Masters of Art - Albrecht Dürer

by Dürer, Albrecht

  On the eve of Dürer’s departure, the King of Denmark, Christian II., came to Antwerp, and not only had the master draw his portrait, but also invited him to a dinner. He then went to Brussels, on business for his new royal patron, and was present at the pompous reception and banquet with which the Emperor and the Archduchess Margaret received the Danish King. Soon afterwards the King invited Dürer to the feast which he gave to the Emperor and Archduchess; and then had his portrait painted in oil-colors, paying thirty florins for it. After a sojourn of eight days in Brussels, the master and his wife went south to Cologne, spending four long days on the road; and soon afterwards prolonged their journey to Nuremberg.

  The municipality of Antwerp had offered him a house and a liberal pension, to remain in that city; but he declined these, being content with his prospects and his noble friends in Franconia.

  CHAPTER VII.

  Nuremberg’s Reformation. — The Little Masters. — Glass-Painting. — Architecture. — Letter to the City Council.— “Art of Mensuration.” — Portraits. — Melanchthon.

  What a commotion must Dürer’s return have caused in Nuremberg, with his commission as court-painter, and his bales and crates of rarities from America and India and all Europe! The presents which he had brought for so many of his friends must have given the liveliest delight, and afforded amusement for months to the Sodalitas Literaria and the Rath-Elders.

  In the mean time the purifying storm of the Reformation was sweeping over Germany, and the people were in times of great doubt and perplexity. Nuremberg was the first of the free cities of the Empire to pronounce herself Protestant, though the change was effected with so much order and moderation that no iconoclastic fury was allowed to dilapidate its churches and convents. Pirkheimer and Spengler were excommunicated by the Pope, though their calm conservatism had curbed the fanatical fury of the puritans, and saved the Catholic art-treasures of the Franconian capital.

  It is a significant fact that Dürer, during the last six years of his life, made no more Madonnas, and but one Holy Family. The era of Mariolatry had passed, so far as Nuremberg was concerned. Yet, during the year of his return from the Netherlands, he made two engravings of St. Christopher bearing the Holy Child safely above the floods and through the storms, as if to indicate that Christianity would be carried through all its disasters by an unfailing strength.

  During the remaining six years of his life Dürer’s art-works were limited to a few portraits and engravings, and the great pictures of the Four Apostles. Much of his time was devoted to the publication of the fruits of his long experience, in several literary treatises, most of which are now lost. His broken health would not allow of continuous work, as the inroads of insidious disease slowly wasted his strength and ate away his vitality.

  The Little Masters were a group of artists who were formed in the studio or under the influence of Dürer, shining as a bright constellation of genius in the twilight of German art. Among these were the Bavarian Altdorfer, who combined in his brilliant paintings and engravings both fantasy and romanticism; the Westphalian Aldegrever, a laborious painter and a prolific engraver; Barthel Beham, who afterwards studied with and counterfeited the works of Marc Antonio in Italy; Hans Sebald Beham, who illustrated lewd fables and prayer books with equal skill and relish, and was finally driven from Nuremberg; Jacob Binck of Cologne, a neat and accurate draughtsman, who removed to Rome, and engraved Raphael’s works under the supervision of Marc Antonio; George Pensz, who also studied under the great Italian engraver, and executed 126 fine prints, besides several paintings. Other assistants and pupils of Dürer, of whom little but their names are now remembered, were Hans Brosamer of Fulda, and Hans Springinklee. Hans von Culmbach was a careful follower, who surpassed his master in love of nature and her warm and harmonious colors. The Tucher altar-piece in St. Sebald’s Church was his master-picture. Contemporary with the Nuremberg painter, Matthew Grunewald was doing excellent work at Aschaffenburg, in northern Franconia. Among the German artists of his time, he was surpassed only by Dürer and Holbein.

  The Diet of the Empire was held at Nuremberg in 1522, and the Rath-haus was repainted and decorated for its sessions. Dürer was paid 100 florins for his share in this work, although it is not known what it was. The best of the paintings were executed by his pupil, George Pensz, and it is probable that the master furnished some of the designs.

