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The Life and Art of Albrecht Dürer 2nd Edition Erwin
Panofsky Digital Instant Download
Author(s): Erwin Panofsky
ISBN(s): 9780691122762, 0691122768
Edition: 2
File Details: PDF, 169.26 MB
Year: 2005
Language: english
THE LIFE AND ART OF
ALBRECHT Dt)RER
 The Life and oArt of

ALBRECHT DURER
BY ERWIN PANOFSKY

PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS

PRINCETON, NEW JERSEY

 COPYRIGHT 1943, © 1955, BY PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS
ISBN 0-691-00303-3
PUBLISHED BY PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS, 41 WILLIAM STREET, PRINCETON, NEW JERSEY
IN THE UNITED KINGDOM BY PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS, CHICHESTER, WEST SUSSEX
DESIGNED BY P. J. CONKWRIGHT

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

SECOND EDITION, REVISED, 1945

THIRD EDITION, 1948

FOURTH EDITION, 1955

FIRST PRINCETON PAPERBACK PRINTING, 1971

EIGHTH PAPERBACK PRINTING, 1995

THE PICTURE ON THE FRONT COVER

IS A PORTRAIT OF ERASMUS OF ROTTERDAM,

ENGRAVED BY DURER IN 1526.

PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS BOOKS ARE PRINTED ON ACID-FREE PAPER

AND MEET THE GUIDELINES FOR PERMANENCE AND DURABILITY OF THE COMMITTEE ON

PRODUCTION GUIDELINES FOR BOOK LONGEVITY OF THE

COUNCIL ON LIBRARY RESOURCES

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

THE FIRST EDITION OF THIS BOOK WAS AIDED BY A GRANT

FROM THE AMERICAN COUNCIL OF LEARNED SOCIETIES
FROM A FUND PROVIDED BY
THE CARNEGIE CORPORATION OF NEW YORK

Paper ISBN 978-0-691-12276-2

To Walter Wi S. Cook,
^Abraham Flexner•,
Charles Rufus <JtCorey
 Contents

PREFACES lX
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS XVll

INTRODUCTION TO THE PRINCETON CLASSIC EDITION xxxiii

INTRODUCTION 3
I. APPRENTICESHIP AND EARLY YEARS OF TRAVEL, 1484-1495 15
II. FIVE YEARS OF INTENSE PRODUCTIVITY, 1495•1500 39
III. FIVE YEARS OF RATIONAL SYNTHESIS, 1500-1505 8o
IV. THE SECOND TRIP TO ITALY AND THE CULMINATION OF PAINTING, 1505-1510/11 107
V. REORIENTATION IN THE GRAPHIC ARTS; THE CULMINATION OF ENGRAVING,

1507/11-1514
1
VI. DURER S ACTIVITY FOR MAXIMILIAN I; THE "DECORATIVE STYLE," 1512/13•
1518/19 172
VII. THE CRISIS OF 1519; THE JOURNEY TO THE NETHERLANDS, 1520•1521; THE
LAST WORKS, 1521-1528 t 98

VIII. DURER AS A THEORIST OF ART 242

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY 287
APPENDIX 299
INDICES
 Preface

F
OR reasons best known to itself, the Princeton University Press has proposed to
make my book on Albrecht Diirer, last issued in 1948, available in what may be
called a portable edition: a single volume containing the Text (including the
Bibliography and the previous Prefaces) as well as the Illustrations, but not the Handlist
of Works. I have accepted this proposal the more readily as the remarkable improvement
of the offset process, largely due to the ingenuity and patience of Mr. E. H . Hugo of the
Meriden Gravure Company, now makes possible the successful duplication of the original
illustrations.
The very nature of this process precluded major alterations;* but this restriction, it is
hoped, will increase rather than impair the usefulness of the present volume. Since neither
the pagination of the text nor the numeration of the pictures has been changed, references
to the earlier editions are equivalent to references to the new one and vice versa. And
that the text still bristles with Handlist numbers (Arabic numerals in parentheses), even
though the Handlist itself has disappeared, may be helpful to those who wish for more
specific information than the present volume provides.
This new edition, then, differs from its more ambitious predecessors in size and appear-
ance rather than in purpose: it is still the same book, addressed to the student as well as
the "general reader." And with the interests of the former in mind, the Princeton Uni-
versity Press has agreed to the addition of an Appendix (p. 299) containing some correc-
tions and amplifications; so that, if the original editions may serve as a completive adjunct
to the present volume, the present volume may serve as a corrective postscript to the original
editions.
E. P.
Princeton, N J .
November 1, 1954

* Such changes as were made will be found in the following places: p. 24, line 4 from the foot of the
page; p. 44, line 14 s.; p. 75, beginning of first paragraph; p. 89, line 5 s. of the section beginning with
"The year 1503" ; p. 90, line 2 ; p. 91, opening of the section beginning with "Diirer did not do much paint-
ing" ; p. 146, last lines of the second paragraph; same page, last sentence of the third paragraph; p. 147,
last line of the second paragraph; same page, line 14 ss. from the foot of the page; p. 157, line 6; p. 170,
line 10 ss. from the foot of the page; p. 192, line 15 s.; p. 215, line 1.

IX
 PREFACE TO T H E FIRST E D I T I O N

T
HE text of the present publication was mainly developed from the Norman Wait
Harris Lectures delivered at Northwestern University in 1938. It is therefore ad-
dressed to a "mixed audience" rather than to scholars. Time-honored truths and
errors are intermixed with new ones; what might be held indispensable in a comprehensive
monograph is at times suppressed, and emphasis is placed on what may seem trivial to the
specialist.
However, in order to make the book somewhat useful to the more serious student two
additions have been made. Appended to the text is a Selected Bibliography (pp. 287-296),
and in Volume II is found a Handlist of the Works of Durer, including Ascribed Works and
Important Copies, followed by a Concordance of the Engravings, Woodcuts, Drawings and
Book Illuminations. This Handlist—consistently referred to in the text—is not a "critical
catalogue" but a mere inventory which, it is hoped, will help the English-speaking reader to
find his way through the vast and bewildering mass of material which, rightly or wrongly, is
associated with the name of Albrecht Durer. It will refer him to catalogues and corpuses
where illustrations and more specialized information may be found, and indicates, as far as
possible, the connections which exist between two or more works, particularly between draw-
ings on the one hand and prints and paintings on the other. As a rule, bibliographical refer-
ences are given only if not yet included in the catalogues and corpuses referred to, and
explanatory remarks have been restricted to a minimum. The writer has mostly contented
himself with expressing his personal opinion as to date and authenticity. Only where he
hoped to make some contribution to the argument, or where he felt that the case needed
restating, has he embarked upon a brief discussion. The Handlist thus serves a threefold
purpose: first, to help the reader to locate illustrations not found in this book; second, to
make him aware of the genesis and affiliations of the works discussed in the text; third, to
call his attention to works not mentioned in the text at all.
The writer has to apologize, first, for having repeated in his last chapter several para-
graphs already published, in more or less identical form, in a recent but not easily accessible
study entitled The Codex Huygens and Leonardo da Vinci's Art Theory (Studies of the
Warburg Institute, xm), London, 1940; second, for not having discussed Durer's Treatise
on the Theory of Fortification the subject of which is plainly beyond his compass; third, for
having incorporated in the section on the engraving Melencolia I (pp. 156-171) the more
important results of the as yet unpublished second edition of his and his friend Dr. Saxl's
previous book on the subject {Bibliography', no. 166). Its publication having been prevented
by the War, he could not help anticipating it to some extent, but he wants to make it perfectly
clear that half of the credit, if any, goes to Dr. Saxl and his associates. He furthermore wishes
to thank all those who, in one way or another, have assisted him in the preparation of these
xi
Xll PREFACE

present volumes, particularly Mr. F. Lugt and Miss Agnes Mongan for information as to
the present location of drawings; Messrs. H. H. Arnasson, Q. Beckley O.P., H. Bober,
E. F. Detterer, H. A. Mayor, M. Meiss, R. Offner, H. P. Rossiter, G. Schonberger, D. A.
Stauffer, H. Swarzenski and Miss K. Serrell for various suggestions, general helpfulness, and
assistance in procuring photographs; Messrs. George H. Forsyth, Jr. and Richard Stillwell
for the design of Text Illustrations 1 and 2; and, first of all, Miss Margot Cutter for her
understanding help in revising the English and for preparing the Indices of Vol. II. The
writer's especial gratitude is due to the American Council of Learned Societies and the
Carnegie Corporation whose financial help made this publication possible, and to Mr. Lessing
J. Rosenwald and Miss Elizabeth Mongan who not only allowed most of the reproductions
of prints and illustrated books to be made from the admirable originals in the Alverthorpe
Gallery but also placed at the writer's disposal the skill of their excellent photographer,
Mr. W. Auerbach.

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION

THE second edition of this book appears so soon that the writer had no time to change his
mind on any major point. He has therefore limited himself to minor corrections and adjust-
ments on the one hand and to a few Addenda on the other.
The corrections and adjustments have not been especially indicated, but the writer wishes
to mention those—apart from simple typographical errors—which were suggested by others:
Vol. I, p. 25,1. 16 from bottom: the fact that the material of the drawing L. 658 (653) cannot be sepia
was pointed out in W. Stechow's Review of this book in Art Bulletin, XXVI, 1944, pp. 197-199 (hereafter
referred to as "Stechow").
Vol. I, p. 6 4 : the error in the original text ill. 1 (handle of the burin upside down) was kindly brought
to the writer's attention by a letter from Mr. Kalman Kubinyi.
Vol. I, p. 66, second paragraph: the identity of the "praying-cricket" in the engraving B. 44 (151) was
doubted by Dr. R. Bernheimer, and his doubts were subsequently confirmed by the Museum of Natural
History in New York.
Vol. I, p. 109, last lines: the fact that the "Feast of the Rose Garlands" (38) is no longer in the Mon-
astery of Strahow was pointed out by Stechow.
Vol. II, p. 8, no. 13: the possible connection between the inscription on the Bearing of The Cross in
Richmond and Diirer's theoretical views was pointed out by Stechow.
Vol. II, p. 93, no. 907: the writer's opinion of this drawing became still more favorable upon inspection
of a large-scale photograph kindly shown to him by Mrs. E. Tietze-Conrat.
Vol. II, p. 109, nos. 1062 and 1063: F. Winkler's statement to the effect that the drawing T. 381
(1062) was done with the pen—unaccountably overlooked by the writer—was brought to his notice by
Stechow.
Vol. II, p. 119, no. 1198: the fact that the attribution of the drawing L. 92 (1198) to Jacques de Gheyn
had been rejected by J. Q. van Regteren Altena was pointed out by Stechow.
The Addenda consist, first, of two fortunately not very important Handlist items origi-
nally overlooked by the writer; second, of some supplementary remarks elicited by such
contributions as have been published after the first edition of this book had gone to press. For
 PREFACE Xlll

typographical reasons these Addenda are printed in an Appendix at the end of the Handlist
(vol. II, p. 164) to which reference has been made in the proper places.
The writer wishes to express his gratitude to Messrs. Bernheimer, Kubinyi and Ste-
chow, as well as to Mrs. Tietze-Conrat; and to repeat his thanks to all those who have
assisted him in the preparation of the first edition.

P R E F A C E TO T H E T H I R D E D I T I O N
THE third edition follows the same principles as does the second.
Remarks referring to the few Handlist items not yet included in the previous editions,
or elicited by such books and articles as were published or became accessible to the writer
after the second edition had gone to press, are printed in another Appendix (vol. II, p. 167).*
It should be noted, however, that the writer, in spite of the generous assistance of his good
friends H. Bober, E. Breitenbach and F. Saxl, was still unable to keep up with the literature
since 1939/40; in several cases he had to quote apparently noteworthy publications from
indirect sources without having been able to see them in the flesh.
Other additions and corrections have been incorporated without special indication; but
only six of these amount to material changes, and only four to modest material contributions.
By way of rectification, the writer is now inclined to accept the inscribed date—1527—
rather than the conjectural one—1521—for the Head of a Bearded Child in the Louvre
(vol. II, p. 18, no. 84), to be more optimistic as to the quality of the Fugger Portrait in
Munich (vol. II, p. 14, no. 55), and to admit the basic authenticity of the Portrait of Endres
Diirer in Budapest (vol. I, p. 91 and vol. II, p. 19, no. 89) while dating it in 1504 instead of
about 1515; he was able, thanks to detailed information kindly supplied by Drs. M. Pfister-
Burkhalter and W. Rotzler in Basel, to dispel the confusion surrounding the number of
woodcuts preserved, and impressions from cut woodblocks lost, within the series of the
Terence Illustrations in Basel (vol. II, p. £2 s., no. 436, a) ; he has corrected the erroneous
substitution of Pseudo-Anacreon for Pseudo-Theocritus in his remarks on the drawing Cupid
the Honey Thief (vol. I, p. 172 and vol. II, p. 93, no. 908) ; and he now suggests Aulus
Gellius rather than Aelian as the source of the drawing Androclus and the Lion (vol. II,
p. 92, no. 899).
By way of amplification, the writer proposes to interpret the somewhat puzzling inscrip-
tion on the replicas of the Bearing of the Cross (vol. II, p. 8, no. 13) in connection with the
still more puzzling inscription on the Self-Portrait in Munich (vol. II, p. 14, no. 50) ; he
* The correction of the caption of fig. 3 (vol. II, p. ix) was suggested by Dr. O. Benesch who kindly
called the writer's attention to his article in the Wiener Jahrbuch fur Kunstgeschichte, VII, 1930, where the
author of the picture is identified as the "Younger Master of the Schotten Altarpiece" (p. 189 s., fig. $$ a).
Though this master was an Austrian by birth he received his training in Nuremberg and helped to intro-
duce the Franconian style into his homeland (Benesch, I.e., p. 177 ss.) ; a work of his can thus still serve
to illustrate the characteristics of the "Wolgemut manner" as described in vol. I, p. 17.
XIV PREFACE

conjectures that the intriguingly unattached woodcut Cain Slaying Abel (vol. II, p. 31,
no. 221) was intended for a broad-sheet the text of which would have consisted, as in three
analogous cases (vol. II, pp. 35 and 42, nos. 275, 352, 353), of a poem by Diirer himself;
and he adduces some documentary evidence in connection with the drawing Androclus and
the Lion (vol. II, p. 92, no. 899) and with the much-debated Stag-Beetle (vol. II, p. 131, no.
1359)-
Losses and changes caused by the war are still unknown, except for the destruction of the
manuscript formerly in the Landesbibliothek in Dresden which contained the following
drawings: Handlist nos. 571, 661, 701, 839 {fig. 312), 947, 952, 1082, 1122, 1126, 1131,
1182, 1183, 1262, 1307, 1316, 1326, 1404, 1444, 1445, 1446, 1459, 1460, 1461, 1462,
1463, 1464, 1510, 1530, 1550, 1568, 1569, 1602, 1603, 1612, 1616, 1617, 1618, 1619,
1620, 1621, 1623, 1631, 1632, 1635, 1636, 1640, 1641, 1643, 1647, 1649, 1650, 1654,
1655 {fig. 322), 1656, 1656a, 1663, 1664, 1686, 1689, 1701, 1702, 1705, 1707, 1708.
As for the illustrations, attempts have been made to replace some of the least satisfactory
photographs by better ones but have been successful—through the good offices of Messrs.
E. Breitenbach, E. Hanfstaengl, C. H. Smyth, H. Swarzenski, and John Walker III, to all
of whom the writer wishes to express his gratitude—in only a limited number of cases. He
is, however, pleased to announce that his, the Princeton University Press's and the Meriden
Company's united efforts have finally succeeded in substituting, in fig. 68, the right picture
of Katharina Furlegerin for the wrong one.
 In the List of Illustrations the following abbreviations are used:
B.y followed by a numeral, and B. app., followed by a numeral
(B. 10 or B. app. 10), refers to the numbers in Adam Bartsch,
Le Peintre Graveur, Vienna, vol. VII, 1808, p. 30 ss. and p.
173 ss. respectively.
Z,., followed by a numeral (L. 10), refers to the numbers on the
plates in Friedrich Lippmann, Zeichnungen von Albrecht
Diirer in Nachbildungen, Berlin, 1883-1929 (vols. VI and
VII; F. Winkler, ed.).
M.y followed by a numeral (M. 10), refers to the numbers in
Joseph Meder, Diirer-Katalog, Ein Handbuch iiber Albrecht
Diirers Size he, Radierungen, Holzschnitte, deren Zustdnde,
Ausgaben und Wasserzeichen, Vienna, 1932.
Pass., followed by a numeral (Pass. 110), refers to the numbers
in J. D. Passavant, Le Peintre-Graveur, Leipzig, vol. Ill, 1862,
p. 156 ss. and p. 177 ss.
W., followed by a numeral (W. 10), refers to the numbers on
the plates in Friedrich Winkler, Die Zeichnungen Albrecht
Du'rers, Berlin, 1933 ss.
The numbers in parentheses refer to the Handlist as printed in
Albrecht Diirer, Princeton, 1943, 1945, 1948, Vol. II.
 List of Illustrations*

FRONTISPIECE. Diirer, Self-Portrait as Man of Sorrows, 1522, Bremen, Kunsthalle.

