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   <ramheader>
      <filedesc>
         <titlestmt>
            <title>Dante Gabriel Rossetti as Designer and Writer</title>
            <author>William Michael Rossetti</author>
    
    
         </titlestmt>
         <editionstmt>
            <edition>1</edition>
         </editionstmt>
         <extent/>
   
   
         <notesstmt/>
         <sourcedesc>
            <citnstruct>
               <title>Dante Gabriel Rossetti as Designer and Writer</title>
               <author>William Michael Rossetti</author>
               <imprint>
                  <publisher>Cassell &amp; Company, Limited</publisher>
                  <printer>Cassell &amp; Company, Limited</printer>
                  <city>London</city>
                  <date compdate="1889">1889</date>
                  <edition/>
                  <prepub/>
                  <pagination/>
                  <issue/>
                  <authorization/>
                  <collation/>
                  <note/>
               </imprint>
               <scribe/>
               <corrector/>
               <provenance>
                  <location>Fiske Kimball Fine Arts Library, U of Virginia</location>
                  <recnum>nd497.r8r8</recnum>
                  <note/>
               </provenance>
               <physicaldesc>
                  <binding>
                     <cover/>
                     <endpapers/>
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      <encodingdesc/>
      <profiledesc>
         <commentaries>
            <head>Commentary</head>
            <section type="intro">
               <head>Introduction</head>
               <p/>
            </section>
            <section type="texthistcomp">
               <head>Textual History: Composition</head>
               <p/>
            </section>
            <section type="texthistrev">
               <head>Textual History: Revision</head>
               <p/>
            </section>
            <section type="prodhist">
               <head>Production History</head>
               <p/>
            </section>
            <section type="recepthist">
               <head>Reception History</head>
               <p/>
            </section>
            <section type="icon">
               <head>Iconographic</head>
               <p/>
            </section>
            <section type="printhist">
               <head>Printing History</head>
               <p/>
            </section>
            <section type="pictorial">
               <head>Pictorial</head>
               <p/>
            </section>
            <section type="historical">
               <head>Historical</head>
               <p/>
            </section>
            <section type="literary">
               <head>Literary</head>
               <p/>
            </section>
            <section type="translation">
               <head>Translation</head>
               <p/>
            </section>
            <section type="autobio">
               <head>Autobiographical</head>
               <p/>
            </section>
            <section type="biblio">
               <head>Bibliographic</head>
               <p/>
            </section>
         </commentaries>
      </profiledesc>
      <revisiondesc/>
   </ramheader>
   <text>
      <front>
         <page n="[00]" image="a."/>
         <pageheader>
            <note>blank page</note>
         </pageheader>
         <epage/>
         <page n="[0]" image="a."/>
         <pageheader>
            <note>blank page</note>
         </pageheader>
         <epage/>
         <page n="[i]" image="a."/>
         <titlepage type="half title">
            <doctitle>
               <titlepart type="main">DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI<lb/>AS<lb/>DESIGNER AND WRITER.</titlepart>
            </doctitle>
         </titlepage>
         <epage/>
         <page n="[ii]" image="a."/>
         <pageheader>
            <note>blank page</note>
         </pageheader>
         <epage/>
         <page n="[iii]" image="a."/>
         <pageheader>
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         </pageheader>
         <epage/>
         <page n="[iv]" image="a."/>
         <div0 anchor="front.1" type="frontispiece" n="1">
            <p>
               <figure entity="a.nd497.r8r8.1889.[iv].tif" title="Dante Gabriel Rossetti"
                       workcode="nd497.r8r8">
                  <head>DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI<lb/>1863<lb/>FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY LEWIS CARROLL</head>
                  <figdesc>Photomechanical reproduction of photograph of DGR by Lewis Carroll. Nearly
       full-length of DGR seated, facing front, head tilted slightly left. He is wearing an
       overcoat, and holds the brim of a hat in his bent left arm, which rests on the back of the
       chair. </figdesc>
               </figure>
            </p>
         </div0>
         <epage/>
         <page n="[v]" image="a."/>
         <titlepage type="main">
            <doctitle>
               <titlepart type="main">DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI<lb/>AS<lb/>DESIGNER AND WRITER.</titlepart>
            </doctitle>
            <byline>
               <hi rend="i">NOTES BY</hi>
            </byline>
            <docauthor>WILLIAM MICHAEL ROSSETTI,</docauthor>
            <titlepart type="submain">INCLUDING<lb/>
               <hi rend="i">A PROSE PARAPHRASE OF THE HOUSE OF
     LIFE.</hi>
            </titlepart>
            <epigraph>
               <lg>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="i">As though mine image in the glass</hi>
                  </l>
                  <l>
                     <hi rend="i">Should tarry when myself am gone.</hi>
                  </l>
               </lg>
            </epigraph>
            <docimprint>CASSELL &amp; COMPANY, LIMITED:<lb/>LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK &amp;
      MELBOURNE.<date>1889.</date>
               <lb/>[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]</docimprint>
         </titlepage>
         <epage/>
         <page n="[vi]" image="a."/>
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            <note>blank page</note>
         </pageheader>
         <epage/>
         <page n="[vii]" image="a."/>
         <div0 anchor="front.2" type="dedication" n="2">
            <p>
               <hi rend="sc">TO HIS SISTER</hi>
               <lb/>
               <hi rend="c">CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI</hi>
               <lb/>
               <hi rend="sc">AND TO HIS SISTER-IN-LAW</hi>
               <lb/>
               <hi rend="c">LUCY MADOX ROSSETTI</hi>
               <lb/>
               <hi rend="sc">I DEDICATE</hi>
               <lb/>
               <hi rend="sc">THIS RECORD OF ONE</hi>
               <lb/>
               <hi rend="sc">WHOM WE ALL THREE KNEW AND UNDERSTOOD WELL</hi>
               <lb/>
               <hi rend="sc">AND WHOM TO UNDERSTAND WAS TO LOVE.</hi>
               <lb/>
               <hi rend="c">W. M. ROSSETTI.</hi>
            </p>
         </div0>
         <epage/>
         <page n="[viii]" image="a."/>
         <pageheader>
            <note>blank page</note>
         </pageheader>
         <epage/>
         <page n="[ix]" image="a."/>
         <div0 anchor="front.3" type="preface" n="3">
            <divheader>
               <title id="A.R.1" rend="c">PREFACE.</title>
            </divheader>
            <ornlb>----------</ornlb>
            <p rend="ni">
               <hi rend="sc">There</hi> would not under any circumstances be any great occasion for saying
     much by way of Preface to this book, and the occasion becomes all the less through my having
     put a few introductory remarks to the several sections of the work. The reader will readily
     perceive that the life-work of Dante Rossetti is here considered in two branches:&#8212;(1) his
     Paintings and Designs, to which the Tabular List of Works of Art serves as an Appendix; and (2)
     his Writings, supplemented by an Index of Writings, and also by the prose paraphrase of <xref doc="a.22-1881.raw">
                  <title level="wrk">
                     <hi rend="i">The House of Life</hi>
                  </title>
               </xref>. Mine is a book of memoranda and of details; perhaps some readers will prefer to say,
     &#8220;of shreds and patches.&#8221; The materials were authoritative and mostly in
     my own hands, and it may fairly be averred that no one else can have at his command, at the
     present time, any the like quantity of materials out of which a similar book could be
     constructed. Such being the case, I have thought it well to turn to account, in the interest of
     my brother's memory, the matter which lay under my control. As to the use made of it, I will
     only add that I view with some regret the very frequent mention of prices charged and paid; for
     the works themselves, and their intellectual, artistic, or personal associations, interest me
     more than any question of prices, and I should like to consult the taste of readers who regard
     the affair in the same light:<epage/>
               <page n="x" image="a."/> but a professional man acts professionally, and prices are not
     unnaturally debated or recorded in his correspondence, and I reproduce such details as I find,
     whether on this or on other topics.</p>
            <p>Though the present is the only volume which I have yet issued regarding my brother, there are
     some other minor performances of mine relating to him which it may be excusable here to
     specify. Since his death in 1882 I have compiled (1883) the <title level="bk">
                  <hi rend="i">
                     <xref doc="a.rossettiwm011.rad" link="dead">Catalogue of his Remaining Works</xref>
                  </hi>
               </title> sold at Christie's, and have written (1884) three articles in the <xref doc="a.artj.rad" link="dead">
                  <title level="per">
                     <hi rend="i">Art Journal</hi>
                  </title>
               </xref> named <xref doc="a.artj.001.rad" link="dead">
                  <title level="es">
                     <hi rend="i">Notes on Rossetti and his Works</hi>
                  </title>
               </xref>; the Preface and Notes (1886) to the edition of his <xref doc="a.1-1886.raw">
                  <title level="bk">
                     <hi rend="i">Collected Works</hi>
                  </title>
               </xref>; and three articles (1888 and 1889) in the <xref doc="a.magart.rad" link="dead">
                  <title level="per">
                     <hi rend="i">Magazine of Art</hi>
                  </title>
               </xref> on <xref doc="a.magart.002.rad" link="dead">
                  <title level="es">
                     <hi rend="i">Portraits of Rossetti</hi>
                  </title>
               </xref>. Several details which appear in these various writings might naturally, if not already
     published there, have found a place in the present volume.</p>
            <p>It seems more incumbent upon me to advert to what I have <hi rend="i">not</hi> done in this
     book than to what I <hi rend="i">have</hi> done. I have not attempted to write a biographical
     account of my brother, nor to estimate the range or value of his powers and performances in
     fine art and in literature. I agree with those who think that a brother is not the proper
     person to undertake work of this sort. An outsider can do it dispassionately, though with
     imperfect knowledge of the facts; a friend can do it with mastery, and without much undue bias;
     but a brother, however equitably he may address himself to the task, cannot perform it so as to
     secure the prompt and cordial assent of his readers. His praise will only pass muster as a
     brother's praise; and his dispraise, even if extreme and pushed to the point of captiousness,
     keeps the taint of<epage/>
               <page n="xi" image="a."/> consanguinity. It runs more chance of being censured as unkind than
     of being frankly accepted as impartial. My decided inclination therefore is not to put myself
     forward, now or hereafter, as the biographer of my brother; nor as the critic, still less as
     the direct panegyrist, of his works. I do not even attempt to describe them otherwise than in a
     very brief and restricted way. In a spirit of intimate knowledge of what he was and what he
     did, I undertake to present a synopsis of his works in art and in literature, based upon
     certain materials which my familiarity with the whole subject enables me to amplify and