  Although our artist held a pension from the Emperor as his court-painter, his services seem to have never been called into requisition. Charles spent but little time at Nuremberg, and while yet in his youth had no care for seeing himself portrayed on canvas. It was after the master’s death that the Emperor first met Titian, and retained him as court-painter.

  In 1522 Dürer published at his own cost the first edition of the Triumphal Car of Kaiser Maximilian, a woodcut whose labored and ponderous allegorical idea was conceived by Pirkheimer, designed in detail by Dürer, and engraved by Rösch on eight blocks, forming a picture 7½ feet long by 1½ feet high. The Emperor is shown seated in a chariot, surrounded by female figures representing the abstract virtues, while the leaders of the twelve horses, and even the wheels and reins, have magniloquent Latin names. Maximilian was greatly interested in this work, but died before its completion. The first edition was accompanied by explanatory German text, and the second by Latin descriptions.

  The large woodcut of Ulrich Varnbühler, whom Dürer calls his “single friend,” is one of the master’s best works, and was printed over with three blocks, to produce a chiaroscuro. A little later, he made two copper-plates of the Cardinal Archbishop Albert of Magdeburg and Mayence.

  In 1523, while under the influence of the art-schools of the Lower Rhine, the master painted the pictures of Sts. Joachim and Joseph and St. Simeon and Bishop Lazarus, small figures on a gold ground.

  Dürer’s Family Relation records that, “My dear mother-in-law took ill on Sunday, Aug. 18, 1521; and on Sept. 29, at nine of the night, she died piously. And in 1523, on the Feast of the Presentation, early in the morning, died my father-in-law, Hans Frey. He had been ill for six years, and had his share of troubles in his time.” They were buried in St. John’s Cemetery, in the same lot where the remains of their illustrious son-in-law were afterwards laid.

  It is said that Dürer largely occupied himself with glass-painting, during the earlier part of his career; and he probably designed much for the workers in stained glass then in Upper Germany and the Low Countries. Lacroix says that he produced twenty windows for the Temple Church at Paris; and Holt attributes to him the church-windows at Fairford, near Cirencester.

  As an architect Albert executed but few works, and only a slight record remains to our day. He made two plans for the Archduchess Margaret, and another for the house of her physician. Heideloff has proved that the gallery of the Gessert house at Nuremberg was built by Dürer, in a strange combination of geometric and Renaissance forms.

  Pirkheimer’s portrait was engraved in 1524, showing a gross and heavy face, obese to the last degree, and verifying in its physiognomy the probability that the playful innuendoes in Dürer’s Venetian letters were well grounded. It is not easy to see how such a spirit, learned in all the sciences of the age, and in close communion with Erasmus, Melanchthon, and Ulrich von Hutten, could have worn such a drooping mask of flesh. In the same year, Dürer published an engraved portrait of Frederick the Wise, Elector of Saxony, the supporter of Luther and the political leader of the Reformation. The head is admirably drawn and full of character, with firmness plainly indicated by strongly compressed lips.

  The following letter to the Council of Nuremberg was written in the year 1524: —

  “Provident, Honorable, Wise, and Most Favorable Lords, — By my works and with the help of God, I have acquired 1,000 florins of the Rhine, and I would now willingly lay them by for my support. Although I know that it is not the custom with your Wisdoms to pay high interest, and that you have refused to give one florin in twenty; yet I am moved by my necessity
, by the particularly favorable regard which your Wisdoms have ever shown towards me, and also by the following causes, to beg this thing of your Honors. Your Wisdoms know that I have always been obedient, willing, and diligent in all things done for your Wisdoms, and for the common State, and for other persons of the Rath, and that the State has always had my help, art, and work, whenever they were needed, and that without payment rather than for money; for I can write with truth, that, during the thirty years that I have had a house in this town, I have not had 500 guldens’ worth of work from it, and what I have had has been poor and mean, and I have not gained the fifth part for it that it was worth; but all that I have earned, which God knows has only been by hard toil, has been from princes, lords, and other foreign persons. Also I have expended all my earnings from foreigners in this town. Also your Honors doubtless know that, on account of the many works I had done for him, the late Emperor Maximilian, of praiseworthy memory, out of his own imperial liberality granted me an exemption from the rates and taxes of this town, which, however, I voluntarily gave up, when I was spoken to about it by the Elders of the Rath, in order to show honor to my Lords, and to maintain their favor and uphold their customs and justice.

