The expressive lines of Albrect Dürer
MASTERWORKS | A depiction of a steadfast faith
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Perhaps there has never been a draftsman as gifted as Albrecht Dürer. Although his paintings are widely praised on their own merit, it is Dürer’s drawings, woodcuts, and engravings that showcase his skill most readily. Three of Dürer’s prints are known as the Meisterstiche (“The master prints”) because the level of skill they display goes beyond all other examples of the medium. These three are not only consummate examples of the engraver’s craft; they are deeply symbolic and have stimulated scholarly discussion for generations. The first of the series is Knight, Death, and the Devil from 1513.
Dürer had ties to prominent Reformation-era thinkers and writers, including Zwingli, Melancthon, and Erasmus, and he would eventually show sympathy for Protestantism. Knight, Death, and the Devil, which was created four years before Luther penned his 95 Theses, can be seen as an illustration of Erasmus’ The Handbook of the Christian Knight, in which Erasmus argues that the faithfully committed Christian is able to vanquish his spiritual enemies by ignoring them in a steadfast pursuit of virtue: “All those spooks and phantasms which come upon you as in the very gorges of Hades must be deemed for nought.” This is certainly the attitude that the knight in Dürer’s print exemplifies.
He moves resolutely forward, completely uninterested in the gruesome figure of Death, a half-rotted corpse who tries to frighten the knight with an hourglass and a skull placed across the knight’s path. The knight has already moved past the devil, who is shown not as an alluring tempter but as the hideous monster he really is: In the light of faith, his true nature is seen. The knight moves with single-minded deliberateness, advancing toward his goal—the heavenly city, the New Jerusalem—seen at the very top of the engraving.
Dürer, an accomplished observer, fills the picture with precise detail, deftly replicating the textures of the knight’s steel armor, the fox tail on his spear, the devil’s crumpled horn, the trees and bushes and rocks in the background. All these details give the engraving a sense of realism befitting its realistic attitude toward both the evils of this world and the Christian knight’s obligation to rise above them. This is not some dreamy mystic vision of Christian faithfulness. Dürer has portrayed a real knight, facing (and overcoming) real horrors, advancing toward a certain and sure hope.
The knight travels through brooding cliffs which echo Psalm 23: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” Fear, indeed, is a great enemy of the Christian: fear of the devil and his power, fear of the inevitability of death. But, as John says in 1 John 4:18, perfect love casts off fear. A perfect love, one focused on the Savior, is the Christian’s sure defense against the worldly enemies that would seek to turn him from the path of righteousness.
Dürer himself made no comments about the meaning of this engraving; the other two Meisterstiche are full of obscure symbolism, and this one is ambiguous since nowhere does it include any explicitly Christian imagery such as a cross or a saintly attribute. Art historians are divided on whether the image has a Christian meaning at all. Some scholars consider it an allegory of the evils of war, with Death and the Devil as merely the natural companions of a vicious soldier who makes his career out of bloodshed and destruction. But the knight in the print seems much too calm and resolute to be a ruthless killer. I believe Dürer, influenced by the writings of Erasmus, meant for the image to portray the Christian arrayed in the armor of God, occupying himself only with the call of his Lord, marching steadfastly onward and unafraid of the terrors of Satan or of the grave.
Is Dürer’s knight advancing on his own strength and power? Why is there no evidence that the saving work of Christ is necessary for the knight’s progress to be successful? It is here that analogies break down; no allegorical picture should be expected to include every possible nuance of the message it is meant to convey. As it is, Dürer’s print is a fine reminder that the terrors and temptations that beset the Christian are not to be the focus of our attention as we walk the path of faith.
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