Drawing L. 131 (635), 408 by 290 mm.
1. Diirer, Self-Portrait of 1484, Vienna, Albertina. Drawing L. 448 (996),
275 by 196 mm.
2. Albrecht Diirer the Elder, Self-Portrait, Vienna, Albertina. Drawing L. 589
(1016), 284 by 212 mm.
3. "Younger Master of the Schotten Altarpiece," Martyrdom of St. Dymphna,
Present Location Unknown.
4. Master of the Augustiner Altarpiece, The Vision of St. Bernard, Nuremberg,
Germanisches National-Museum, 1487.
5. Hans Pleydenwurff, Detail from the Adoration of the Magi, Nuremberg,
Lorenzkirche.
6. Diirer, The Wire-Drawing Mill, probably 1489, Berlin, Kupferstichkabinett.
Drawing L. 4 (1367), 286 by 426 mm.
7. Diirer, The Cemetery of St. John's, probably 1489, Bremen, Kunsthalle.
Drawing L. 104 (1369), 290 by 423 mm.
8. Michael Wolgemut (Shop), "Portugalia," Woodcut from the "Nuremberg
Chronicle," published 1493.
9. Michael Wolgemut, Dance of the Dead. Woodcut from the "Nuremberg
Chronicle," published 1493.
10. Michael Wolgemut (Shop; Design by Diirer?), Circe and Odysseus. Woodcut
from the "Nuremberg Chronicle" (435, k, 3), published 1493.
11. St. Potentiana Giving Alms to the Poor. Woodcut from the "Lives of the
Saints," Nuremberg (Koberger), 1488.
12. The Second and Fourth Works of Cha'rity. Woodcut from "Bruder Claus"
(435, a, 2, 4), Nuremberg (Ayrer), 1488.
13. Diirer, Cavalcade, 1489, Bremen, Kunsthalle. Drawing L. 100 (1244), 201
by 309 mm.

* Because of the war some of the paintings and drawings here illustrated had to be reproduced
from fairly unsatisfactory photographs. The prints, however, could be reproduced, with very few excep-
tions, from the originals in the Alverthorpe Gallery at Jenkintown (Pennsylvania), the Metropolitan
Museum in New York, the Pierpont Morgan Library in New York, and the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston.
To these institutions and their staffs the writer wishes to express his sincere gratitude.
In order to correct the misleading impression produced by the changing scale of reduction the actual
measurements of Diirer's prints and drawings have been indicated in the customary fashion (height
preceding width).

xvii
XV111 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

14. The Housebook Master, The Three Living and the Three Dead. Dry Point.
15. Martin Schongauer, The Bearing of the Cross. Engraving.
16. The Housebook Master, The Bearing of the Cross. Dry Point.
17. Martin Schongauer, The Nativity. Engraving.
18. The Housebook Master, The Holy Family. Dry Point.
19. Martin Schongauer, Griffon. Engraving.
20. The Housebook Master, Dog Scratching Itself. Dry Point.
21. Martin Schongauer, Apprentices Romping. Engraving.
22. The Housebook Master, Children Romping. Dry Point.
23. Diirer, The Holy Family, probably 1491, Erlangen, Universitatsbibliothek.
Drawing L. 430 (723), 204 by 208 mm.
24. Diirer, The Holy Family, probably 1492/93, Berlin, Kupferstichkabinett.
Drawing L. 615 (725), 290 by 214 mm.
25. Diirer, Self-Portrait of about 1491, Erlangen, Universitatsbibliothek. Draw-
ing L. 429 (997), 204 by 208 mm.
26. Diirer, Self-Portrait of 1493, New York, Robert Lehman Coll. (formerly
Lemberg, Lubomirski Museum). Drawing L. 613 (998), 276 by 202 mm.
27. The Housebook Master, Death and Youth. Dry Point.
28. Diirer, Young Couple Taking a Walk, 1492/93, Hamburg, Kunsthalle.
Drawing L. 620 (1245), 258 by 191 mm.
29. Diirer, Frolickers Threatened by Death (called "The Pleasures of the
World"), probably 1493/94, Oxford, Ashmolean Museum. Drawing L. 644
(874), 211 by 330 mm.
30. Diirer, Self-Portrait of 1493, Paris, Louvre (48).
31. Diirer, Portrait of His Father, 1490, Florence, Uffizi (52).
32. Diirer, St. Jerome in His Study, 1492. Woodcut Pass. 246 (414), 165 by
115 mm. (here reproduced from a restrike, Metropolitan Museum, New
York).
33. Anonymous Basel Master, St. Ambrose in His Study, 1492. Woodcut M. 220
(438).
34. Diirer, Madonna in Half Length, probably 1494, Cologne, Wallraf-Richartz
Museum. Drawing L. 658 (653), 217 by 171 mm.
35. Nicolaus Gerhaert von Leyden, Epitaph of a Canon (Detail), 1464, Strass-
burg Cathedral.
36. Diirer, Portrait of Terence (Auto-Tracing), 1492, Basel, Oeffentliche Kunst-
sammlung. Uncut Woodblock (436, a, 1), 88 by 142 mm.
37. Diirer, Illustration of Terence, "Andria" (Auto-Tracing), 1492, Basel, Oef-
fentliche Kunstsammlung. Uncut Woodblock (436, a, 3), 86 by 142 mm.
38. Diirer, Destruction of Sodom and Gomorrha. Woodcut from "Ritter vom
Turn," Basel, 1493, fol. E3V (436, c, 17), 108 by 108 mm.
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS XIX

39. Diirer, The Death of the Hard-Hearted Lady. Woodcut from "Ritter vom
Turn," Basel, 1493, fol. B6 (436, c, 9), 108 by 108 mm.
40. Diirer, Fool Addressing Geese and Swine. Woodcut from Sebastian Brant,
"Das NarrenschyfT," Basel, 1494, fol. C3V (436, £), 117 by 86 mm.
41. Diirer, Fool Putting Out His Neighbor's Fire Instead of His Own. Woodcut
from Sebastian Brant, "Das Narrenschyff," Basel, 1494, fol. i8v (436, b),
117 by 86 mm.
42. Diirer, The Folly of Astrology. Woodcut from Sebastian Brant, "Das Narren-
schyff," Basel, 1494, fol. liv (436, £), 117 by 86 mm.
43. Diirer, Rustic Couple, about 1497. Engraving B. 83 (190), 109 by 77 mm.
44. Michael Wolgemut (Shop), Philosophy. Woodcut, Copied from the "Ta-
rocchi" Series.
45. Diirer, Nude Girl (probably a "Bathers' Attendant"), 1493, Bayonne,
Musee Bonnat. Drawing L. 345 (1177), 272 by 147 mm.
46. Diirer, Philosophy, 1494 o r H95> London, British Museum. Drawing L. 215
(977)5 Copied from the "Tarocchi" Series, 192 by 99 mm.
47. Diirer, Battle of Sea Gods, 1494, Vienna, Albertina. Drawing L. 455 (903),
292 by 382 mm.
48. Andrea Mantegna, Battle of Sea Gods. Engraving.
49. Diirer, The Death of Orpheus, 1494, Hamburg,#Kunsthalle. Drawing L. 159
(928), 289 by 225 mm.
50. Anonymous Ferrarese (?) Master, The Death of Orpheus. Engraving.
51. The Death of Orpheus. Woodcut from the "Moralized Ovid," Bruges (Colard
Mansion), 1484.
52. Andrea Mantegna, The Death of Orpheus. Vault Painting in Mantua,
Palazzo Ducale (Camera degli Sposi).
53. Diirer, Two Groups from a "Rape of the Sabine Women," 1495, Bayonne,
Musee Bonnat. Drawing L. 347 (931), 283 by 423 mm.
54. Antonio Pollaiuolo, "The Ten Nudes" (Titus Manlius Torquatus*?). En-
graving.
$$. Diirer, Various Sketches from Italian Models, about 1495, Florence, Uffizi.
Drawing L. 633 (1469), 370 by 255 mm.
56. Diirer, Nude Woman Seen from the Back, 1495, Paris, Louvre. Drawing L.
624 (1178), 320 by 210 mm.
57. Diirer, The Rape of Europa; Apollo; Alchemist; Three Lions' Heads, about
1495, Vienna, Albertina. Drawing L. 456 (909), 290 by 415 mm.
58. Diirer, Young Woman in Oriental Dress (probably a Circassian Slave Girl),
1494/95, Basel, Oeffentliche Kunstsammlung. Drawing L. 629 (1256), 273
by 197 mm.
XX
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

59. Diirer, Lady in Venetian Dress Contrasted with a Nuremberg "Hausfrau,"

probably 1495, Frankfort, Stadelsches Kunstinstitut. Drawing L. 187
(1280), 247 by 160 mm.
60. Diirer, Lobster, 1495, Berlin, Kupferstichkabinett. Drawing L. 622 (1332),
247 by 429 mm.
61. Diirer, Pass in the Alps, 1495, Escorial. Drawing W. 100 (1379), approx-
imately 205 by 295 mm.
62. Diirer, View of Nuremberg from the West, 1495-97, Bremen, Kunsthalle.
Drawing L. 103 (1385), 163 by 344 mm.
63. Diirer, Alpine Landscape ("Wehlsch Pirg"), probably 1495, Oxford, Ashmo-
lean Museum. Drawing L. 392 (1384), 210 by 312 mm.
64. Diirer, Madonna ("Dresden Altarpiece," Center), 1496/97, Dresden, Gemal-
degalerie (4). Wings (Sts. Anthony and Sebastian) added about 1503/04.
65. Diirer, Portrait of Frederick the Wise, probably 1496, Berlin, Deutsches
Museum (54).
66. Diirer, Portrait of His Father (Replica), 1497, London, National Gallery
(53).
67. Diirer, Portrait of Katharina (?) Fiirlegerin with Loose Hair (Copy), 1497,
Frankfort, Stadelsches Kunstinstitut (72).
68. Diirer, Portrait of Katharina (?) Fiirlegerin with Her Hair Done Up
(Copy), 1497, Liitzschena, Freiherr Speck von Stemburg Coll. (71).
69. Diirer, The Martyrdom of the Ten Thousand, about 1498. Woodcut B. 117
(337)> 387 by 285 mm.
70. Geertgen tot Sint Jans, The Legend of the Relics of St. John the Baptist,
Vienna, Gemaldegalerie.
71. Diirer, The Bath House ("Das Mannerbad"), probably 1496. Woodcut B.
128 (348), 391 by 280 mm.
72. Diirer, The Martyrdom of St. Catharine, about 1498/99. Woodcut B. 120
(340)»393 b y 283 m m -
73. The Seven Trumpets. Miniature from an East Flemish Manuscript of the
Early Fifteenth Century, Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale, MS Neerl. 3.
74. The Vision of the Seven Candlesticks. Woodcut from the Quentell-Koberger
Bible, Cologne, about 1479 and Nuremberg, 1483.
75. The Four Horsemen. Woodcut from the Griininger Bible, Strassburg, 1485.
76. Diirer, The Vision of the Seven Candlesticks (Apocalypse), probably 1498.
Woodcut B. 62 (282), 395 by 284 mm.
77. Diirer, St. John before God and the Elders (Apocalypse), probably about
1496. Woodcut B. 63 (283), 393 by 281 mm.
78. Diirer, The Four Horsemen (Apocalypse), probably 1497/98. Woodcut B. 64
(284), 394 by 281 mm.
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS XXI

79. Durer, The Four Angels Holding the Winds (Apocalypse), probably
1497/98. Woodcut B. 66 (286), 395 by 282 mm.
80. Diirer, The Seven Trumpets (Apocalypse), probably about 1496. Woodcut
B. 68 (288), 393 by 281 mm.
81. Diirer, St. Michael Fighting the Dragon (Apocalypse), probably 1497.
Woodcut B. 72 (292), 394 by 283 mm.
82. Detail from fig. 71 (original size).
83. Detail from fig. 72 (original size).
84. Detail from fig. 77 (original size).
85. Detail from fig. 76 (original size).
86. Detail from fig. 141 (original size).
87. Detail from fig. 179 (original size).
88. Diirer, "Ecce Homo" (Large Passion), 1498/99. Woodcut B. 9 (229), 391
by 282 mm.
89. Diirer, The Bearing of the Cross (Large Passion), 1498/99. Woodcut B. 10
(230), 389 by 281 mm.
90. Diirer, The Lamentation of Christ (Large Passion), 1498/99. Woodcut B.
13 (233), 387 by 275 mm.
91. Durer, The Lamentation of Christ, about 1500. Munich, Alte Pinakothek
(16).
92. Diirer, Holy Family, known as "The Virgin with the Dragonfly," probably
1495. Engraving B. 44 (151), 236 by 186 mm.
93. Diirer, Young Woman Attacked by Death (called "Der Gewalttatige"),
probably 1495. Engraving B. 92 (199), 114 by 102 mm.
94. Diirer, The Prodigal Son Amid the Swine, probably 1496. Engraving B. 28
(135), 248 by 190 mm.
95. Diirer, Bathing Women, 1496, Bremen, Kunsthalle. Drawing L. 101 (1180),
231 by 226 mm.
96. Durer, The Fall of Man, 1496/97, Paris, Ecole des Beaux-Arts (Masson
Coll.). Drawing L. 657 (457), 233 by 144 mm.
97. Diirer, "The Four Witches," 1497. Engraving B. 75 (182), 190 by 131 mm.
98. Durer, The Temptation of the Idler (called "The Dream of the Doctor"),
about 1497/98. Engraving B. 76 (183), 188 by 119 mm.
99. Diirer, Young Couple Threatened by Death (called "Der Spaziergang" ),
probably 1498. Engraving B. 94 (201), 192 by 120 mm.
100. Diirer, The Penance of St. John Chrysostom, about 1497. Engraving B, 63
(170), 180 by 119 mm.
101. Durer, "Sol Justitiae," 1498/99. Engraving B. 79 (186), 107 by 78 mm.
102. Diirer, The Virgin with the Monkey, about 1498. Engraving B. 42 (149),
191 by 123 mm.
XX11 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