     illustrate on occasion. If I had not a deep regard for Dante Rossetti's memory, I should show
     myself &#8220;no more worthy to be called&#8221; his brother; but, whatever my own feeling, I leave it to
     the admirers and students of his career, or if need be to those who regard it with more
     severity than sympathy, to form their own judgment both of his performances and of this
     contribution to a more precise acquaintance with them.</p>
            <closer>
               <signed>
                  <hi rend="sc">W. M. ROSSETTI.</hi>
               </signed>
               <dateline>
                  <hi rend="i">London, February</hi> 1889.</dateline>
            </closer>
         </div0>
         <epage/>
         <page n="[xii]" image="a."/>
         <pageheader>
            <note>blank page</note>
         </pageheader>
         <epage/>
         <page n="[xiii]" image="a."/>
         <div0 anchor="front.4" type="table of contents" n="4">
            <divheader>
               <title>
                  <hi rend="c">CONTENTS.</hi>
               </title>
            </divheader>
            <ornlb>---------</ornlb>
            <list>
               <item>
                  <ref target="A.R.1">PREFACE. . . . . . ix</ref>
               </item>
               <item>
                  <list>
                     <item>
                        <ref target="A.R.2">DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI AS DESIGNER AND WRITER&#8212;. . 3</ref>
                     </item>
                     <item>
                        <list>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.3">PAINTINGS AND DESIGNS&#8212;1843. . . . . 6</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.4">&#8220; &#8221; 1848 . . . . 8</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.5">&#8220; &#8221; 1850 . . . . 10</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.6">&#8220; &#8221; 1852 . . . . 12</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.7">&#8220; &#8221; 1853 . . . . 13</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.8">&#8220; &#8221; 1854 . . . . 19</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.9">&#8220; &#8221; 1855 . . . . 26</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.10">&#8220; &#8221; 1856 . . . . 27</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.11">&#8220; &#8221; 1857 . . . . 31</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.12">&#8220; &#8221; 1858 . . . . 33</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.13">&#8220; &#8221; 1859 . . . . 35</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.14">&#8220; &#8221; 1860 . . . . 37</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.15">&#8220; &#8221; 1861 . . . . 39</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.16">&#8220; &#8221; 1862 . . . . 40</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.17">&#8220; &#8221; 1863 . . . . 40</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.18">&#8220; &#8221; 1864 . . . . 42</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.19">&#8220; &#8221; 1865 . . . . 50</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.20">&#8220; &#8221; 1866 . . . . 54</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.21">&#8220; &#8221; 1867 . . . . 56</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.22">&#8220; &#8221; 1868 . . . . 61</ref>
                           </item>
                           <epage/>
                           <page n="xiv" image="a."/>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.23">PAINTINGS AND DESIGNS&#8212;1869 . . . 65</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.24">&#8220; &#8221; 1870 . . . 70</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.25">&#8220; &#8221; 1871 . . . 73</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.26">&#8220; &#8221; 1872 . . . 76</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.27">&#8220; &#8221; 1873 . . . 84</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.28">&#8220; &#8221; 1874 . . . 91</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.29">&#8220; &#8221; 1875 . . . 93</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.30">&#8220; &#8221; 1876 . . . 96</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.31">&#8220; &#8221; 1877 . . . 98</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.32">&#8220; &#8221; 1878 . . . 104</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.33">&#8220; &#8221; 1879 . . . 107</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.34">&#8220; &#8221; 1880 . . . 110</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.35">&#8220; &#8221; 1881 . . . 113</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.36">&#8220; &#8221; 1882 . . . 118</ref>
                           </item>
                        </list>
                     </item>
                     <item>
                        <list>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.37">WRITINGS&#8212;1843. . . . . 123</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.38">&#8221; 1845 . . . . 125</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.39">&#8221; 1847 . . . . 125</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.40">" 1848 . . . . 126</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.41">" 1849 . . . . 126</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.42">" 1850 . . . . 131</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.43">" 1851 . . . . 133</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.44">" 1852 . . . . 135</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.45">" 1854 . . . . 137</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.46">" 1856 . . . . 138</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.47">" 1857 . . . . 140</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.48">" 1859 . . . . 140</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.49">" 1861 . . . . 141</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.50">" 1865 . . . . 144</ref>
                           </item>
                           <epage/>
                           <page n="xv" image="a."/>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.51">WRITINGS&#8212;1867. . . . . 144</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.52">" 1868 . . . . 145</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.53">" 1869 . . . . 146</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.54">" 1870 . . . . 151</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.55">" 1871 . . . . 155</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.56">" 1872 . . . . 159</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.57">" 1873 . . . . 160</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.58">" 1874 . . . . 163</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.59">" 1877 . . . . 166</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.60">" 1878 . . . . 167</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.61">" 1879 . . . . 169</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.62">" 1880 . . . . 169</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.63">" 1881 . . . . 171</ref>
                           </item>
                           <item>
                              <ref target="A.R.64">" 1882 . . . . 174</ref>
                           </item>
                        </list>
                     </item>
                  </list>
               </item>
               <item>
                  <list>
                     <item>
                        <ref target="A.R.65">THE HOUSE OF LIFE&#8212;A PROSE PARAPHRASE&#8212; . 179</ref>
                     </item>
                     <item>
                        <ref target="A.R.66">INTRODUCTORY SONNET . . . . . 184</ref>
                     </item>
                     <item>
                        <ref target="A.R.67">PART I.&#8212;YOUTH AND CHANGE&#8212;SONNETS 1 TO 59 . 185</ref>
                     </item>
                     <item>
                        <ref target="A.R.68">PART II.&#8212;CHANGE AND FATE&#8212;SONNETS 60 TO 101 . 224</ref>
                     </item>
                  </list>
               </item>
               <item>TABULAR LIST OF ROSSETTI'S WORKS OF ART . . . 265</item>
               <item>INDEX TO ROSSETTI'S WRITINGS . . . . 291</item>
               <item>GENERAL INDEX OF NAMES . . . . . 295</item>
            </list>
         </div0>
         <epage/>
         <page n="[xvi]" image="a."/>
         <pageheader>
            <note>blank page</note>
         </pageheader>
         <epage/>
      </front>
      <body>
         <page n="[1]" image="a."/>
         <pageheader>
            <bibliosig>B</bibliosig>
         </pageheader>
         <div0 anchor="0.1" type="section" n="5"
               title="Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Paintings and  Designs">
            <divheader>
               <title>
                  <hi rend="c">DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI.</hi>
                  <lb/>
                  <hi rend="sc">PAINTINGS AND DESIGNS.</hi>
               </title>
            </divheader>
            <epage/>
            <page n="[2]" image="a."/>
            <pageheader>
               <note>blank page</note>
            </pageheader>
            <epage/>
            <page n="[3]" image="a."/>
            <pageheader>
               <bibliosig>B 2</bibliosig>
            </pageheader>
            <div1 anchor="0.1.1" type="introductory section" n="1"
                  title="Dante Gabriel Rossetti as Designer  and Writer">
               <divheader>
                  <title id="A.R.2">
                     <hi rend="c">DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI</hi>
                     <lb/>
                     <hi rend="sc">AS</hi>
                     <lb/>
                     <hi rend="c">DESIGNER AND WRITER.</hi>
                  </title>
               </divheader>
               <p>
                  <hi rend="sc">ON</hi> examining the correspondence of my brother Dante Rossetti&#8212;the letters
      addressed to him, and those which he himself addressed to members of his family, and to his
      friends Ford Madox Brown and George Rae, along with some drafts of his letters to other
      persons&#8212;I find a considerable mass of details regarding his pictures and designs, and his
      literary work. The details could hardly be recorded in a more authentic form than in these
      letters of concurrent date. I propose therefore to throw together, into something approaching
      to a consecutive narration, the various particulars which I have thus collected&#8212;or rather I
      should say the more salient and substantial particulars out of a miscellaneous multitude. I am
      aware that it is possible to be entertaining in any performance of this sort, and possible to
      be &#8220;graphic&#8221;&#8212;and very possible to be neither the one nor the other. My own <foreign lang="italian">forte</foreign> perhaps is not the entertaining nor the graphic; in default of
      these valuable qualities, I may at least endeavour to compile with care and fulness, and
      present the results with precision and perspicuity. From personal knowledge and reminiscence I
      shall be able here and there to eke out a detail, or supply a<epage/>
                  <page n="4" image="a."/> missing link: but in the main I shall not seek to travel beyond the
      record, nor to enter into subjects, however relevant, which do not appear upon the face of the
      documents with which I undertake to deal. It should be premised that the bulk of
      correspondence which my brother left behind him was only a fragment of what had passed through
      his hands during life; on more occasions than one he must have destroyed the entire stock,
      with very few exceptions, of letters in his possession: from 1864 onwards, or more especially
      from about 1871, they remain comparatively copious.</p>
               <p>I propose to make one principal division in my treatment of the subject&#8212;the division between
      details concerning pictures and designs, and details concerning poems or other writings; and
      within each of these sections I shall proceed under headings of the successive years, although
      every now and then I may continue writing about some particular work irrespectively of the
      date-intervals. The former section, that of pictures and designs, is much the fuller of the
      two; as the reader who bears in mind that my brother was professionally a painter, not a man
      of the literary calling, will be well prepared to expect.</p>
               <p>I add here a very few personal particulars, simply as memoranda for guidance and reference.
