Chapter C

_Franz von Sickingen_ (Vol. i., p. 131.).--I regret that I cannot resolve the doubt of H.J.H. respecting Albert Durer's allegorical print of _The Knight, Death, and the Devil_, of which I have only what I presume is a copy or retouched plate, bearing the date 1564 on the tablet in the lower left-hand corner, where I suppose the mark of Albert Durer is placed in the original.

I should, however, much doubt its being intended as a portrait of Sickingen, and I can trace no resemblance to the medal given by Luckius. I believe the conjecture originated with Bartsch, in his _Peintre Graveur_, vol. vii. p. 107. Schoeber, in his _Life of Durer_, p. 87., supposes that it is an allegory of the nature of a soldier's life.

It was this print that inspired La Motte Fouqué with the idea of his _Sintram_ as he thus informs us in the postscript to that singularly romantic tale:

"Some years since there lay among my birth-day presents a
beautiful engraving of Albert Durer. A harnessed knight, with an
oldish countenance, is riding upon his high steed, attended by
his dog, through a fearful valley, where fragments of rock and
roots of trees distort themselves into loathsome forms; and
poisonous weeds rankle along the ground. Evil vermin are
creeping along through them. Beside him Death is riding on a
wasted pony; from behind the form of a devil stretches over its
clawed arm toward him. Both horse and dog look strangely, as it
were infected by the hideous objects that surround them; but the
knight rides quietly along his way, and bears upon the tip of
his lance a lizard that he has already speared. A castle, with
its rich friendly battlements, looks over from afar, whereat the
desolateness of the valley penetrates yet deeper into the soul.
The friend who gave me this print added a letter, with a request
that I would explain the mysterious forms by a ballad.... I bear
the image with me in peace and in war, until it has now spun
itself out into a little romance."

S.W. Singer.

Mickleham Aug. 13. 1850.

"_Noli me tangere_" (Vol. ii., p. 153.).--B.R. is informed, that one of the finest paintings on this subject is the altar-piece in All Souls College Chapel, Oxford. It is the production of Raphael Mengs, and was purchased for the price of three hundred guineas of Sir James Thornhill, who painted the figure of the founder over the altar, the ceiling, and the figures between the windows. There may be other paintings by earlier masters on so interesting subject, but none can surpass this of Raphael Mengs in the truthfulness of what he has here delineated. The exact size of the picture I do not recollect, but it cannot be less than ten feet high.

There is a beautiful engraving of it by Sherwin.

J.M.G.

Worcester.

_Dr. Bowring's Translations_ (Vol. ii. p. 152.).--Besides the anthologies mentioned by Jarltzberg, Dr. Bowring has published _Poets of the Magyars_, 8vo. London, 1830; _Specimens of Polish Poets_, 1827; _Servian popular Poetry_, 1827; and a _Cheskian Anthology_, 1832.

H.H.W.

"_Speak the Tongue that Shakspeare spoke_" (Vol. ii., p. 135.).--The lines about which X. asks, are

"We must be free or die, who speak the tongue
That Shakspeare spake; the faith and morals hold
Which Milton held," &c.

They are in one of Wordsworth's glorious "Sonnets to Liberty" (the sixteenth), and belong to _us_, and not to the New-Englanders.

G.N.

_Countess of Desmond_ (Vol. ii., pp. 153. 186.).--In reply to K., I have an impression that Horace Walpole has a kind of dissertation on the _Old Countess of Desmond_, to whom his attention was directed by her being said to have danced with Richard III. Having no books at hand, I cannot speak positively; but if K. turns to Walpole's _Works_, he will see whether my memory is correct. I myself once looked, many years ago, into the subject, and satisfied myself that the great age attributed to _any_ Countess of Desmond must be a fable; and that the portrait of her (I think, at Windsor) was so gross an imposition as to be really that of an old man. I made a "Note"--indeed many--of the circumstances which led me to this conclusion; but they are at this moment inaccessible to me. I venture however, now that the question is revived, to offer these vague suggestions. By and by, if the subject be not exhausted, I shall endeavour to find my "Notes," and communicate them to you. I wonder the {220} absurdity of the kind of death imputed to the imaginary lady did not reflect back a corresponding incredulity as to the length of her life.