103. Anonymous North Netherlandish Master, Allegory of Envy and Sloth, about
1490, Antwerp, Musee Royal.
104. "Sol," Capital from the Palace of the Doges in Venice.
105. The Prodigal Son Amid the Swine. Woodcut from "Speculum Humanae Sal-
vationis," Basel (Richel), 1476.
106. Jacopo deJ Barbari, "Cleopatra" (The Dream of Olympias?). Engraving.
107. Diirer, The Sea Monster, about 1498. Engraving B. 71 (178), 246 by 187
mm.
108. Diirer, Combat of Virtue and Pleasure in the Presence of Hercules ("Der
Hercules"), 1498/99. Engraving B. 73 (180), 318 by 223 mm.
109. Diirer, Self-Portrait of 1498, Madrid, Prado (49).
110. Diirer, Self-Portrait of 1500, Munich, Alte Pinakothek (50).
111. Diirer, The Nativity between Sts. George and Eustace (The Paumgartner
Altarpiece), 1502-04, Munich, Alte Pinakothek (5).
112. Diirer, Job, His Wife and Two Musicians (called "The Jabach Altarpiece"),
1503/04, Frankfort, Stadelsches Kunstinstitut and Cologne, Wallraf-Rich-
artz Museum (6).
113. Diirer, The Adoration of the Magi, 1504, Florence, Uffizi (11).
114. Diirer, St. Eustace, about 1501. Engraving B. 57 (164), 355 by 259 mm.
115. Diirer, Nemesis (called "Das Grosse Gliick"), 1501/02. Engraving B. 77
(184), 329 by 224 mm.
116. Diirer, The Nativity ("Weihnachten"), 1504. Engraving B. 2 (109), 185
by 120 mm.
117. Diirer, The Fall of Man ("Adam und Eva"), 1504. Engraving B. 1 (108),
252 by 194 mm.
118. Diirer, Aesculapius or, perhaps more probably, "Apollo Medicus" (Con-
structed), about 1501, Berlin, Kupferstichkabinett. Drawing L. 181 (1598),
325 by 205 mm.
119. Diirer, Apollo and Diana (the Apollo Constructed), 1501-03, London, Brit-
ish Museum. Drawing L. 233 (1599), 285 by 202 mm.
120. Workshop of Domenico Ghirlandaio, The Apollo Belvedere, Drawing in the
"Codex Escurialensis," Escorial.
121. Diirer, Centauress Nursing Her Young, 1504/05, Veste Coburg. Drawing L.
732 (904), 228 by 211 mm.
122. Diirer, Family of Centaurs, 1504/05, Basel, Dr. T. Christ Coll. Drawing L.
720 (905), 109 by 78 mm.
123. Diirer, Musical Satyr and Nymph with Baby ("The Centaur's Family"),
1505. Engraving B. 69 (176), 116 by 71 mm.
124. Diirer, Apollo and Diana, probably 1505. Engraving B. 68 (175), 116 by
73 mm.
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS XX111

125. Diirer, The Small Horse, 1505. Engraving B. 96 (203), 165 by 108 mm.
126. Diirer, The Large Horse, 1505. Engraving B. 97 (204), 167 by 119 mm.
127. Detail from fig. 92 (original size).
128. Detail from fig. 102 (original size).
129. Detail from fig. 97 (twice enlarged).
130. Detail from fig. 98 (twice enlarged).
131. Detail from fig. 108 (one and a half times enlarged).
132. Detail from fig. 117 (one and a half times enlarged).
133. Detail from fig. 107 (original size).
134. Detail from fig. 114 (original size).
135. Diirer, Madonna with a Multitude of Animals, about 1503, Vienna, Albertina.
Drawing L. 460 (658), 321 by 243 mm.
135a. Diirer, The Great Piece of Turf, 1503, Vienna, Albertina. Drawing L. 472
(1422), 410 by 315 mm.
136. Diirer, Portrait of a Smiling Woman, 1503, Bremen, Kunsthalle. Drawing L.
710 (1105), 308 by 210 mm.
137. Diirer, Parrot, 1502/03, Milan, Biblioteca Ambrosiana. Drawing L. 639
(1343), 192 by 214 mm.
138. Diirer, Horse in Profile (Study in Equine Proportions), 1503, Cologne,
Wallraf-Richartz Museum. Drawing L. 714 (1672), 215 by 260 mm.
139. Diirer, Portrait of Willibald Pirckheimer, 1503, Berlin, Kupferstichkabinett.
Drawing L. 376 (1037), 281 by 208 mm.
140. Diirer, Head of the Dead Christ, 1503, London, British Museum. Drawing L.
231 (621), 360 by 210 mm.
141. Diirer, Joachim and Ann Meeting at the Golden Gate (Life of the Virgin),
1504. Woodcut B. 79 (299), 298 by 210 mm.
142. Diirer, "Sojourn of the Holy Family in Egypt" (Life of the Virgin), probably
1501/02. Woodcut B. 90 (310), 295 by 210 mm.
143. Diirer, The Betrothal of the Virgin (Life of the Virgin), probably 1504/05.
Woodcut B. 82 (302), 293 by 208 mm.
144. Diirer, The Presentation of Christ (Life of the Virgin), probably 1505.
Woodcut B. 88 (308), 293 by 209 mm.
145. Diirer, The Flagellation of Christ, 1502 ( ?), Veste Coburg. Drawing L. 706
(573). 2 8 5 by 198 mm.
146. Diifer (Workshop), The Descent from the Cross (Green Passion), 1504,
Vienna, Albertina. Drawing L. 488 (532), 300 by 190 mm.
147. Diirer, Crowned Death on a Thin Horse, 1505, London, British Museum.
Drawing L. 91 (876), 210 by 266 mm.
148. Diirer, "The Feast of the Rose Garlands," 1506, Prague, Museum Rudolphi-
num [formerly Strahow Monastery] (38).
XXIV LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

149 and 150. Diirer, Details from the "Feast of the Rose Garlands," 1506, Prague,
State Gallery [formerly Strahow Monastery] (38).
151. Diirer, Portrait of an Architect, probably Master Hieronymus of Augsburg,
1506, Berlin, Kupferstichkabinett. Drawing L. 10 (738), 386 by 263 mm.
152. Diirer, The Pluviale of the Pope in the "Feast of the Rose Garlands,'' 1506,
Vienna, Albertina. Drawing L. 494 (759), 427 by 288 mm.
153. Diirer, The Hands of St. Dominic in the "Feast of the Rose Garlands," 1506,
Vienna, Albertina. Drawing W. 389 (747), 247 by 184 mm.
154. Diirer, The Virgin with the Siskin, 1506, Berlin, Deutsches Museum (27).
155. Diirer, Head of the Twelve Year Old Christ, 1506, Vienna, Albertina. Draw-
ing L. 499 (547), 275 by 211 mm.
156. Diirer, Christ Among the Doctors, 1506, Lugano, Thyssen Coll. [formerly
Rome, Palazzo Barberini ] (12).
157. The Brotherhood of the Rosary. German Woodcut of 1485.
158. Michele da Verona (?), The Madonna with the Little St. John, New York,
Metropolitan Museum.
159. Diirer, Portrait of a Milanese (?) Girl, 1505, Vienna, Gemaldegalerie (100).
160. Diirer, Portrait of a Young Woman (erroneously called "Agnes Diirer"),
1506/07, Berlin, Deutsches Museum (101).
161. Diirer, Eve (Constructed), 1506, Vienna, Albertina. Drawing W. 423 (464),
262 by 165 mm.
162. Diirer, Eve (Constructed), 1506, London, British Museum. Drawing L. 242
(468), 280 by 89 mm.
163. Diirer, Nude Woman Seen from the Back, 1506, Berlin, Kupferstichkabinett.
Drawing L. 138 (1188), 283 by 224 mm.
164 and 165. Diirer, The Fall of Man, 1507, Madrid, Prado (1).
166. Diirer, The Martyrdom of the Ten Thousand, 1508, Vienna, Gemaldegalerie
(47).
167. Anonymous Nuremberg Master, The Assumption and Coronation of the Virgin
(The Imhof Altarpiece of 1456), Breslau, Stadtisches Museum.
168. Diirer, The Assumption and Coronation of the Virgin (Copy by Jobst Harrich
after the Central Panel of the Heller Altarpiece of 1509), Frankfort, Stadtge-
schichtliches Museum (8).
169. Raphael, The Coronation of the Virgin, Rome, Pinacoteca Vaticana.
170. Diirer, Portrait of Matthaeus Landauer (see fig. 172), 1511, Frankfort,
Stadelsches Kunstinstitut. Drawing L. 75 (1027), 272 by 189 mm.
171. Diirer, Head of an Apostle in the Heller Altarpiece, 1508, Vienna, Albertina.
Drawing L. 508 (490), 317 by 212 mm.
172. Diirer, The Adoration of the Trinity (The Landauer Altarpiece), 1511,
Vienna, Gemaldegalerie (23).
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS XXV

173. The Adoration of the Trinity ( "The City of God" ), Metal Cut from ''Heures
a TUsaige de Rome," Paris (Pigouchet for Vostre), 1498.
174. Diirer, The Adoration of the Trinity, 1508, Chantilly, Musee Conde. Draw-
ing L. 334 (644), 391 by 263 mm.
175. Diirer (Designed by), Frame of the Adoration of the Trinity, 1511, Nurem-
berg, Germanisches National-Museum.
176. Diirer, The Emperors Charlemagne and Sigismund, 1510, formerly Lemberg,
Lubomirski Museum. Drawing L. 785 (1008), 177 by 206 mm.
177. Diirer, The Emperors Charlemagne and Sigismund, 1512/13, Nurem-
berg, Germanisches National-Museum (51 and 65).
178. Diirer, The Assumption and Coronation of the Virgin (Life of the Virgin),
1510. Woodcut B. 94 (314), 290 by 207 mm.
179. Diirer, The Harrowing of Hell (Large Passion), 1510. Woodcut B. 14 (234),
392 by 280 mm.
180. Diirer, St. John on Patmos (Apocalypse, Frontispiece), 1511 (the Lettering
already 1498). Woodcut B, 60 (280), 185 by 184 mm.
181. Diirer, The Virgin on the Crescent (Life of the Virgin, Frontispiece), 1511
(Proof Impression, Alverthorpe Gallery, Jenkintown, Pa.).* Woodcut B, 76
(296), 2O2 by 195 mm.
182. Diirer, The Man of Sorrows Mocked by a Soldier (Large Passion, Frontis-
piece), 1511 (Proof Impression of an undescribed State, Alverthorpe Gallery,
Jenkintown, Pa.).* Woodcut B. 4 (224), 198 by 195 mm.
183. Diirer, The Mass of St. Gregory, 1511. Woodcut B. 123 (343), 295 by 205
mm.
184. Diirer, The Adoration of the Magi, 1511. Woodcut B. 3 (223), 291 by 218
mm.
185. Diirer, The Trinity, 1511. Woodcut B. 122 (342), 392 by 284 mm.
186. Diirer, The Lamentation of Christ (Engraved Passion), 1507. Engraving B.
14 (121), H5by 71 mm.
187. Diirer, The Betrayal of Christ (Engraved Passion), 1508. Engraving B. 5
(112), 118 by 75 mm.
188. Diirer, Christ Before Pilate (Engraved Passion), 1512. Engraving B. 11
(118), 117 by 75 mm.
189. Diirer, The Bearing of the Cross (Engraved Passion), 1512. Engraving B. 12
(119), 117 by 74 mm.
190. Diirer, Christ Before Pilate (Small Passion), 1509-11. Woodcut B. 36
(256), 128 by 97 mm.

•Cf. footnote, p. 200.

XXVI LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

191. Diirer, The Bearing of the Cross (Small Passion), 1509. Woodcut B. 37
(257), 127 by 97 mm.
192. Diirer, The Nativity (Small Passion), 1509-11. Woodcut B. 20 (240), 127
by 98 mm.
193. Diirer, The Resurrection of Christ (Small Passion), 1509-11. Woodcut B.
45 (265), 127 by 98 mm.
194. Diirer, The Fall of Man (Small Passion), 1510-11. Woodcut B. 17 (237),
127 by 97 mm.
195. Diirer, The Fall of Man, 1510, Vienna, Albertina. Drawing L. 518 (459),
295 by 220 mm.
196. Diirer, The Crucifixion, 1508. Engraving B. 24 (131), 133 by 98 mm.
197. Mathis Neithardt Gothardt (called Matthias Griinewald), The Crucifixion,
Rotterdam, Boymans Museum (Koenigs Coll.).
198. Andrea Mantegna, The Deposition of Christ. Engraving.
199. Diirer, Portrait of Conrat Verkell (*?), 1508, London, British Museum.
Drawing L. 750 (1043), 295 by 216 mm.
200. Mathis Neithardt Gothardt (called Matthias Griinewald), Portrait of a Man.
Courtesy National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C. (Samuel H. Kress
Coll.)
201. Diirer, The Holy Family, probably 1512. Dry Point B. 43 (150), 210 by
182 mm.
202. Diirer, St. Jerome by a Pollard Willow, 1512. Dry Point B. 59 (166), 211
by 183 mm.
203. Detail from fig. 202 (about one and a half times enlarged).
204. Detail from fig. 208 (about one and a half times enlarged).
205. Detail from fig. 208 (about one and a half times enlarged).
206. Detail from fig. 243 (about one and a half times enlarged).
207. Diirer, Knight, Death and Devil, 1513. Engraving B. 98 (205), 246 by 190
mm.
208. Diirer, St. Jerome in His Cell, 1514. Engraving B. 60 (167), 247 by 188 mm.
209. Diirer, "Melencolia I," 1514 (First State, Alverthorpe Gallery, Jenkintown,
Pa.). Engraving B. 74 (181), 239 by 168 mm.
210. "Acedia." Detail from a Franconian Woodcut of about 1490.
211. The Melancholic (lower left) and Other Patients. Miniature (illustrating
the Treatment by Cauterization) from an Italian Manuscript of the Thir-
teenth Century, Erfurt, Stadtbibliothek, Cod. Amplonianus Q. 185.
212. The Melancholies. Woodcut from the First German Calendar, Augsburg
(Blaubirer), 1481.
213. The Children of Saturn (with Two Melancholies in the Upper Corners).
Miniature from a German Manuscript of the Third Quarter of the Fifteenth
Century, Erfurt, Stadtisches Museum.
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS XXV11

214. The Four Humors. German Woodcut of the Third Quarter of the Fifteenth
Century.
215. Diirer, Allegory of Philosophy, 1502. Woodcut B. 130 (350), 217 by 147 mm.
216. "Luxuria." Relief at Amiens Cathedral (about 1225).
217. The Sanguines. Woodcut from the First German Calendar, Augsburg (Blau-
birer), 1481.
218. "Art." Detail from a Miniature in a French Manuscript of about 1376, The
Hague, Museum Meermanno-Westreenianum, MS 10.D.1.
219. "Typus Geometriae." Woodcut from Gregorius Reisch, "Margarita Philo-
sophica," Strassburg (Griininger), 1504.
220. Saturn with a Compass. Detail from a German Miniature of the Last Third
of the Fifteenth Century, Tubingen, Universitatsbibliothek, Cod. M.d.2.
221. Jacob de Gheyn, Saturn with a Compass as Representative of the Melancholy
Humor. Engraving.
222. Diirer, Portrait of His Mother, 1514, Berlin, Kupferstichkabinett. Drawing
L. 40 (1052), 421 by 303 mm.
223. Diirer, The Rest on the Flight into Egypt, 1511, Berlin, Kupferstichkabinett.
Drawing L. 443 (517), 277 by 207 mm.
224. Diirer, The Holy Family in a Trellis, 1512, New York, Robert Lehman Coll.
(formerly Lemberg, Lubomirski Museum). Drawing L. 787 (730), 267 by
199 mm.
225. Diirer (and Others), The Triumphal Arch of Maximilian I, 1515. Woodcut
B. 138 (358), about 305 by 285 cm. (as reproduced here, after the reprint by
A. Bartsch, without the inscriptions at the bottom).
226. Detail from fig. 225.
227. Hieroglyphic Allegory of Maximilian I (Copy after Diirer's Design for the
Aedicula Crowning the "Triumphal Arch"), about 1513, Vienna, National-
bibliothek, Cod. 3255. Drawing (946).
228. Detail from fig. 225.
229. Diirer, Portrait of Maximilian I, 1519. Woodcut B. 154 (368), 414 by
319 mm.
230. Lucas van Leyden, Portrait of Maximilian I, 1520. Etching (the face en-
graved with the burin).
231. Diirer, First Project for the "Great Triumphal Car" of Maximilian I (Sec-
tion), 1512/13, Vienna, Albertina. Drawing L. 528 (950), over-all dimen-
sions 162 by 460 mm.
232. Diirer, First Section of the "Small Triumphal Car" of Maximilian I (called
"The Burgundian Marriage"), 1518/19. Woodcut M. 253 (429), 380 by
424 mm.
233. Diirer, The Virgin as Queen of the Angels (called "Maria im Rosenhaag"),
1518. Woodcut B. 101 (321), 301 by 212 mm.
XXV111 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

