s blessing, which she had, and she said she was not afraid to come before God. But she died hard; and I perceived that she saw something terrible, for she kept hold of the holy water, and did not speak for a long time. I saw also how Death came, and gave her two great blows on the heart; and how she shut her eyes and mouth, and departed in great sorrow. I prayed for her, and had such great grief for her that I can never express. God be gracious to her! Her greatest joy was always to speak of God, and to do all to his honor and glory. And she was sixty-three years old when she died, and I buried her honorably according to my means. God the Lord grant that I also make a blessed end, and that God with his heavenly hosts, and my father, mother, and friend, be present at my end, and that the Almighty God grant us eternal life! Amen. And in her death she looked still more lovely than she was in her life.”

  In 1514 the prince of Italian painters and the noblest of German artists exchanged pleasant civilities by correspondence, accompanied by specimens of their labors. Dürer sent to Raphael his own portrait, which was afterwards inherited and dearly prized by Giulio Romano. Raphael returned several of his own studies and drawings, one of which, showing two naked men drawn in red crayon, is now preserved in the Albertina at Vienna. It still bears Dürer’s inscription: “Raphael of Urbino, who is so highly esteemed by the Pope, has drawn this study from the nude, and has sent it to Albert Dürer at Nuremberg, in order to show him his hand.”

  The invention of the art of etching has been generally attributed to Dürer, though it now seems that he merely improved and perfected the process. There are but few etchings in existence which can certainly be ascribed to him; and the chief of these, an “Ecce Homo” and “Christ in the Garden,” date from 1515. The iron plate of the latter was found two centuries later, in a blacksmith’s shop, where it was about to be made into horse-shoes. A third etching represents a frightfully homely woman being carried off by a man on a unicorn, a wild and incomprehensible composition, calculated to awaken an uncomfortable impression in the beholder. Some of the etchings were on iron, and others on pewter; but none were on copper, which was afterwards universally used. The corrosive nitrous acid acted inefficiently on the metals which he employed, and so his etchings fall short of excellence.

  In 1514 Jorg Vierling uttered disgraceful libels and threats against Dürer, and finally attacked him in the street. He was imprisoned by the authorities; but the kind-hearted artist interceded for him, and he was released, after being bound over to keep the peace.

  In the same year Dürer wrote to Herr Kress to see if the laureate Stabius had done any thing about his delayed pension; saying also, “But if Herr Stabius has done nothing in my matter, or my desire was too difficult for him to attain, then I pray of you to be my favorable lord to his Majesty.... Point out to his Majesty that I have served his Majesty for three years, that I have suffered loss myself from doing so, and that if I had not used my utmost diligence his ornamental work would never have been finished in such a manner; therefore I pray his Majesty to reward me with the 100 guilders.” In September an imperial decree was issued, giving Dürer his promised pension of $200 a year out of the tax due from Nuremberg to the Emperor. This annuity was paid to the artist until his death, with one short intermission.

  Dürer executed for the Emperor a series of most fantastic and grotesque pen-drawings, on the borders of his prayer-book, now in the Munich town-library. Alongside the solemn sentences of the breviary are whimsical monkeys and pigs, Indians and men-at-arms, satyrs and foxes, screeching devils and saints, hens and prophets, martyrs and German crones, mingled in a weird wonderland, and not inappropriate according to mediæval ideas of taste. “The Great Column” is another quaint and inexplicable engraving, which Dürer did for the Emperor in 1517, and is composed of four blocks 5⅓ feet high. It shows two naked angels holding a large turnip, from which springs a tall column with two horrible female monsters at the base, and a horned satyr at the top, holding long garlands.

  The marvellous “Triumphal Arch of Maximilian” is composed of ninety-two blocks, forming an immense woodcut ten and a half feet high and nine feet wide. It shows three great towers, under which are the three gates of Praise, Nobility, and Honor and Power, with the six chained harpies of temptation, and two vigilant Archdukes in armor, and figures holding garlands and crowns. The great genealogical tree rises above the figures that represent France, Sycambria, and Troy, and bears portrait-like half-figures of the twenty-six Christian princes from whom Maximilian claimed descent, with pictures of himself and his family. There are also twenty-four minutely delicate cuts, showing the most remarkable events in the Emperor’s life, accompanied with rugged explanatory rhymes by the poet-laureate. Dr. von Eye says that “the extent and difficulty of the task appear to have called forth the powers of the artist to their highest exercise. In no work of Dürer’s do we find more beautiful drawing than there is here. Each single piece might be taken out and prized as an independent work of art.”

