Albert Durer

T >> T. Sturge Moore >> Albert Durer

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Willingly will I impart my teaching, hereafter written, to the man who
knoweth little and would gladly learn; but I will not be cumbered with
the proud, who, according to their own estimate of themselves, know all
things, and are best, and despise all else. From true artists, however,
such as can show their meaning with the hand, I desire to learn humbly
and with much thankfulness.

A thing thou beholdest is easier of belief than that thou hearest, but
whatever is both heard and seen we grasp more firmly and lay hold on
more securely. I will therefore do the work in both ways, that thus I
may be better understood.

Whosoever will, therefore, let him hear and see what I say, do, and
teach, for I hope it may be of service and not for a hindrance to the
better arts, nor lead thee to neglect better things.

I hear moreover of no writer in modern times by whom aught hath been
written and made known which I might read for my improvement. For some
hide their art in great secrecy, and others write about things whereof
they know nothing, so that their words are nowise better than mere
noise, as he that knoweth somewhat is swift to discover. I therefore
will write down with God's help the little that I know. Though many will
scorn it I am not troubled, for I well know that it is easier to cast
blame on a thing than to make anything better. Moreover, I will expound
my meaning as clearly and plainly as I can; and, were it possible, I
would gladly give everything I know to the light, for the good of
cunning students who prize such art more highly than silver or gold. I
further admonish all who have any knowledge in these matters that they
write it down. Do it truly and plainly, not toilsomely and at great
length, for the sake of those who seek and are glad to learn, to the
great honour of God and your own praise. If I then set something burning
and ye all add to it with skilful furthering, a blaze may in time arise
therefrom which shall shine throughout the whole world.

I shall here apply to what is to be called beautiful the same
touchstone as that by which we decide what is right. For as what all the
world prizeth as right we hold to be right, so what all the world
esteemeth beautiful that will we also hold for beautiful, and ourselves
strive to produce the like.

No one need blindly follow this theory of mine as though it were quite
perfect, for human nature has not yet so far degenerated that another
man cannot discover something better. So each may use my teaching as
long as it seems good to him, or until he finds something better. Where
he is not willing to accept it, he may well hold that this doctrine is
not written for him, but for others who are willing.

That must be a strangely dull head which never trusts itself to find out
anything fresh, but only travels along the old path, simply following
others and not daring to reflect for itself. For it beseems each
understanding, in following another, not to despair of itself
discovering something better. If that is done, there remaineth no doubt
but that in time this art will again reach the perfection it attained
amongst the ancients.

Much will hereafter be written about subjects and refinements of
painting. Sure am I that many notable men will arise, all of whom will
write both well and better about this art, and will teach it better than
I; for I myself hold my art at a very mean value, for I know what my
faults are. Let every man therefore strive to better these my errors
according to his powers. Would to God it were possible for me to see the
work and art of the mighty masters to come, who are yet unborn, for I
know that I might be improved upon. Ah! how often in my sleep do I
behold great works of art and beautiful things, the like whereof never
appear to me awake, but so soon as I awake, even the remembrance of
them leaveth me.

Compare also the passages already quoted,(pp. 15,16,26).

IV

"What an admirable temper!" is the exclamation which expresses our first
feeling on reading the foregoing sentences. It renews the spirit of a
man merely to peruse such things. Scales fall from our eyes, and we see
what we most essentially are, with pleasure, as good children gleefully
recognise their goodness: and at the same time we are filled with
contrition that we should have ever forgotten it. And this that we most
essentially are rational beings, lovers of goodness, children of
hope,--how directly Duerer appeals to it: "Nature has implanted in us the
desire of knowing all things." It reminds one of Ben Jonson's:--

It is a false quarrel against nature, that she helps understanding but
in a few, when the most part of mankind are inclined by her thither, if
they would take the pains; no less than birds to fly, horses to run,
&c., which, if they lose it, is through their own sluggishness, and by
that means they become her prodigies, not her children.