2
34"237- Durer, Four Pages from the Prayer-Book of Maximilian I, 1515, Munich,
Staatsbibliothek. Drawings T. 634 (965), fols. 25V, 46, 39V, 50, each 280
by 193 mm.
238. Diirer, Detail from fol. 53V of the Prayer-Book of Maximilian I.
239. Diirer, Detail from the Triumphal Arch of Maximilian I.
240. Page from Boccaccio, "De Claris Mulieribus," Ulm (J. Zainer), 1473.
241. Page from Euclid, "Elementa," Venice (Zamberti), 1510 (the initial, the title
lines and the paragraph signs printed in red).
242. Diirer, "The Desperate Man," probably 1514/15. Etching B. 70 (177),
191 by 139 mm.
243. Diirer, The Abduction of Proserpine, 1516. Etching B. 72 (179), 308 by 213
mm.
244. Diirer, The Agony in the Garden, 1515. Etching B. 19 (126), 221 by 156 mm.
245. Diirer, The Sudarium, 1516. Etching B. 26 (133), 185 by 134 mm.
246. Diirer, The Wire-Drawing Mill, probably 1515/18, Bayonne, Musee Bonnat.
Drawing L. 349 (1405), 151 by 228 mm.
247. Diirer, St. Anthony, 1519. EngravingB. 58 (165), 98 by 141 mm.
248. Diirer, Portrait of Cardinal Albrecht of Brandenburg (called "The Small Car-
dinal"), 1519. Engraving B. 102 (209), 148 by 97 mm.
249. Diirer, The Virgin Crowned by Two Angels, 1518. Engraving B. 39 (146),
148 by 100 mm.
250. Diirer, The Virgin Nursing, 1519. Engraving B. 36 (143), 115 by 73 mm.
251. Diirer, The Virgin with the Swaddled Infant, 1520. Engraving B. 38 (145),
144 by 97 mm.
252. Diirer, St. Jerome, Lisbon, 1521, National Museum (41).
253. Diirer, Head of a Woman, about 1520, Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale (102).
254. Diirer, Head of a Woman, 1520, London, British Museum. Drawing L. 270
(1164), 326 by 226 mm.
255. Diirer, St. Jerome in His Cell, probably about 1520, Berlin, Kupferstich-
kabinett. Drawing L. 175 (816), 202 by 125 mm.
256. Diirer, Turkish Woman (from the Pen and Ink Sketch-Book), about 1520,
Milan, Biblioteca Ambrosiana. Drawing L. 857 (1257), 181 by 107 mm.
257. Diirer, Captain Felix Hungersperg (from the Pen and Ink Sketch-Book),
1520, Vienna, Albertina. Drawing L. 561 (1025), 160 by 105 mm.
258. Diirer, Portrait of a Lady of Brussels (from the Pen and Ink Sketch-Book),
1520, Vienna, Albertina. Drawing L, 564 (1112), 160 by 105 mm.
259. Diirer, Portrait of Bernhart von Resten (or Breslen?), 1521, Dresden,
Gemaldegalerie (64).
260. Diirer, Portrait of a Gentleman, 1524, Madrid, Prado (85).
 XX1X
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

261. Diirer, Portrait of a Young M a n , 1520, Berlin, Kupferstichkabinett. D r a w -

ing L . 5 3 ( 1 0 7 1 ) , 3 6 5 by 2 5 8 mm.
262. Diirer, Portrait of H i s Wife, 1521, Berlin, Kupferstichkabinett. Drawing L.
6 4 ( 1 0 5 0 ) , 4 0 7 by 271 mm.
263. Diirer, Portrait of Caspar S t u r m ; a River Landscape (from the Silver Point
Sketch-Book), 1520, Chantilly, Musee Conde. Drawing L. 340 ( 1 4 8 4 ) , 127
by 189 mm.
264. Diirer, Big D o g in Repose (from the Silver Point Sketch-Book), 1520,
London, British Museum. D r a w i n g L . 286 ( i 4 8 6 ) , 123 by 175 mm.
265. Diirer, T w o Female Figures, T h a t on the Left after the Statuette of a Bur-
gundian Princess (from the Silver Point Sketch-Book), 1520 or 1521, London,
British Museum. Drawing L. 285 ( 1 4 8 7 ) , 123 by 175 mm.
266. Diirer, W o m a n of Bergen-op-Zoom and Young W o m a n of T e r Goes (from
the Silver Point Sketch-Book), 1520, Chantilly, Musee Conde. Drawing
L . 341 ( 1 4 9 3 ) , 129 by 190 mm.
267. Diirer, T h e Choir of the "Groote Kerk" at Bergen-op-Zoom (from the Silver
P o i n t Sketch-Book), 1520, Frankfort, Stadelsches Kunstinstitut. Drawing L.
8 5 3 ( 1 4 9 4 ) , 132 by 182 mm.
268. Diirer, Lion in T w o Positions (from the Silver Point Sketch-Book), 1521,
Berlin, Kupferstichkabinett. D r a w i n g L. 6 0 ( 1 4 9 7 ) , 122 by 171 mm.
269. Diirer, Portrait of H i s W i f e and a Girl in Cologne Headgear (from the Silver
Point Sketch-Book), 1521, Vienna, Albertina. D r a w i n g L. 4 2 4 ( 1 4 9 9 ) , 129
by 190 mm.
270. Diirer, T a b l e with Pitcher; T w o Pitchers; Sketch of a Horse (from the Silver
P o i n t Sketch-Book), 1520 or 1521, London, British Museum. D r a w i n g L.
%55 (l5°5)i ll5ty 167 mm.
271. Diirer, Antwerp Harbor, 1520, Vienna, Albertina. Drawing L. 566 (1408),
213 by 283 mm.
272. Diirer, Head of a Walrus, 1521, London, British Museum. Drawing L. 290
(1365), 206 by 315 mm.
273. Diirer, The Agony in the Garden, 1521, Frankfort, Stadelsches Kunstinstitut.
Drawing L. 199 (562), 208 by 294 mm.
274. Diirer, The Adoration of the Magi, 1524, Vienna, Albertina. Drawing L.
584 (513)» 2 1 5 b y 294 m m -
275. Diirer, The Bearing of the Cross, 1520, Florence, Uffizi. Drawing L. 842
(579), 210 by 285 mm.
276. Diirer, The Deposition of Christ, 1521, Nuremberg, Germanisches National-
Museum. Drawing L. 86 (612), 210 by 289 mm.
277. Diirer, The Last Supper, probably 1523, Vienna, Albertina. Drawing L. 579
(554), 227 by 329 mm.
XXX LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

278. Diirer, The Last Supper, 1523. Woodcut B. 53 (273), 213 by 301 mm.
279. Diirer, Crucifixion, 1521, Vienna, Albertina. Drawing L. 574 (588), 323
by 223 mm.
280. Diirer, "The Great Crucifixion," 1523. Unfinished Engraving Pass. 109
(216), being the Second Plate of the Engraving M. 25 (218), 320 by 225 mm.
281. Diirer, Christ on the Cross, 1523, Paris, Louvre. Drawing L. 328 (534),
413 by 300 mm.
282. Diirer, The Magdalen Embracing the Cross, 1523, Paris, Louvre. Drawing
L
- 383 (536)> 2 95 b y 206 mm.
283. Diirer, St. John Under the Cross, 1523, Vienna, Albertina. Drawing L. 582
(538), 419 by 300 mm.
284. Diirer, The Virgin Mary and Two Holy Women Under the Cross, 1521, Paris,
Madame Tuffier Coll. [formerly Paris, Defer-Dumesnil Coll.]. Drawing L.
381 (535)>4 2 4 b y3 1 °mm.
285. Diirer, Madonna with Fifteen Saints, Musical Angels and Donatrix, 1521,
Paris, Louvre. Drawing L. 324 (762), 312 by 445 mm.
286. Diirer, Madonna with Ten Saints, Musical Angels and Donatrix, 1521, Bay-
onne, Musee Bonnat. Drawing L. 364 (763), 315 by 444 mm.
287. Diirer, Madonna with Eight Saints and Musical Angels, 1522, Bayonne,
Musee Bonnat. Drawing L. 363 (764), 402 by 308 mm.
288. Diirer, Madonna with Eight Saints and Musical Angels, 1522, Bayonne,
Musee Bonnat. Drawing L. 362 (765), 262 by 228 mm. (cut down on top).
289. Diirer, St. Barbara, 1521, Paris, Louvre. Drawing L. 326 (769), 417 by
286 mm.
290. Diirer, St. Simon, 1523. Engraving B. 49 (156), 118 by 75 mm.
291. Diirer, St. Philip, 1523 (released 1526). Engraving B. 46 (153), 122 by
76 mm.
292. Diirer, St. John the Evangelist (see fig. 294), 1525, Bayonne, Musee Bonnat.
Drawing L. 368 (826), 405 by 253 mm.
293. Diirer, St. Philip, 1523, Vienna, Albertina. Drawing L. 580 (843), 318 by
213 mm.
294 and 295. Diirer, Sts. John the Evangelist, Peter, Mark and Paul (called "The
Four Apostles"), 1526. Munich, Alte Pinakothek (43).
296. The "Four Apostles3' with Sts. Peter and Mark eliminated and the Hands and
Attributes of St. Paul reconstructed according to figs. 291 and 293.
297. Giovanni Bellini, Four Saints (Wings of a Triptych), Venice, Frari Church.
298. Superimposition of the Head of St. Philip (fig. 293) upon the Head of St.
Paul (fig. 295), accounting for the "Pentimenti" in the latter.
299. Quentin Massys, Portrait of a Man, 1513, Paris, Musee Jacquemart-Andre.
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS XXXI

300. Diirer, Portrait of Cardinal Albrecht of Brandenburg (called "The Large

Cardinal"), 1523. Engraving B. 103 (210), 174 by 127 mm.
301. Diirer, Portrait of Ulrich Varnbiiler, 1522. Woodcut B. 155 (369), 430 by
323 mm.
302. Diirer, Portrait of Frederick the Wise, 1524. Engraving B. 104 (211), 193
by 127 mm.
303. Diirer, Portrait of Willibald Pirckheimer, 1524. Engraving B. 106 (213),
181 by 115 mm.
304. Diirer, Portrait of Ulrich Starck, 1527, London, British Museum. Drawing L.
296 (1041), 410 by 296 mm.
305. Diirer, Portrait of Erasmus of Rotterdam, 1526. Engraving B. 107 (214),
249 by 193 mm.
306. Diirer, Portrait of Hieronymus Holzschuher, 1526, Berlin, Deutsches Mu-
seum (57).
307. Diirer, Portrait of Jacob MufTel, 1526, Berlin, Deutsches Museum (62).
308. Diirer, The Virgin with the Pear, 1526, Florence, Uffizi (31).
309. Diirer, Portrait of Johannes Kleberger, 1526, Vienna, Gemaldegalerie (58).
310. Diirer, Draftsman Drawing a Portrait, 1525. Woodcut B. 146 (361), 131
by 149 mm.
311. Diirer, Draftsman Drawing a Lute, 1525. Woodcut B. 147 (362), 131
by 183 mm.
312. Diirer, Two Heads Divided into Facets and St. Peter, 1519, Dresden, Sachs-
ische Landesbibliothek. Drawing T. 732 (839), 115 by 190 mm.
313. Diirer, Three Heads, 1519/20, London, British Museum. Detail from the
drawing L. 276 (1653), over-all dimensions 173 by 140 mm.
314. Diirer, Monument Celebrating a Victory over The Peasants. Woodcut from
the "Underweysung der Messung . . . ," Nuremberg, 1525.
315. Leonardo da Vinci, Designs for Fountains. Windsor Castle, Royal Library.
316. Diirer, Nude Woman (Construction), about 1500, Berlin, Kupferstichkab-
inett. Drawing L. 38 (1633), 307 by 208 mm.
317. Diirer, Nude Woman in Profile (Study in Human Proportions), 1507 (cor-
rected 1509), Dresden, Sachsische Landesbibliothek. Drawing (1641), 295
by 203 mm.
318. Diirer, Nude Man in Front View and Profile (Auto-Tracing, Study for the
First Book of the "Vier Biicher von Menschlicher Proportion), about 1523,
Cambridge, Mass., Fogg Museum of Art. Drawing (1624 a), 286 by 178 mm.
319. Diirer, Nude Man in Front View and Profile, Distorted by Projection on a
Circular Curve. Woodcut from the Third Book of the "Vier Biicher von Men-
schlicher Proportion" (here reproduced from the Latin Edition, 2nd volume,
Nuremberg, 1534).
XXX11 LIST O F ILLUSTRATIONS

320. Diirer, Four Caricatured Profiles, 1513, formerly Paris, Defer-Dumesnil Coll.
Drawing L. 378 (1124), 21 o by 200 mm.
321. Diirer, Four Caricatured Profiles. Woodcut from the Third Book of the "Vier
Biicher von Menschlicher Proportion," Nuremberg, 1528.
322. Diirer, Man in Movement, Composed of Stereometrical Solids, with Cross-
Sections at Ten Levels, probably 1519. Dresden, Sachsische Landesbibliothek.
Drawing (1655), 292 by 200 mm.
323. Milanese Master of about 1570 (Aurelio Luini4?), Geometrical Schematiza-
tion of Human Movement. Drawing from "Codex Huygens" (New York,
Pierpont Morgan Library, M.A. 1139).
324. Diirer, Geometrical Schematization of Human Movement. Woodcut from the
Fourth Book of the "Vier Biicher von Menschlicher Proportion," Nuremberg,
1528.
325. Diirer, Horse-Tamer, 1525, Bayonne, Musee Bonnat. Drawing L. 366
(1174), 238 by 205 mm.
 Introduction to the
Princeton Classic Edition
by Jeffrey Chipps Smith

E
RWIN PANOFSKY (1892-1968) was the most influential art historian of the twentieth
century. His writings, especially his more controversial texts on iconography and
iconology, continue to be debated actively today. 1 Innumerable symposia, sessions at
professional conferences, and publications have been devoted to his ideas and his legacy. In
their quest to understand and reassess Panofsky's methodologies, scholars have often over-
looked his fascination with Albrecht Diirer (1471-1528). His early career was built upon
his creative, decades-long engagement with the great Nuremberg master. Panofsky's re-
search culminated in The Life and Art of Albrecht Diirer, a truly classic text for the history
of art and, indeed, for the study of Renaissance culture, which was published in two vol-
umes by Princeton University Press in 1943.
Panofsky wrote a comprehensive intellectual history of Diirer, an investigation quite
unlike the prevailing literature on the artist, which stressed style or biography. This helps
to explain the book's enduring appeal and remarkable authority. The first edition sold out
within two months. A second edition, appearing in 1945, disappeared almost as quickly.
Within months of the printing of the third edition in 1948, Panofsky and the Press initiated
discussions about releasing a one-volume version without the lengthy Handlist of Works. 2
This fourth edition has been available ever since 1955. The one-volume edition has been
translated into Italian (1967), German (1977), Spanish (1982), Japanese (1984), and French
(1987).3 Princeton's first paperback edition appeared in 1971 to coincide with the DMrer-
Jahr, the international celebration of the five-hundredth anniversary of the artist's birth.
The present edition of The Life and Art of Albrecht Durer is prompted by a different
anniversary: the centenary of Princeton University Press, an appropriate occasion for reflect-
ing upon Panofsky, the circumstances surrounding the creation of his masterful monograph,
its contents, and, briefly, the early critical reception.

