I. Portrait of Hyeronymus Holzschuer Frontispiece From the Oil-painting in the Berlin Museum Page II. Portrait of a Woman 14 From the Oil-painting in the Berlin Museum III. Portrait of the Artist 24 From the Oil-painting in the Alte Pinakothek, Munich IV. Portrait of the Painter's Father 34 From the Oil-painting in the National Gallery V. Portrait of Oswalt Krel 40 From the Oil-painting in the Alte Pinakothek, Munich VI. The Madonna with the Siskin 50 From the Oil-painting in the Berlin Museum VII. SS. John and Peter 60 From the Oil-painting in the Alte Pinakothek, Munich VIII. SS. Paul and Mark 70 From the Oil-painting in the Alte Pinakothek, Munich [Illustration] This is a wonderful world! And not the least wonderful thing is our ignorance of it. I would chat with you, reader, for a while; would discuss Dürer, whom I have known and loved for many a year, and whom I want to make beloved by you also. Here I sit, pen in hand, and would begin. Begin--where? With the Beginnings? The Beginnings? Where do things begin; when and why? So our ignorance, like a many-headed monster, raises its fearsome heads and would bar the way. By most subtle links are all things connected--cause and effect we call them; and if we but raise one or the other, fine ears will hear the clinking--and the monster rises. There are so many things we shall never know, cries the poet of the unsaid, Maeterlinck. Let us venture forth then and grope with clumsy fingers amongst the treasures stored; let us be content to pick up a jewel here and there, resting our minds in awe and admiration on its beauty, though we may not readily understand its use and meaning. Foolish men read books and dusty documents, catch a few dull words from the phrasing of long thoughts, and will tell you, these are facts! Wise men read books--the books of Nature and the books of men--and say, facts are well enough, but oh for the right understanding! For between sunrise and sunset, between the dusk of evening and the dusk of dawn, things happen that will never happen again; and the world of to-day is ever a world of yesterdays and to-morrows. Reader, I lift my torch, and by its dim light I bid you follow me. For it is a long journey we have to make through the night of the past. Many an encumbrance of four and a half centuries we shall have to lay aside ere we reach the treasure-house of Dürer's Art.