      Gabriel Charles Dante Rossetti, who from 1850 or thereabouts called himself Dante Gabriel
      Rossetti, was the son of Gabriele Rossetti, a political exile from the Neapolitan kingdom, and
      of Frances Mary Lavinia (Polidori), an Englishwoman of parentage Italian (Tuscan) on the
      father's side. He was born in London on 12th May 1828. Gabriele Rossetti was Professor of
      Italian in King's College, London, and subsisted by teaching his<epage/>
                  <page n="5" image="a."/> language; in letters he was known as a patriotic poet, and as a
      speculative commentator upon Dante's writings, and upon other kindred branches of literature.
      Dante Gabriel had an elder sister, Maria Francesca (who died in 1876), and a younger brother
      and sister, William Michael and Christina Georgina. He was educated in King's College School,
      which he quitted in or about 1843 to study as a painter, becoming a student in the Antique
      School of the Royal Academy, and afterwards benefiting from the friendly guidance of the
      painter Ford Madox Brown. In 1848 he associated himself with three rising artists&#8212; William
      Holman Hunt, John Everett Millais, and Thomas Woolner&#8212;in founding the so-called Præraphaelite
      Brotherhood, with a view to a reform or re-development of art. There were three other members
      of the Brotherhood, Frederic George Stephens, James Collinson, and William Michael Rossetti;
      Collinson seceded after a while, and Walter Howell Deverell filled his place. Rossetti
      exhibited his first oil-picture, <xref doc="a.s40.rap">
                     <title level="pic">
                        <hi rend="i">The Girlhood of Mary Virgin</hi>
                     </title>
                  </xref>, in 1849; he soon afterwards resolved to withhold his works from exhibition
      altogether. In 1860 he married Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal, daughter of a Sheffield cutler&#8212; she
      died in 1862. Rossetti, who had already made some mark as a poet by compositions printed in
       <xref doc="a.ap4.g415.raw">
                     <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">The Germ</hi>
                     </title>
                  </xref>, 1850, and in <xref doc="a.ap4.o93.raw">
                     <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">The Oxford and Cambridge Magazine</hi>
                     </title>
                  </xref>, towards 1856, published his first volume, the translations named <xref doc="a.1-1861.raw">
                     <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">The Early Italian Poets</hi>
                     </title>
                  </xref>, in 1861; in 1870 appeared the volume <xref doc="a.1-1870.raw">
                     <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">Poems</hi>
                     </title>
                  </xref>, and in 1881 the same volume with some modification of its contents, and the <xref doc="a.2-1881.raw">
                     <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">Ballads and Sonnets</hi>
                     </title>
                  </xref>. He died on 9th April 1882, at Birchington-on-Sea, near Margate. The final stage of
      his disease was uræmia; but insomnia<epage/>
                  <page n="6" image="a."/> dating from about 1867, and consequent abuse of chloral as a
      soporific, were the root of the evil. At Birchington he lies buried, under a figured Irish
      cross monument designed by Madox Brown.</p>
               <ornlb> -------------------</ornlb>
            </div1>
            <div1 anchor="0.1.2" type="section" n="2" title="paintings and designs">
               <divheader>
                  <title id="A.R.3">
                     <hi rend="c">PAINTINGS AND DESIGNS.</hi>
                  </title>
               </divheader>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.1" type="section" n="1" title="1843" id="a.r.3">
                  <divheader>
                     <hi rend="b">1843.</hi>
                     <lb/>
                  </divheader>
                  <p rend="ni">This was, I think, the year in which Dante Rossetti left school, and entered a
       drawing academy; it was the academy in Queen Street, Bloomsbury, known as Sass's, but kept at
       this time by Mr. F. S. Cary, an oil-painter of moderate attainment, son of the well-reputed
       translator of Dante's <xref doc="a.dante002.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="wrk" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Commedia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. Rossetti was a member in 1843 of some sketching club. I cannot remember who his
       colleagues may have been&#8212;presumably other students in the same drawing-school; certainly not
       any of the remarkable young artist-students with whom he afterwards became associated in the
       Præraphaelite movement, for these only became known to him after he had passed from Cary's to
       the antique school of the Royal Academy. In July he made for the sketching club a design of
       the <xref doc="a.s8.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Death of Marmion</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and two designs, from Goldsmith's <xref doc="a.goldsmith001.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Deserted Village</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, of the old soldier recounting his battles to the parson. One of these latter he
       regarded at the time as his most finished, and perhaps his best, pen-and-ink design. His next
       subject for the club was to be a parting of two lovers; this he treated in August in six
       varying compositions. In the same<epage/>
                     <page n="7" image="a."/> month he drew, from <xref doc="a.shakespeare001.018.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">As You Like It</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, <xref doc="a.sa271.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Orlando and Adam in the Forest</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and also the <xref doc="a.sa364.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Death of Virginia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. The latter subject did not inspire him to original invention, so he borrowed (I
       should fear, contrary to the rules of the club) the composition which he found in a series of
       lithographed subjects from Roman history by an old family friend, Filippo Pistrucci, brother
       of the celebrated medallist. These subjects by Pistrucci are generally well invented and
       composed, though of no high mark in point of execution. It fell to Rossetti to fix the next
       subject for design; he selected, from Byron's <xref doc="a.byron004.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Siege of Corinth</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, Minotti firing the train of gunpowder. I can still recollect something of this
       last-named drawing, which was mainly in outline; and remember that in this instance also he
       recurred, for some of his accessory figures or groupings, to the Pistrucci lithographs,
       although the composition as a whole was his own.</p>
                  <p>Walter Scott, I may here take occasion to observe, was, along with Shakespeare, one of the
       very earliest poets in whom my brother delighted; Byron came a little later, and for a while
       reigned supreme. Shelley he read with enthusiasm in 1844, but he had probably no knowledge of
       him in 1843. Afterwards followed Mrs. Browning, Tennyson, and, eclipsing all predecessors for
       some years, Browning. Towards 1846 Bailey's <xref doc="a.bailey001.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Festus</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and from a rather earlier date Keats, also ranked with the highest. The poems of
       Dante were not (contrary to a prevalent supposition) impressive to my brother in mere
       boyhood. It can hardly, I think, have been earlier than 1844 that he looked into them with
       serious attention or awakened admiration; they then at once rooted deeply and germinated
       rapidly in his mind.</p>
                  <p>The above, proper to the year 1843, is the only<epage/>
                     <page n="8" image="a."/> record I have by me of the boyish period of my brother's art. We
       next come to</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.2" type="section" n="2" title="1848">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.4">
                        <hi rend="b">1848,</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p rend="ni">before the middle of which year the Præraphaelite movement had already been
       fairly started in the minds and practice of its founders, and Rossetti was working as a
       professional painter at his first oil-picture. This was the now somewhat celebrated work
        <xref doc="a.s40.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Girlhood of Mary Virgin</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. He exhibited it in 1849 in the Free Exhibition, Hyde Park Corner; Millais and Hunt
       appearing at the same time in the Royal Academy with their first &#8220;Præraphaelite&#8221;
       works&#8212;Keats's <xref doc="a.keats001.001.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Isabella</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and <xref doc="a.op34.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Rienzi swearing Revenge over his Brother's Corpse</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. This was, I think, literally my brother's first oil-picture; having only been
       preceded by a subject begun, but never nearly completed, on a good-sized canvas, to be
       entitled <xref doc="a.6-1847.s37.raw">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Retro me, Sathana</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, representing, as a mediæval-costumed group, an aged ecclesiastic, a youthful lady,
       and the fiend. <xref doc="a.s40.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Girlhood of Mary</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was commenced, though not finished, prior to the oil-portrait of our father, also a
       work of 1848. Of this portrait I find the artist's own judgment recorded at a much later
       date, perhaps 1861. He terms it &#8220;<quote>a funny piece of painting, but no doubt considerably
        though not perfectly like</quote>.&#8221; It was painted for his godfather, Mr. Charles Lyell, of
       Kinnordy, an elegant Dantesque scholar, and is now the property of Mr. Leonard Lyell. On
       August 20th Rossetti wrote that he had made one study for the colour of his symbolic picture,
       and was then essaying a second; he had also made a nude study for the figure of St. Anna. By
       November 22nd he had painted this saint's head into the picture; it was done from our mother,
       and is indeed a<epage/>
                     <page n="9" image="a."/> very accurate likeness of her at her then age of forty-eight. <xref doc="a.s40.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Girlhood of Mary Virgin</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (my brother particularly objected to the inclination which some people evinced to
       call it &#8220;The <title level="pic">
                        <hi rend="i">Education</hi> of the Virgin</title>&#8221;) is a canvas 33 inches tall, containing
       four figures&#8212;the Virgin, her mother and father, and a girl-angel&#8212;also the dove, symbolizing
       the Holy Ghost. The dominant idea is that the Virgin advances in purity and virtue, until, at
       the appointed moment, she becomes fit to be the Bride and the Mother of Deity. Thus she is
       represented embroidering from a lily (emblem of purity) set up upon six volumes, each
       inscribed with the name of a special virtue. Two sonnets were written to exhibit this idea.
