It would not be worth while to lose time and patience in noticing minutely how the system of misrepresentation is carried into points of artistic detail, - giving us, for example, such statements as that the burthen employed in the ballad of Sister Helen ‘is repeated with little or no alteration through thirty-four verses,’ whereas the fact is, that the alteration of it in every verse is the very scheme of the poem. But these are minor matters quite thrown into the shade by the critic’s more daring sallies. In addition to the class of attack I have answered above, the article contains, of course, an immense amount of personal paltriness; as, for instance, attributions of my work to this, that, or the other absurd derivative source; or again, pure nonsense (which can have no real meaning even to the writer) about ‘one art getting hold of another, and imposing on it its conditions and limitations’; or, indeed, what not besides? However, to such antics as this, no more attention is possible than that which Virgil enjoined Dante to bestow on the meaner phenomena of his pilgrimage.
Thus far, then, let me thank you for the opportunity afforded me to join issue with the Stealthy School of Criticism. As for any literary justice to be done on this particular Mr Robert-Thomas, I will merely ask the reader whether, once identified, he does not become manifestly his own best ‘sworn tormentor’? For who will then fail to discern all the palpitations which preceded his final resolve in the great question whether to be or not to be his acknowledged self when he became an assailant? And yet this is he who, from behind his mask, ventures to charge another with ‘bad blood,’ with ‘insincerity,’ and the rest of it (and that where poetic fancies are alone in question); while every word on his own tongue is covert rancour, and every stroke from his pen perversion of truth. Yet, after all, there is nothing wonderful in the lengths to which a fretful poet-critic will carry such grudges as he may bear, while publisher and editor can both be found who are willing to consider such means admissible, even to the clear subversion of first professed tenets in the Review which they conduct.
In many phases of outward nature, the principle of chaff and grain holds good, - the base enveloping the precious continually; but an untruth was never yet the husk of a truth. Thresh and riddle and winnow it as you may, - let it fly in shreds to the four winds, - falsehood only will be that which flies and that which stays. And thus the sheath of deceit which this pseudonymous undertaking presents at the outset insures in fact what will be found to be its real character to the core.
The Biographies
Dante Gabriel Rossetti, 1863
ROSSETTI by Lucien Pissarro
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
PLATE I. — THE DAYDREAM
From the oil painting (61½ in. by 35 in.) painted in 1880 and first exhibited in the Royal Academy in 1883. (Frontispiece)
This picture was painted from Mrs. William Morris and was left to South Kensington by Constantine Ionidès, Esq.
CHAPTER I.
About the middle of the nineteenth century Europe woke to the fact that Art, despite its pretention, had lost all touch with tradition and, like a blind man deprived of his staff, stood fumbling for direction. The necessary “point d’appui” took shape in a return to nature. This return was effected by very different means according to the country and artistic milieu in which it occurred. In England it was really a revival of the schools of painting that preceded Raphael and resulted in grafting the complicated passions of our century upon the naïve outlook of the early Italians. The more logical mind of the Frenchman saw that it was not enough to look at nature through the eyes of the Primitives. The point of view had perforce changed and all that it was necessary to borrow from the early schools was the sincerity they brought to the interpretation of phenomena.
We have been told that, in contrast to the continental movement, the realism of the Pre-Raphaelites was applied only to noble subjects. But what is a noble subject? The distinction is a purely literary one. There are no noble subjects in art; there are only harmonies of line and colour. For example this school would prefer the rose to the cabbage as a subject, on account of the symbols attached to it. It is the Queen of Flowers, the Mystic Rose, &c., &c. But is the rose greater than the cabbage from a purely pictorial point of view? It depends entirely upon how far the painter is able to reveal the beauty, the harmony of form and colour of either. The symbolistic appanage of the rose will not suffice of itself to make a picture, nor for the lack of these symbols may we condemn the cabbage.
The realism of the Pre-Raphaelites developed an absorption in detail, a “bit by bit” painting that was too often detrimental to the whole. In the best works of the early Italians the unity is, in spite of that attention to detail, admirably maintained — in other words the values are preserved. It was not long, however, before Rossetti quitted the path of the Pre-Raphaelites for a broader one. His paintings are entirely symbolistic, therefore literary. Given the personality of an artist equally gifted as painter and poet, this need not surprise us. Indeed, seeing that Rossetti’s pictorial conceptions are exclusively literary, he might be considered as more dominantly a writer than a painter; and this is the light in which he saw himself. We might say he painted “sentiments” and add that sentiment is the property of literature, but in Rossetti’s case they have at least the advantage of intensity. They come straight from life, for all his art is more or less connected with the tragedy of his own existence. Herein lies the value of Rossetti’s works as artistic creations.
CHAPTER II.
