In 1512 Dürer was first employed by the Emperor Maximilian, who was not only a patron of the arts but also an artist himself, and munificently employed the best painters of Germany, though his treasury was usually but poorly filled. Science and literature also occupied much of his attention; and, while his realm was engaged in perpetual wars, he kept up a careful correspondence on profound themes with many of the foremost thinkers of his day. The records of his intercourse with Dürer are most meagre, though during the seven years of their connection they must have had many interviews, especially while the imperial portrait was being made.
Melanchthon tells a pretty story, which he heard from Dürer himself. One day the artist was finishing a sketch for the Emperor, who, while waiting, attempted to make a drawing himself with one of the charcoal-crayons; but the charcoal kept breaking away, and he complained that he could accomplish nothing with it. Dürer then took it from his hand, saying, “This is my sceptre, your Majesty;” and afterwards taught the sovereign how to use it.
The story which is told of so many geniuses who have risen from low estate is applied also to this one: The Emperor once declared to a noble who had proudly declined to perform some trivial service for the artist, “Out of seven ploughboys I can, if I please, make seven lords, but out of seven lords I cannot make one Dürer.”
Tradition states that the Emperor ennobled Dürer, and gave him a coat-of-arms. Possibly this was the crest used in his later years, consisting of three shields on a blue field, above which is a closed helmet supporting the armless bust and head of a winged negro!
The idea of the immense woodcut of the Triumphal Arch of Maximilian was conceived after 1512, either by the Emperor or by the poet-laureate Stabius; and Dürer was chosen to put it into execution. The history of the deeds of Maximilian, with his ancestry and family alliances, was to be displayed in the form of a pictorial triumphal arch, “after the manner of those erected in honor of the Roman emperors.” The master demanded payment in advance, and received an order from the Emperor to the Rath of Nuremberg to hold “his and the Empire’s true and faithful Albert Dürer exempt from all the town taxes and rates, in consideration of our esteem for his skill in art.” But he surrendered this immunity, in deference to the wishes of the Rath; and Maximilian granted him an annual pension of 100 florins ($200), which was paid, however, somewhat reluctantly.
“The Knight, Death, and the Devil,” is the most celebrated of Dürer’s engravings, and dates from 1513. It shows a panoplied knight riding through a rocky defile, with white-bearded Death advancing alongside and holding up an hour-glass, and the loathsome Satan pursuing hard after and clutching at the undismayed knight. The numerous commentators on this picture variously interpret its meaning, some saying that the knight is an evil-doer, intent on wicked purposes, whom Death warns to repentance, while Satan rushes to seize him; others, and the most, that he is the Christian man, fearless among the menaces of Death and Hell, and steadily advancing in spite of the horrible apparitions. Others claim that the Knight represents Franz von Sickingen, a turbulent hero of the Reformation; or Philip Ring, the Nuremberg herald, who was confronted by the Devil on one of his night-rides; or Dürer himself, beset by temptations and fears; or Stephen Baumgärtner, the master’s friend, whose portrait bears a resemblance to the knight’s face. Still another interpretation is given in the romance of “Sintram and his Companions,” which was suggested by this engraving, as we are told by its author, La Motte Fouqué.
Kugler says: “I believe I do not exaggerate when I particularize this print as the most important work which the fantastic spirit of German art has ever produced.” It was made in Dürer’s blooming time, and the plate is a wonderful specimen of delicate and exquisite execution. It has frequently been copied, in many forms.
“The Little Crucifixion” is one of the most exquisitely finished of Dürer’s engravings on copper, and is a small round picture, about one inch in diameter, which was made for an ornament on the pommel of the Emperor’s sword. It contains seven figures, full of clearness and individuality, and engraved with marvellous skill. There are, fortunately, several very beautiful copies of this print. Other copper-plates of 1513 were “The Judgment of Paris,” and the small round “St. Jerome.”