PANOFSKY ON D U R E R IN GERMANY

In his obituary of Panofsky, Ernst Gombrich remarks, "As happens so frequently the choice
of his first research subject determined his whole future life as a scholar."5 Diirer preoccu-

This introduction is dedicated to my friends Charles Taibot and Jane Campbell Hutchison, whose
writings have taught me to look carefully at Diirer and his art. I wish to thank Larry Silver, Charles
Taibot, Christopher S. Wood, and Lisa Kirch, my ever-resourceful research assistant, for their com-
ments on an earlier draft of this essay. I have benefited too from the assistance of Matthias Mende
and Corine Schleif. The Kimbell Art Foundation has generously supported my research.

xxxiii
x:x:xiv INTRODUCTION TO THE PRINCETON CLASSIC EDITION

pied Panofsky throughout his career. He was a deep well from which the scholar drew
repeatedly to nourish his own maturing ideas and theories. Panofsky's initial interest in the
Nuremberg artist began by chance and continued by choice. In 19 l l the philosophical
faculty of the Friedrich-Wilhelms-Universitat in Berlin announced the Hermann Grimm-
Preis.6 Competitors had two years to complete an essay on the topic "Die theoretische
Kunstlehre Albrecht Diirer (Diirers Asthetik)" ("The Theoretical Teaching of Art of Al-
brecht Dtirer [Dtirer's Aesthetics]"). Heinrich Wolfflin, professor at the university from
1901 to 1912 and author of an influential 1905 monograph on Dtirer, selected the subject. 7
Dtirer, of course, was the most famous and the most written-about German artist. Adolph
Goldschmidt, professor of art history, and Gustav Roethe, professor of German, selected
Panofsky's essay, submitted on May 16, 1913, over those of his competitors.
In the following year Panofsky's text was accepted and published as his doctoral dis-
sertation at the University in Freiburg im Breisgau under the direction of Wilhelm Voge.
Panofsky quickly expanded his manuscript and included illustrations in its more elaborate
publication as Dilrers Kunsttheorie (Dilrer's Art Theory; Berlin, 19 l 5 ). He argues for the
Nuremberg master's fascination with Italian ideas about perspective, anatomy, proportions,
and beauty. Diirer then sought to integrate knowledge practically in his own theoretical
treatises. Panofsky challenges the prevailing definition of art theory, which then meant more
what today would be defined as aesthetics. He suggests that Diirer had a dual understanding
of the term. First, there are practical teachings or theories for making art. This involves
understanding objective reality or the "correctness" ("Richtigkeit") of how things are. Prac-
tical methods, such as one-point perspective, permit the rendering of three-dimensional ob-
jects in two-dimensional media. He was intrigued by the problem of depicting moving hu-
man bodies and by issues of physiognomy and proportions. Dtirer felt all true artists must
master this sort of foundational knowledge. Second, there are theoretical teachings or theo-
ries about art. Here Dtirer grappled with the problem of beauty as his ideas evolved from
the search for ideal beauty to a conditional beauty, one that acknowledged the subjective
nature of the concept. Panofsky observes that Dtirer's criteria for beauty included the con-
cepts of "pleasingness" ("Wohlgefalligkeit"), though this became less important in later
years; "averageness" or the avoidance of extremes; and harmony. When Wolfflin first pro-
posed the competition topic, he had Leonardo's influence on Dtirer in mind. Panofsky,
however, demonstrates the complexities of Dtirer's borrowings from Italian art and the
evolution of his own theoretical positions. Although not the first scholar to question Wolff-
lin and his formalist approach, Panofsky was unusually young to author so thorough a
rebuttal. In spite of his differences with Wolfflin, the men exchanged letters and Panofsky
8
wrote an appreciation of the older scholar on the occasion of his sixtieth birthday in 1924.
Upon graduation, Panofsky returned from Freiburg to Berlin to study with Gold-
schmidt. It was in Goldschmidt's seminars that he met fellow student Dora (Dorothea)
Mosse, whom he married in 1916. His mentor introduced him to several scholars who
would profoundly affect his subsequent career. The most momentous engagement occurred
 INTRODUCTION TO THE PRINCETON CLASSIC EDITION XXXV

when Aby Warburg invited Goldschmidt and several of his students, including Panofsky, to
his house in Hamburg for a small colloquium in late December 1915/ Joining them were
Gustav Pauli, director of the Hamburg Kunsthalle, and the Austrian art historian Fritz Saxl,
Warburg's assistant. Using Wolfflin's recently published Kunstgeschichtliche Grundbegriffe
{Principles of Art History) as its starting point, the group debated the topic of the "Nach-
leben der Antike" (the afterlife or survival of the Antique). Their common interest in how
ideas, clothed in particular iconographic forms, moved through time challenged Wolfflin's
views about the psychology of forms and the stylistic commonalities of any particular pe-
riod. The subject fascinated Panofsky, who developed his thoughts on classical borrowings
in his Durers Stellung zur Antike {Diirer's Attitude on the Antique), a slender book pub-
lished in Vienna in 1922.
Panofsky's contact with Pauli proved invaluable. In 1919 Pauli favorably reviewed Pa-
nofsky's earlier DUrers Kunsttheorie.11 Impressed by the book and by his personal meetings
with the young art historian, Pauli invited Panofsky to apply for the newly created position
in art history at the University of Hamburg. For his trial lecture, Panofsky spoke on the
development of the teaching of proportion in the Renaissance, a subject drawn from his
dissertation. Hired as a Privatdozent (assistant professor), he devoted several of his earliest
courses to Diirer, using the collections of Pauli's Kunsthalle.12
Diirer remained Panofsky's primary research focus during the succeeding years. His
Hamburg trial lecture was published in 1921 as "Die Entwicklung der Proportionslehre
als Abbild der Stilentwicklung" ("The Development of the Teaching on Proportion as an
Illustration of Stylistic Development"). This was quickly followed by Diirers Stellung zur
Antike (1922) and, with Fritz Saxl as coauthor, Durers 'Melencolia F, eine quellen- und
typengeschichtliche Untersuchung (1923).14 Diirer's Melencolia I engraving of 1514 fasci-
nated Panofsky for decades as he and Saxl, together and independently, grappled with the
iconographic complexities of this engraving.15 He devoted more thought to this image than
to any work by any other artist. Diirer played a role in Idea: Ein Beitrag zur Begriffs-
geschichte der dlteren Kunsttheorie (1924), published, like Durers Melencolia I, under the
auspices of the Warburg Library.16 Panofsky's differences of opinion with Hans Kauffmann,
who in 1924 published Albrecht Durers rhythmische Kunst, resulted in an exchange of
personal letters and in a lengthy review essay of 1926. Panofsky next explored Diirer's
iconographic choices in Hercules am Scheidewege und andere antike Bildstoffe in der
neueren Kunst {Hercules at the Crossroads, 1930) and "Zwei Diirerprobleme" (193 i). 18 By
1930, Panofsky was recognized as one of Europe's foremost experts on Diirer.

PANOFSKY ON D U R E R IN A M E R I C A

Diirer, as "the" international German artist, proved a popular topic in America as well. In
fall 193 1 Panofsky, a visiting professor at New York University, presented a lecture course
entitled "Albrecht Diirer as Artist and Thinker" to graduate students and the public.19 Writ-
xxxvi INTRODUCTION TO THE PRINCETON CLASSIC EDITION

ing to Dora back in Hamburg, he complained about composing a thirty- to fifty-page manu-
script for each weekly Dtirer lecture. Fortunately, he shared his burden with Margaret Barr,
the wife of Alfred H. Barr, Jr., the founding director of the Museum of Modern Art in New
York. She edited his texts and helped with his English translations. Panofsky's warm friend-
ship with the Barrs proved critical to his career over the next several years. He also received
the encouragement of friends, such as Fritz Saxl in Hamburg, who wrote in midsemester to
remind Panofsky how his fate was intertwined with Dtirer. "And I am entirely certain that
the Dtirer lectures will have a great success for your work. Dtirer is indeed a part of your
20
life. Curious, how strongly these youthful things keep working in you. "
Panofsky's lectures on Dtirer led to various speaking invitations from other American
21
institutions and individuals. Although sometimes weary of Dtirer, he recognized the Nur-
emberg artist as a compelling means for discussing iconographic method and the work of
the Warburg Library in Hamburg. Not everyone, including Charles Rufus Morey of
Princeton University, initially appreciated Panofsky's stress on meaning rather than purely
formal and stylistic issues.22
Panofsky's original plan for publishing his New York Dtirer lectures failed due to lack
23
of funding. A few months later, back in Hamburg, he wrote Margaret Barr, "As for the
Dtirer-manuscript which still encumbers your apartment, [Charles Rufus] Morey wrote me
that the Princeton press cannot consider the publication unless it would be so remodeled as
to become a small book which has a chance to sell. So I answered that I prefer to renounce
the whole thing because I do not want to charge you with the burden of writing a new
book on the basis of our common longwinded elaborations, and I have neither the time nor
the patience to do it." 24 Although Panofsky shelved the project, these lectures formed the
foundation for his 1943 monograph.
Before then, however, Dtirer came to Panofsky's assistance when the scholar's own
world was thrown upside down. Panofsky was once again a visiting professor at New York
University in the spring semester of 1933· On April 7 the Nazis enacted a new law banning
the employment of Jews at all German universities. Soon afterward Panofsky received a
telegram from Hamburg announcing his dismissal. 25 Coincidentally, yet perhaps ironically
prophetic of the resurrection of his career in America, the message on the exterior of the
26
Western Union telegram read, "Cordial Easter Greetings, Western Union." As Panofsky
sought employment again in the United States, friends like Walter W. S. Cook of New York
University used his expertise on Dtirer in their quests to obtain temporary funding and a
secure position for him. 27 Cook called him "the greatest living authority on Dtirer." Har-
vard University was among the suitors for Panofsky's services. In preparation for making a
permanent appointment offer, Paul Sachs solicited the opinions of several noted scholars.
Typical were the comments of Paul Clemen of the University of Bonn, whose reply stressed
Panofsky's special qualities as an art historian, especially his knowledge of Dtirer's art the-
ory, Dtirer's interest in classical antiquity, and Dtirer's Melencolia I. The effort proved
28

successful, and in October 1935 Panofsky joined the newly created School of Historical
 INTRODUCTION TO THE PRINCETON CLASSIC EDITION xxxvii

Studies at the Institute of Advanced Studies in Princeton, which he later described as his
"expulsion into Paradise. " 29
From late 1933 onward, Panofsky published only in English. This was an intentional
linguistic break with the country that had expelled him. His Hamburg pupil William Heck-
scher would later remark, "Panofsky acknowledged the momentous impact that the English
language had had on the very foundations of his thinking and on his manner of presenting
ideas in a lucid and organic, euphonious as well as logical way-so very different from the
'woolen curtain' that so many Continental scholars, above all Germans and Dutch, inter-
30
posed between themselves and their readers. " His wit and his insights quickly gained him
new readers among scholars and the broader public.

DDRER AT NORTHWESTERN UNIVERSITY (1938)

On August 12, 1938, Theodore W. Koch invited Panofsky to deliver the Norman Wait
Harris Lectures at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois. 31 Rensselaer Lee, then a
Northwestern faculty member, first proposed Dtirer as the topic. When requesting permis-
sion from Abraham Flexner, director of the Institute of Advanced Studies, to accept this
invitation, Panofsky noted that he was thinking of publishing his old Dtirer lectures anyway,
and "there is no English book on Dtirer since the rather outdated one by [Thomas] Sturge
32
Moore." On September 15, 1938, Panofsky wrote Koch offering to contribute photo-
graphs to an accompanying Dtirer exhibition and suggesting the purchase of books on the
artist's drawings by Friedrich Lippmann, Friedrich Winkler, and Wolfflin. "That I do not
list my own immortal works is due to the fact that these are entirely out of print and that
the second edition of my and Dr. Saxl's book on the 'Melencolia I' has not come out yet." 33
Panofsky gave six public lectures, bearing the same titles as his 1931 New York series,
on November 29-30 and December l, 6, 7, and 8, 1938. The printed program for the
series provided a brief biography of Panofsky; a note that his talks would follow "two
34
particular lines of endeavor," subject and art theory; and a synopsis of each lecture. The
titles and descriptions of each lecture were replicated with few changes in his 1943 book.
Koch informed Abraham Flexner that the lectures had been successful and that Panofsky's
"selection of Albrecht Dtirer for a topic was a happy one. It was a great boon to our Art
Department to have the lectures this year come within their own field. Professor Panofsky
35
is such an excellent lecturer that the audiences kept up throughout the series." On that
same day, Panofsky remarked to Margaret Barr, " ... the Dtirer lectures came off quite
well. It was a hard job to boil down our enormous typoscript of 193 l of cherished memory
to 6 lectures, but the result seems to have pleased the inhabitants and might make quite a
nice little book if a publisher wants to print it. " 36
He informed Wolfgang Stechow on December 29, 1938, that he had no plans to publish
the book and would not "lift a finger" unless a publisher came to him. Yet by fall 1939
Panofsky was actively preparing his lectures for publication. 37 The text was finished in
XXXV111 I N T R O D U C T I O N T O T H E P R I N C E T O N CLASSIC E D I T I O N

September 1941, and he was working on the Handlist, which he described as being "primar-
ily intended as a tool for Americans looking for more detailed information."38 Publication
was delayed until September 15, 1943, because of Princeton University Press's search for
subvention funds and its wartime contract to print American government documents.39