There is something refreshing and inspiriting in the mere conviction of
our teachableness; and when the same author, referring to Plato's
travels in search of knowledge, says, "He laboured, so must we," we do
not find the comparison humiliating either to Plato or ourselves. For
"without a way there is no going," and every man of superior mould says
to us with more or less of benignity, "I am the way: follow me." Such
means or ways of attainment have been followed by all whose success is
known to us, and are followed now by all "finely touched and gifted
men." I might quote in illustration of these assertions the whole of
Reynolds' Sixth Discourse, so marvellous for its acute and delicate
discrimination; but I will content myself with a few leading passages:

We cannot suppose that any one can really mean to exclude all imitation
of others.

It is a common observation that no art was ever invented and carried to
perfection at the same time.

The greatest natural genius cannot subsist on its own stock: he who
resolves never to ransack any mind but his own will soon be reduced to
the poorest of all imitations, he will be obliged to imitate himself,
and to repeat what he has often before repeated.

The truth is, he whose feebleness is such as to make other men's
thoughts an encumbrance to him, can have no very great strength of mind
or genius of his own to be destroyed: so that not much harm will be done
at the worst.

Of course, this last phrase will not apply universally; we must remember
that the man who sets out to become an artist, or claims to be one by
native gift, has made apparent that he is the possessor of no mean
ambition. The humblest may see a way of improvement in their betters,
and obey the command, "Follow me." Every man is not called to follow
great artists, but only those who are peculiarly fitted to tread the
difficult paths that climb Olympus-hill. Yet to all men alike the great
artist in life, he who wedded failure to divinity, says, "Learn of me
that I am meek and lowly of heart, and ye shall find rest to
your souls."

He who confines himself to the imitation of an individual, as he never
proposes to surpass, so he is not likely to equal, the object of his
imitation. He professes only to follow; and he that follows must
necessarily be behind.

It is of course impossible to surpass perfection, but it is possible to
be made one with it.

To find excellences, however dispersed, to discover beauties, however
concealed by the multitude of defects with which they are surrounded,
can be the work only of him who, having a mind always alive to his art,
has extended his views to all ages and to all schools; and has acquired
from that comprehensive mass which he has thus gathered to himself a
well-digested and perfect idea of his art, to which everything is
referred. Like a sovereign judge and arbiter of art, he is possessed of
that presiding power which separates and attracts every excellence from
every school; selects both from what is great and what is little; brings
home knowledge from the east and from the west; making the universe
tributary towards furnishing his mind, and enriching his works with
originality and variety of inventions.

In this tine passage we get back to our central idea in regard to the
sense of proportion "making the universe tributary towards furnishing
his mind"; while in the "discovery of beauties" the complete artist
"selects both from what is great and what is little," from the clouds of
heaven and from the dunghills of the farmyard.

Study, therefore, the great works of the great masters for ever. Study,
as nearly as you can, in the order, in the manner, and on the principles
on which they studied. Study nature attentively, but always with those
masters in your company; consider them as models which you are to
imitate, and at the same time as rivals with whom you are to contend.
For "no man can be an artist, whatever he may suppose, upon any
other terms."

Yes, an artist is a child who chooses his parents, nor is he limited to
only two. Religion tells all men they have a Father, who is God;
philosophy and tradition repeat, "man has a mother, who is Nature."
These sayings are platitudes; their application is so obvious that it is
now generally forgotten. If God is a Father, it is the soul that chooses
Him; if Nature is a mother, it is the man who chooses to regard her as
such, since to the greater number it is well known she seems but a
stepmother, and a cruel one at that. Elective affinities, chosen
kindred!--"tell me what company you keep, and I will tell you who you
are" (what you are worth). How many artist waifs one sees nowadays! lost
souls, who choose to be nobody's children, and think they can teach
themselves all they need to know.

