suspended near her. The sun is fast sinking into its ocean-bed, and a hideous bat, inscribed melancholia, already indicates the dreaded darkness which is settling over her spirit.

Unlike most of the artists of his time, he excelled in every department of the beautiful which he undertook, and his labors were various and numerous. Notwithstanding the fancies in which he indulged his pencil, he was an accomplished mathematician. Besides his fame as a painter, he took high rank as an engraver and sculptor, and he is not without claims to credit as an author. He published a work containing "Instructions for Measuring with the Rule and Compass," with sixty-three copperplate engravings. Another on Fortifications, with nineteen plates from his own hand. But his most celebrated production in this department is his "Treatise on the Proportions of the Human Body," in four books, which has been translated into many languages. In this, he argues that what are regarded as the deformities of nature are the result of harmonious arrangement-a theory since developed by other writers.

The MS. of a similar work, on the Proportions of the Horse, is said to have been stolen from him; and his biographer adds, that "though he knew very well who was the thief, he would rather suffer the loss and vexation in private, than swerve from his usual moderation and mildness, as he must have done if he had brought an action against the robber." A volume of letters, journals, and political essays was issued after his death, entitled "Relics of Albert Durer."

The characteristics of his style in art were no less novel and peculiar than his mental nature. It was imbued with the mysticism of the German mind. Many of his pictures are complete poems; frequently they are mixtures of allegory and sublime conception-wild, spectral, full of imagery which awes the beholder. Even common objects and figures are invested with a mystery which occupies and sometimes harasses the mind. Many of them are embodiments of his dreams, one of which, in water-colors, now in a Vienna collection, is thus described in the inscription accompanying it from his own hand:

"On Thursday night, the eve of the Pentecost, in the year 1525, I had this vision in my sleep. What torrents of water fell from the

heavens! This water struck the earth about four miles from me with such force, such reverberation and noise, the whole country was flooded, and such a mortal dread seized me, that I awoke. I again fell asleep. Then the remainder of the water fell nearly as abundantly as before, some at a greater distance, some nearer. It seemed to fall from such a hight, that to my mind the descent occupied a long time. But as the flood approached nearer and nearer, the deluge became so rapid and resounding that fear seized me, and I again long before I could recover myself; but in the awoke. My whole body trembled, and it was morning, when I rose, I painted what I had seen. May God order all for the best! "ALBERT DURER."

His works with the pencil and burin are so numerous, that the bare catalogue would swell the present article far beyond our limits. A brief allusion to some of the most remarkable must suffice. His painting of Adam and Eve was celebrated by a poet of his time, who represents an angel gazing on the pictured pair, and exclaiming," You are handsomer than when I drove you out of the garden of Eden."

The influence of his warm and enduring friendship with Pirckheimer is seen in many of his pictures. The figure of the latter is frequently introduced, as in his "Martyrdom of the Christians," and in his painting of "the Virgin crowned by Angels." Among the persons bowed in worship around her is his friend; also his royal patron, the Emperor Maximilian. This work is now in possession of a convent in Prague. Another tribute of affection to his friend was given in the painting executed on the death of his wife, the amiable Crescentia a perfect contrast in character to his own life-partner. The deathbed scene is touchingly represented: a kneeling priest repeats the prayers for the dying, while another administers extreme unction to the failing wife, who feebly holds a crucifix and an expiring taper. Words of consolation to the weeping husband are inscribed in golden letters above the picture.

Among his earliest and most remarkable works are a series of engravings illustrative of the Apocalyptic visions, sixteen in number. They are full of his mystical and sublime power. The eighth embodies some of the new religious ideas with which the world was then shaken. Beneath the flashing swords of the destroying angels have fallen the crowned emperor, the mitered bishop, the cowled monk, and the hooded nun.

His oil paintings are not numerous. Seven of them are in the Belvidere palace, at Vienna, among which are portraits of his father, at sixty years of age; his revered old master, Michael Wohlgemuth, when he was eighty-two; and his own picture, dated 1500. Two pictures of the Virgin, and his famous representation of the Trinity, are also in this collection.

The gallery of Florence contains the Adoration of the Magi, the Apostles Philip and James, and two portraits, one of Durer and another of his father, which once belonged to the collection of Charles I., of England.

His native city, Nuremberg, possesses Hercules fighting with the Harpies, and full-size figures of the Emperors Sigismund and Charlemagne. His picture of the Lord and Lady is an impressive one. A full-dressed cavalier accompanies his stately bride through pleasant fields and over flowery walks; but the figure of

Death conceals itself behind a scathed tree, which they have just passed. His fleshless hands press the hour-glass, with its nearly-exhausted sands, to his brow, and the glaring eyes look greedily after the unconscious pair. His Death's Head, Death's Horse, and the War-Horse, are famous works in his peculiar style, which, as has been said, was too indistinct, too profuse-in short, too Germanic-to be recognized by all times and centuries as the perfection of art.