       As the St. Anna was painted from our mother, so was the Mary painted from our sister
       Christina.</p>
                  <p>Other artistic schemes were going on concurrently. On August 28th Rossetti sat up all
       night, and made, from 11 p.m. to 6 a.m., an <xref doc="a.s38.rap">outline</xref> of
       Coleridge's <xref doc="a.coleridge002.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Genevieve</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> &#8212;&#8220;<quote>certainly the best thing I have done,</quote>&#8221; as he wrote at the time. It
       represented the lute-playing lover and his lady, was given to Mr. Coventry Patmore, and
       appeared in the Rossetti Exhibition at the Burlington Club in 1883. He also re-designed <xref doc="a.s8.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Death of Marmion</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> about the same date, and made out the composition&#8212;an extensive and ambitious one&#8212;
       from a song in Browning's drama <xref doc="a.browning004.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Pippa Passes</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. This he called <xref doc="a.s49.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Hist, said Kate the Queen</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>; the subject being the queen seated among her maidens and tire-women, her attention
       aroused by the song which her enamoured page is singing in an opening apart. The watercolour
       of this composition is extant, dated 1851; the oil-painting was begun, but never nearly
       finished.</p>
               </div2>
               <epage/>
               <page n="10" image="a."/>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.3" type="section" n="3" title="1850">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.5">
                        <hi rend="b">1850.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>
                     <xref doc="a.s40.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Girlhood of Mary Virgin</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and its successor, <xref doc="a.s44.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Ecce Ancilla Domini</hi>
                        </title> (<title level="pic">the Annunciation</title>
                     </xref>), had now been completed and exhibited. Following these, another oil-painting was
       undertaken, with a landscape background, which, according to the severe (and I think highly
       salutary) Præraphaelite rule of that period, was to be faithfully and assiduously painted on
       the spot. I cannot remember what was the intended subject of this new picture. Late in the
       summer or early in the autumn of 1850 my brother went down to Sevenoaks, found a background
       which be regarded as suitable, made a sketch of it, and in due course painted it on to the
       canvas. Holman Hunt was there at the same time, executing in Knole Park the landscape of his
       picture (from the <xref doc="a.">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Two Gentlemen of Verona</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>) <xref doc="a.">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Sylvia Rescued by Valentine from Proteus</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. Rossetti's background was a sylvan scene of a somewhat mournful aspect. For some
       reason or other, which I cannot well define to myself, my brother, after painting this
       portion of the background, laid the canvas aside, and could not be got to resume work upon
       it; the thing remained untouched for some twenty years. Finally, he took it up again, painted
       as its subject-matter a group of girls dancing <foreign lang="italian">
                        <hi rend="i">al fresco</hi>
                     </foreign>, gave it the title of <xref doc="a.s229.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Bower Meadow</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and sold it to a firm of picture-dealers for a very handsome amount in the summer of
       1872&#8212;little or nothing further, beyond the very careful handiwork of 1850, being done to that
       original section of its background. The dealers did not keep the work long on hand, but
       disposed of it for nearly £1000 to Mr. Dunlop, whose unsatisfactory transactions with
       Rossetti direct find some record here<epage/>
                     <page n="11" image="a."/> under the date of 1864. This gentleman was at the time the owner of
       two other works by Rossetti, the <xref doc="a.s126.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="french">
                           <hi rend="i">Roman de la Rose</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> and <xref doc="a.s169.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Ophelia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>; and he parted with these two as equivalents to a portion of the price of <xref doc="a.s229.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Bower Meadow</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>.</p>
                  <p>In the earlier part of 1850 Rossetti had hoped to get his composition <xref doc="a.s49.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Hist, said Kate the Queen</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which was well approved by Millais, ready as an oil-picture for the ensuing
       exhibition, but by the end of the summer he found this not to be manageable. He then designed
       the last scene of <xref doc="a.shakespeare001.001.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Much Ado About Nothing</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, where Benedick stops with a kiss the tart and cavilling mouth of his Beatrice. I
       still possess the <xref doc="a.s46a.rap">pencil sketch</xref>, which is neatly but rather
       slightly handled, and with not much in it to suggest to connoisseurs of the present day that
       it is a Rossetti. My brother intended to carry it out as an oil-picture, but he never in fact
       made a beginning of it on canvas.</p>
                  <p>I recur for a moment to the two sacred symbolic pictures&#8212;<xref doc="a.s40.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Girlhood of Mary Virgin</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, painted in 1848-49, and <xref doc="a.s44.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Annunciation</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, painted in 1849-50. Rossetti was open-minded enough as to what claimed permanent
       recognition in these works, so unlike the current product of their day, and what called, on
       the contrary, for some degree of apology. In the late summer of 1851, while laying stress on
       the fact that they were original inventions, independent of any previous treatment, he
       acknowledged that the mediævalisms in them were absurd, though only superficial. Perhaps he
       need hardly have extended this stricture to <xref doc="a.s44.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Annunciation</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which, while marked by a peculiar tinge of semi-ascetic abstraction, has little or
       nothing that can be fixed upon as mediæval. Visitors to the National<epage/>
                     <page n="12" image="a."/> Gallery, where this picture now hangs, can judge as to that point
       for themselves. Later on, at the end of 1864, he wrote of <xref doc="a.s40.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Girlhood of Mary Virgin</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, then re-consigned to him for a while for re-framing, <quote>&#8220;I can look
        at it a long way off now, as the work of quite another &#8216;crittur,&#8217; and find it to be a long
        way better than I thought.&#8221;</quote> In another letter to a different friend he
       spoke still more strongly: <quote>&#8220;I assure you it quite surprised me (and shamed
        me a little) to see what I did fifteen years ago, when I was twenty.&#8221;</quote>
                  </p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.4" type="section" n="4" title="1852">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.6">
                        <hi rend="b">1852.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>In the latter part of this year my brother made a <xref doc="a.">sketch</xref> from life of
       our cousin Teodorico Pietrocola-Rossetti. I mention it less for any importance it might have
       (which indeed was little) as a work of art than because it gives me an opportunity of
       bringing into my record the name of this warmly affectionate relative and most worthy and
       excellent person. He was a young man in 1852, something less than thirty years of age, and
       was a native of the same city as our father, Vasto in the Abruzzi, in the then Kingdom of
       Naples. After spending some few years in England without getting into any successful groove
       of employment, he returned to Italy, and entered with single-minded zeal into the
       promulgation among his compatriots of an evangelistic or semi-Protestant form of the
       Christian religion. He died in Florence of apoplexy in June 1883, just as he had given out
       the text for a discourse to his small congregation, and was about to address them from it.</p>
                  <p>In a letter of my brother, dated December 4th, I observe the statement&#8212;&#8220;<quote>My sketches
        are kicked out at that precious place in Pall Mall.</quote>&#8221; The &#8220;<quote>place in Pall<epage/>
                        <page n="13" image="a."/> Mall</quote>&#8221; was, I think, an exhibition (one of the earliest of
       its class) of water-colour sketches and studies; what the offered and rejected contributions
       by my brother may have been I no longer recollect. Possibly they were hung after all, as
       seems to be suggested in a letter quoted under the next ensuing year.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.5" type="section" n="5" title="1853">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.7">
                        <hi rend="b">1853</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>was the last year whose close our father witnessed. My brother did, on a small scale, a
       delicate characteristic <xref doc="a.s443.rap">pencil-drawing</xref> of him, as he was wont
       to sit at his writing-table, with a broad-peaked cap for his failing eyesight, holding close
       up for perusal some page of his own writing. In May my brother added a background to this
       portrait, representing an angle of the dining-room in the house in which the sketch had been
       made&#8212;No. 38 Arlington Street, Mornington Crescent (all the family except Dante himself had
       resided there in 1851 and 1852); and he sent off the drawing to Frome, in Somerset, where our
       parents, with our sister Christina, were then settled for several months.</p>
                  <p>On the very first day of 1853 Rossetti thought he had finished some alterations which he
       had undertaken in his old oil-picture of <xref doc="a.s44.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Annunciation</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, dubbed <quote>&#8220;the blessed white eyesore&#8221;</quote> in one of
       his familiar letters, and in another <quote>&#8220;the blessed white
       daub.&#8221;</quote> He proceeds&#8212; <quote>&#8220;Yesterday, after giving up the
        angel's head as a bad job (owing to William's malevolent expression) at about one o'clock, I
        took to working it up out of my own intelligence, and got it better by a great deal than it
        has yet been. I have put a gilt saucer behind his head&#8212;which crowns the China-ese character
        of the picture.&#8221;</quote> However, the work done on January 1st proved to be<epage/>
                     <page n="14" image="a."/> not quite final; the picture was still in hand up to the 15th of
       the month, or thereabouts.</p>
                  <p>The person most interested towards this time in my brother's art-work was Mr. McCracken, a
       merchant or ship-broker of Belfast, who had already had some purchasing transactions with
       Madox Brown and with Holman Hunt. Rossetti's first picture, <xref doc="a.s40.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Girlhood of Mary Virgin</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, had been bought by the Marchioness Dowager of Bath (an aunt of ours, Miss Charlotte
       Polidori, being for several years a governess in that family); his second picture, <xref doc="a.s44.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Annunciation</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, remained unsold for some while, but in January 1853 was purchased by Mr. McCracken.
