With the exception of Martin Schongauer, none of Dürer’s immediate
predecessors better repays a thorough study, or exerts a more potent
fascination, than the MASTER OF THE AMSTERDAM CABINET. The
earlier writers, from Duchesne to Dutuit, were united in their opinion
that this engraver was a Netherlander; but Max Lehrs, following the
track opened up by Harzen, has proved conclusively that the Master
of the Amsterdam Cabinet (so called because the largest collection
of his engravings--eighty subjects out of the eighty-nine which are
known--is preserved in the Royal Print Rooms in Amsterdam) was not
a Netherlander but a South German, a native of Rhenish Suabia--the
very artist, in fact, who designed the illustrations of the Planets
and their influences and the various arts and occupations of men, for
the so-called “Medieval House Book” in the collection of Prince von
Waldburg-Wolfegg.
In subject-matter he owes little to his predecessors, and in technique
he is an isolated phenomenon. _St. Martin and the Beggar_ and _St.
Michael and the Dragon_ show that he was acquainted with the work of
Martin Schongauer; the _Ecstasy of St. Mary Magdalen_ is obviously
based upon a similar engraving by the Master E. S. of 1466; but for
the most part he stands alone. He seems to have worked entirely in
dry-point upon some soft metal--lead or pewter, perhaps--and the ink
which he used, of a soft grayish tint, combines with the breadth and
softness of the lines to impart to his prints much of the character of
drawings in silver-point.
The Master of the Amsterdam Cabinet has treated a wide range of
subjects, his preference being for scenes of everyday life. His
prints show appreciation of the beauties of landscape, his skill in
the treatment of wide spaces is masterly, and there is a beauty and
sweetness in the expression of his faces which makes him a worthy rival
of Martin Schongauer himself. He has left us no purely ornamental
designs, such as might serve in the decoration of vessels used in the
church, and we may infer, from the character of his engravings, that
he was a painter, who used the dry-point as a diversion, rather than
a professional engraver, pursuing his craft as a means of livelihood.
In power of composition he can hardly rank with Martin Schongauer,
and in range of intellect he falls short of the heights reached by
Albrecht Dürer; but his very limitations, perhaps, render him a more
companionable personage, and his modernity makes an immediate appeal to
us all.
[Illustration: MASTER OF THE AMSTERDAM CABINET. ECSTASY OF ST. MARY
MAGDALEN
Size of the original engraving, 7⅝ × 5¼ inches
In the Royal Print Room, Amsterdam]
[Illustration: MASTER OF THE AMSTERDAM CABINET. CRUCIFIXION
Size of the original engraving, 6 × 5¼ inches
In the Royal Print Room, Amsterdam]
The _Ecstasy of St. Mary Magdalen_ is one of his earliest plates and
is a free translation of the same subject by the Master E. S. It would
seem as though his dry-point was the immediate original of Dürer’s
woodcut. The position of the Magdalen’s hands is the same in both
compositions, but Dürer has added a landscape which, admirable though
it be, detracts from the main interest of his print.
The Master of the Amsterdam Cabinet, in a second rendering, herewith
reproduced, has eliminated all superfluous or distracting details and
imparted a surprising degree of grace and purity to the lovely design.
Anything like a chronological arrangement of the master’s work would
be difficult, but one may safely assume that this beautiful engraving
belongs to the latest and most mature period of his art, to which
period we also may assign the _Two Lovers_.
As a rule, his least successful engravings are those dealing with
religious themes. At times, however, as in the _Crucifixion_, he rises
to heights of dramatic intensity, and Dürer may be indebted more than
we realize to this rendering of the divine tragedy. _Aristotle and
Phyllis_ and _Solomon’s Idolatry_ are satirical illustrations of the
follies of sages in love. Both plates are illumined by a truly modern
sense of humor, while the arrangement of the figures within the spaces
to be filled is admirable.
