STUDIES.* THE TRAGEDY OF CORREGGIO. January 21-22. WHILE ranging my German books this morning, I fell upon the "Correggio" of Oehlenschläger, and "Die Schuld" of Müllner; and I read both through carefully. The former pleased me more, the latter struck me less, than when I read them both for the first time a year ago. One despairs of nothing since the success of "Ion;" but would it be possible, think you, that the tragedy of "Correggio" could be exhibited in England with any thing like the success it met with in Germany? Here-in England I mean— it might indeed "fit audience find, though few," but would it meet with the same sympathy?— would it even be endured with common patience by a mixed audience-such as hailed its appearance in Germany? Here is a tragedy, of which the pervading interest is not low ambition and the pride of kings; nor Fragments of a Journal addressed to a Friend. written dur. Ing the author's residence in Canada, and first published in 1838 His love, nor terror, nor murder, nor the rivalship of princes, nor the fall of dynasties, nor any of the usual forms of tragic incident,-but ART, high art -its power as developed within the individua soul, its influence on the minds of others. Thi idea is embodied in the character of Correggio yet he is no abstraction, but perfectly individua' ized. All those traits of his life and peculiar hab its and disposition, handed down by tradition, are most carefully preserved, and the result is a most admirable portrait of the artist and the man. gentleness, his tenderness, his sensitive modesty, his sweet, loving, retiring disposition, are all touched with exquisite delicacy. The outbreak of noble self-confidence, when he exclaimed, after gazing on Raffaelle's St. Cecilia, “Anch' io sono Pittore!" is beautifully introduced. The sight of the same picture sent La Francia home to his bed to die, so at least it is said; but Correggio was not a man to die of another's excellence, though too often doubting his own. The anecdote of the man who was saved from the rapacity and vengeance of a robber, by an appeal to one of his pictures, and the story of his paying his apothecary with one of his finest works,* are also real incidents of the painter's life, introduced with the most picturesque effect. Those who have travelled through the forests of Catholic Germany and Italy, must often have seen The Christ on the Mount of Olives, now, if I remember rightly, in possession of the Duke of Wellington. a Madonna, or a Magdalen, in a rude frame, shrined against the knotted trunk of an old oak overshadowing the path; the green grass waving round, a votive wreath of wild flowers hung upon the rude shrine, and in front a little space worn bare by the knees of travellers who have turned aside from their journey to rest in the cool shade, and put up an Ave Maria, or an Ora pro nobis. I well remember once coming on such a Madonna in a wild woodland path near Vollbrücken, in Upper Austria. Two little, half-naked children, and a gaunt, black-bearded wood-cutter, were kneeling before it, and from afar the songs of some peasants gathering in the harvest were borne on the air. The Magdalen of Correggio, the same which is now in the Dresden gallery, and multiplied in prints and copies through the known world, is represented without any violent stretch of probability as occupying such a situation; nor are we left in doubt as to the identity of the picture; it is described in three or four exquisite lines. It is beautiful,—is it not?-where Correggio comments on his work, as he is presenting it to the old her. mit: "Ein sündhaft Mädchen, das mit Reu' und Angst Es gibt sehr wen'ge Männer, die das können." ✶ * An erring maiden, that in fear and penitence And the reply of Silvestro places the lovely form before us, painted in words. Welch schön Gemählde! Der dunkle Schattenwald, die blonden Haare, The manner in which Correggio betrays his regret on parting with his picture, is also natural and most exquisite. "Die Dichter haben's gut; sie können immer Die Kinder alle in der Nähe haben. Der Mahler ist ein armer Vater, der Sie in die weite Welt aussenden muss; Seeking t' escape the snares around her laid,— ↑ Well for the poet! he can ever have The children of his soul beside him here; The painter is a needy father; he Sends his poor children out in the wide world |