  “Nineteen years ago the Doge of Venice wrote to me, offering me 200 ducats a year if I would live in that city. More lately the Rath of Antwerp, while I remained in the Low Countries, also made me an offer, 300 florins of Philippe a year, and a fair mansion to live in. In both places all that I did for the Government would have been paid over and above the pension. All of which, out of my love for my honorable and wise Lords, for this town, and for my Fatherland, I refused, and chose rather to live simply, near your Wisdoms, than to be rich and great in any other place. It is therefore my dutiful request to your Lordships, that you will take all these things into your favorable consideration, and accept these thousand florins (which I could easily lay out with other worthy people both here and elsewhere, but which I would rather know were in the hands of your Wisdoms), and grant me a yearly interest upon them of fifty florins, so that I and my wife, who are daily growing old, weak, and incapable, may have a moderate provision against want. And I will ever do my utmost to deserve your noble Wisdoms’ favor and approbation, as heretofore.”

  This touching letter shows the poverty of Dürer’s savings, and his sad feeling that he had lived as a prophet without honor in his own country. It produced the desired effect, and brought him five per cent on his little capital, though after his death the Council hastened to reduce it to four per cent.

  Dürer’s wide study and remarkable versatility, rivalling that of Leonardo da Vinci, found further expression in literary work. Camerarius states that he wrote a hundred and fifty different treatises, showing a marked proficiency in several of the sciences. His first work was entitled “Instruction in the Art of Mensuration,” &c., and was published in 1525 for the use of young painters. It is composed of four books, treating of the practical use of geometrical instruments, and the drawing of volutes, Roman letters, and winding stairs; and is illustrated by numerous woodcuts. The fourth book elucidates the idea of perspective, and contains pictures of an instrument devised by the author, “which will be found particularly useful to persons who are not sure of drawing correctly.” This was not the only invention of Dürer’s; for there still exists a small model of a gun-carriage in wood and iron, made by him, and exhibiting certain improvements which he had designed and advocated. “The Art of Mensuration” was a successful book, and passed through one Latin and three German editions.

  The finest of Dürer’s works in portraiture was executed in 1526, and represents the grand old Jerome Holzschuher, one of the chief rulers of the city, with all the strength and keenness of his heroic nature lighting up the canvas. Enormous sums have been offered for this work; but it is still faithfully preserved in Nuremberg, and retains its original rich and vivid coloring. Another fine portrait, “like an antique bust,” now in the Vienna Belvedere, shows Johann Kleeberger, the generous and charitable man who was known abroad as “the good German.” Still another portrait of this year was that of the Burgomaster Jacob Müffel, a well-modelled and carefully executed likeness of one of the master’s best friends. Two very famous engravings of this date portray Erasmus of Rotterdam and Philip Melanchthon. Erasmus is represented as a venerable scholar, sitting at a desk, with a pen in his hand and a soft cap on his head; and the engraving is remarkable for its admirable execution and strong character. Still, the old philosopher was not pleased with it, and sent to Sir Thomas More his portrait by Holbein, which, he said, “is much more like me than the one by the famous Albert Dürer.” When Erasmus first saw the picture he said, “Oh! if I still resemble that Erasmus, I may look out for getting married,” as if it gave him too young an appearance.