       The improvements in the work had been made with a view to its delivery to this purchaser. The
       only other outsider who had put himself forward as a patron prior to McCracken was Mr.
       Cottingham, an architect in Waterloo Road; he finessed and shilly-shallied, and finally
       bought nothing. McCracken was really hearty, and even enthusiastic; he had conceived a high
       idea of Rossetti's powers, and from Belfast plied him with letters, pointing every now and
       then to a personal meeting: but time passed, Rossetti never saw McCracken in the flesh, and
       at a not very advanced date in their correspondence the liberal Irishman died. I remember
       that he used to amuse my brother by constantly writing of Mr. Ruskin under the designation
       &#8220;The Graduate&#8221;; and that my brother (who was by no means, as some recent writers will have
       it, destitute of a sense of humour and frolic) parodied in November 1853 an early sonnet of
       Tennyson's about <xref doc="a.tennyson009.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">The Kraken</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, for which word he substituted <xref doc="a.11-1853.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">McCracken</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>.</p>
                  <p>A letter addressed by Rossetti to Madox Brown on<epage/>
                     <page n="15" image="a."/> 1st March gives several details which may as well appear in his own
        words:&#8212;<quote>&#8220;I think you have never seen my Giotto's Dante here [he must mean
        the watercolour of <xref doc="a.s54.rap">
                           <title level="pic">
                              <hi rend="i">Giotto painting the Portrait of the youthful Dante</hi>
                           </title>
                        </xref>], which I shall not have much longer. Not that I have made any direct use of it as
        yet, nor am likely to do so just now, as I have got a £150 commission from McCracken, and am
        in a fair way to get one from Miller of Liverpool&#8212;perhaps a better one. However, I <hi rend="i">may</hi> nail him for the <xref doc="a.s58.rap">
                           <title level="pic">
                              <hi rend="i">Dante and Beatrice</hi>
                           </title>
                        </xref>. Please let me know in your answer (as soon as possible) whether you ever named to
        McCracken anything regarding the prices which I took for those sketches now exhibiting.
        Ruskin has written him some extravagant praises (though with obtuse accompaniments) upon one
        of them&#8212;I cannot make out which&#8212;and McCracken seems excited, wanting it, and not knowing (or
        making believe not to know) that it is sold. I therefore want to be sure whether he is
        really acquainted with the price I had; as, in answering him, were I to propose to do him a
        similar one, I should not think of undertaking it at anything like a similar price, and want
        to know whether it is necessary to specify that these sketches were sold to <hi rend="i">friends.&#8221;</hi>
                     </quote>
                  </p>
                  <p>In this letter some details are not quite clear, even to myself, at this distance of time.
       Mr. Miller here mentioned was Mr. John Miller of Liverpool, a leading merchant and
       picture-buyer there, of Scotch nationality, one of the most cordial, large-hearted, and
       lovable men I ever knew; neither my brother nor myself had any personal acquaintance with him
       for three or four years following 1853. I do not think that the proposed commission from Mr.
       Miller, a comparatively large one,<epage/>
                     <page n="16" image="a."/> took effect. <quote>&#8220;The <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante and Beatrice&#8221;</hi>
                        </title>
                     </quote> was, I suppose, some work in prospect, not already executed; perhaps the <quote>
                        <xref doc="a.s58.rap">&#8220;Dantesque watercolour&#8221;</xref>
                     </quote>&#8221; which, as we shall see, was ultimately sold to McCracken, not Miller. &#8220;<quote>Those
        sketches now exhibiting</quote> I am quite uncertain about. <xref doc="a.s50.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Beatrice and Dante at a Marriage-feast</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and <xref doc="a.s54.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Giotto painting the Portrait of Dante</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, had been exhibited in 1851-52, but can hardly be referred to here. The tone of this
       letter, as my readers may be apt to observe, shows that my brother was not likely to neglect
       his own interest in a bargain; and indeed he constantly laid his plans well in such matters,
       and effected them with tenacity and acuteness.</p>
                  <p>A few words may here be spared to the watercolour <xref doc="a.s54.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Giotto painting the Portrait of Dante</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>; which I have always considered one of the most important pictorial inventions of my
       brother, at any period of his career. It was intended to represent the life and work of the
       great Florentine in a triple relation. (1) It shows Giotto painting, on a wall of the Chapel
       of the Bargello in Florence, that <xref doc="a.op87.rap">portrait</xref> of the youthful
       Dante which was rediscovered towards 1839, chiefly through the exertions of Mr. (afterwards
       Barone) Seymour Kirkup, an English painter settled in the Tuscan capital. Kirkup made at once
       a <xref doc="a.op15.rap">watercolour copy</xref> of the head of Dante, and sent it as a gift
       to my father; from whom it came to my brother, and with him it remained up to the date of his
       death. In <xref doc="a.s54.rap">Rossetti's picture</xref>, as in the <xref doc="a.op87.rap">original</xref>, Dante is represented holding a pomegranate. (2) The picture shows also the
       relation of Dante to his love&#8212;Beatrice, who is passing below in a church-procession&#8212;to the
       poetry of the time in his friend Guido Cavalcanti, and to its fine art in Giotto. (3) It
       embodies the celebrated<epage/>
                     <page n="17" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <bibliosig>C</bibliosig>
                     </pageheader> passage of Dante's <xref doc="a.dante002.3.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="wrk" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Purgatorio</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> in which the rise and fall of great reputations in art and letters are expressed by
       the waning of Cimabue's art before Giotto's, and of the poetry of Guido Guinicelli before
       that of Guido Cavalcanti, with a suggestion that Cavalcanti also might be superseded by Dante
       himself: <phrase id="A.PN1">Cimabue therefore is introduced looking on at <xref doc="a.op87.rap">Giotto's painting</xref>, and Cavalcanti holds the poems of Guinicelli.*</phrase>
                     <lb/>
                     <quote>
                        <lg type="stanza">
                           <l n="1">&#8220;Credette Cimabue nella pintura</l>
                           <l n="2" indent="1">Tener lo campo, ed ora ha Giotto il grido,</l>
                           <l n="3">Sì che la fama di colui s'oscura.</l>
                           <l n="4" indent="1">Così ha tolto l'uno all' altro Guido</l>
                           <l n="5">La gloria della lingua; e forse è nato</l>
                           <l n="6" indent="1">Chi l'uno e l'altro caccerà di nido.&#8221;</l>
                        </lg>
                     </quote>
                     <lb/> But this subject, triple though itself was in reference, was only intended to
       be the first member of a triptych picture. The second member was to show Dante, as one of the
       Priori of Florence, adjudging both Cavalcanti and a member of the opposite political faction
       to banishment&#8212; the act which gave a pretext for Dante's own exile from the country of his
       birth. The third and last section of the triptych was to portray that incident of Dante in
       exile and the court-jester, in the palace of Can Grande della Scala, which Rossetti versified
       in his poem <xref doc="a.1-1848.s55.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante at Verona</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. This was truly a large and a comprehensive scheme of work: it remained unrealized.</p>
                  <p>I now return to Mr. McCracken. In July 1853 he was corresponding with Rossetti about some
       further work which he wished to commission. The subject of <xref doc="a.s110.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Madonna in the House of John</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (of which my brother<pagenote place="f" anchor="y" resp="au" target="A.PN1">
                        <p>* These remarks on the Dante and Giotto <xref doc="a.s54.rap">watercolour</xref> are
         partly reproduced from what I wrote, as printed in the sale-catalogue (Christie's) of my
         brother's remaining works in 1883.</p>
                     </pagenote>
                     <epage/>
                     <page n="18" image="a."/> eventually made <xref doc="a.s110.rap">a watercolour</xref> ranking
       among his best-conceived and most impressive works) had been proposed; but for some reason or
       other it was set aside, and Rossetti then named two other contemplated subjects. These were
        <xref doc="a.28-1869.s109.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Mary Magdalene at the Door of Simon the Pharisee</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and what a letter of his termed &#8220;<quote>
                        <xref doc="a.7-1881.s64.raw">the town-subject</xref>
                     </quote>&#8221;&#8212;being no doubt the composition which he entitled <xref doc="a.s64.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Found</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, representing a rustic lover, a drover, who finds in London streets his early and
       long-lost sweetheart, sunk in a life of shame and degradation. <phrase id="A.PN2">He also
        offered to Mr. McCracken, at the price of £36,* a <xref doc="a.s58.rap">Dantesque
         watercolour</xref> which he had begun.</phrase> This I consider to have been the subject,
       from the <xref doc="a.1-1861.rad">
                        <title level="bk" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Vita Nova</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, of <xref doc="a.s58.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante drawing an Angel in memory of Beatrice</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. Dante relates that, on the first anniversary of his lady's death, he was engaged in
       drawing an angel, in memory of her, when he found that certain persons had entered his
       chamber unperceived; and he then saluted them, saying &#8220;<quote>Another was with me.</quote>&#8221;
       Rossetti, when the offer of his <xref doc="a.s58.rap">Dantesque subject</xref> was made to
       McCracken, was staying near Newcastle-on-Tyne, on a visit to his valued friend Mr. William
