Duerer marries Agnes Frey.--Her Character.--Early Engravings.
--Portraits.--"The Apocalypse."--Death of Duerer's Father.--Drawings.
"And when my _Wander-jahre_ was over, Hans Frey treated with my
father, and gave me his daughter, by name the _Jungfrau_ Agnes, with a
dowry of 200 guldens. Our wedding was held on the Monday before St.
Margaret's Day (in July), in the year 1494." This dry statement of the
most important event of the artist's life illustrates the ancient
German custom of betrothal, where the bond of wedlock was considered
as a matter-of-fact copartnership, with inalienable rights and duties,
devoid of sentiment or romance. Since the relatives of the contracting
parties were closely affected by such transactions, they usually
managed the negotiations themselves; and the young people, thus thrown
by their parents at each other's heads, were expected to, and usually
did, accept the situation with submissiveness and prudent obedience.
In this case it appears that the first overtures came from the family
of the lady; and perhaps the order for Albert to return from his
wanderings was issued for this reason. Hans Frey was a burgher with
large possessions in Nuremberg and the adjacent country; and his
daughter was a very beautiful maiden. Her future husband does not
appear to have seen her until the betrothal was made.
Most of Duerer's biographers have dwelt at great length on the malign
influence which Agnes exercised upon his life, representing her as a
jealous virago, imbittering the existence of the noble artist. But Dr.
Thausing, in his new and exhaustive history of Duerer's life,
vindicates the lady from this evil charge; and his position is
carefully reviewed and sustained by Eugene Muentz. He points out the
fact that the long story of Agnes's uncongeniality rests solely on
Pirkheimer's letter, and then shows that that ponderous burgher had
reasons for personal hostility to her. The unbroken silence which
Duerer preserves as to home-troubles, throughout his numerous letters
and journals, is held as proof against the charges; and none of his
intimate friends and contemporaries (save Pirkheimer) allude to his
domestic trials, though they wrote so much about him. The accusation
of avarice on her part is combated by several facts, among which is
the cardinal one of her self-sacrificing generosity to the Duerer
family after her husband's death, and the remarkable record of her
transferring to the endowment of the Protestant University of
Wittenberg the thousand florins which Albert had placed in the hands
of the Rath for her support. Pirkheimer's acrimonious letter (see p.
142) gives her credit at least for virtue and piety; and perhaps we
may regard her aversion to the doughty writer as a point in her favor.
It is a singular and unexplained fact, that although Duerer 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 Duerer
as a very handsome woman.
Probably the newly married couple dwelt at the house of the elder
Duerer 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
Duerer's father, in oil-colors, which is now at Frankfort, was also
executed during this year.
Duerer'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 Duerer, 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 Duerer 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 Duerer'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
Duerer'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 Duerer 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 Duerer: 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, Duerer
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 Duerer 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 Fuerleger; one as a loose-haired Magdalen
(which is now in London), and the other as a German lady (now at
Frankfort).
In 1498 Duerer 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 Muendler calls this Florentine
picture a copy of a nobler original which is in the Madrid Gallery.
During this year Duerer 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 Duerer
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 Duerer'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 hand, 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 mediaeval artists did not hold themselves above
mechanical labors, since even Raphael and Titian were among the
_peintres-graveurs_. Duerer'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 Duerer 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 Duerer's
woodcuts is owned by Herr Cornill d'Orville of Frankfort-on-the-Main.
In 1500 Duerer 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 Duerer 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. Baumgaertner, 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 Duerer 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.
Duerer 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 Duerer's
home, and lovingly cared for by her son.
In 1503 Duerer'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 Duerer's
sketches, designs, travel-notes, studies of costume and architecture,
&c.
Over 600 authentic sketches and drawings by Duerer 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 Duerer-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 Duerer, 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 Duerer'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 Duerer 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 Duerer 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 Duerer 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
Duerer 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.
Duerer 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.