  In 1526 the wise and noble-hearted Melanchthon came to Nuremberg to establish a Protestant Latin school, and formed a close intimacy with the master, whose tender and dreamy spirit was so like his own. During their constant intercourse, the artist became strengthened and comforted in the mild and pure doctrines of the true reformation, and was quietly yet strongly influenced to abandon even the forms of Catholicism which still remained. Dürer published a fine engraving of this friend of his last years on earth, showing delicately-chiselled features, with large and tender eyes and a lofty forehead.

  Melanchthon wrote that in one of his frequent conversations with Dürer, the artist explained the great change which his methods had undergone, saying, “In his youth he was fond of a florid style and great combination of colors, and that in looking at his own work he was always delighted to find this diversity of coloring in any of his pictures; but afterwards in his mature years he began to look more entirely to nature, and tried to see her in her simplest form. Then he found that this simplicity was the true perfection of art; and, not attaining this, he did not care for his works as formerly, but often sighed when he looked at his pictures and thought of his incapacity.”

  CHAPTER VIII.

  “The Four Apostles.” — Dürer’s Later Literary Works. — Four Books of Proportion. — Last Sickness and Death. — Agnes Dürer. — Dürer described by a Friend.

  Schlegel says that “Albert Dürer may be called the Shakespeare of Painting;” and it is doubtless true that he filled out the narrow capabilities of early German art with a full measure of deep and earnest thought and powerful originality. The equal homage which was offered to him at Venice and Antwerp, the two art-antipodes, shows how highly he was regarded in his own day. His earlier works were executed in the crude and angular methods of Wohlgemuth and his contemporaries; and most of the pictures now attributed to him, often incorrectly, are of this character. But in his later works he swung clear of these trammelling archaisms, and produced brilliant and memorable compositions.

  “The Four Apostles,” now in the Munich Pinakothek, were Dürer’s last and noblest works, and fairly justify Pirkheimer’s assurance, that if he had lived longer the master would have done “many more wonderful, strange, and artistic things.” They are full of grand thought and clear insight, free from exaggeration or conventionalism, perfect in execution and harmonious simplicity, and so distinct in individuality that it has been generally believed that the Four Temperaments are here impersonated. On one panel are Sts. John and Peter, in life-size, the former deeply meditating, with the Scriptures in his hand, and the latter bending forward and earnestly reading the Holy Book. The other panel shows the stately St. Paul, robed in white, standing before the ardent and impassioned St. Mark. Kugler calls these panels “the first complete work of art produced by Protestantism;” and the truth and simplicity of the paintings prefigured the return of a pure and incorrupt faith.

  Late in 1526, Dürer sent these pictures to the Rath of Nuremberg, with the following letter: “Provident, Honorable, Wise, Dear Lords, — I have been for some time past minded to present your Wisdoms with something of my unworthy painting as a remembrance; but I have been obliged to give this up on account o
f the defects of my poor work, for I knew that I should not have been well able to maintain the same before your Wisdoms. During this past time, however, I have painted a picture, and bestowed more diligence upon it than upon any other painting; therefore I esteem no one worthier than your Wisdoms to keep it as a remembrance; on which account I present the same to you herewith, begging you with humble diligence to accept my little present graciously and favorably, and to be and remain my favorable and dear Lords, as I have always hitherto found you. This, with the utmost humility, I will sedulously endeavor to merit from your Wisdoms.”

  The Rath eagerly accepted this noble gift, and hung the two panels in the Rath-haus, sending also a handsome present of money to Dürer and his wife. A century afterwards Maximilian of Bavaria saw and coveted the pictures, and used bribery and threats alike to secure them. In 1627 he accomplished his purpose; and the Rath, fearful of his wrath and dreading his power, sent the panels to Munich.

  The woodcut portrait of Dürer, dated 1527, shows the worn face of a man of fifty-six years, whose life has been stormy and sometimes unhappy. It is much less beautiful than the earlier pictures, for his long flowing hair and beard have both been cut short, perhaps on account of sickness, or in deference to the new puritan ideas. The face is delicate and melancholy, and seems to rest under the shadow of approaching death, which is to be met with a calm and simple faith.