drew a whole city as a background for a picture. He illustrated with
relish and humor the life and doings of country folk, He loved the
Germans, painted their enormous heads and rubicund features without
protest, and introduced them into the unlikeliest environments, always
richly robed like prosperous burghers, and wrapped and muffled, even
in Rome or Palestine, against the German cold. His drawings are an
ethnography of Nuremberg. His chief patrons were its merchant princes,
whom he rescued from death with his portraits, but he received
commissions also from dukes and Imperial electors, and at last from
Maximilian himself, As Titian loved best to portray the nobility and
royalty, Durer was most at home in the middle class, and his woodcut
of the Emperor made him look like what Louis XII had called him- the
"burgomaster of Augsburg." Once only Durer achieved nobility in a
portrait- an imaginary rendering of Charlemagne.
The thirty-six portraits are his most readily enjoyable works, for
they are simple, sensual, earthy, swelling with character. Behold
Hieronymus Holzschuher, the Nuremberg senator: a powerful head,
stern face, thinning hair on a massive forehead, a beard trimmed to
immaculate symmetry, sharp eyes as if watching politicians, yet with
the beginning of a twinkle in them; here is a man with a good heart,
good humor, good appetite. Or consider Durer's dearest friend,
Willibald Pirkheimer: the head of a bull concealing the soul of a
scholar, and suggesting the gastric needs of Gargantua. And who
would guess, behind the creased and flattened features of the
immense Frederick the Wise of Saxony, the Elector who defied a pope to
protect Luther? Nearly all the portraits are fascinating: Oswolt
Krell, whose earnest concentration shows even in the veins of his
hands; or Bernhard von Resten, with the delicate blue blouse, the
majestic overspreading hat, the meditative eyes of an absorbed artist;
or Jakob Muffel, burgomaster of Nuremberg, a brown study of earnest
devotion, shedding some light on the greatness and prosperity of the
city; or the two portraits of Durer's father, weary with toil in 1490,
quite worn out in 1497; or the Portrait of a Gentleman in the Prado-
virility incarnate, tarnished with cruelty and greed; or Elizabeth
Tucher, holding her wedding ring and gazing diffidently into marriage;
or the Portrait of a Venetian Lady - Durer had to go to Italy to find
beauty as well as strength. There is seldom refinement in his male