THE LIFE AND ART OF ALBRECHT DURER

By 1943 the existing literature about Durer was extensive. His life and his art were generally
well known. Writers from his contemporaries, such as Johann Neudorfer (1547), Joachim
von Sandrart (1675), and the earliest monograph authors in the eighteenth century, to Pa-
nofsky's more immediate predecessors had sketched out the salient biographical facts and
ordered his art into discrete categories by either date or media. The first truly critical
monograph was Moriz Thausing's Albrecht Dttrer: Geschichte seines Lebens und seiner
Kunst (1876). Arranged chronologically, this book makes excellent use of the extensive
historical documentation about the artist and his career. Thausing, keeper of the Albertina
Collection in Vienna, wrote sensitively about the art without the overly effusive prose of
many earlier authors. Heinrich Wolfflin's Die Kunst Albrecht Durers appeared in 1905 and
was often reissued. A sixth edition of his book with an appreciation by Kurt Gerstenberg,
Wolfflin's former pupil, was printed in 1943. His clear and compelling writing style, cou-
pled with thoughtful discussions of individual works, helped make Diirer's art accessible to
a broad readership. Monographs by Hans and Erika Tietze-Conrat (1928-1938) and Ed-
uard Flechsig (1928-1931) were useful but did not receive wide acclaim. The most suc-
cessful contemporary book was Wilhelm Waetzoldt's Durer und seine Zeit, published in
Vienna in 1935.43 Although a serious text, Waetzoldt's book is remembered, fairly or not,
as the standard Third Reich book on the artist. Its bellicose language and nationalistic
undertones reflect the heated rhetoric of this era. Waetzoldt's vision of Durer the Teutonic
hero would contrast with Panofsky's efforts to denationalize or, perhaps more correctly,
internationalize the artist. Panofsky conceives of Diirer's humanistic world as very different
from the Germany of the 1930s and early 1940s. In England, Thomas Sturge Moore's
Albert Durer (London, 1905) was the leading monograph. This book rather oddly begins
with discussions of the idea of proportion and on the influence of religion on the creative
impulse. Moore, an artist and poet, relied heavily on Thausing and on Martin Conway's
Literary Remains of Albrecht Durer (Cambridge, 1889). Thus when The Life and Art of
Albrecht Durer first appeared in 1943, Panofsky had German but no serious English rivals.
Panofsky's introduction sets out the basic themes developed elsewhere in the book. It
opens with a lament phrased as a musical analogy. In the "great fugue" of high and post-
medieval art in Western Europe, "the voice of Germany is missing. She has never brought
forth one of the universally accepted styles the names of which serve as heading for the
chapters of the History of Art" (p. 3) such as France with Gothic art or Italy with Renais-
sance and Baroque art. Panofsky attributes this absence to German psychology or mentality.
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
 I grant that the cocoa-nut is differently formed; but you may see
by the fragments you have just thrown on the ground, that nature
has in another manner stepped in to its assistance. Look near the
stalk, and you will discover three round holes, which are not, like the
rest of its surface, covered with a hard impenetrable shell, but are
stopped by a spongy kind of matter; it is through these that the
kernel shoots.
I will gather all the pieces and take them to Ernest, and tell him all
these particulars; I wonder what he will say about it, and how he
will like the withered nut.
Now the fancy of your father, my dear boy, would be to find you
without so keen a relish for a bit of mischief. Joke with Ernest if you
will about the withered nut; but I should like to see you heal the
disappointment he will feel, by presenting him at last with a sound
and perfect nut, provided we should have one to spare.
After looking for some time, we had the good luck to meet with
one single nut. We opened it, and finding it sound, we sat down and
ate it for our dinner, by which means we were enabled to husband
the provisions we had brought. The nut, it is true, was a little oily
and rancid; yet, as this was not a time to be nice, we made a hearty
meal, and then continued our route. We did not quit the wood, but
pushed our way through it, being often obliged to cut a path
through the bushes overrun by creeping plants, with our hatchet. At
length we reached a plain, which afforded a more extensive prospect
and a path less perplexed and intricate.
We next entered a forest to the right, and soon observed in it here
and there some trees of a particular species. Fritz, whose sharp eye
was continually on a journey of discovery, remarked that some of
them were of so very extraordinary an appearance, that he could not
resist the curiosity he felt to examine them closely. O heavens!
father, he next exclaimed, what a singular kind of trees, with wens
growing all about their trunks! We both walked up to some of them,
and I perceived, with great surprise and satisfaction, that they were
of the gourd tree kind, the trunks of which bear fruit. Fritz, who had
never heard of such a tree, could not conceive the meaning of what
he saw, and asked me if the fruit was a sponge or a wen. We will
see, I replied, if we cannot unravel the mystery. Try to get down one
of them, and we will examine them minutely.
I have got one, cried Fritz, and it is exactly like a gourd, only the
rind is thicker and harder.
It then, like the rind of that fruit, can be used for making various
utensils, observed I; plates, dishes, basons, flasks. We will give it the
name of the gourd tree.
Fritz jumped for joy. O heavens! cried he in ecstasy, how happy
my mother will be! She will no longer have the vexation, when she
makes soup, of thinking that we shall all scald our fingers!
What, my boy, do you think is the reason that this tree bears its
fruit only on the trunk and on its topmost branches?
I think it must be because the middle branches are too feeble to
support such a weight.
You have guessed exactly right.
But are these gourds good to eat?
At worst they are, I believe, harmless; but they have not a very
tempting flavour. The negro savages set as much value on the rind
of this fruit as on gold, for its use to them is indispensable. These
rinds serve them to keep their food and drink in, and sometimes
they even cook their victuals in them.
Oh, father! it must be impossible to cook their victuals in them; for
the heat of fire would soon consume such a substance.
I did not say the rind was put upon the fire.
How droll! Pray how are victuals to be cooked without fire?
Nor did I say that victuals could be cooked without a fire; and my
meaning was, that there is no need to put the vessel that contains
the food, upon the fire.
I have not the least idea of what you mean; there seems to be a
miracle.
So be it, my son. A little tincture of enchantment is the lot of man.
When he finds himself deficient in intelligence, or is too indolent to
give himself the trouble to reflect, he is driven by his weakness to
ascribe to a miracle, or to witchcraft, what is, most likely, nothing
but the most ordinary operation of art or nature.
Well, father, I will then believe in what you tell me of these rinds.
That is, you will cut the matter short, by resolving to swear on the
word of another; this is an excellent method for letting your own
reason lie fallow. Come, come, no such idleness; let me help you to
understand this amazing phenomenon. When it is intended to dress
food in one of these rinds, the process is, to cut the fruit into two
equal parts, and scoop out the whole of the inside; some water is
put into one of the halves, and into the water some fish, a crab, or
whatever else is to be dressed; then some stones red hot, beginning
with one at a time, are thrown in, which impart sufficient heat to the
water to dress the food, without the smallest injury to the pot.
But is not the food spoiled by ashes falling in, or by pieces of the
heated stones separating in the water?
Certainly it is not very easy to make fine sauces or ragouts in such
a vessel; but a dressing of the meat is actually accomplished, and
the negroes and savages, who are principally the persons to make
use of what is thus cooked, are not very delicate: but I can imagine
a tolerable remedy for even the objection you have found. The food
might be inclosed in a vessel small enough to be contained in our
capacious half of a gourd, and thus be cooked upon the principle so
much used in chemistry, the application of a milder heat than fire.
And this method of cooking has also another advantage, that the
thing contained cannot adhere to the sides or bottom of the vessel.
We next proceeded to the manufacture of our plates and dishes. I
taught my son how to divide the gourd with a bit of string, which
would cut more equally than a knife; I tied the string round the
middle of the gourd as tight as possible, striking it pretty hard with
the handle of my knife, and I drew tighter and tighter till the gourd
fell apart, forming two regular shaped bowls or vessels; while Fritz,
who had used a knife for the same operation, had entirely spoiled
his gourd by the irregular strokes of his instrument. I recommended
his making some spoons with the spoiled rind, as it was good for no
other purpose. I, on my part, had soon completed two dishes of
convenient size, and some smaller ones to serve as plates.
Fritz was in the utmost astonishment at my success. I cannot
imagine, father, said he, how this way of cutting the gourd could
occur to you!
I have read the description of such a process, replied I, in books
of travels; and also, that such of the savages as have no knives, and
who make a sort of twine from the bark of trees, are accustomed to
use it for this kind of purpose. So you see what benefit may be
derived from reading, and from afterwards reflecting on what we
read.
And the flasks, father; in what manner are they made?
For this branch of their ingenuity they make preparation a long
time beforehand. If a negro wishes to have a flask or bottle with a
neck, he ties a very young gourd round in the proper place with a
piece of string, of linen, bark of a tree, or any thing he can get hold
of; he draws this bandage so tight, that the part at liberty soon
forms itself to a round shape, while the part which is confined
contracts, and remains ever after narrow. By this method it is that
they obtain flasks or bottles of a perfect form.
Are then the bottle-shaped gourds I have seen in Europe trained
by a similar preparation?
No, they are not; they are of another species, and what you have
seen is their natural shape.
Our conversation and our labour thus went on together. Fritz had
completed some plates, and was not a little proud of this
achievement. Ah, how delighted my mother will be to eat upon
them! cried he. But how shall we convey them to her? They will not,
I fear, bear travelling well.
We must leave them here on the sand for the sun to dry them
thoroughly; this will be accomplished by the time of our return this
way, and we can then carry them with us; but care must be taken to
fill them with sand, that they may not shrink or warp in so ardent a
heat. My boy did not dislike this task; for he had no great fancy to
the idea of carrying such a load on our journey of further discovery.
Our sumptuous service of porcelain was accordingly spread upon the
shore, and abandoned to its fate.
We amused ourselves as we walked along in endeavouring to
fashion some spoons from the fragments of the gourd-rinds. I had
the fancy to try my skill upon a piece of cocoa-nut; but I must needs
confess that what we produced had not the least resemblance to
those I had seen in the Museum at London, and which were shown
there as the work of some of the islanders of the Southern Seas. A
European without instruments must always find himself excelled in
such attempts by the superior adroitness and patience of savages; in
this instance too, of ourselves, we had the assistance of knives,
while the savages have only sharp flat stones to work with.
My attempt has been scarcely more successful than your own, I
cried; and to eat soup with either your spoon or mine, we ought to
have mouths extending from ear to ear.
True enough, father, answered Fritz; but it is not my fault. In
making mine, I took the curve of my bit of rind for a guide; if I had
made it smaller, it would have been too flat, and it is still more
difficult to eat with a shovel than with an oyster-shell. But I am
thinking that they may serve till I have learned to improve upon my
first attempt, and I am quite sure of the pleasure they will afford my
mother. I imagine it pleases God sometimes to visit his creatures
with distress, that they may learn to be satisfied with a little.
That is an excellent remark, my boy, said I, and gives me more
pleasure than a hundred crowns would do. Fritz burst into a fit of
laughter. You do not rate my remark very high when you say this,
father, cried he, for of what use would a hundred crowns be to you
at present? If you had said a good soup or a hundred cocoa-nuts, I
should be much prouder for having made it.
But as it is, my son, you have a right to be proud. I am well
pleased to find you are beginning to estimate things according to
their real value and usefulness, instead of considering them as good
or bad, like children, upon feeble views. Money is only a means of
exchange in human society; but here on this solitary coast, nature is
more generous than man, and asks no payment for the benefits she
bestows.
While these different conversations and our labours had been
going on, we had not neglected the great object of our pursuit,—the
making every practicable search for our ship-companions. But all,
alas, was in vain.
After a walk of about four leagues in all, we arrived at a spot
where a slip of land reached far out into the sea, on which we
observed a hill or rising piece of ground of considerable height. On a
moment’s reflection we determined to ascend to its summit, which
could not fail to give us a clear view of all adjacent parts; this would
save us the fatigue of further rambles. We accordingly accomplished
the design.
We did not reach the top of the hill without many courageous
efforts and a plentiful perspiration: but when there, it presented a
magnificent scene of wild and solitary beauty, comprehending a vast
extent of land and water. It was, however, in vain that we made use
of our spying glass; no trace of man appeared. A highly embellished
nature presented herself; and though deprived of human succour,
we were in the highest degree sensible of her thousand charms. The
shore, rounded by a bay of some extent, the bank of which ended in
a promontory on the further side; the agreeable blue tint of its
surface; the sea, gently agitated with waves, in which the rays of the
sun were reflected; the woods of variegated hues and verdure,
formed altogether a picture of such new and exquisite delight, that if
the recollection of our unfortunate companions, already perhaps
ingulfed in this very ocean, had not intervened to damp our spirits,
we should have yielded to the ecstasy the scene was calculated to
inspire. In reality, from this moment we began to lose the
consolatory hope we had hitherto entertained, and a certain sadness
stole involuntarily into our hearts. We, however, became but the
more sensible of the goodness of the Divine Being in the special
protection afforded us, in permitting us to find a home where there
seemed to be no cause for fear of danger from without, where we
had not experienced even the want of food, and where there
seemed to be a prospect of future safety for us all. We had
encountered no venomous or ferocious animals; and as far as our
sight could yet reach, we were not threatened by the approach of
savages. I remarked to Fritz that we seemed destined to a solitary
life, and that it was a rich country which appeared to be allotted us
for a habitation; at least our habitation it must be, unless some
vessel should happen to put on shore on the same coast, and be in
a condition to take us back to our native land. And God’s will be
done! added I, for he knows what is best for us.
Having left our native country, fixed in the intention of inhabiting
some more propitious soil,* it was natural to expect that we must at
first encounter difficult adventures. Let us, therefore, consider our
present situation as no disappointment in any essential respect. We
can pursue our scheme for agriculture. We shall learn to invent arts.
Our only want is numbers.
As for me, answered Fritz, I care but little about being so few of
us. If I have the happiness of seeing you and my mother well and
satisfied, I shall not give myself much uneasiness about those
wicked unkind ship companions of ours.
Do not say that, my boy; they were not all bad people; and the
greater part of them would have become better men here, because
they would not have been exposed to the attacks of seduction.
Social intercourse, common interests, united exertions, mutual
services and counsels, together with the reflections which would
have grown in such a state as this, are agents capable of powerfully
contributing to the well-being of the individual, and to a happy and
successful industry.
We, however, of ourselves, observed Fritz, form a larger society
than was the lot of Adam before he had children; and as we grow
older, we will perform all the necessary labour, while you and my
mother enjoy a serene repose.
 Your assurances are as kind as I can desire, and they encourage
me to struggle with what hardships may present themselves. Who
can foresee in what manner it may be the will of Heaven to dispose
of us? In times of old, God said to one of his chosen: “I will cause a
great nation to descend from thy loins.”
And why may not we too become patriarchs, if it please God to
continue our lives?
Why not? you ask—and I have not now time to answer. But come
along, my young patriarch, and let us find a shady spot, that we
may not be consumed with the intensity of the sun’s heat before the
patriarchal condition can be conferred upon us. Look yonder at that
inviting wood: let us hasten thither to take a little rest, then eat our
dinner, and return to our dear expecting family.
We descended from the hill, and having regained the shore, we
made our way to the wood of palms, which I had just pointed out to
Fritz; but not without considerable difficulty, for our path lay through
a quantity of reeds, entwined with other plants, which greatly
obstructed our march. We advanced slowly and cautiously, fearing at
every step we might receive a mortal bite from some serpent that
might be concealed among them. We made Turk go before us, to
give us timely notice of any thing dangerous. I also cut myself a
stalk of the reeds of uncommon length and thickness, the better to
defend myself against an enemy that might attack me from the
ground. It was not without astonishment that I perceived a glutinous
kind of sap proceed from the divided end of the stalk. Prompted by
curiosity, I tasted the sap, and found it sweet and of an agreeable
flavour, so that not a doubt remained in my mind that we were
passing through a fine plantation of sugar-canes. I again applied the
cane to my lips, and sucked it for some moments, and soon after felt
myself singularly refreshed and strengthened from its use. I
determined not to tell Fritz immediately of the fortunate discovery I
had made, preferring that he should find the pleasure out for
himself. As he was at some distance on before, I called out to him to
cut a reed for his defence. This he instantly did, and, without any
remark, used it simply for a stick, striking lustily with it on all sides
to clear a passage. This motion occasioned the sap to run out
abundantly upon his hand, and he stopped to examine so strange a
circumstance. He lifted it up, and still a larger quantity escaped. He
now tasted what was on his fingers. Oh! then for the exclamations.
Father, father, I have found some sugar!—some syrup! I have a
sugar-cane in my hand! Run quickly, father! We were soon together,
jointly partaking of the pleasure we had in store for his dear mother
and the younger brothers. In the mean time Fritz eagerly devoured
the single cane he had cut, till his relish for it was appeased. I
thought this a profitable moment to say a word or two about
excesses, of the wisdom of husbanding even our lawful pleasures,
and of the advantages of moderation in even our most rational
enjoyments.
 But I was so thirsty, and the sap was so delicious!
Your excuse is like that of the drunkard, who tells you he drinks
immoderately because he is thirsty, and because wine has a pleasant
flavour; while, however good the excuse, it does not protect the
person from being deprived of his reason.
Well, father, I will observe. But I will take home a good provision
of sugar-canes, however. I shall only just taste of them once or twice
as I walk along. But it will be so delightful to regale my mother and
my little brothers with them!
 I have not the least objection; but do not take too heavy a load,
for recollect you have other things to carry, and we have yet far to
go.
Counsel was given in vain. He persisted in cutting at least a dozen
of the largest canes, tore off their leaves, tied them together, and,
putting them under his arm, dragged them as well as he was able
through thick and thin to the end of the plantation. We arrived
without accident at the wood of palms, which we entered in search
of a place of shade, where we might stretch our limbs on the
ground, and finish our repast. We were scarcely settled, when
suddenly a great number of large monkeys, terrified by the sight of
us and the barking of Turk, stole so nimbly, and yet so quietly, up
the trees, that we scarcely perceived them till they had reached the
topmost parts. From this height they fixed their eyes upon us,
grinding their teeth, making most horrible grimaces, and saluting us
with frightful screams of hostile import. I observed that the trees
were palms, bearing cocoa-nuts, and I instantly conceived the hope
of obtaining some of this fruit in an unripe and milky state, through
the monkeys. Fritz, on his part, prepared to shoot at them instantly.
He threw his burdens on the ground, and it was with difficulty I
could prevent him from firing, by pulling his arm in another
direction. What are you going to do, said I, in this youthful ardour of
yours? What use or what pleasure can it be to you to destroy one of
these monkeys?
Ah, father, why did you not let me kill him? Monkeys are such
malicious, mischievous animals! Look how they raise their backs in
derision of us!
And is it possible that this can excite your vengeance, my most
reasonable Mr. Fritz? To say the truth, I am not myself a patron of
the race of monkeys, who, as you say, are naturally prone to be
malicious. But as long as an animal does us no injury, or that his
death can in no shape be useful in preserving our own lives, we
have no right to destroy it, and still less to torment it for our
amusement, or from an insensate desire of revenge.
We could as easily roast a monkey as any kind of game.
 Many thanks for the hint! A fine repast you would have provided
us! Thanks to our stars, too, we are each too heavily loaded to have
carried the dead body to our kitchen, and I shrewdly suspect that it
would not have found the way thither of its own accord. Does not
your large bundle of sugar-canes convince you that I speak the
truth? But the living monkeys we may perhaps find means to make
contribute to our service.—See what I am going to do;—but step
aside, for fear of your head. If I succeed, the monkeys will furnish us
with plenty of our much desired cocoa-nuts.
I now began to throw some stones at the monkeys; and though I
could not make them reach to half of the height at which they had
taken refuge, they showed every mark of excessive anger. With their
accustomed habit of imitation, they furiously tore off, nut by nut, all
that grew upon the branches near them, to hurl them down upon
us; so that it was with difficulty we avoided the blows; and in a short
time a large quantity of cocoa-nuts lay on the ground round us. Fritz
laughed heartily at the excellent success of our stratagem; and as
the shower of cocoa-nuts began to subside, we set about collecting
them. We chose a place where we could repose at our ease, to
regale ourselves on this rich harvest. We opened the shells with a
hatchet, but not without having first enjoyed the sucking of some of
the milk through the three small holes, round which we found it easy
to insert a knife, and let the milk escape. The milk of the cocoa-nut
has not in reality a very pleasant flavour; but it is excellent for
quenching violent thirst. What we liked best, was a kind of solid
cream which adheres to the shell, and which we scraped off with our
spoons. We mixed with it a little of the sap of our sugar-canes, and
it made a delicious repast; while Turk obtained for his share, what
remained of the sea-lobster, which we now regarded with disdain,
and to which we added a small quantity of biscuit. All this, however,
was insufficient to satisfy the hunger of so large an animal, and he
sought about for bits of the sugar-canes and of the cocoa-nuts.
Our meal being finished, we prepared to leave the place. I tied
together such of the cocoa-nuts as had retained the stalks, and
threw them across my shoulder. Fritz resumed his bundle of sugar-
canes. We divided the rest of the things between us, and continued
our way towards home.
 CHAPTER IV.
Return from the voyage of discovery. A nocturnal
alarm.

