“The Melencolia” is the most weirdly fascinating of Dürer’s works, and the most mysterious and variously interpreted. It represents a woman, goddess, or devil, fully clad, and bearing keys and a purse at her girdle, her head wreathed with spleenwort, and great wings springing from her shoulders; the while she gazes intently, and with unutterable melancholy, into a magic crystal globe before her. On one side a drowsy Cupid is trying to write, near a ladder which rises from unseen depths to unimagined heights; and on the wall are the balanced scales, the astrological table of figures, the hour-glass running low, and the silent bell. The floor is strewn with scientific and necromantic instruments, and a great cube of strange form lies beyond. The prevailing gloom of the picture is but dimly lighted by a lurid and solitary comet, whose rays shimmer along an expanse of black ocean, and are reflected from a firm-arched rainbow above. Across the alternately black and blazing sky flies a horrible bat-winged creature, bearing a scroll inscribed with the word Melencolia, before the blank negations symbolized by the disastrous portent of the comet and the joyous sign of the rainbow.
Under the guise of this mystic black-browed woman the artist probably typifies the profound sorrow of the human soul, checked by Divine limitations from attaining a full knowledge of the secrets of nature or the wisdom of heaven. The discarded implements of natural and occult science are alike useless; and nought remains but gloomy introspection and a consciousness of insufficiency.
Dürer describes his mother’s death with mournful tenderness and touching simplicity, saying: “Now you must know that in the year 1513, on a Tuesday in Cross-week, my poor unhappy mother, whom I had taken under my charge two years after my father’s death, because she was then quite poor, and who had lived with me for nine years, was taken deathly sick on one morning early, so that we had to break open her room; for we knew not, as she could not get up, what to do. So we bore her down into a room, and she had the sacraments in both kinds administered to her, for every one thought that she was going to die, for she had been failing in health ever since my father’s death. And her custom was to go often to church; and she always punished me when I did not act rightly, and she always took great care to keep me and my brothers from sin; and, whether I went in or out, her constant word was, ‘In the name of Christ;’ and with great diligence she constantly gave us holy exhortations, and had great care over our souls. And her good works, and the loving compassion that she showed to every one, I can never sufficiently set forth to her praise. This my good mother bore and brought up eighteen children; she has often had the pestilence and many other dangerous and remarkable illnesses; has suffered great poverty, scoffing, disparagement, spiteful words, fears, and great reverses: yet she has never been revengeful. A year after the day on which she was first taken ill ... my pious mother departed in a Christian manner, with all sacraments, absolved by Papal power from pain and sin. She gave me her blessing, and desired for me God’s peace, and that I should keep myself from evil. And she desired also St. John’s blessing, which she had, and she said she was not afraid to come before God. But she died hard; and I perceived that she saw something terrible, for she kept hold of the holy water, and did not speak for a long time. I saw also how Death came, and gave her two great blows on the heart; and how she shut her eyes and mouth, and departed in great sorrow. I prayed for her, and had such great grief for her that I can never express. God be gracious to her! Her greatest joy was always to speak of God, and to do all to his honor and glory. And she was sixty-three years old when she died, and I buried her honorably according to my means. God the Lord grant that I also make a blessed end, and that God with his heavenly hosts, and my father, mother, and friend, be present at my end, and that the Almighty God grant us eternal life! Amen. And in her death she looked still more lovely than she was in her life.”
In 1514 the prince of Italian painters and the noblest of German artists exchanged pleasant civilities by correspondence, accompanied by specimens of their labors. Dürer sent to Raphael his own portrait, which was afterwards inherited and dearly prized by Giulio Romano. Raphael returned several of his own studies and drawings, one of which, showing two naked men drawn in red crayon, is now preserved in the Albertina at Vienna. It still bears Dürer’s inscription: “Raphael of Urbino, who is so highly esteemed by the Pope, has drawn this study from the nude, and has sent it to Albert Dürer at Nuremberg, in order to show him his hand.”
The invention of the art of etching has been generally attributed to Dürer, though it now seems that he merely improved and perfected the process. There are but few etchings in existence which can certainly be ascribed to him; and the chief of these, an “Ecce Homo” and “Christ in the Garden,” date from 1515. The iron plate of the latter was found two centuries later, in a blacksmith’s shop, where it was about to be made into horse-shoes. A third etching represents a frightfully homely woman being carried off by a man on a unicorn, a wild and incomprehensible composition, calculated to awaken an uncomfortable impression in the beholder. Some of the etchings were on iron, and others on pewter; but none were on copper, which was afterwards universally used. The corrosive nitrous acid acted inefficiently on the metals which he employed, and so his etchings fall short of excellence.
In 1514 Jorg Vierling uttered disgraceful libels and threats against Dürer, and finally attacked him in the street. He was imprisoned by the authorities; but the kind-hearted artist interceded for him, and he was released, after being bound over to keep the peace.
In the same year Dürer wrote to Herr Kress to see if the laureate Stabius had done any thing about his delayed pension; saying also, “But if Herr Stabius has done nothing in my matter, or my desire was too difficult for him to attain, then I pray of you to be my favorable lord to his Majesty.... Point out to his Majesty that I have served his Majesty for three years, that I have suffered loss myself from doing so, and that if I had not used my utmost diligence his ornamental work would never have been finished in such a manner; therefore I pray his Majesty to reward me with the 100 guilders.” In September an imperial decree was issued, giving Dürer his promised pension of $200 a year out of the tax due from Nuremberg to the Emperor. This annuity was paid to the artist until his death, with one short intermission.
Dürer executed for the Emperor a series of most fantastic and grotesque pen-drawings, on the borders of his prayer-book, now in the Munich town-library. Alongside the solemn sentences of the breviary are whimsical monkeys and pigs, Indians and men-at-arms, satyrs and foxes, screeching devils and saints, hens and prophets, martyrs and German crones, mingled in a weird wonderland, and not inappropriate according to mediæval ideas of taste. “The Great Column” is another quaint and inexplicable engraving, which Dürer did for the Emperor in 1517, and is composed of four blocks 5⅓ feet high. It shows two naked angels holding a large turnip, from which springs a tall column with two horrible female monsters at the base, and a horned satyr at the top, holding long garlands.
The marvellous “Triumphal Arch of Maximilian” is composed of ninety-two blocks, forming an immense woodcut ten and a half feet high and nine feet wide. It shows three great towers, under which are the three gates of Praise, Nobility, and Honor and Power, with the six chained harpies of temptation, and two vigilant Archdukes in armor, and figures holding garlands and crowns. The great genealogical tree rises above the figures that represent France, Sycambria, and Troy, and bears portrait-like half-figures of the twenty-six Christian princes from whom Maximilian claimed descent, with pictures of himself and his family. There are also twenty-four minutely delicate cuts, showing the most remarkable events in the Emperor’s life, accompanied with rugged explanatory rhymes by the poet-laureate. Dr. von Eye says that “the extent and difficulty of the task appear to have called forth the powers of the artist to their highest exercise. In no work of Dürer’s do we find more beautiful drawing than there is here. Each single piece might be taken out and prized as an independent work of art.”
The master drew these very elaborate and intricate designs between 1512 and 1515; and the enormous work of engraving them was devolved upon Hieronymus Rösch of Nuremberg. During its progress the Emperor frequently visited Rösch’s house in the Fraüengässlein; and it became a town saying, that “The Emperor still drives often to Petticoat Lane.” On one of his visits, a number of the artist’s pet cats ran into his presence; whence, it is said, arose the proverb, “A cat may look at a King.”