"Yes," said Correggio, "I know Whom you mean! Look there," he continued, (pointing to an indifferent woodcut which was nailed against the wall, and represented an imaginary relic, the sacred handkerchief, with which it is said the death-perspiration was wiped from the brow of our blessed LORD, and which afterwards bore the impression of His holy thorn-crowned head,) “look here at this indifferent work of art, it is crude and lacks beauty, but nevertheless there lies a something in that earnest, heavenly countenance which is wanting and which I miss in all my saints, and angels, and Madonnas,—it is a something consoling, and encouraging, and elevating, which I with my best exertions could not give to my productions. The man who created that may have been a bungler at his art, but his work looks at me as if it had been painted with the heart and soul; the man had faith. The words, 'Come unto Me, all ye that travail and are heavy laden,' needed not to be written underneath; one can read that in the picture in spite of its technical faults. I can endow my pictures with every charm of design and colouring; I am a painter, but I can only give my productions the power of speaking to the senses, not to the heart; I have also painted a 'CHRIST on the mount of Olives,' but how cold, how soulless it appears to me when I compare it with this miserable, bungling piece of work, out of which, notwithstanding its imperfections, a soul speaks."

"Do not depreciate the noble skill and genius which God has given you," answered the prior earnestly, "I know you well, I have seen your' Holy Night' in Reggio and your picture of 'the Ascension of CHRIST' in the Church of S. Giovanni, and they made a great impression on me. GOD has bestowed on you a precious gift, and it will be even more precious to you if you use the sad trials and experiences which GOD has sent you, if you profit by them to sound the depths of that true inner life. The world with its pomp and glory passes away, but the deeper we probe the truths of eternal salvation the more glorious do they appear to us. The LORD enjoins you to seek that which is imperishable-it is easy to find, if one only seeks earnestly. Beneath the Cross, dear master, beneath the Cross! With your heart and in your work! Ubi crux, ibi lux !'”

6

"Your words are true," said Correggio, "and they do me good, I seem to inhale a spirit of peace in your presence. Let me tarry here a few days, I long so much for quiet and calm; permit me to spend the holy Easter-tide in your cloister."

"Willingly, dear master," answered the prior, "you are heartily welcome among us, and may God bless this season of quiet retirement to your soul! I shall not be able to spend much time with you myself; these festival days are days of labour to us clergy, but as often as I can I will gladly bear you company."

And so Antonio Allegri became for several days the guest of the convent. They were to him calm and blessed days, during which he enjoyed a peace which his passionate temperament and ardent heart had never before permitted him to taste. In the little cloister church, under the sounds of the Salve caput cruentatum, his soul grasped the mystery of the comforting doctrine of the Atonement, and the good prior seized every leisure hour to explain to his honoured guest in affectionate conversation, the way by which alone a bruised and broken heart could obtain peace and healing. He forgot for a time the world with its attractions, its intoxicating pleasures and honours, and he contemplated and studied that great Easter mystery which opens its depths to those only, who feel that they need comfort, and mercy, and pardon, and who are content to seek it beneath the Cross.

After a few days, he quitted this tranquil abode. Full of gratitude he pressed the venerable Prior to his heart, and in parting, presented him with a picture which he had painted in these hours of solitude. In the corridor before the stranger's cell he had found an old processional banner, from which he cut a piece of silk, and on this he had painted with all that brilliant magnificence of colour which characterizes his works of art, but with a sublimity and purity not to be found in any other picture by his hand, the relic of the sacred handkerchief bearing the impression of the thorn-crowned head of CHRIST. In the wonderful arrangement of light, in the magic luminousness of the chiaro-oscuro, in the transparent shading, one could immediately recognise the characteristics which mark the works of this great master, but the lively introduction of material life even in representing the solemnities of sacred things which is justly designated Correggio's style, and the lavishness of brilliant colour which is usually found in his pictures, were not in this one. The good Prior with tears in his eyes, parted from the guest who had already won his affections by so touchingly appealing to him for aid, when he was earnestly seeking refuge from the violent storm of his own thoughts and passions. He caused the picture to be framed and to be hung up in the Convent Chapel as a remembrance of the visit of the great Correggio.

The painter for a time remained true to the resolve he had made in the peaceful solitude of the cloister. He lived quietly and retired from the world in the little town of his birth, Correggio, whose name he has made famous. During this period he perhaps produced his penitent Magdalen, in whose graceful features may certainly be traced less true pain of remorse than a dreamy repose in sensual contemplation of the vanished beauties of the world, whose charms still seem to hover round the beautiful penitent. But the world does not give up easily such a prey as this great painter. The royal mistress of Correggio, Veronica Cambura, a liberal, and highly accomplished woman, possessing an equally enthusiastic love for the arts and sciences, soon enticed and chained him to her court, as the beautiful and clever Vittoria Colonna did his companion in art Michael Angelo. The high-born widow was in friendly intercourse with the house of Este Gonzaga in Milan, so famous for their love and patronage of art. Even the Emperor Charles V., esteemed her very highly, and was her guest at Correggio. She succeeded in winning back her favourite painter to a magnificent and gay, but vain and hollow life. To her intercession alone, he unquestionably owed many commissions which fell to his lot at Mantua.