My poor boy now began to complain heavily of fatigue; the bundle

of sugar-canes galled his shoulders, and he was obliged to move it
from place to place. At last, he stopped to take breath. No, cried he,
I never could have thought that a few sugar-canes could be so
heavy. How sincerely I pity the poor negroes who carry them in even
larger quantities, and to a greater distance! I should however be so
glad, if my mother and my brother could but partake of our booty!
A little patience and a little courage, dear Fritz, replied I, will
enable you to accomplish this wish; recollect Esop’s bread-basket,
which at first was so overwhelming a burden, but which at last
became so light. We can cause it to be the same with your sugar-
canes, if we consent to diminish them by sucking a certain number
of them on the road; as a precedent, you may dispose of one to me,
and I will use it at one moment as a walking-stick, and at another as
a sugarplum. Take you one, also; the rest we will bind together and
put at your back, hanging them upon the barrel of your gun, by
which means you will carry them with ease.
In such a situation as ours we must learn to call forth all our
intelligence; reflection and the faculty of invention must be made to
compensate our want of means.
While we were conversing and proceeding on our way, Fritz
perceived that from time to time I sucked the end of my sugar-cane,
and he would needs do the same. It was in vain, however, that he
tried; scarcely a drop of the sap reached his eager lips. What then is
the reason, said he, that though the cane is full of juice, I cannot get
out a drop?
The reason is, answered I, that you make use neither of reflection
nor of your imagination.
Ah! I recollect now, is it not a question about air? Unless there
were a particular opening in the cane, I may suck in vain, no juice
will come.
You have well explained the difficulty: but how will you manage to
set it right?
Father, lend me your cane an instant.
No, no, that will not do; what I wish is, that you should yourself
invent the remedy.
Let me see; I imagine that I have only to make a little opening
just above the first knot, and then the air can enter.
Exactly right. But tell me what you think would be the operation of
this opening near the first knot; and in what manner can it make the
juice get into your mouth?
The pith of the cane being completely interrupted by each knot in
its growth, the opening that I might make below, could have no
effect upon the part above; in sucking the juice, I draw in my
breath, and thus exhaust the air in my mouth; the external air
presses at the same time through the hole I have made, and fills this
void: the juice of the cane forms an obstacle to this effort, and is
accordingly driven into my mouth. But how shall I manage, when I
have sucked this part dry, to get at the part above?
Oh, ho! Mr. Philosopher, what should prevent you, who have been
reasoning so well about the force and fluidity of the air, from
immediately conceiving so simple a process as that of cutting away
the part of the cane you have already sucked dry, and making a
second perforation in the part above, so that.....
Oh, I have it, I have it, I understand;—but if we should become
too expert in the art of drawing out the juice, I fear but few of the
canes will reach our good friends in the tent.
I also am not without my apprehensions, that of our acquisition
we shall carry them only a few sticks for fire-wood; for I must bring
another circumstance to your recollection: the juice of the sugar-
cane is apt to turn sour soon after cutting, and the more certainly in
such heat as we now experience; we may suck them therefore
without compunction, and without regret at the diminution of their
numbers.
Well then, if we can do no better with the sugar-canes, at least I
will take them a good provision of the milk of cocoa-nuts, which I
have here in a tin bottle; we shall sit round on the grass and drink it
so deliciously!
In this too, my generous boy, I fear, you will also be disappointed.
You talk of milk; but the milk of the cocoa-nut, no less than the juice
of the sugar-cane, when exposed to the air and heat, turns soon to
vinegar. I would almost wager that it is already sour; for the tin
bottle which contains it, is particularly liable to become hot in the
sun.
O heavens, how provoking! I must taste it this very minute. The
tin bottle was lowered from his shoulder in the twinkling of an eye,
and he began to pull the cork with all his strength; as soon as it was
loose, the liquid flew upwards in a brisk stream, and with a loud
noise and frothing like champain.
Bravo, Mr. Fritz! you have manufactured there a wine of some
mettle. I must now caution you not to let it make you tipsy.
Oh, taste it, father, pray taste it; it is quite delicious; not the least
like vinegar; it is rather like excellent new wine; its taste is sweet,
and it is so sparkling! do take a little, father. Is it not good? If all the
milk remains in this state, the treat will be better even than I
thought.
I wish it may prove so: but I have my fears; its present state is
what is called the first degree of fermentation; the same thing
happens to honey dissolved in water, of which hydromel is made.
When this first fermentation is past, and the liquid is clear, it is
become a sort of wine, or other fermented liquor, the quality of
which depends on the materials used. By the application of heat,
there next results a second and more gradual fermentation, which
turns the fluid into vinegar. But this may be prevented by
extraordinary care, and by keeping the vessel that contains it in a
cool place. Lastly, a third fermentation takes place in the vinegar
itself, which entirely changes its character, and deprives it of its
taste, its strength, and its transparency. In the intense temperature
of this climate, this triple fermentation comes on very rapidly, so that
it is not improbable that, on entering our tent, you might find your
liquids turned to vinegar, or even to a thick liquid of ill odour: we
may therefore venture to refresh ourselves with a portion of our
booty, that it may not all be spoiled. Come then, I drink your health,
and that of our dear family. I find the liquor at present both
refreshing and agreeable; but I am pretty sure that, if we would
arrive sober, we must not venture on frequent libations.
Our regale imparted to our exhausted frames an increase of
strength and cheerfulness; we pursued our way with briskness, to
the place where we had left our gourd utensils upon the sands; we
found them perfectly dry, as hard as bone, and not the least mis-
shapen. We now therefore could put them into our game bags
conveniently enough; and this done, we continued our way. Scarcely
had we passed through the little wood in which we breakfasted,
when Turk sprang furiously away to seize upon a troop of monkeys,
who were skipping about and amusing themselves without observing
our approach toward the place of their merriment. They were thus
taken by surprise; and before we could get to the spot, our ferocious
Turk had already seized one of them: it was a female monkey who
held a young one in her arms, which she was caressing almost to
suffocation, and which incumbrance in reality deprived her of the
power of escaping. The poor creature was killed, and afterwards
devoured; the young one hid himself in the grass, and looked on
grinding his teeth all the time that this horrible achievement was
performing. Fritz flew like lightning to force the ferocious Turk from
his prey. He lost his hat, threw down his tin bottle, canes, and other
burdens, but all in vain; he arrived too late to prevent the murder of
the interesting mother.
The next scene that presented itself was of a different nature, and
comical enough; it afforded me considerable amusement. The young
monkey, on perceiving Fritz, sprang nimbly on his shoulders, and
fastened his feet securely in the stiff curls of his hair; nor could the
squalls of Fritz, nor all the shaking he gave him, make him let go his
hold. I ran to them, laughing heartily, for I saw that the animal was
too young to be capable of doing him any injury, while the
expression of the panic in the features of the boy, made the most
diverting contrast with the grimaces of the monkey, whom I in vain
endeavoured to disengage. There is no remedy, Fritz, said I, but to
submit quietly and carry him; he will furnish an addition to our stock
of provisions, though less alluring, I must needs confess, than that
we could wish to take to your mother. The conduct of the little
animal displays a very surprising intelligence; he has lost his mother,
and he adopts you for his father; perhaps he discovered in you
something of the air of a father of a family.
Or rather the little rogue found out that he had to do with a
chicken-hearted fellow, who shrinks with aversion from the idea of
ill-treating an animal which has thrown itself on his protection. But I
assure you, father, he is giving me some terrible twitches, and I shall
be obliged to you to try once more to get him off.
With a little gentleness and management I found means to
succeed. I took the creature in my arms as one would an infant, and
I confess I could not help pitying and caressing him. He was not
larger than a kitten, and quite unable to help himself: its mother
appeared to us to be at least as tall as Fritz.
What shall I do with thee, poor orphan? cried I, and how in our
state of necessity shall I be able to maintain thee? We have already
more mouths to fill, than food to put into them, and our workmen
are too young to afford us soon much hope from their exertions.
Father, cried Fritz, do let me have this little animal in my own
keeping. I will take the greatest care of him; I will give him all my
share of the milk of the cocoa-nuts till we get our cows and goats;
and who knows? his monkey instinct may one day assist us in
discovering some different kinds of wholesome fruits.
I have not the least objection, answered I. You have conducted
yourself throughout this tragi-comic adventure as a lad of courage
and sensibility, and I am well satisfied with every circumstance of
your behaviour. It is therefore but just that the little dependent
should be given up to your management and discretion; much will
depend on your manner of educating him; by and by we shall see
whether he will be fittest to aid us with his intelligence, or to injure
us by his malice; in this last case we shall have nothing to do but to
get rid of him.
While Fritz and I were conversing on the subject of his adoption of
the young monkey, Turk was employed in taking his fill of the
remains of its unfortunate mother. Fritz would have driven him away
from so cannibal-like a repast: but besides the difficulty of
restraining him, we had to consider, that we might ourselves be in
danger from the pressing hunger of so powerful an animal; all the
food we had before given him in the day seeming to be nothing for
his voracious and unbounded appetite.
We now again thought of resuming our journey, and accordingly
left the ferocious Turk to pursue his sanguinary dispositions; the little
orphan jumped again on the shoulder of his protector, while I on my
part relieved my boy of the bundle of canes. Scarcely had we
proceeded a quarter of a league when Turk overtook us full gallop.
Fritz and I received him without the usual marks of kindness, and
reproached him with the cruel action he had committed, as if he
could feel, and understand us; but he showed no sign of giving
himself any concern about the matter, following quietly behind Fritz
with an air of cool and perfect satisfaction. The young monkey
appeared uneasy, from seeing him so near, and passed round and
fixed himself on his protector’s bosom, who did not long bear with so
great an inconvenience without having recourse to his invention for
a remedy. He tied some string round Turk’s body in such a way, as to
admit of the monkey’s being fastened on his back with it, and then
in a tone really pathetic addressed the dog as follows: Now, Mr.
Turk, since it was you who had the cruelty to destroy the mother, it
is for you to take every care of her child. At first the dog was restive
and resisted; but by degrees, partly by menaces and partly by
caresses, we succeeded in gaining his good will, and he quietly
consented to carry the little burden; and the young monkey, who
also had made some difficulties, at length found himself perfectly
accommodated. Fritz put another string round Turk’s neck, by which
he might lead him, a precaution he used to prevent him from going
out of sight. I must needs confess, we had not the sin of too great
haste to answer for, so that I had sufficient leisure for amusing
myself with the idea, that we should arrive at our home with
something of the appearance of keepers of rare animals for show. I
enjoyed in foresight the jubilations of our young ones when they
should see the figure we made. Ah! cried Fritz, I promise you,
brother Jack will draw from the occasion materials enough for future
malicious jokes. Do you then, my son, said I, take your materials for
a model from your admirable mother, who never fails to make
allowance for the buoyant spirits so natural to youth. Your reflections
on their faults, which, thanks be to heaven, are such as to do injury
to none, give me no pleasure; I am aware of their existence without
the aid of your observations, and I beg you will leave to me the task
of correcting them.
May I however observe, father, that I wish we could cure Turk of
his passion for attacking living animals, and tearing them to pieces?
It was, I assure you, a most frightful spectacle; the more so, that
monkeys so much resemble our own species that I could scarcely
convince myself he was not killing a man.
There was reason enough to be disgusted with the sight, though it
were only an animal you saw so treated; but, for all this, it would in
our situation be dangerous to teach our dogs not to attack and kill, if
they can, what unknown animals they meet with. You will see that
Turk will soon regard your little monkey as a member of our family;
already he is content to carry him on his back; but I assure you we
must not discourage him in his fancy for attacking wild beasts.
Heaven bestowed the dog on man for his safe-guard and defence,
and the horse the same: they may be considered as our allies
against the different tribes of pernicious animals. How conspicuous is
the goodness of the Almighty in the natural dispositions he has
bestowed on these useful creatures, who at all times discover so
much affection for man, and so easily submit to the slavery of
serving him! A man on horseback, and accompanied by a troop of
well conditioned dogs, has no occasion to fear any species of wild
beasts, not even the lion, nor the hyena; he may even baffle the
voracious rapidity of the tiger.
I see clearly how fortunate we are in the possession of two such
creatures, who feel the strongest attachment to our persons and are
ever ready to protect us from danger; but what a pity it was that the
horses we had on board should have died during our voyage, and
have left us with only an ass!
Let us take care how we treat even our ass with disdain. I wish we
had him safe on land. Fortunately he is a powerful creature of his
species, and not of the common kind. We may train him to do us the
same services as are performed by the horse; and it is not
improbable that he will even improve under our care, and from the
excellent pasture he will find in this climate.
In such conversation as this, on subjects equally interesting to
both, we forgot the length of our journey, and soon found ourselves
on the bank of the river and near our family before we were aware.
Ponto on the other side announced our approach by a violent
barking, and Turk replied so heartily, that his motions disturbed the
tranquillity of his little burden, who, in his fright, jumped the length
of his string from his back to Fritz’s shoulder, which he could not
afterwards be prevailed upon to leave. Turk, who began to be well
acquainted with the country, ran off to meet his companion and
announce our arrival; and shortly after our much-loved family
appeared in sight on the opposite shore, exhibiting every
demonstration of unbounded joy at our safe return. They advanced
along by the course of the river, till they on one side, and we on the
other, had reached the place where we had crossed it in the
morning. We re-passed it again in safety, and threw ourselves into
each other’s arms. Scarcely had the young ones joined their brother,
than they again began their joyful exclamations: A monkey, a live
monkey! Papa, mamma, a live monkey! Oh, how delightful! how
happy shall we be! How did you catch him? What a droll face he
has! He is very ugly, said little Francis, half afraid to touch him. He is
much prettier than you, retorted Jack; only see, he is laughing; I
wish I could see him eat. Ah! if we had but some cocoa-nut! said
Ernest; could you not find any? Are they nice? Have you brought me
any milk of almonds? said Francis. Have you met with any
unfortunate adventure? asked my wife. In this manner, questions