Many of his carvings on wood, stone, and ivory, are preserved among the royal collections of his native country. Almost all the principal cities display with pride some medallion or altorelievo from the great master's hand.

A late writer gives the following description of the cemetery where his remains were placed, and beside which repose those of his devoted friend, Willibald Pirckheimer :

"It is impossible to imagine a more gloomy place. Not one of those country graveyards, so full of nature's poetry; no weeping willows drooping their melancholy branches; no dark towering cypress mounting toward the skies; no flowers, green turf, or garlands, pious offerings from the living to the memory of the dead. The tombs, ranged in long rows, like the beds of the pa

tients in a hospital, are merely flat stones laid over the graves. No railing incloses them, might be compared to a camp-bed set up for no cross surmounts them; their burying-place a night. Meanwhile, the lichen spreads it dusky stains, and the mass of rank verdure announces that oblivion is already beginning to swallow up the memory of those beloved beings to whom the epitaph promises eternal tears."

His tomb-stone is simply inscribed :

Me. Al. Du.
QUIDQUID ALBERTI DURERI MORTALE FUIT
SUB HOC CONDITUR TUMULO
EMIGRAVIT VIII IDUS APRILIS MDXXVIII.

Our own Longfellow pays the following just tribute to the great German, in his beautiful poem entitled "Nuremberg:"

"Here, when Art was still religion, with a simple, reverent heart,

Lived and labored Albrecht Durer, the Evangelist of Art;

Hence in silence and in sorrow, toiling still Like an emigrant he wander'd, seeking for the with busy hand,

Better Land.

In his mad heroism at Behmis's Hights, on the 7th of October, which resulted in victory to the Americans and honor to himself, he received a wound in the leg, which fractured a bone, and laid him aside in Albany for the winter. Before the end of May he joined the army at Valley Forge; but such was the state of his wound, that he could not perform active service, and Washington appointed him to the command of the city of Philadelphia, just then evacuated by the British. The instructions to General Arnold were rather unlimited in their character-a great misfortune certainly, when the temper of the man is considered. His want of discretion brought him at once, as military governor of the city, into collision with the civil authorities of the colony. Under specious pretexts, he prohibited the removal, sale, and transfer, of all goods in the city; at the same time appointing agents of his own for this business, charging enormous profits, most of which found their way into his own private purse. His whole rule was one of extortion and oppression.

Fond of show, and proud of his station, he had located himself in a large mansion, once occupied by William Penn, and was living in most splendid and extravagant style. He drove a coach and four, kept a retinue of servants, and gave costly banquets. To do all this, his means were utterly inadequate, and his pecuniary embarrassments in consequence became very great. To relieve these he presented large claims to Congress for money alleged to have been spent in the public service in Canada; but these claims, much to his chagrin, were not allowed. He was incensed, and may have fancied it no more than just, to make reprisals on the public. Scarcely had he been a month in office, as commander of Philadelphia, before he proposed to Washington that he should be put in command of the navy having, as we doubt not, a distant vision of rich prizes and large personal gainsbut the commander-in-chief discouraged the thought, and it was abandoned.

Such was his conduct at Philadelphia, that, finally, the President and Council of Pennsylvania preferred against him charges of an abuse of power and criminality. These were brought before Congress, but finally referred to Washington for a military adjudication. Arnold, in the mean

time, resigned his command; and being out of employment, was anxious to see his case disposed of. Even the necessary delays were to him most vexatious. Moreover, he continued to reside in the city, an object of detestation to the inhabitants, who, no longer fearing his power, did not conceal their feelings. He was openly assaulted in the street, and besought Congress in vain for a guard of twenty men. All this increased his wrath and disaffection to his country. These feelings were not at all diminished by the decision of the court-martial, by which he was convicted on two counts of the indictment, and sentenced to be reprimanded. In this he was greatly disappointed and mortified, and no doubt began almost to hate the cause for which he had fought and bled. He had even now conceived the thought that he might make the Americans repent of their illtreatment of himself.

Another important event had occurred, which tended to prepare the way still more effectually for his alienation from the cause of his country. He had recently been united in marriage to Miss Margaret Shippen, daughter of Edward Shippen, one of the tory residents of Philadelphia, who, a few months before, had welcomed the British troops, and fêted them on their entrance into the city. She was beautiful in person, of graceful manners, and rare accomplishments. Arnold loved her passionately-an affection, in truth, that seemed to survive every other noble feeling that had possessed his soul. This lady may not have been in any way the partner of His guilt, but the friendly disposition of her father's house to the British cause brought him into company with many British officers. His regard for them naturally increased in proportion to the decline of his sympathy with the "rebels."

Among the intimate friends of his wife was John Andrè. This was a gallant young soldier, not less pleasing in person or manners than the lady herself, for whom she would have been a far more worthy companion than for him who sought her hand with splendid equipage. He possessed a fine literary taste, coupled with a passionate fondness for the fine arts. Many sketches from both his pen and pencil still exist. While residing in London he became enamored of, and was betrothed to, a lady named Honora Sneyd; but the father of this lady forbidding the