When the Emperor Charles V. caused himself to be crowned in Italy in 1530, he conferred the title of Duke on his faithful ally Prince Frederick II., of Mantua. In gratitude for this honour, the new Duke decided to send his august master some costly paintings by the best masters. He ordered two pictures of Correggio, a Leda with the swan, and a Danae, and besides these, Correggio supplied many other mythological paintings for the gay court of the prince. It cannot be denied, that in these pictures he attained a supreme height in the technicalities of his art, but it is also universally acknowledged that the charms of them appeal only to the senses, and there are scarcely any productions in which such perfect mastership of art has been devoted to such aims. His figures were materially perfect, and it is said, that a French Prince in whose possession the pictures came later, caused the faces of the tooseductive nymphs of the Grecian legend to be cut out. It is remarkable that all the later creations of this great Master touched on the worldly pleasures of the senses; during the last years of his life, not a single picture with a grave subject was produced. Was the poor painter happy? Had he found that much longed for peace of mind?

When death in the year 1534, while he was yet in the prime of life, suddenly snatched the brush from his hand, the news of his decease

quickly spread in the surrounding neighbourhood, and having reached the quiet Convent on the Enza, the venerable Prior could not forbear paying the last honours to him whom he had once entertained. He travelled in spite of his age to Correggio, and followed this Prince of painters to his grave. When he returned from the obsequies, he paid a visit to the deserted studio where the last pictures of the master were still standing on the easels. Musingly he remained a long time before a singular picture, which is now in the Louvre. It is known by the name of "The vicious man under the yoke of the passions." In a smiling landscape reclines a nude, bearded man leaning against the trunk of a tree, to whose branches his limbs are bound; near him in a stooping position is a voluptuous looking female figure, who draws the cord firmer, which attaches one of his feet; on the other side, stands a second figure, who holds in both hands vipers, the poisonous heads of which are directed against the breast of the man; and behind him stands a third with a sensual countenance playing a flute which is held to his ear: over the side of the picture, peers a laughing satyr holding in the hand a bunch of grapes. The Prior stood a long time contemplating this picture. "Poor man!" he sighed, "the world had become loathsome to him, yet it would not let go its prey. Luxury blows her siren temptations in his ear; Habit draws the fetters tighter, Conscience pierces his heart with the tongues of fiery serpents, and the world which can still enjoy its own pleasures, passes him by with a mocking laugh, and has no pity for him in his misery. Was this picture perhaps his last confession? To me it speaks in plain words, telling me how it was with his soul, after he had allowed himself to be allured from the path of virtue and peace. I will look again at his Easter picture, when he painted that, I am sure he had, if only that once in his life, peace at heart."

The picture remained in the Convent, and was esteemed there as a costly treasure. The monks did not sell it for contemptible gold as so many Convents and towns, (even the birth place of the great painter) have done, scattering all over the world those pearls of art, to be sold to the highest bidder. The tumult of the great French wars which devastated Europe, spread also to the quiet Convent, which was demolished and plundered, and the booty of the soldiers sold. The painting of the Sacred Handkerchief with the head of CHRIST crowned with thorns, fell into the hands of a dealer in antiquities at Milan, and was there found by the Prussian general Von Knesebeck as he was

travelling through Italy, after the restoration of peace. He recognised it as the work of a master, purchased it, and took it home with him to his seat at Carwe near Neuruppa: later he presented it to his Majesty King Frederick William III., of Prussia, who valued it very highly, and it was reckoned among his favourite pictures. As this King in 1826, was suffering from a fracture of the leg, which prevented him the whole winter from attending the public worship of GOD, he caused a small chapel to be fitted up in his palace, in which he and his whole suite of attendants and servants used to assemble for Divine Service and in this chapel he caused Correggio's picture to be hung over the Altar. His successor gave it later to the public gallery at Berlin, where it is still to be seen. The painting has been carefully removed from the silk, and transferred to canvas.

M. K.

THE SCHÜTZ OF THE PERTISAU.

A TALE OF TYROLESE HISTORY.

CHAPTER III.

On the following morning the sun had hardly yet arisen above the extensive ridge of the Sonnwendstein, and only suffered his presence to be known by the roseate hue which crept over the clear sky and gilded the summits of the Seekahr and the other mountain ranges on the west. The meadows and wooded slopes glittered with dew as if clad in silver haze, and the lake lay like a glowing mirror in the reflection of the morning light; no ripple moved, and yet a cool, fresh breeze, appeared to sweep over its surface, bearing the scent of the fir trees and of the Alpenrosen bushes, a shrub that only grows in high mountain regions, and which here surrounds the whole lake like a garland, with its crimson flowers and russet leaves, emitting a peculiar fragrance.

In spite of the early hour all was in full activity on the shore in front of the hunting lodge in the Pertisau, and a row of large and small boats was being prepared for the start, decked out as if for a festival. Each was hung with wreaths and garlands, and at the stem and bow were fixed chiefly red and white pennons. The largest bore