and exclamations succeeded to each other without interval, and with
such rapidity as not to leave us time to answer them.
At length when all became a little tranquil I answered them thus:
Most happy am I to return to you again, my best beloved, and God
be praised! without having encountered any new misfortune. We
have even the pleasure of presenting you with many valuable
acquisitions; but in the object nearest my heart, the discovering
what has become of our ship-companions, or of any individual of
them, we have entirely failed.
Since it pleases God that it should be so, said my wife, let us
endeavour to be content, and let us be grateful to him for having
saved us from their unhappy fate, and for having once more brought
us all together: I have laboured this day under an unusual
uneasiness about your safety, and imagined a thousand evils that
might beset you. The day appeared an age. But now I see you once
more safe and well, I trust I shall again resume my tranquillity. But
put down your burdens; we will all help you; for though we have
not, I assure you, spent the day in idleness, we are less fatigued
than you. Quick then, my boys, and help to take the loads from your
father and your brother. Now then sit down and tell us your
adventures.
Jack received my gun, Ernest the cocoa-nuts, Francis the gourd-
rinds, and my wife my game-bag. Fritz distributed the sugar-canes,
and put his monkey on the back of Turk, to the great amusement of
the children, at the same time begging Ernest to relieve him of his
gun. But Ernest, ever careful of his own accommodation, assured
him, that the large heavy bowls with which he was loaded, were the
most he had strength to carry. His mother, a little too indulgent to
his lazy humour, relieved him of them: and thus we proceeded all
together to our tent.
Fritz whispered to me, that if Ernest had known what the large
heavy bowls were, he would not so readily have parted with them.
Then turning to his brother, Why, Ernest, cried he, do you know that
these bowls are cocoa-nuts, your dear much-desired cocoa-nuts, and
each containing the sweet nice milk you have so much wished to
taste?
Are they indeed? are they really and truly cocoa-nuts, brother?
Oh! mamma, return them to me quickly; I will carry them if you
please, and I can carry the gun too without finding it heavy.
No, no, Ernest, answered his mother, I do not intend to be teased
with hearing any more of your heavy sighs and moanings about your
being fatigued; for I am certain you would begin again before we
had gone a hundred paces. Ernest would willingly have asked his
mother to give him the cocoa-nuts and take the gun herself, but this
he dared not do:—I have only, said he, to get rid of these sticks, and
carry the gun in my hand.
I would advise you not to give up the sticks either, said Fritz drily;
I know you will be sorry if you do; and for this good reason—the
sticks are sugar-canes!
Sugar-canes! cried he. Sugar-canes! exclaimed they all; and,
surrounding Fritz, made him give them full instructions on the
sublime art of sucking sugar-canes.
My wife also, who had always entertained a high respect for the
article of sugar in her household management, was perfectly
astonished, and earnestly entreated we would explain to her all
about it. I instantly complied with her request, giving her every
explanation and particular respecting our journey, and our new
acquisitions, which I alternately exhibited for her inspection. No one
of them afforded her more pleasure than the plates and dishes,
because to persons of decent habits they were articles of
indispensable necessity. We now adjourned to our little kitchen, and
with great delight observed the preparations going forward in it for
an excellent repast. On one side of the fire we saw a turnspit, which
my wife had contrived by driving two forked pieces of wood into the
ground, and placing a long even stick sharpened at one end across
them. By this invention she was enabled to roast different kinds of
fish, or other food, with the help of little Francis, who was intrusted
with the care of turning it round from time to time. On the occasion
of our return she had prepared us the treat of a goose, the fat of
which ran down into some oyster-shells placed there to serve the
purpose of a dripping-pan. And besides a dish of fish, which the little
ones had caught, the iron pot was upon the fire, provided with a
good soup, the agreeable odour of which increased our appetite. By
the side of these most exhilarating preparations, stood one of the
casks which we had recovered from the waves, the head of which
my wife had knocked out, so that it exposed to our view a cargo of
the finest sort of Dutch cheeses contained in round tins. All this
display was made to excite the appetite of the two travellers, who
had fared but scantily during the day; and I must needs observe,
that the whole was very little like such a dinner as one should expect
to see on a desert island.
You indeed but barely did yourselves justice, my dear ones, in
saying that you had not been idle during our absence, cried I. I see
before me what must have cost you considerable labour. I am
however a little sorry that you have killed one of our geese so soon;
we must employ the utmost economy in the use of our poultry,
which may be of service in a time of need.
Do not make yourself uneasy on this subject, said my wife; for
what you see is not one of our geese, but a kind of wild bird, and is
the booty of your son Ernest, who calls him by a singular name, and
assures me that it is good to eat.
Yes, father, I believe that the bird which I have caught is a kind of
penguin, or we might distinguish him by the surname of Stupid. He
showed himself to be a bird so destitute, of even the least degree of
intelligence, that I killed him with a single blow with my stick.
What is the form of his feet, and of his beak? asked I.
His feet were formed for swimming; in other words, he was what
is called web-footed; the beak was long, small, and a little curved
downwards: I have preserved his head and neck, that you might
examine it yourself; it reminds me exactly of the penguin, described
as so stupid a bird in my book of natural history.
You now then perceive, my son, of what use it is to read, and to
extend our knowledge, particularly on subjects of natural history and
the productions of nature in general; by this study and knowledge,
we are enabled to recognise at the moment, the objects which
chance throws in our way, whether we have seen them before or
not. Tell me now what birds there are with feet formed like those
which you have just described, and which are so formed to enable
the creature to strike the water and prevent himself from sinking.
There are the man of war bird, cormorants, and pelicans, father.
By what mark do you distinguish the kind to which you just now
said the penguin or Stupid belonged?
Upon my word, interrupted his mother, I must give the answer
myself: and it will consist of a petition, that you will take some other
time for your catechism on birds: when once you have begun on any
particular subject, one never sees the end of it. Now to my mind
there is a time for every thing; Ernest killed the bird, and was able to
tell his kind; we on our parts shall eat him; what more therefore is
necessary? Do you not see that the poor child is thinking all the
while of his cocoa-nuts? Let me intercede on his behalf, and prevail
upon you to let him have the pleasure of examining and tasting
them.
Ah! thank you, my good mother; I shall be very glad if papa will
consent.
Father.—Well, well, you have my full permission. But first you will
be obliged to learn from Fritz the best manner of opening them, so
as to preserve the milk: and one word more; I recommend to you
not to forget the young monkey, who has no longer his mother’s
milk for food.
Jack.—I cannot prevail upon him to taste a bit; I have offered him
every thing we have.
Father.—It cannot well be otherwise, for he has not yet learned
how to eat; you must feed him with the milk of cocoa-nuts till we
can procure something more proper for him to eat.
Jack.—I will give the poor little creature my share with all my
heart.
Ernest.—I have however the greatest desire to taste this milk
myself, just to know what it is like.
And so have I, said the little Francis.
However, gentlemen, the monkey must live, said Jack a little
maliciously.
And we and our children must live too, answered their mother.
Come then, the supper is ready, and the cocoa-nuts shall be for the
dessert.
We seated ourselves on the ground; my wife had placed each
article of the repast in one of our newly manufactured dishes, the
neat appearance of which exceeded all our expectations. My sons
had not patience to wait, but had broken the cocoa-nuts, and
already convinced themselves of their delicious flavour; and then
they fell to making spoons with the fragments of the shells. The little
monkey, thanks to the kind temper of Jack, had been served the
first, and each amused himself with making him suck the corner of
his pocket-handkerchief, dipped in the milk of the cocoa-nut. He
appeared delighted with the treatment he received, and we
remarked with satisfaction, that we should most likely be able to
preserve him.
The boys were preparing to break some more of the nuts with the
hatchet, after having drawn out the milk through the three little
holes which I have already observed are found near the stalk of the
cocoa-nut, and which are guarded by a soft substance which may
easily be pierced. I pronounced the word halt, and bade them bring
me a saw; the thought struck me, that by dividing the nuts carefully
with this instrument, the two halves when emptied, would remain
with the form of some well looking tea-cups or basons already made
to our hands. Jack, who was on every occasion the most active,
brought me a saw. I performed my undertaking in the best manner I
could, and in a short time each of us was provided with a convenient
receptacle for food. Accordingly my wife put the share of soup which
belonged to each, into those basons or vessels. The excellent
creature appeared delighted that we should no longer be under the
necessity, as before, of scalding our fingers by dipping into the pot;
and I firmly believe, that never did the most magnificent service of
china occasion half the pleasure to its possessor, as our utensils,
manufactured by our own hands from gourds and cocoa-nuts,
excited in the kind heart of my wife. Fritz asked me if he might not
invite our company to taste his fine champain, which he said would
not fail to make us all the merrier.
I have not the least objection, answered I, but remember to taste
it yourself, before you serve it to your guests.
He ran to draw out the stopple and to taste it.......How
unfortunate! said he, it is already turned to vinegar.
What is it? vinegar, did you say? exclaimed my wife. How lucky! it
will make the most delicious sauce for our bird, mixed with the fat
which has fallen from it in roasting, and will be as good a relish as a
salad. No sooner said than done. This vinegar produced from cocoa-
nut proved a most agreeable corrective of the wild and fishy flavour
of the penguin, and without which I am afraid we should have found
it not very palatable. The same sauce considerably improved our
dish of fish also. Each boasted most of what he himself had been the
means of procuring; it was Jack and Francis who had caught the fish
in one of the shallows, while Ernest was employed with very little
trouble to himself in securing his penguin the stupid. My poor wife
had herself performed the most difficult task of all, that of rolling the
cask of Dutch cheeses into the kitchen, and then knocking out its
head. But if it was she who had most exerted herself, it was she also
who received the highest commendations; for one and all agreed,
that nothing we had tasted since we left the ship, was half so
agreeable to our appetites as this cheese which she served for our
dessert.
By the time we had finished our meal, the sun was retiring from
our view; and recollecting how quickly the night would fall upon us,
we were in the greatest haste to regain our place of rest. My wife
had considerately procured for us a tenfold quantity of dry grass,
which she had spread in the tent, so that we anticipated with joy the
prospect which was now afforded, of stretching our limbs on a
substance somewhat approaching to the quality of mattresses,
while, the night before, our bodies seemed to touch the ground. Our
whole flock of fowls placed themselves as they had done the
preceding evening; we said our prayers, and, with an improved
serenity of mind, lay down in the tent, taking the young monkey
with us, who was become the little favourite of all. Fritz and Jack
contended for a short time which should enjoy the honour of his
company for the night; and it was at last decided that he should be
laid between them; after which, each would have a hand in covering
him carefully, that he might not catch cold. We now all lay down
upon the grass, in the order of the night before, myself remaining
last to fasten the sail-cloth in front of the tent; when heartily
fatigued by the exertions of the day, I as well as the rest soon fell
into a profound and refreshing sleep.
But I had not long enjoyed this pleasing state, when I was
awakened by the motion of the fowls on the ridge of the tent, and
by a violent barking of our vigilant safeguards, the dogs. I rushed
out instantly; my wife and Fritz, who had also been alarmed by the
noise, followed my example: we each took a gun, and sallied forth to
their assistance. Shall you, my dearest, have the courage to fire, if it
should be necessary? said I to my wife.
Most certainly, said she, if, as you say, it should be necessary. I
can depend upon myself for daring to do whatever can be the
means of preservation to our dear children. At the same time it
would perhaps be better that I should leave to you the task of firing,
while I can undertake to load your guns, and to hand them to you as
fast as you may want them.
Best of all, said I; so let us not lose a moment in examining what
enemy it is we have to deal with. Our dogs continued barking with
the same violence, and at intervals even howled. We had not
proceeded many steps from the tent, when, to our great
astonishment, we perceived by the light of the moon a terrible
combat. At least a dozen of jackalls had surrounded our brave dogs,
who defended themselves with an almost unexampled courage.
Already the fierce champions had laid three or four of their
adversaries on the ground, while those which remained began to
make a timid kind of noise, as if imploring pity and forbearance.
Meanwhile they did not the less endeavour to entangle and surprise
the dogs, when thrown off their guard, and thus secure themselves
the advantage. But our watchful combatants were not so easily to be
deceived; they took good care not to let the enemy approach them
too nearly.
I, for my part, apprehended something much worse than jackalls.
We shall soon manage to set these gentlemen at rest, said I. Let us
fire both together, my boy; but let us take care how we aim, for fear
of killing the dogs; your mother shall give us the word of command;
mind how you fire, that you may not miss, and I shall do the same.
We fired, and two of the intruders fell instantly dead upon the sands.
The others made their escape; but we perceived it was with great
difficulty, in consequence, no doubt, of being wounded. Turk and
Ponto afterwards pursued them, and put the finishing stroke to what
we had begun; and thus the battle ended: but the dogs, true
Caribees by nature, made a hearty meal on the flesh of their fallen
enemies. Their doing this was a proof of the keen hunger they
experienced; for dogs do not readily feed on foxes, and the jackall is
a more fierce and mischievous species of the fox, than the animal
known by that name in Europe. My wife, seeing that all was now
quiet, entreated us to lie down again and finish our night’s sleep; but
Fritz asked my permission to let him first drag the jackall he had
killed, towards the tent, that he might be able to exhibit him the
next morning to his brothers. Having obtained my consent, he ran to
fetch him, and, with great difficulty, succeeded in his plan, the
animal being of the size of a large dog. I however observed to Fritz,
that if Turk and Ponto were still hungry, we ought to give them this
last jackall in addition, as a recompense for their courageous
behaviour.
We had now done with this affair. The body of the jackall was left
on the rock, by the side of the tent, in which were the little sleepers,
who had not once awaked during the whole of the scene which had
been passing. Having therefore nothing further to prevent us, we lay
down by their side till day began to break, and till the cocks, with
their shrill morning salutation, awoke us both. The children being
still asleep, afforded us an excellent opportunity to consult together
respecting the plan we should pursue for the ensuing day.
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