I think the very striking agreement between artists so totally different
in every respect except eminence, docility and anxiety to further art,
as Duerer and Reynolds, ought to impress our minds very deeply: even
though, as is certainly the case, the way they point out has been very
greatly abandoned of late years, and public institutions in this and
other countries proceed to further art on quite other lines; even though
critics are almost unanimous in knowing better both the end and the way
than the great masters who had not the advantage of a dash of science in
their hydromel to make it sparkle, but instead made it yet richer and
thicker by stirring up with it piety and religion. I think this
"cock-tail and sherry-cobbler" art criticism of to-day is very
deleterious to the digestion, and that the piety and enthusiasm which
Duerer and Reynolds worked into their art were more wholesome, and better
supplied the needs and deficiencies of artistic temperaments.

CHAPTER III

THE LOST TRADITION

I

Many centuries ago the great art of painting was held in high honour by
mighty kings, and they made excellent artists rich and held them worthy,
accounting such inventiveness a creating power like God's. For the
imagination of a good painter is full of figures, and were it possible
for him to live for ever, he would always have from his inward ideas,
whereof Plato speaks, something new to set forth by the work of
his hand.

Many hundred years ago there were still some famous painters, such as
those named Phidias, Praxiteles, Apelles, Polycleitus, Parrhasius,
Lysippus, Protogenes, and the rest, some of whom wrote about their art
and very artfully described it and gave it plainly to light: but their
praise-worthy books are, so far, unknown to us, and perhaps have been
altogether lost by war, driving forth of the peoples, and alterations of
laws and beliefs--a loss much to be regretted by every wise man. It
often came to pass that noble "Ingenia" were destroyed by barbarous
oppressors of art; for if they saw figures traced in a few lines they
thought it nought but vain, devilish sorcery. And in destroying them
they attempted to honour God by something displeasing to Him; and to use
the language of men, God was angry with all destroyers of the works of
great mastership, which is only attained by much toil, labour, and
expenditure of time, and is bestowed by God alone. Often do I sorrow
because I must be robbed of the aforesaid masters' books of art; but the
enemies of art despise these things.

Pliny writeth that the old painters and sculptors--such as Apelles,
Protogenes, and the rest--told very artistically in writing how a
well-built man's figure might be measured out. Now it may well have come
to pass that these noble books were misunderstood and destroyed as
idolatrous in the early days of the Church. For they would have said
Jupiter should have such proportions, Apollo such others; Venus shall be
thus, Hercules thus; and so with all the rest. Had it, however, been my
fate to be there at the time, I would have said: "Oh dear, holy lords
and fathers, do not so lamentably destroy the nobly discovered arts,
which have been gotten by great toil and labour, only because of the
abuses made of them. For art is very hard, and we might and would use it
for the great honour and glory of God. For, even as the ancients used
the fairest figure of a man to represent their false god Apollo, we will
employ the same for Christ the Lord, who is fairest of all the earth;
and as they figured Venus as the loveliest of women, so will we in like
manner set down the same beauteous form for the most pure Virgin Mary,
the mother of God; and of Hercules will we make Samson, and thus will we
do with all the rest, for such books shall we get never more."
Wherefore, though that which is lost ariseth not again, yet a man may
strive after new lore; and for these reasons I have been moved to make
known my ideas here following, in order that others may ponder the
matter further, and may thus come to a new and better way and
foundation.

I certainly do not deny that, if the books of the ancients who wrote
about the art of painting still lay before our eyes, my design might be
open to the false interpretation that I thought to find out something
better than what was known unto them. These books, however, have been
totally lost in the lapse of time; so I cannot be justly blamed for
publishing my opinions and discoveries in writing, for that is exactly
what the ancients did. If other competent men are thereby induced to do
the like, our descendants have something which they may add to and
improve upon, and thus the art of painting may in time advance and reach
its perfection.