       Bell Scott, the painter and poet, then Master of the Government School of Design in
       Newcastle; he proposed to send for <xref doc="a.s58.rap">the watercolour</xref> from London,
       and finish it in the North. He had done during his visit <xref doc="a.s100.raw">sketches</xref> for an etching from <xref doc="a.scottwb002.rad" link="dead">Scott's poem of
         <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Mary Anne</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and for <xref doc="a.28-1869.s109.raw">the Magdalene subject</xref>. That my
       brother's prices were at this time the reverse of high, and had recently been extremely low,
       may be<pagenote place="f" anchor="y" resp="au" target="A.PN2">
                        <p>* The exact price was 35 guineas, or £36 15s. I think it more convenient, in the long
         run, to notify prices in pounds, rather than guineas; but where (as in the present
         instance) there are some odd shillings beyond the pounds I suppress mention of the
         shillings.</p>
                     </pagenote>
                     <epage/>
                     <page n="19" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <bibliosig>C 2</bibliosig>
                     </pageheader> inferred from his remarking that previous watercolours, on the same scale as
        <xref doc="a.s58.rap">the Dante incident</xref> now saleable at £36, had been disposed of
       for £12. But the mercury was rising in the Rossettian barometer; and by the end of September
       he had come to consider <xref doc="a.s58.rap">the watercolour</xref>, then nearly finished,
       to be worth much more than even £36, and he thought of telling McCracken so. This gentleman
       had meanwhile given him a further commission for an oil-picture, I cannot remember what.</p>
                  <p>Two other projects occupied him in 1853. He was painting, and by the end of October he
       finished, an <xref doc="a.s407.rap">oil-portrait</xref> of his aunt, Miss <title level="pic">Charlotte Polidori</title>, to be given to our grandfather. The likeness came to my
       brother's satisfaction, and is in fact extremely good: the picture now belongs to another
       near relative. He was also engaged upon the picture <xref doc="a.s64.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Found</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and thought of going to Frome to paint into its background a brick wall, a cart, and
       a heifer; but Frome was not ultimately chosen for this purpose.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.6" type="section" n="6" title="1854">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.8">
                        <hi rend="b">1854.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>The oil-picture for Mr. McCracken was completed early in March. Rossetti, in one of his
       family letters, laconically termed it a daub, and attached little importance to it; but I
       presume it was up to, or not much below, his usual standard of work, for he was never
       inclined to do injustice to his patrons, nor to himself in their eyes or his own. We lately
       found him applying this same term &#8220;<quote>daub</quote>&#8221; to <xref doc="a.s44.rap">the
        Annunciation picture</xref>; and that, whatever else it may be, is assuredly not a daub. I
       observe in a letter of a much later date&#8212;March 1874&#8212;a reference to the <xref doc="a.s44.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Annunciation</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, such as may tend to confirm the authorities of the National Gallery in<epage/>
                     <page n="20" image="a."/> the opinion which they probably entertain that the
        <quote>&#8220;white daub&#8221;</quote> is not a daub<hi rend="i">
                        <foreign lang="latin">et præterea nihil</foreign>
                     </hi>. At that period a fire had destroyed the premises of the Pantechnicon in Pimlico, and a
       rumour went that all the modern pictures belonging to Mr. Wynn Ellis had perished in the
       conflagration. My brother believed (for some reason which I do not follow, as I am not aware
       that the <xref doc="a.s44.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Annunciation</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> ever belonged to Mr. Ellis) that this work was included among the modern paintings in
       question; and he then wrote of it as <quote>&#8220;about the best thing I did at that
        time.&#8221;</quote>
                  </p>
                  <p>A letter from my brother to Mr. McCracken, dated 15th May, contains some particulars worthy
       of attention. He begins by referring to some drawing of his which is not clearly defined, but
       which I understand to be probably the one named <xref doc="a.s42.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante drawing an Angel in memory of Beatrice</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. Of this subject he made in 1849 a <xref doc="a.s42.rap">pen-and-ink design</xref>,
       which he presented to Mr. Millais. He had also, as we lately saw, produced a <xref doc="a.s58.rap">watercolour</xref> of it, a wholly different composition, belonging to
       McCracken. When my brother wrote in May 1854 he had received from McCracken a letter
       (addressed, I suppose, to that gentleman) from Dr. Anthony, referring to a drawing, seemingly
       the <xref doc="a.s42.rap">pen-and-ink design</xref> above-named, the property of Millais. Dr.
       Anthony had supposed it to be Millais's own performance. On this point Rossetti says:
        <quote>&#8220;He seems equally abroad as to the authorship and subject of the drawing,
        and cannot have much perception of variety in style, or he would not have taken my work for
        Millais's.&#8221;</quote> Further on Rossetti refers to Dante's <xref doc="a.1-1861.rad">
                        <title level="wrk" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Vita Nuova</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and he proceeds: <quote>&#8220;A better and full account you would find in an
        article in<title level="per">
                           <hi rend="i">Tait's Magazine</hi>
                        </title> some years back.<epage/>
                        <page n="21" image="a."/> The article is called, I think, <title level="es">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante and Beatrice</hi>
                        </title>, and is by Theodore Martin, better known as &#8216;Bon Gaultier.&#8217; Rather oddly, the
        subject of my <xref doc="a.s42.rap">drawing</xref> which you have is there suggested for
        painting. For my own part, I had long been familiar with the book, and been in the habit of
        designing all its subjects in different ways, before I met with that article. . . I had an
        idea of an intention of the possibility of a suggestion [the reader will observe the
        whimsical and clearly intentional vagueness of this phrase] that the lady in my drawing [<hi rend="i">i.e</hi>., one of the personages looking on while Dante is absorbed in designing
        the angel] should be Gemma Donati, whom Dante married afterwards; and for that reason meant
        to have put the Donati arms on the dresses of the three visitors, but could not find a
        suitable way of doing so. The visitors are unnamed in the text, but I had an idea also of
        connecting the pitying lady with another part of the <xref doc="a.1-1861.rad">
                           <title level="wrk" lang="italian">
                              <hi rend="i">Vita Nuova</hi>
                           </title>
                        </xref>. And in fact the sketch is full of notions of my own in this way, which would only
        be cared about by one to whom Dante was a chief study.&#8221;</quote>
                  </p>
                  <p>The intercourse of my brother with Mr. Ruskin began in the spring of 1854. I find the facts
       recorded thus in a letter of 14th April to Madox Brown: &#8220;<quote>McCracken of course sent my
        drawing to Ruskin, who the other day wrote me an incredible letter about it, remaining mine
        respectfully (! !), and wanting to call. I of course stroked him down in my answer, and
        yesterday he came. . . He seems in a mood to make my fortune.</quote>&#8221; Mr. McCracken,
       inspirited by Ruskin's praise of the<xref doc="a.s58.rap">watercolour drawing</xref>
       (seemingly the <xref doc="a.s58.rap">Dantesque subject</xref>), liberally paid for it £50,
       instead of the stipulated £36. Between the critic and the painter<epage/>
                     <page n="22" image="a."/> the intercourse was for a long while truly affectionate on both
       sides. With my brother&#8212;as I dare say with most other persons&#8212;Mr. Ruskin assumed the attitude
       of a man who could enlighten him on matters of theory and principle in art, and could guide
       his steps in the right path; but at the same time he amply recognized and honoured his gifts
       of artistic invention, and deferred to his actual technical attainment&#8212;neither overrating its
       amount nor undervaluing its calibre. For his part, my brother had a very deep regard for the
       tender and generous traits of Mr. Ruskin's character, and took pleasure in the quaintness as
       well as the richness of his mind. For some years they saw a great deal of one another, Ruskin
       being frequently in Rossetti's studio, and Rossetti not seldom in Ruskin's hospitable
       family-mansion at Denmark Hill, Camberwell. Miss Siddal, with whom my brother had been in
       love since 1851 or thereabouts, and to whom he introduced Mr. Ruskin, was a bond of union
       between them; for &#8220;the Graduate&#8221; took a very sympathetic interest in her, and in her limited
       but refined artistic faculty, and proved the sincerity of his feeling by more than one
       munificent act. Gradually the intimacy between the two friends relaxed. Rossetti, as he
       advanced in years, in reputation, and in art, became less and less disposed to conform his
       work to the likings of any Mentor&#8212;even of one for whom he had so genuine an esteem as he
       entertained for Mr. Ruskin; while the latter, serenely conscious of being always in the
       right, laid down the law, and pronounced judgment tempered by mercy, with undeviating
       exactness. At last the relations between the painter and the critic became strained&#8212;one was
       so earnest to enlighten the other, and that other so difficult<epage/>
                     <page n="23" image="a."/> to be enlightened out of his own perceptions and predilections; and
       it may have been in 1865 or 1866 that Ruskin and Rossetti saw the last of one another&#8212;
       mutually regretful, and perhaps mutually relieved, that it should be the last. A friendship
       once so warm, based on such solid grounds of reciprocal esteem suggesting reciprocal
       concession, should not have terminated thus: but so it did terminate, and it remained
       unrenewed.</p>
                  <p>The first letter which I find from Mr. Ruskin is dated 2nd May 1854. It expresses a wish
       that Rossetti would give him a little drawing in requital for copies of all the critic's
       books then published. It also commissions a drawing (meaning no doubt watercolour) for £15,
       being, as the letter proceeds to point out, the same price which had already been paid by Mr.
