Of his own work Dürer says: “What beauty may be I know not. Art is hidden in nature and whosoever can tear it out has it,” and his life-long quest of knowledge, his truly German reverence for fact, hangs like a millstone around his neck. “Of a truth,” writes Raphael, “this man would have surpassed us all if he had had the masterpieces of art constantly before him,” Raphael himself--“Raphael the Divine”--hardly paralyzed æsthetic criticism for a longer period than has Dürer, and in studying his engravings, if the student would see them for what they are, as works of art, and not through the enchanted, oftentimes stupefying, maze of metaphysics, he must be prepared for the gibes and verbal brick-bats of his contemporaries, who hold in reverence all that has the sanction of long-continued repetition by authority after authority. “If you see it in a book it’s true; if you see it in a German book it’s very true,” applies with only too telling a force to a considerable share of Dürer speculation. For better or worse I cannot but think that Dürer’s prime intention in his engravings was an artistic one, though obviously this intention was often overlaid with a desire to supply an existing demand and to introduce, into otherwise simple compositions, traditional moralistic motives which should render his engravings more marketable at the fairs, where mostly they were sold. So many and so fascinating are the facets of Dürer’s personality, so interesting is he as a man in whose mind meet, and sometimes blend, the ideas of the Middle Ages with those almost of our own time, that if we are to study, even in the briefest and most cursory fashion, his engraved work, we must perforce confine ourselves strictly to the artistic content of his plates and not be seduced into the by-ways of speculation which lead anywhere--or, more often, nowhere.