  The master drew these very e
laborate and intricate designs between 1512 and 1515; and the enormous work of engraving them was devolved upon Hieronymus Rösch of Nuremberg. During its progress the Emperor frequently visited Rösch’s house in the Fraüengässlein; and it became a town saying, that “The Emperor still drives often to Petticoat Lane.” On one of his visits, a number of the artist’s pet cats ran into his presence; whence, it is said, arose the proverb, “A cat may look at a King.”

  In 1516 Dürer painted a fine portrait of Wohlgemuth, now at Munich, showing a wrinkled old face lit up by bright eyes, and inscribed, “This portrait has Albert Dürer painted after his master Michael Wohlgemuth, in the year 1516, when he was 82 years old; and he lived until the year 1519, when he died, on St. Andrew’s Day, early, before the sun had risen.” About the same period he designed and partly executed the Pietà, which is now in the St. Maurice Gallery at Nuremberg; and carved a Virgin and Child standing on the crescent moon, similar to the one which he had engraved three years before.

  In 1518 Dürer also painted the scene of the death-bed of the Empress Mary of Burgundy, under the title of “The Death of the Virgin,” and on the order of Von Zlatko, the Bishop of Vienna. The Emperor Maximilian, Philip of Spain, Bishop Zlatko, and other notables, were shown around the couch. This large and important work was in the sale of the Fries collection in 1822, but cannot now be found, although there is a rumor that it is on the altar of a rural church near St. Wolfgang’s Lake, in Upper Austria.

  In 1518 Dürer visited Augsburg, during the session of the Diet of the Empire, and not only sold many of his engravings, but made a number of new sketches and portraits. His most important work on this journey was a portrait of the Emperor, who gave an order on the town of Nuremberg to pay 200 guldens “to the Emperor’s and the Empire’s dear and faithful Albert Dürer.” On this picture the master inscribed, “This is the Emperor Maximilian, whom I, Albert Dürer, drew at Augsburg, in his little room high up in the imperial residence, in the year 1518, on the Monday after St. John the Baptist.” About the same time the master painted the unpleasant picture of “The Suicide of Lucretia,” now at Munich, showing an ill-formed nude woman of life size, said to have been copied from Agnes Frey. The portrait of the witty and learned Lazarus Spengler dates from the same year.

  When Maximilian died, the Rath of Nuremberg refused to continue the pension which he had granted to Dürer, though the artist addressed its members as “Provident, Honorable, Wise, Gracious, and Dear Lords,” and enumerated his services to the dead Emperor. He also vainly demanded the payment of the imperial order for 200 florins, “to be paid to him as if to Maximilian himself, out of the town taxes due to the Emperor on St. Martin’s Day,” though he offered to leave his house in pledge, so that the town might lose nothing if the new Emperor refused to acknowledge the validity of the claim.

  At the time of the death of Maximilian the great woodcut of “The Triumphal Arch” was unfinished, and the blocks remained in the hands of the engraver. Dürer and Rösch published a large round cut containing twenty-one of the historical scenes, as a memorial of the late sovereign, and this singular production speedily went through four editions. A few trial-impressions of the whole Arch had been struck off before the Emperor’s death, two of which are now at Copenhagen, one in the British Museum, and one at Stockholm. In 1559 the first edition of the entire Arch was printed at Vienna, at the request of the Archduke Ferdinand, and another edition was issued by Bartsch in 1799.

  In 1519 Dürer published an excellent wood-engraving of the late Emperor Maximilian, with inscriptions recording his titles and the date of his death. It showed a pleasant face, full of strength and character. Among the painted portraits of Maximilian which are attributed to the master, the best is in the Vienna Belvedere; and another was in the late Northwick Collection, in England. A beautiful portrait in water-colors is in the library of the Erlangen University.

  In 1519 Dürer also prepared an exquisitely finished copper-plate engraving of “St. Anthony,” showing the meditative hermit before a background of a quaint mediæval city, very like Nuremberg, abounding in irregular gable-roofs and tall castle-towers. Several admirable copies of this work have been made.

  CHAPTER VI.

  Dürer’s Tour in the Netherlands. — His Journal. — Cologne. — Feasts at Antwerp and Brussels. — Procession of Notre Dame. — The Confirmatia. — Zealand Journey. — Ghent. — Martin Luther.

  Dürer’s famous tour to the Netherlands began in the summer of 1520, and continued until late in 1521. His main object appears to have been to secure from Charles V. a confirmation of the pension which the Emperor Maximilian had granted him, since the Rath of Nuremberg had refused to deliver any further sums until he could obtain such a ratification. Possibly he also hoped to obtain the position of court-painter, to which Titian was afterwards appointed. Several biographers say that Dürer made the journey in order to get a respite from his wife’s tirades; but this is unlikely, since he took her and her maid Susanna with him. The Archduchess Margaret, daughter of the late Emperor Maximilian and aunt of Charles V., was at Brussels, acting as Regent of the Netherlands; and Dürer made strong but ineffectual attempts to secure her good graces.