       Boyce for another drawing. This gentleman, George Price Boyce, originally destined for the
       architectural profession, took definitely to watercolour painting somewhere towards 1854, and
       was a cordial admirer and not unfrequent purchaser of Rossetti's works. I am not aware which
       was the design adverted to in Mr. Ruskin's letter; perhaps an <xref doc="a.s69.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i"/>Annunciation</title>, in which Mary is represented as
        bathing her feet in a rivulet</xref>.</p>
                  <p>The picture <xref doc="a.s64.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Found</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, commissioned by Mr. McCracken, was at this time in the forefront. On 11th May
       Rossetti, then at Hastings, wrote that he would have to come up to London, to replenish his
       colour-box before beginning <xref doc="a.s64.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Found</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> on the canvas. Soon afterwards, 5th June, Mr. Ruskin wrote, expressing his
       supposition that Rossetti might be disinclined to paint at present his proposed modern
       subjects, as Holman Hunt had lately exhibited something in the same line (this points
       apparently to the then much-discussed and much admired<epage/>
                     <page n="24" image="a."/> picture entitled <xref doc="a.op43.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Awakened Conscience</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>). The details of <xref doc="a.s64.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Found</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> were painted chiefly at Finchley (where Madox Brown resided), and at Chiswick (where
       an old and excellent family-friend Mr. Keightley the historian was settled): at Finchley, the
       calf and cart; at Chiswick, the brick wall. Along with <xref doc="a.s64.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Found</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, the subject of <xref doc="a.s109.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Magdalene at the Door of Simon the Pharisee</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> is mentioned in this letter from Mr. Ruskin, and another work which was to unite
       various incidents in one tableau. This latter may probably have been the <xref doc="a.s75.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Paolo and Francesca</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, a tripartite composition, for another letter of Mr. Ruskin's, of not much later
       date, speaks of that subject as being in his hands, price £36: it was transferred eventually
       to some other purchaser. My brother repeated the composition more than once: in its best
       form, the <xref doc="a.s75.r-1.rap">example belonging to Mr. Leathart</xref>, I rate it very
       high among his productions. In a further letter belonging apparently to 1854 (but Mr. Ruskin
       was not in the habit of <hi rend="i">dating</hi> his missives) he expresses himself as much
       struck by two sketches which my brother had made of the Passover, and he commissions that
       which he terms <quote>&#8220;the doorway one.&#8221;</quote> This was <xref doc="a.3-1867.s78.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Passover in the Holy Family</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, a subject which Rossetti had invented as far back as 1849. It represented the family
       of Zacharias preparing to share the paschal feast with the Holy Family: Mary was gathering
       bitter herbs, the child John unlatching the shoe of the child Jesus, and Zacharias sprinkling
       the door-posts with the blood of the lamb. Mr. Ruskin conceived&#8212;and has always retained, I
       believe&#8212;a high opinion of this symbolic-realistic invention: he laid more stress on its
       realism than on its symbolism. Two <xref doc="a.s78a.rap">watercolours</xref> were begun of
       it, but not finished: nor do I think the subject ever received<epage/>
                     <page n="25" image="a."/> completion in any replica. The same composition now appears in the
       church at Birchington, in the two-light <xref doc="a.op63.s78.rap">memorial-window</xref>
       commissioned by our mother close to my brother's grave; as his attached friend Mr. Frederick
       J. Shields chose to carry it out, with some added details of his own, in the form of stained
       glass. Another composition which was offered to Mr. Ruskin about this time was <title rend="i" level="pic">A Monk illuminating</title>, but it was declined. This may I presume
       have been much the same as <xref doc="a.s80.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Fra Pace</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, a watercolour executed or completed at a later date. A <xref doc="a.s72.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">&#8220;&#8221;Matilda</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (no doubt the subject, from Dante's<xref doc="a.dante005.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Purgatory</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, of Matilda gathering flowers) was also commissioned.</p>
                  <p>It may be apparent from these details that, at an early stage of their acquaintance, Ruskin
       had the refusal of pretty nearly everything that Rossetti produced. He accepted many
       specimens, and some he declined. I cannot at this distance of time define what was the
       precise nature of the terms. I should say that there was a general understanding that, within
       a certain annual maximum, Ruskin would buy, if he liked it, whatever Rossetti had to offer
       him, at a scale of prices such as other purchasers would pay; and under this arrangement
       funds would be forthcoming at times to meet the painter's convenience, without rigid
       assessment according to value previously delivered. Any such system was clearly very
       commodious for Rossetti. The annual amount which he thus made was no doubt moderate, or even
       small; but it was earned under the most pleasing conditions&#8212;those of warm appreciation by a
       pre-eminent critic and connoisseur, and of easy friendliness in the interchange of work and
       money. It relieved Rossetti from present anxiety as to the means<epage/>
                     <page n="26" image="a."/> of subsistence, and exempted him from slaving&#8212;which he chafed to
       think about&#8212;in the routine of exhibition-rooms.</p>
                  <p>In one of my brother's letters of this year I observe the following observation, relative
       to a<xref doc="a.">picture</xref> from<xref doc="a.shakespeare001.018.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">As You Like It</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> painted by his friend Walter Howell Deverell, then recently deceased:
        <quote>&#8220;I have been doing one or two things to poor Deverell's picture; the chief
        of which has been to attempt getting rid of what I thought unpleasant in Celia's
        face.&#8221;</quote>
                  </p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.7" type="section" n="7" title="1855">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.9">
                        <hi rend="b">1855.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>Miss Heaton, a lady resident in Leeds, appears in or about this year as one of the
       purchasers of my brother's works. A <xref doc="a.s50.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Beatrice</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> had been begun for her, but was appropriated by Mr. Ruskin; who proposed that Miss
       Heaton should receive instead the<xref doc="a.s75.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Paolo and Francesca</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, or, if she preferred it, a Rachel at the price of £26: this title must indicate<xref doc="a.s74.rap">
                        <title level="pic">Dante's vision of Rachel and Leah</title>
                     </xref>, of which Rossetti made a watercolour. Towards June of this year he executed for
       Ruskin, in a week, a watercolour of<xref doc="a.s71.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Nativity</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, price £15, and he accounted it one of his best performances: but the critic
       dissented&#8212;as in such details he not unfrequently did&#8212;from the painter, who thereupon settled
       to exchange it. This was probably not done, as a later note from Mr. Ruskin speaks of<xref doc="a.s74.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Nativity</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> as then improved.<xref doc="a.s78.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Passover in the Holy Family</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was still in hand at the beginning of July; the head of Jesus being done after a boy
       from St. Martin's School. <quote>&#8220;That drawing of Launcelot is almost
        finished&#8221;</quote> appears in a letter of 1855, probably towards September; the
       watercolour, which was purchased by Ruskin, of<xref doc="a.s73.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Launcelot and Queen Guenevere</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>
                     <epage/>
                     <page n="27" image="a."/> at the effigied tomb of King Arthur: also in September
        <quote>&#8220;that drawing with the buttercups,&#8221;</quote> bought by Ruskin
       for £30; this may possibly be the<xref doc="a.s72.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Matilda</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> before mentioned.</p>
                  <p>The first <xref doc="a.s67a.rap">design</xref> by Rossetti which got engraved was one which
       forms the frontispiece to <xref doc="a.allingham001.rad" link="dead">Mr. Allingham's volume
         <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Day and Night Songs</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>: it was in hand in June, and represents a youth listening in rapt mood to the chaunt
       of three mystic or supernatural women, the <quote>
                        <xref doc="a.s67.raw">&#8220;Maids of Elfin-mere</xref>.&#8221;</quote> This was
       engraved on wood in 1855 by Messrs. Dalziel: my brother was highly dissatisfied, and regarded
       the <xref doc="a.sa18.s67.rap">woodcut</xref> as a decided travestie of his work&#8212;although I
       think that spectators of the present day, who have only the <xref doc="a.sa18.s67.rap">woodcut</xref> itself to judge by, would be considerably more indulgent to it.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.8" type="section" n="8" title="1856">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.10">
                        <hi rend="b">1856.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>Letters from Mr. Ruskin continue throughout this year. They speak of works by Rossetti, but
       in terms not always conducive to identification. One design is termed &#8220;<quote>a duet between
        Ida and you.</quote>&#8221; Ida was the fancy-name (allusive I think to Tennyson's<xref doc="a.tennyson017.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Princess</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>) which Ruskin bestowed upon Miss Siddal: he liked this design better than any
       previous work which Rossetti had produced for him, except the <quote>&#8220;Man with
        boots and lady with golden hair&#8221;</quote>&#8212; of which the correct title is<xref doc="a.s76.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="french">
                           <hi rend="i">La Belle Dame sans Merci</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>.</p>
                  <p>In March Rossetti <quote>&#8220;had in hand a large drawing of Dante's vision of dead
        Beatrice, as well as Passover, and Monk.&#8221;</quote> He appears to mean the first
       form, a <xref doc="a.s81.rap">watercolour</xref>, in which he treated the subject commonly
        called<xref doc="a.23p-1881.s81.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>&#8212; this <xref doc="a.s81.rap">watercolour</xref> was bought by Miss Heaton; <xref doc="a.s78.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Passover in the Holy Family</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>; and the <xref doc="a.s80.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Fra<epage/>
                              <page n="28" image="a."/> Pace</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. He wished to get the picture-dealer Mr. White (of Maddox Street) to visit his studio
       while these and some other works were visible there&#8212;of course with a view to establishing a
       professional connection with this dealer. I dare say that the visit came off, and that Mr.