Rossetti’s family, as his name indicates, was of Italian origin. His ancestors on his father’s side belong to Vasto d’Ammone, a small city of the Abruzzi. The original name of the family was Della Guardia. Probably the diminutive Rossetti was given to some red-haired ancestor and retained in spite of the disappearance of that peculiarity. The grandfather of the poet, Dominico Rossetti, was in the iron trade, his son Gabriel Rossetti, born at Vasto, became a custodian of the Bourbon Museum at Naples. He was an ardent patriot and one of the group of reformers who obtained a constitution from Ferdinand, King of the Two Sicilies, in 1820. The return of the King with the Austrian army obliged Gabriel Rossetti, who was compromised by his actions as well as by his patriotic songs, to make his escape from Italy. He did this by the help of the English admiral, commanding the fleet in the bay. Indeed he left Italy disguised in an English uniform.
PLATE II. — ECCE ANCILLA DOMINI
From the oil painting (28½ in. by 17 in.) painted in 1850 and is now in the Tate Gallery
This picture was first exhibited in 1850 at the “Free Exhibition” in Portland Place. It was very slightly retouched in 1873 for the then owner, Mr. Graham. It is rightly considered the most typical of Rossetti’s “Pre-Raphaelite” period.
After passing three years in Malta (1822-1825), he came to England bearing introductions from John Hookham Frere, then Governor of Malta. A year after his arrival he married Frances Mary Livinia Polidori, whose mother was an English lady of the name of Pierce, while her father was Gaetano Polidori, the translator of Milton. Gabriel Rossetti was appointed Professor of Italian literature at King’s College in 1831; but owing to the failure of his eyesight he had to resign that position in 1845. He died nine years after, on April 26th, 1854. He is the author of several works, the best known in England are: Comento analitico sulla Divina Commedia (1826-1827); Sullo Spirito Anti-Papale (1832); and Il Mistero dell’ Amor Platonic (1840). In Italy, particularly in his own province, his name is held in veneration for services in the cause of liberty. He had four children, the eldest, Maria Francesca, the author of “A Shadow of Dante,” died in 1876. Dante Gabriel was the second and was born the 12th of May 1828 at 38 Charlotte Street, Great Portland Place, London. William Michael was the third, and Christina was the youngest.
Very little is known of the early life of Rossetti. He r
eceived some instruction at a private school in Foley Street, Portland Place, studying there from the autumn of 1836 to the summer of 1837. He was afterwards sent to King’s College School. There he learned Latin, French, and a little Greek. Naturally enough he knew Italian very well from home and also a little German. In his home surroundings the young child’s taste for literature was developed very early; at five years old he wrote a drama called “The Slave.” Towards his thirteenth year he began a romantic tale in prose, “Roderick and Rosalba.” Somewhere about 1843 he wrote a legendary tale entitled “Sir Hugh Le Heron,” founded on a tale by Allan Cunningham. His grandfather Gaetano Polidori printed it himself for private circulation, but the work contains no sign of his ultimate development and has been justly omitted from his collected works. Soon the wish to be a painter took possession of Dante Gabriel and, on leaving school, he began his technical education in art at Cary’s Academy in Bloomsbury. In 1846 he joined the classes of the Antique School of the Royal Academy. It is worth pointing out that he never followed the Life School of that institution. Conventional methods of study were distasteful to him. He decided to throw up the Academy training and wrote to a painter, not very well known at that date but whose work he admired, asking to be admitted to his studio as a pupil. The painter was Madox Brown, and young Rossetti, given his needs and mode of thought, could not have chosen a more suitable master. Madox Brown was only seven years older than Rossetti, but he had studied at Ghent, Antwerp, Paris, and Rome. He had exhibited some fine cartoons during the early forties for the decoration of the House of Lords. Among these was one that Rossetti had greatly admired at the exhibition of the competitive cartoons in Westminster Hall. It was “Harold’s body brought before William the Conqueror.” In March 1848 Rossetti entered upon his new experience and Madox Brown agreed to teach him painting, not for a fee but for the mere pleasure of meeting and training a sympathetic spirit. Rossetti did not long remain a regular attendant in the studio. He left after a few months.
On the opening day of the exhibition (May 1848), “Rossetti,” says Mr. Hunt, “came up boisterously and in loud tongue made me feel very confused by declaring that mine was the best picture of the year. The fact that it was from Keats (‘The Eve of St. Agnes’) made him extra enthusiastic, for, I think, no painter had ever before painted from that wonderful poet, who then, it may scarcely be credited, was little known.” Rossetti wished so earnestly to become more intimate with Hunt that he agreed to work with him, sharing a studio that the latter had just taken in Cleveland Street, Fitzroy Square. Here he began to paint his first composition, having hitherto done no more than studies, sketches, a number of portraits, some of which reveal excellent work. At this time his literary development was somewhat ahead of his artistic growth. He had already translated the Vita Nuova which is alone a monumental achievement, introducing wonderfully into the English the warmth of the southern language; and he had written some of his best known poems, including “The Blessed Damozel,” “My Sister’s Sleep,” “The Portrait,” a considerable portion of “Ave,” “A last Confession,” and the “Bride’s Prelude.”