Such subjects as _The Three Living and the Three Dead Kings_ and _Young
Man and Death_ are variations upon a theme which was uppermost in the
minds of many men at this time, when the _Ars Moriendi_ and the _Dance
of Death_ were constant reminders of man’s mortality. In agreeable
contrast is the dry-point of _Two Lovers_--a little masterpiece--one
of his most charming designs. “The sweet shyness of the maiden, the
tender glances of the lover and the soft pressure of their hands are
rendered with an inimitable grace, and the work is altogether of such
exceptional quality that we may count this delightful picture as one of
the rarest gems of German engraving in the fifteenth century.”[7]
[7] The Master of the Amsterdam Cabinet. By Max Lehrs. International
Chalcographical Society, 1893 and 1894. p. 7.
The _Stag Hunt_ is filled with the spirit of outdoor life, the
exhilaration of the chase, and the joy of the hounds in pursuing their
quarry. No other engraver of the fifteenth century has left us any such
truthful rendering of a hunting scene, and the life-enhancing quality
of this little dry-point makes even Dürer’s rendering of animal
forms seem cold and relatively lifeless.
[Illustration: MASTER OF THE AMSTERDAM CABINET. STAG HUNT
Size of the original engraving, 3⅝ × 6¾ inches
In the Royal Print Room, Amsterdam]
[Illustration: MASTER OF THE AMSTERDAM CABINET. ST. GEORGE
Size of the original engraving, 5⅝ × 4⅛ inches
In the British Museum]
The master’s knowledge of the anatomy of the horse, and his treatment
of that noble beast, unfortunately fall far short of his rendering of
the dogs and stags in the _Stag Hunt_. The figure of _St. George_ is
sufficiently graceful and convincing, but the horse (seemingly of the
rocking-horse variety) can hardly be proclaimed a complete success. In
spite of this obvious defect it is one of the artist’s finest plates,
remarkable for its exceptional force and animation. The unique proof,
of which the British Museum is the fortunate possessor, is in splendid
condition and rich in burr.
And now, with some trepidation of spirit, we approach ALBRECHT
DÜRER and his engraved work. His many-sidedness foredooms to
failure any attempt at an adequate and comprehensive treatment. His
compositions, as Max Allihn justly says, may fittingly be likened to
the Sphinx of the old legend; for “they attack everyone who, either as
critic, historian or harmless wanderer, ventures in the realm of art,
and propose to him their unsolvable riddles.”
Of his own work Dürer says: “What beauty may be I know not. Art is
hidden in nature and whosoever can tear it out has it,” and his
life-long quest of knowledge, his truly German reverence for fact,
hangs like a millstone around his neck. “Of a truth,” writes Raphael,
“this man would have surpassed us all if he had had the masterpieces
of art constantly before him,” Raphael himself--“Raphael the
Divine”--hardly paralyzed æsthetic criticism for a longer period than
has Dürer, and in studying his engravings, if the student would see
them for what they are, as works of art, and not through the enchanted,
oftentimes stupefying, maze of metaphysics, he must be prepared for
the gibes and verbal brick-bats of his contemporaries, who hold in
reverence all that has the sanction of long-continued repetition by
authority after authority.
“If you see it in a book it’s true; if you see it in a German book it’s
very true,” applies with only too telling a force to a considerable
share of Dürer speculation. For better or worse I cannot but think
that Dürer’s prime intention in his engravings was an artistic one,
though obviously this intention was often overlaid with a desire to
supply an existing demand and to introduce, into otherwise simple
compositions, traditional moralistic motives which should render his
engravings more marketable at the fairs, where mostly they were sold.
So many and so fascinating are the facets of Dürer’s personality, so
interesting is he as a man in whose mind meet, and sometimes blend,
the ideas of the Middle Ages with those almost of our own time, that
if we are to study, even in the briefest and most cursory fashion,
his engraved work, we must perforce confine ourselves strictly to the
artistic content of his plates and not be seduced into the by-ways of
speculation which lead anywhere--or, more often, nowhere.
Earliest of his authenticated engravings, without monogram and without
date, crude in handling, possibly suggested by the work of some earlier
master, and in all probability executed before his first journey to
Venice (that is to say, before or in the year 1490) is the _Ravisher_,
susceptible of as many and as varied interpretations as there are
authorities; from a man using violence, to the struggle for existence.
