But in the "Notte" (the Nativity) the case is different. It is properly an historical picture; and if Correggio had placed St. George, or St. Francis, or the Magdalene, as spectators, we might then exclaim at the absurdity of the anachronism; but here Correggio has converted the literal representation of a circumstance in sacred history into a divine piece of poetry, when he gave us that emanation of supernatural light, streaming from the form of the celestial Child, and illuminating the extatic face of the virgin mother, who bends over her infant undazzled; while another female draws back, veiling her eyes with her hand, as if unable to endure the radiance. Far off, through the gloom of night, we see the morning just breaking along the eastern horizon—emblem of the "day-spring from on high."
This is precisely one of those pictures of which no copy or engraving could convey any adequate idea; the sentiment of maternity (in which Correggio excelled) is so exquisitely tender, and the colouring so inconceivably transparent and delicate.
I suppose it is a sort of treason to say that in the Madonna di San Francisco, the face of the virgin is tinctured with affectation; but such was and is my impression.
If I were to plan a new Dresden gallery, the Madonna del Sisto and the "Notte" should each have a sanctuary apart, and be lighted from above; at present they are ill-placed for effect.
When I could move from the Raffaelle room, I took advantage of the presence and attendance of Professor Matthaï, (who is himself a painter of eminence here,) and went through a regular course of the Italian schools of painting, beginning with Giotto. The collection is extremely rich in the early Ferarese and Venetian painters, and it was most interesting thus to trace the gradual improvement and development of the school of colourists through Squarcione, Mantegna, the Bellini, Giorgione, Paris Bordone, Palma, and Titian; until richness became exuberance, and power verged upon excess in Paul Veronese and Tintoretto.
Certainly, I feel no inclination to turn my notebook into a catalogue; but I must mention Titian's Christo della Moneta:—such a head!—so pure from any trace of passion!—so refined, so intellectual, so benevolent! The only head of Christ I ever entirely approved.
Here they have Giorgione's master-piece—the meeting of Rachel and Jacob; and the three daughters of Palma, half-lengths, in the same picture. The centre one, Violante, is a most lovely head.
There is here an extraordinary picture by Titian, representing Lucrezia Borgia, presented by her husband to the Madonna. The portraits are the size of life, half-lengths. I looked in vain in the countenance of Lucrezia for some trace, some testimony of the crimes imputed to her; but she is a fair, golden-haired, gentle-looking creature, with a feeble and vapid expression. The head of her husband, Alphonso, is fine and full of power. There are, I suppose, not less than fourteen or fifteen pictures by Titian.
The Concina family, by Paul Veronese, esteemed his finest production, is in the Dresden gallery, with ten others of the same master. Of Guido, there are ten pictures, particularly that extraordinary one, called Ninus and Semiramis, life size. Of the Carracci, at least eight or nine, particularly the genius of Fame, which should be compared with that of Guido. There are numerous pictures of Albano and Ribera; but very few specimens of Salvator Rosa and Domenichino.
On the whole, I suppose that no gallery, except that of Florence, can compete with the Dresden gallery in the treasures of Italian art. In all, there are five hundred and thirty-four Italian pictures.