II

Whether we should exercise our intellects or logical sense alone upon
the records and remains of past ages, or whether they may not be better
employed for the exercise and edification of the imaginative faculties,
would seem to be a question which, though they did not perhaps in set
terms put to themselves, modern historians have very summarily answered;
and I think answered wrongly. The records of the past, the records even
of yesterday, are necessarily extremely incomplete; to make them at all
significant something must be added by the historian. The 'perception'
of probability is never exact; it varies with the mind between man and
man; in the same man even before and after different experiences, &c.
But even if the perception of the highest probability were practically
exact, it would never suffice; for, as Aristotle says, "it is probable
that many things should happen contrary to probability." From these
facts it follows that the man who has the most exhaustive knowledge of
what has actually survived, and what has been recorded, will not
necessarily form the truest judgment on a question of history; it might
always happen that the intuition of some unscholarly person was nearer
the truth; still no man could ever decide between the two, nor would any
sane man think it worth his while to take sides with either of them;
such questions are most useful when they are left open. This is the case
because the imagination is thus left freer to use such knowledge as it
has for the edification of the character; and that model for our example
or warning which the imagination constructs may always possibly be the
truth. According to the balance in it of apparent probability, with
edifying power it will beget conviction. Such a conviction may be doomed
to be superseded sooner or later; its value lies in its potency while it
lasts. The temper in which we look at our historical heritage is of more
importance to us now than the exactitude of our vision; for this latter
can never be proved, while the former approves itself by the fruit it
bears within us. It is better, more fruitful, to feel with Duerer about
the art of Ancient Greece than to know all that can be known of it
to-day and feel a great deal less. "Character calls forth character,"
said Goethe; we may add, "even from the grave." Now that the physical
miracle of the Resurrection has come to seem so unimportant and
uninteresting to educated men, it might be a wise economy to connect its
poetry with this experience, that great and creative characters can
raise men better worth knowing than Lazarus from the dead. Nietsche
thought that Shakespeare had brought Brutus back to life, (though he
knew very little of Roman history), and that Brutus was the Roman best
worth knowing. "Of all peoples, the Greeks dreamt the dream of life the
best," Goethe said; and again, "For all other arts we have to make some
allowance; to Greek art alone we are for ever debtors." To feel the
truth of these sayings with a passion similar to that shown in the
passages quoted above from Duerer, must surely be a great help to an
artist. Such a passion is an end in itself, or rather is the only means
by which we can win spiritual freedom from some of the heavier fetters
that modern life lays upon us. It freed Goethe even from Germany.

CHAPTER IV

BEAUTY

I

How is beauty to be judged?--upon that we have to deliberate.

A man by skill may bring it into every single thing, for in some things
we recognise that as beautiful which elsewhere would lack beauty.

Good and better in respect of beauty are not easy to discern; for it
would be quite possible to make two different figures, one stout, the
other thin, which should differ one from the other in every proportion,
and yet we scarce might be able to judge which of the two excelled in
beauty. What beauty is I know not, though it dependeth upon many things.

I shall here apply to what is to be called beautiful the same touchstone
as that by which we decide what is right. For as what all the world
prizeth as right we hold to be right, so what all the world esteemeth
beautiful that we will also hold for beautiful, and ourselves strive to
produce the like.

There are many causes and varieties of beauty; he that can prove them is
so much the more to be trusted.

The accord of one thing with another is beautiful, therefore want of
harmony is not beautiful. A real harmony linketh together things unlike.

Use is a part of beauty, whatever therefore is useless unto men is
without beauty.

The more imperfection is excluded so much the more doth beauty abide in
the work.

Guard thyself from superfluity.

But beauty is so put together in men and so uncertain is our judgment
about it, that we may perhaps find two men both beautiful and fair to
look upon, and yet neither resembleth the other, in measure or kind, in
any single point or part; and so blind is our perception that we shall
not understand whether of the two is the more beautiful, and if we give
an opinion on the matter it shall lack certainty.

Negro faces are seldom beautiful because of their very flat noses and
thick lips; moreover, their shinbone is too prominent, and the knee and
foot too long, not so good to look upon as those of the whites; and so
also is it with their hand. Howbeit, I have seen some amongst them whose
whole bodies have been so well-built and handsome that I never beheld
finer figures, nor can I conceive how they might be bettered, so
excellent were their arms and all their limbs.

Seeing that man is the worthiest of all creatures, it follows that, in
all pictures, the human figure is most frequently employed as a centre
of interest. Every animal in the world regards nothing but his own kind,
and the same nature is also in men, as every man may perceive
in himself.