It has even been connected in some way with a belief in witchcraft!
The _Holy Family with the Dragonfly_, to which Koehler gives second
place in his chronological arrangement of Dürer’s engravings, shows an
astonishing advance in technique and in composition. It is undated, but
the monogram is in its early form. The galley and the two gondolas,
in the distant water to the right, would seem to indicate that it was
engraved in or about the year 1494, upon Dürer’s return from Venice,
and it is probably his first plate after his return to Nuremberg. There
is a sweetness and an attractiveness in the face of the Virgin which
points to an acquaintance with Schongauer’s engraving, the _Virgin
with a Parrot_. The poise of the head and the flowing hair lend color
to this supposition.
To how great an extent not only the engravings, but the theories, of
Jacopo de’ Barbari may have influenced Dürer in such plates as _St.
Jerome in Penitence_, the _Carrying Off of Amymone_, _Hercules_, or
the _Four Naked Women_, is difficult to determine. It may have been
considerable, though, at times, one cannot help wondering whether the
theory of proportion of the human body, of which Jacopo spoke to Dürer,
but concerning which he refused (or was unable) to give him further
detailed particulars, may not have been more or less of a “bluff,”
since there is no record of Jacopo having committed the results of his
studies to writing, and in his engravings there is little evidence
of any logical theory of proportion. That a potent influence was at
work shaping Dürer’s development is clear, and the figure of _St.
Jerome_ undoubtedly owes a good deal to Jacopo. The landscape is all
Dürer’s own, the first of a long series finely conceived and admirably
executed. The long, sweeping lines in the foreground recall the
manner of Jacopo de’ Barbari, but otherwise the engraving owes little
technically to that artist.
[Illustration: ALBRECHT DÜRER. VIRGIN AND CHILD WITH THE MONKEY
Size of the original engraving, 7½ × 4¾ inches
In the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston]
[Illustration: ALBRECHT DÜRER. FOUR NAKED WOMEN
Size of the original engraving, 7½ × 5¼ inches
In the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston]
_The Virgin and Child with the Monkey_ is the most brilliant of Dürer’s
engravings in his earlier period. In the opinion of many students
it is, likewise, the most beautiful and dignified, not only in
the figures of the Virgin and Child, but also in the breadth and
richness of the landscape. The loveliness of the background was early
recognized, and several Italian engravers, including Giulio Campagnola,
availed themselves of it. When Dürer’s drawings and water-colors
are more generally known, he will be acclaimed one of the masters
of landscape. There is a freshness, a breeziness, an “out-of-doors”
quality in his water-color of the _Weierhaus_ which will surprise those
who hitherto have known him only through his engraved work, wherein the
landscape undergoes a certain formalizing process.
The _Virgin and Child with the Monkey_ is so beautiful in simplicity of
handling, so delightful in arrangement of black and white, that it is
hard to reconcile oneself to the comparatively coarse line work, the
insensitiveness to beauty of form, the disregard of anatomy, shown in
_Four Naked Women_ of 1497--Dürer’s first dated plate--especially the
woman standing to the left, who combines the slackness of Jacopo de’
Barbari at his worst with the heaviness and puffiness possible only
to a Northerner unacquainted with the classic ideals of the Italian
Renaissance.
Speculation is again rife as to the meaning, if it has a meaning, of
the skull and bone on the ground, and the devil emerging from the
flames at the left. The engraving seems to be a straightforward,
naturalistic study of the nude, with these accessories thrown in to
give the subject a moralizing air which would make it palatable to
the artist’s contemporaries. There could hardly be a greater contrast
to this frankly hideous treatment of the human form than _Hercules_
(called also the _Effects of Jealousy_, the _Great Satyr_, etc.). In
this plate we are able, as in few others--the one notable exception
being the _Adam and Eve_ of 1504--to follow out, step by step, Dürer’s
upbuilding of the composition. The figures are, in this case, idealized
according to the canons of classical beauty, rather than realistically
rendered. Incidentally, the landscape is quite the most beautiful
which appears in any of Dürer’s engravings. Its spaciousness instantly
commands our admiration, and the gradation from light to dark, to
indicate differing planes in the trees, is managed in a masterly manner.
