Fig. 43.—ALBERT DÜRER.
The Ride.
Fig. 44.—ALBERT DÜRER.
The Pommel of Maximilian's Sword.
The qualities which distinguished his talent and manner are found to nearly the same extent in all his work. As examples, however, peculiarly expressive of his delicate yet powerful talent, we may mention the hunting "St. Hubert"—or, more probably, St. Eustace—kneeling before a stag with a miraculous crucifix on its head, the "St. Jerome in his Cell," the print called the "Knight and Death," and lastly the subject known as "Melancholia," which should rather be called "Reflection," but reflection in its gravest, darkest, one might almost say its most despairing, attitude. This piece, which even Vasari allows to be "incomparable," represents a woman seated, her head resting on one hand, whilst she holds in the other a compass with which she is trifling mechanically. As though to suggest the limitations and nothingness of human knowledge, an hour-glass and various scientific instruments are scattered about; whilst in the middle distance a child, doubtless an image of youthful illusions, is attentively writing, and contrasts in its serenity with the troubled countenance and despairing attitude of the principal figure. Had Dürer only engraved this one extraordinary plate, had he only produced this one work, as strikingly original in execution as in intention, it would be enough to mark his position for ever in the history of art, and to commend him to everlasting honour. But there are many other works from the same hand which might be also mentioned to confirm or to increase our admiration. There are many, besides the "Melancholia," where the almost savage energy of the style is allied to an extraordinary manipulative delicacy in the expression of details. Sometimes, indeed, his energy degenerates into violence and his precision into dryness; sometimes—as a rule, in fact—the general effect is impaired by a too detailed insistence on subordinate forms, while the beauty of these forms is at least affected by the minute care with which they have been separately studied and expressed. But these imperfections, or, if you like, these faults, may be attributed in part to the tendencies and prejudices of the period, and in part to that national taste for excessive analysis which has been a characteristic of the German mind in every age. That Dürer's merits, on the other hand, are entirely his own, may easily be seen by comparing his works not only with those of former engravers, but with those of foreign contemporary masters. Neither in Italy, nor anywhere else, is it possible to find in the sixteenth century an engraver of such original inspiration and possessing so much knowledge and technical skill. Even Marc Antonio, superior though he may be in sentiment and majesty of style, cannot dispossess Dürer of his lawful renown, nor take from his art its peculiar virtue and authority.
Fig. 45.—MARC ANTONIO.
Lucretia. After Raphael.
Marc Antonio Raimondi was born at Bologna, where he studied in the school of the painter-goldsmith Francesco Francia, and was still only an unknown worker in niello, and the author of some rather indifferent plates engraved from his own or his master's designs[23] when a journey to Venice and the careful study of Albert Dürer's engravings showed him the inmost possibilities of an art of which he had till then known little more than the mere mechanical processes. Unfortunately, as we have seen, the young engraver was not content with copying these, the best models of the day, for his own improvement, but, to secure a double profit, pushed his imitation a step further, and copied the signature with as much care as the style.