  Dürer’s journal of his tour is a combination of cash account, itinerary, memoranda, and notebook, and would fill about fifty of these pages. It is usually barren of reflections, opinions, or prolonged descriptions; and is but a terse and business-like record of facts and expenses, rich only in its revelations of mediæval Flemish hospitality and municipal customs, and certain personal habits of the writer. The greatest impression seems to have been made upon the traveller by the enormous wealth of the Low Countries, and the adjective “costly” continually recurs. The new-found treasures of America were then pouring a stream of gold into the Flemish cities, and manufactures and commerce were in full prosperity. The devastating storm of Alva’s Spanish infantry had not yet swept over the doomed but heroic Netherlands; and her great cities basked in peace, prosperity, and wealth.

  “On the Thursday after Whitsuntide, I, Albert Dürer, at my own cost and responsibility, set out with my wife from Nuremberg for the Netherlands.... I went on to Bamberg, where I gave the Bishop a picture of the Virgin, ‘The Life of the Virgin,’ an Apocalypse, and other engravings of the value of a florin. He invited me to dinner, and gave me an exemption from customs, and three letters of recommendation.” He hired a carriage to take him to Frankfort for eight florins of gold, and received a parting stirrup-cup from Meister Benedict, and the painter Hans Wolfgang Katzheimer. He gives the names of the forty-three villages through which he passed along the route by Würzburg and Carlstadt to Frankfort, with his expenditures for food and for gifts to servants; and tells how the Bishop’s letter freed him from paying tolls. At Frankfort he was cheaply entertained by Jacob Heller, for whom he had painted “The Coronation of the Virgin.” From thence he descended by boat to Mayence, where he received many gifts and attentions. In the river-passages hence to Cologne, he was forced to haul in shore and arrange his tolls at Ehrenfels, Bacharach, Caub, St. Goar, and Boppart. At Cologne he was entertained by his cousin Nicholas Dürer, who had learned the goldsmith’s trade in the shop of Albert’s father, and was now settled in business. The master made presents to him and his wife. The Barefooted Monks gave Dürer a feast at their monastery; and Jerome Fugger presented him with wine. The journey was soon resumed; and the master passed through fourteen villages, and at last reached Antwerp, where he was feasted by the factor of the illustrious Fugger family. Jobst Planckfelt was Dürer’s host while he remained in the city, and showed him the Burgomaster’s Palace and other sights of Antwerp, besides introducing him to Quentin Matsys and other eminent Flemish artists.

  “On St. Oswald’s Day, the painters invited me to their hall, with my wife and maid; and every thing there was of silver and other costly ornamentation, and extremely costly viands. There were also all their wives there; and when I was conducted to the table all the people stood up on each side, as if I
had been a great lord. There were amongst them also many persons of distinction, who all bowed low, and in the most humble manner testified their pleasure at seeing me, and they said they would do all in their power to give me pleasure. And, as I sat at table, there came in the messenger of the Rath of Antwerp, who presented me with four tankards of wine in the name of the Magistrates; and he said that they desired to honor me with this, and that I should have their good-will.... And for a long time we were very merry together until quite late in the night; then they accompanied us home with torches in the most honorable manner, and they begged us to accept their good-will, and said they would do whatever I desired that might be of assistance to me. Then I thanked them, and went to bed.”

  He next speaks of making portraits of his friend the Portuguese consul, his host Planckfelt, and the musician Felix Hungersberg; and keeps account of his sales of paintings and engravings, on the same pages which record his junketings with various notable men. He dined with one of the Imhoffs and with Meister Joachim Patenir, the landscape-painter, with whom he had certain professional transactions. He soon became intimately acquainted with the three Genoese brothers, Tomasin, Vincent, and Gerhartus Florianus, with whom he dined many times, and for whom he drew several portraits. He also met the great scholar and half-way reformer, Erasmus, who gave him several pleasing presents.

  “Our Lady’s Church at Antwerp is so immensely big, that many masses may be sung in it at one time without interfering with each other; and it has altars and rich foundations, and the best musicians that it is possible to have. The church has many devout services, and stone work, and particularly a beautiful tower. And I have also been to the rich Abbey of St. Michael, which has the costly stone seat in its choir. And at Antwerp they spare no cost about such things, for there is money enough there.”