[Illustration: ALBRECHT DÜRER. HERCULES
Size of the original engraving, 13¾ × 8¾ inches
In the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston]
[Illustration: ANONYMOUS NORTH ITALIAN, XV CENTURY. DEATH OF ORPHEUS
Size of the original engraving, 5¾ × 8⅜ inches
In the Kunsthalle, Hamburg]
[Illustration: ALBRECHT DÜRER. DEATH OF ORPHEUS
Size of the original drawing, 11⅜ × 8⅞ inches
In the Kunsthalle, Hamburg]
[Illustration: ALBRECHT DÜRER. BATTLE OF THE SEA-GODS.
(After Mantegna)
Size of the original drawing, 11½ × 15¼ inches
In the Albertina, Vienna]
Beginning with the _Death of Orpheus_, engraved by some anonymous North
Italian master working in the Fine Manner of the Tarocchi Cards, the
next step is Dürer’s pen drawing, dated 1494. The figures of Orpheus
and of the two Thracian Mænads remain unchanged, as does also the
little child running towards the left. Dürer has, however, changed
the lute into a lyre, as being more suited to Orpheus, and has added
the beautiful group of trees which reappears, little changed,
in his engraving of _Hercules_. There is a drawing of the Mantegna
School which Dürer may, or may not, have seen; but the face of Orpheus
in his drawing shows certain unmistakable Mantegna characteristics,
far removed from the North Italian Fine Manner print. From Mantegna’s
engraving, the _Battle of the Sea-Gods_ (right-hand portion), Dürer has
borrowed the figure of the reclining woman to the left and the Satyr.
That he was acquainted with this engraving by Mantegna is attested by
a drawing of 1494. The man standing to the right, with legs spread
wide apart, wearing a fantastic helmet in the shape of a cock, recalls
the work of Pollaiuolo, by whom there exists a similar drawing, now in
Berlin. From these various elements Dürer builds up his composition.
Its full meaning he alone knew. It has remained an unsolved riddle from
his time to our own.
The _Carrying Off of Amymone_ belongs to this same period. Here Dürer
has again used the motive taken from Mantegna’s engraving, the _Battle
of the Sea Gods_; but in this instance he follows his original much
more closely. Dürer alludes to this print in the diary of his journey
to the Netherlands as _The Sea Wonder_ (_Das Meerwunder_); and although
the interpretations given to it are many and various, its true meaning,
as in the case of the Hercules, remains a matter of conjecture.
By 1503, the year to which belongs the _Coat-of-Arms with the Skull_,
and also, in all probability, the magnificent _Coat-of-Arms with
the Cock_, Dürer seems to have overcome successfully all technical
difficulties and is absolute master of his medium. From this time
onwards, although his manner undergoes certain modifications in the
direction of fuller color and of a more accurate rendering of texture,
his language is adequate for anything he may wish to say, and he is
free to address himself to the solution of scientific problems, such as
are involved in the elucidation of his canon of human proportion, or
the still deeper questions which stirred so profoundly the speculative
minds of his time.
With the exception of _Hercules_, _Adam and Eve_ is the only engraving
by Dürer of which trial proofs, properly so-called, exist, whereby we
can study Dürer’s method. First the outlines were lightly laid in; then
the background was carried forward and substantially completed. In the
first trial proof Adam’s right leg alone is finished; but in the second
trial proof he is completed to the waist. This method of procedure
is significant, in view of the endless controversies, based upon an
incomplete study of Dürer’s technique, regarding the use of preliminary
etching in many plates of his middle and later period.