Millais and Holman Hunt, whose friendship dated from the Academy Schools, found ground for sympathetic union with Rossetti in their common distaste for contemporary art. They were convinced it was necessary to abandon the conventional style of the day and return to a severe and conscientious study of nature. They were for a while uncertain as to the path to pursue. Where should they turn for precept and guidance on the line of their new-found principles? Looking through a book of engravings from the Campo Santo of Pisa one day at Millais’ house, they thought they had found there the direction they sought. Mr. Holman Hunt tells us that the foundation of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood was the immediate result of coming across the book at that particular time.
While Holman Hunt was painting “Rienzi swearing revenge over his brother’s corpse,” and Millais, “Lorenzo and Isabella,” Rossetti began his “Girlhood of Mary Virgin.” As can well be imagined that first composition gave him endless trouble and was the cause of the most violent fits of alternate depression and energy. But the following spring (1849), the three pictures were ready for exhibition. Millais and Hunt were hung in the Royal Academy Exhibition and Rossetti’s in the so-called Free Exhibition, which was held in a gallery at Hyde Park Corner. In the “Girlhood of Mary Virgin,” he represents a room in the Virgin’s home with a balcony on which her father, St. Joachim, is seen tending a vine which grows up towards the top of the picture. On the right, against a dark green curtain, are the figures of St. Anna and the Virgin sitting at an embroidery frame. The mother, in dark green and brown garments with a dull red head-dress, is watching with clasped hands the work in front of her. The young girl, a quite unconventional Madonna dressed in grey, pauses with a needle in her hand gazing in front of her at a child angel holding a white lily. Underneath the pot in which the white lily grows are six big books bearing the names of the six cardinal virtues. The figures, as well as the dove which is perched on the trellis, bear halos, their names being inscribed within. Rossetti painted his mother for St. Anna and his sister Christina for the Virgin. Changing her dark brown hair to golden, he broke a rule of the
Brotherhood, which decrees that the artist shall copy his model most scrupulously. The picture was signed with his name, followed by the three letters P.R.B. Rossetti having revealed the meaning of these three letters to a friend it was soon generally known and no peace was given to those who dared to stand up against traditional authority. It is necessary to explain that, at that time, Raphael was considered the greatest of all painters. All who came before him were ignored and a set of fixed rules supposed to have been deduced from his work was taught in all the schools. The revolt of the “Brethren” was directed much more against those rules than against Raphael’s work which, in all probability, they hardly knew.
PLATE III. — DANTE DRAWING THE ANGEL
From the water-colour (16½ in. by 24 in.) painted in 1853 and first exhibited in the Pre-Raphaelite Exhibition at Russell Place in 1857. It is now in the Taylorian Museum at Oxford
The subject of this water-colour is taken from the following passage in the Vita Nuova:
“On that day which fulfilled the year since my lady had been made of the citizens of eternal life, remembering me of her as I sat alone, I betook myself to draw the resemblance of an angel upon certain tablets. And while I did thus, chancing to turn my head I perceived that some were standing beside me, to whom I should have given courteous welcome, and that they were observing what I did: also I learned afterwards that they had been there awhile before I perceived them. Perceiving whom, I arose for salutation and said: ‘Another was with me.’”
The same incident has been commemorated by Robert Browning in his “One Word More.”
At about the same time that he painted “Mary’s Girlhood,” Rossetti did a portrait in oils of his father, his first work of this kind. He also drew an outline design of a lute player and his lady, a subject taken from Coleridge’s “Genevieve”; a pen-and-ink drawing of “Gretchen in the Chapel,” with Mephistopheles whispering in her ear, and “The Sun may shine and we be cold,” a sketch of a girl near a window, apparently a prisoner. To this period also belongs the important pen-and-ink drawing, “Il Saluto di Beatrice,” representing in two parts the meeting of Dante and Beatrice, first in a street of Florence and secondly in Paradise.
The most important of Rossetti’s Pre-Raphaelite work during the two years following 1848 is the “Ecce Ancilla Domini,” quite in keeping in sentiment with the picture of the previous year. Both these pictures are a little timid in treatment. In the “Ecce Ancilla Domini,” the Virgin clad in white is sitting on her bed, as if just awakened, and sees with awe the full length of an angel, also clad in white, floating in front of her and holding a white lily in his hand. The walls are white but there is a blue curtain behind the Virgin’s head and a red embroidery on its frame is standing in the foreground at the foot of the bed. Th
e drapery of the angel is a little stiff and the whole effect rather hard, but notwithstanding this youthful fault the whole work is restrained and full of charm both in drawing and colour.
Complete Poetical Works of Dante Gabriel Rossetti Page 50