[Illustration: Charcoal-drawing heightened with white on a green
prepared ground, in the Berlin Print Room _Face p_. 320]

Further, in order that he may arrive at a good canon whereby to bring
somewhat of beauty into our work, there-unto it were best for thee, it
bethinks me, to form thy canon from many living men. Howbeit seek only
such men as are held beautiful, and from such draw with all diligence.
For one who hath understanding may, from men of many different kinds,
gather something good together through all the limbs of the body. But
seldom is a man found who hath all his limbs good, for every man lacks
something.

No single man can be taken as a model of a perfect figure, for no man
liveth on earth who uniteth in himself all manner of beauties.... There
liveth also no man upon earth who could give a final judgment upon what
the perfect figure of a man is; God only knoweth that.

And although we cannot speak of the greatest beauty of a living
creature, yet we find in the visible creation a beauty so far surpassing
our understanding that no one of us can fully bring it into his work.

If we were to ask how we are to make a beautiful figure, some would give
answer: According to human judgment (i.e., common taste). Others would
not agree thereto, neither should I without a good reason. Who will give
us certainty in this matter?[87]

II

I have already given what I believe to be the best answer to these
questions as to what beauty is and how it is to be judged. Beauty is
beauty as good is good (_see_ pp. 7, 8), or yellow, yellow; indeed, to
the second question, Matthew Arnold has given the only possible
answer--the relative value of beauties is "as the judicious would
determine," and the judicious are, in matters of art "finely touched and
gifted men." This criterion obviously cannot be easily or hastily
applied, nor could one ever be quite sure that in any given case it had
been applied to any given effect. But for practical needs we see that it
suffices to cast a slur on facile popularity, and vindicate over and
over again those who had been despised and rejected. What the true
artist desires to bring into his pictures is the power to move
finely-touched and gifted men. Not only are such by very much the
minority, but the more part of them being, by their capacity to be moved
and touched, easily wounded, have developed a natural armour of reserve,
of moroseness, of prejudice, of combativeness, of pedantry, which makes
them as difficult to address as wombats, or bears, or tortoises, or
porcupines, or polecats, or elephants. It is interesting to witness how
Duerer's self-contradictions show him to be aware of the great complexity
of these difficulties, as also to see how very near he comes to the true
answer. At one time he tells us:

"When men demand a work of a master, he is to be praised in so far as he
succeeds in satisfying their likings ..."[88]

At another he tells us:

"The art of painting cannot be truly judged save by such as are
themselves good painters; from others verily is it hidden even as a
strange tongue."[89]

Every "finely touched and gifted man" is not an artist; but every true
artist must, in some measure, be a finely touched and gifted man. There
is no necessity to limit the public addressed to those who themselves
produce: yet those who "can prove what they say with their hand" bring
credentials superior to those offered by any others,--although even
their judgment is not sure, as they may well represent a minority of
the true court of appeal which can never be brought together.

No doubt there is a judgment and a scale of values accepted as final by
each generation that gives any considerable attention to these
questions. AEsthetic appear to be exactly similar to religious
convictions. Those who are subject to them probably pass through many
successively, even though they all their lives hold to a certain fashion
which enables them to assert some obvious unity, like those who, in
religion, belong always to one sect. Yet if they were in a position to
analyse their emotions and leanings, no doubt very fundamental
contradictions would be discovered to disconcert them. Conviction and
enthusiasm in the arts and religion would seem to be the frame of mind
natural to those who assimilate, and are rendered productive by what
they study and admire. Convictions may never be wholly justifiable in
theory, but in practice when results are considered, it would seem that
no other frame of mind should escape censure.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 87: "Literary Remains of Albrecht Duerer," p. 244.]

[Footnote 88: "Literary Remains of Albrecht Duerer," p. 245.]

[Footnote 89: _Idem_. p. 177.]

CHAPTER V

NATURE

I

We regard a form and figure out of nature with more pleasure than
another, though the thing in itself is not necessarily altogether
better or worse.

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