[Illustration: ALBRECHT DÜRER. ADAM AND EVE
Size of the original engraving, 9¾ x 8⅝ inches
In the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston]
[Illustration: ALBRECHT DÜRER. APOLLO AND DIANA
Size of the original engraving, 4½ × 2¾ inches
In the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston]
In _Adam and Eve_ Dürer has summed up the knowledge obtained by actual
observation and by a series of drawings and studies extending over a
number of years, and combined with it his theoretical working out of
the proportions of the human figure, male and female. In no other plate
has he lavished such loving care upon the representation of the human
form. The flesh is, so to speak, caressed with the burin, as though,
once and for all, the artist wished to prove to his contemporaries that
the graver sufficed for the rendering of the most beautiful, the most
subtle and scientific problems. That Dürer himself was satisfied with
the result of his labors at this time is made manifest by the detailed
inscription, ALBERTUS DURER NORICUS FACIEBAT, on the tablet,
followed by his monogram and the date 1504. This plate proclaimed him
indisputably the greatest master of the burin of his time; and along
the lines which he laid down for himself it remains unsurpassed until
our own day.
_Adam and Eve_ is followed by a group of prints which, though
interesting in treatment and charming in subject, such as the
_Nativity_, _Apollo and Diana_, and the first four plates of the _Small
Passion_, reveal nothing new in Dürer’s development as an artist
or a man. In the year 1510, however, is made his first experiment
in dry-point. Of the very small plate of _St. Veronica with the
Sudarium_ two impressions only have come down to us, neither of them
showing much burr. The _Man of Sorrows_, dated 1512, likewise must
have been very delicately scratched upon the copper, all existing
impressions being pale and delicate in tone. Whether Dürer’s desire
was to produce engravings which should entail less labor and be more
quickly executed than was possible by the slower and more laborious
method of the burin, or whether, as seems much more likely, he was
influenced by an acquaintanceship with the dry-point work of the
Master of the Amsterdam Cabinet, cannot be asserted with any degree
of assurance. Dürer’s third dry-point, the _St. Jerome by the Willow
Tree_ (like the _Man of Sorrows_ dated 1512), is treated in so much
bolder and more painter-like a manner, is so rich in burr and so
satisfying as a composition, that one can hardly account for such
remarkable development unaided by any outside influence or stimulation.
The British Museum’s impression of the first state, before the
monogram,--the richest impression known--yields nothing in color effect
even to Rembrandt. Thausing is inclined to think that Rembrandt must
have been inspired by this plate to himself take up the dry-point--an
interesting speculation and one which would do honor to both of these
great masters.
[Illustration: ALBRECHT DÜRER. ST. JEROME BY THE WILLOW TREE
(First State)
Size of the original dry-point 8⅛ × 7 inches
In the British Museum]
[Illustration: ALBRECHT DÜRER. HOLY FAMILY
Size of the original dry-point, 8¼ × 7¼ inches]
The _Holy Family_, though without monogram and undated, belongs so
unmistakably, from internal evidence, to this period, that we may
safely assign it to the year 1512. The background and landscape to
the left are indicated in outline only. Did Dürer intend to carry the
plate further? We can never know. It is his fourth and, unfortunately,
his last dry-point. There is a beauty in _St. Jerome by the Willow
Tree_ and in this Holy Family which leads us to read in these two
masterpieces certain Italian influences. There is the largeness of
conception of the Venetian School, and both _St. Jerome_ and _St.
Joseph_ show strong traces of such a master as Giovanni Bellini.
With the brief space at our disposal, what shall we say of the crowning
works of those two wonderful years, 1513-1514--_Knight, Death and
the Devil_, _Melancholia_, and _St. Jerome in his Study_? Are they
three of a proposed series of the four temperaments? Should they
be considered as parts of a group--or is each masterpiece complete
in itself? One thing at least they have in common: they are truly
“Stimmungsbilder”--that is, the lighting is so arranged, in each
composition, as directly to affect the mind and the mood of the
beholder, and “the sombre gloom of the _Knight, Death and the Devil_,
the weird, unearthly glitter of the _Melancholia_, with its uncertain,
glinting lights, the soft, tranquil sunshine of the _St. Jerome_, are
all in accordance with their several subjects. These, whether or not
originally intended to represent ‘classes of men’ or ‘moods,’ certainly
call up the latter in the mind of the beholder--the steady courage of
the valiant fighter for the right, undismayed by darkness and dangers;
the brooding, leading well-nigh to despair, over the vain efforts of
human science to lift the veil of the eternal secret; and the calm
content of the mind at peace with itself and the world around it.”[8]
[8] A Chronological Catalogue of the Engravings, Dry-Points and
Etchings of Albert Dürer, as exhibited at the Grolier Club. By
Sylvester R. Koehler. New York; The Grolier Club. 1897. p. 65.
Dürer, unfortunately, sheds no light upon the inner and deeper meaning
of the _Knight, Death and the Devil_. He speaks of it simply as “A
Horseman.” The many and various titles invented for it since his time
carry us very little further forward than where we began. The letter S,
which precedes the date, the dog which trots upon the further side of
the horse, even the blades of grass under the hoof of the right hind
leg of the horse, have all been matters of speculation and controversy,
and we choose the part of wisdom if, disregarding the swirling currents
of metaphysical interpretation, we enjoy this masterpiece of engraving
for its æsthetic content primarily, and for its potential meanings
afterwards.
[Illustration: ALBRECHT DÜRER. KNIGHT, DEATH AND THE DEVIL
Size of the original engraving, 9⅝ × 7⅜ inches
In the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston]
[Illustration: ALBRECHT DÜRER. MELANCHOLIA
Size of the original engraving, 9⅛ × 7¼ inches
In the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston]
_Melancholia_ favors an even wider range of speculation than the
_Knight, Death and the Devil_. This woman, who wears a laurel wreath
and who, seated in gloomy meditation, supports her cheek in her left
hand, while all the materials for human labor, for art, and for science
lie scattered about her--does she symbolize human Reason in despair
at the limits imposed upon her power? Or does the plate have a more
personal and intimate meaning, reflecting Dürer’s deep grief at the
death of his mother--the mother to whom he so often refers in his
letters, always with heartfelt affection?
The so-called “magic square” lends color to the latter interpretation.
Dürer’s mother died on May 17, 1514. The figures in the diagonally
opposite corners of the square can be read as follows, 16 + 1 and 13
+ 4, making 17, the day of the month; as do the figures in the center
read crosswise, 10 + 7 and 11 + 6, and also the middle figures at the
sides read across, 5 + 12 and 8 + 9. The two middle figures in the top
line, 3 + 2, give 5, the month in question, and the two middle figures
in the bottom line give the year, 1514.
Artistically the plate suffers from the multiplicity of objects
introduced, and the loving care which Dürer has lavished upon them.
He has wished to tell his story--whatever it may be--with absolute
completeness in every particular, and in so doing he has weakened and
confused the effect of his plate. It were idle to speculate upon what
might have happened had so sensitive a master as Martin Schongauer
possessed adequate technical skill for the interpretation of such a
subject. What a masterpiece of masterpieces might have resulted if he
had subjected it to that process of simplification and elimination
of which he was so splendid an exponent! However this may be,
_Melancholia_ has been, and probably will continue to be, one of the
signal triumphs in the history of engraving. We may never solve the
riddles which she propounds; but is she less fascinating for being only
partially understood?
_St. Jerome in his Cell_, all things considered, may be accounted
Dürer’s high-water mark. There is a unity and harmony about this
plate which is lacking in _Melancholia_. Nothing could be finer than
the lighting; and, judged merely as a “picture,” it is altogether
satisfying from every point of view. The accessories, even the animals
in the foreground, take their just places in the composition. It is
surprising that, although the plate is “finished” with minute and
loving care, there is not the faintest evidence of labor apparent
anywhere about it; but this is only one of its many and superlative
merits. The light streaming in through the window at the left and
bathing in its soft effulgence the Saint, intent upon his task, and
the entire room in which he sits, has been for centuries the admiration
of every art lover.
[Illustration: ALBRECHT DÜRER. ST. JEROME IN HIS CELL
Size of the original engraving, 9½ × 7¼ inches
In the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston]
[Illustration: ALBRECHT DÜRER. VIRGIN SEATED BESIDE A WALL
Size of the original engraving, 5¾ × 3⅞ inches
In the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston]
To this year, 1514, also belongs the _Virgin Seated Beside a Wall_, a
plate in which the variety of texture has been carried further than
in any other engraving by Dürer. The flesh is simply treated, in line
for the most part; but the undergarment, the fur-trimmed wrapper, and
the scarf which covers the head of the Virgin, hanging down the back
and thrown over the knee, are all carefully differentiated. Again, the
various planes in the landscape leading up to the fortified city are
beautifully handled, as is also the wall to the right. It is hard to
say what technical problems remained for Dürer to solve after such a
little masterpiece as this.
His growing fame meanwhile had attracted the attention of the Emperor
Maximilian, “the last of the Knights,” who in February, 1512, visited
Nuremberg. Dürer is commissioned to design the _Triumphal Arch_, the
_Triumphal Car_, and similar monumental records of the Emperor’s
prowess; not to speak of such orders as the decoration of the Emperor’s
Prayer-Book, etc. Such distraction absorbed the greater part of the
artist’s time and energies, and there was left little opportunity for
the development of his work along the lines he had hitherto followed.
It may be that we owe to this fact, and to the quick mode of producing
a print such a process offers, the six etchings on iron which bear
dates from 1515 to 1518. But, whatever the reason, we are glad that
he etched these plates. Discarding, for the moment, the elaborate and
detailed method of line work of his engravings on copper, he adopts a
more open system, such as would “come well” in the biting--closer work
than in his woodcuts, but perfectly adapted to that which he wished to
say.
There is a tense and passionate quality in _Christ in the Garden_
which places this etched plate among the noteworthy works even of
Dürer, while the wind-torn tree to the left of Christ gives the needed
touch of the supernatural to the composition. The _Carrying Off of
Proserpine_--the spirited drawing for which is now in the J. Pierpont
Morgan collection--is the working out, with allegorical accessories, of
a study of a warrior carrying off a woman. The last of his plates, the
_Cannon_, of 1518, with its charming landscape, was doubtless executed
to supply, promptly, a popular demand. It represents a large field
piece bearing the Arms of Nuremberg, and the five strangely costumed
men to the right, gazing upon the “Nuremberg Field Serpent,” obviously
have some relation to the fear of the Turk, then strong in Germany.
[Illustration: ALBRECHT DÜRER. CHRIST IN THE GARDEN
Size of the original etching, 8¾ × 6⅛ inches
In the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston]
[Illustration: ALBRECHT DÜRER. ERASMUS OF ROTTERDAM
Size of the original engraving, 9⅞ × 7⅝ inches
In the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston]
In 1519 we have the first of Dürer’s engraved portraits--_Albert of
Brandenburg, “The Little Cardinal”_ to distinguish it from the larger
plate of 1523. Opinions as to Dürer’s importance as a portrait engraver
vary considerably. Some students feel that in these later works the
engraver has become so engrossed in the delight of his craft that
he has failed to concentrate his attention upon the countenance and
character of the sitter, bestowing excessive care upon the accessories
and the minor accidents of surface textures--wrinkles and similar
unimportant matters. On the other hand, such an authority as Koehler
maintains that the _Albert of Brandenburg_, preeminent for delicacy and
noble simplicity among these portrait engravings by Dürer, “will always
be ranked among the best portraits engraved anywhere and at any time.”
_Frederic the Wise, Elector of Saxony_, was one of the earliest patrons
of Dürer, founder of the University of Wittenberg and a supporter of
the Reformation, although he never openly embraced the doctrines of
Martin Luther. Dürer’s drawing in silver-point gives a straightforward
and characterful presentation of the man, and, in this instance,
translation into the terms of engraving has nowise lessened the
directness of appeal.
_Erasmus of Rotterdam_ bears the latest date (1526) which we find
upon any engraving by Dürer, and it well may be his last plate. Here
the elaboration and finish bestowed upon the accessories certainly
detract from the portrait interest. Erasmus was polite enough, when he
saw this engraving, to excuse its unlikeness to himself by remarking
that doubtless he had changed much during the five years which had
intervened between Dürer’s drawing of 1521 and the completion of the
plate. Technically, however, it is a masterpiece, a worthy close to the
career of undoubtedly the greatest engraver Germany has produced.