       White purchased something from my brother now and again; but cannot vouch for particulars.</p>
                  <p>The first hint of his triptych-picture for Llandaff Cathedral, <xref doc="a.1-1864.s105.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Infant Christ adored by a King and a Shepherd</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, appears in the same letter of March. Mr. Thomas Seddon the painter had then earned
       Rossetti's warm acknowledgment by bringing round to him <quote>&#8220;a Welsh
        M.P.,&#8221;</quote> to put the matter in train, and he was hopeful of a prosperous
       result. The M.P. was I think Mr. Henry Austen Bruce, now Lord Aberdare.</p>
                  <p>Woodcut-designs proved again afflictive to Rossetti in 1856. On August 2nd he wrote that he
       was at the last gasp of time with the designs which he had undertaken to produce, to be
       engraved on wood in the well-known illustrated <xref doc="a.tennyson017.rad" link="dead">edition of Tennyson</xref> published by Moxon and Co.: they were then getting a little
       forward. He foresaw that, with a view to working upon the blocks which yet remained to be
       done, he would have to fly London and Moxon, as he could not endure the publisher's
       pestering. I judge that he received £30 per design: as I find in one of his letters the
       phrase &#8220;<quote>Moxon owes me £30, as I have done the King Arthur block.</quote>&#8221; He preferred
       Linton as a wood-engraver to the Dalziels; and was particularly pleased with his second <xref doc="a.sa22.s86.rap">proof</xref> of the Mariana subject. Another letter&#8212;addressed this time
       to Mr. Moxon&#8212;sets forth that the design of<xref doc="a.s85.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Lady of Shalott</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, though delayed for a week, would be soon ready: <quote>&#8220;I have drawn it
        twice over, for the sake<epage/>
                        <page n="29" image="a."/> of an alteration, so you see I do not spare
       trouble.&#8221;</quote> He speaks also of the block for<xref doc="a.sa54.s115.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Sir Galahad</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and of a second Sir Galahad which he intended to do without delay: this intention,
       it appears, must have miscarried, for there is not, in the Tennyson volume, any second
       illustration to the poem in question. Another project, equally abortive, was that of doing a
       design for the <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">Two Voices</hi>
                     </title>.<quote>&#8220;Nothing would please me better,&#8221; he adds,
        &#8220;than that Mr. Madox Brown should do the <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Vision of Sin</hi>
                        </title>, as I hear Hunt proposed to you: his name <hi rend="i">ought</hi> by all means to
        be in the work.&#8221;</quote> And so it ought, but it is not; more's the pity&#8212;for<xref doc="a.tennyson017.rad" link="dead">Moxon's Illustrated Tennyson</xref>. Mr. Moxon did in
       fact apply to Mr. Brown to take up the various subjects which Rossetti had at first intended
       to design, but had, for one reason or another, omitted: but at that late date Brown was
       unwilling to entertain any such proposal, and it came to nought.</p>
                  <p>All this matter of designs and blocks, I well remember, became a sore subject between Moxon
       and Rossetti. Moxon used to write or call frequently, and considered himself aggrieved
       because the blocks, when he expected or required to have them ready, were still uncompleted.
       He suffered much worry and disappointment; and I have even heard it said&#8212;but I suppose this
       is only to be construed as a grim joke, not as a sober and grievous reality&#8212;that &#8220;Rossetti
       killed Moxon.&#8221; It is true that the publisher did not long survive the issue of the<xref doc="a.tennyson017.rad" link="dead">illustrated Tennyson</xref>. On the other hand, my
       brother, besides being very fastidious, and therefore somewhat dilatory, over his own share
       in these designs, found constant reason to be doubly fastidious over the guise which his work<epage/>
                     <page n="30" image="a."/> assumed at the hands of the wood-engravers: he corrected, altered,
       protested, and sent back blocks to be amended. My brother was, no doubt, a difficult man with
       whom to carry on work in co-operation: having his own ideas, from which he was not to be
       moved; his own habits, from which he was not to be jogged; his own notions of business, from
       which he was not to be diverted. Co-operators, I can easily think, railed at him, and yet
       they liked him too. He assumed the easy attitude of one born to dominate&#8212;to know his own
       place, and to set others in theirs. When once this relation between the parties was
       established, things went well; for my brother was a genial despot, good-naturedly hearty and
       unassuming in manner, and only tenacious upon the question at issue. To play the first
       fiddle, and have the lion's share&#8212;surely that is, as Burns says, <quote>&#8220;a sma'
        request,&#8221;</quote> for a man conscious of genius.</p>
                  <p>A letter dated 8th December 1856 gives the first trace of a purchaser, Mr. Plint, who will
       be mentioned again further on. This gentleman wanted to have a <xref doc="a.1-1847.s244.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Blessed Damozel</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> done (no doubt as a watercolour) for £63; Rossetti, however, was inclined to stick
        to<xref doc="a.s83.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">St. Cecilia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> for £42&#8212;the subject of the death of St. Cecilia which forms one of the Tennyson
       wood-designs. As to this<xref doc="a.sa19.s83.rap">wood-block</xref> he had been earnest in
       impressing on the engraver that <quote>&#8220;none of the work is to be left
        out.&#8221;</quote>
                  </p>
                  <p>On Christmas Day he was preparing to exhibit certain works in a small collection got up in
       the then Hogarth Club, to which he and some of his closest friends belonged. He proposed to
       send <quote>
                        <xref doc="a.s110.raw">&#8220;Lady Trevelyan's drawing&#8221;</xref>
                     </quote> (I am not certain which this is), <quote>&#8220;the <xref doc="a.s105.rap">Llandaff</xref> sketches,</quote>&#8221; and, along with these, <xref doc="a.s105i.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">David<epage/>
                              <page n="31" image="a."/> Rex</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, a separate version of the third compartment, but this last would not be ready for a
       fortnight or so.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.9" type="section" n="9" title="1857">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.11">
                        <hi rend="b">1857.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>In this year Rossetti painted a small oil-picture of<xref doc="a.s89.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">St. Katharine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> for Mr. Ruskin; it represented an exceedingly mediæval artist painting from a lady
       who poses with a wheel as St. Katharine, and it was exhibited at the Burlington Club, in the
       collection of Rossetti's works got together there in 1883. The catalogue described it as
        <quote>&#8220;the only oil-picture painted between 1853 and 1858,</quote>&#8221;
       which is, I presume, nearly correct. Two or three of Mr. Ruskin's letters relate to this
       work. In one note he expresses a wish to see the<xref doc="a.s89.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">St. Katharine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> as soon as done, adding that he will pay cash for it, and that old debts may stand
       over; the <quote>&#8220;old debts&#8221;</quote> being seemingly arrears of work
       for which my brother had already received payment. In another note he objects to an
       alteration that had been made in the<xref doc="a.s89.rap">picture</xref>, which, unless
       altered back, he would resign. In yet another he pronounces the<xref doc="a.s89.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">St. Katharine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>
                     <quote>&#8220;an absurdity,&#8221;</quote> without defining why. It is no doubt a
       quaint invention, not without a twinkle of humour in the treatment, and the costume of the
       fifteenth-century artist is probably not such a working-garb as the man would really have
       assumed to paint in. Mr. Ruskin admired at this time<xref doc="a.s109.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Magdalene</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, a term which must designate the subject of<xref doc="a.s109.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Magdalene at the Door of Simon the Pharisee</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and he would willingly have resigned for that work the
        <quote>&#8220;oil-picture [<xref doc="a.s89.rap">
                           <title level="pic">
                              <hi rend="i">St. Katharine</hi>
                           </title>
                        </xref>] at 50 guineas.&#8221;</quote> In other letters Mr. Ruskin expresses himself
       willing to subscribe to a reredos, and a flower-border for it&#8212; evidently pointing to the
        <xref doc="a.s105.rap">reredos</xref> or triptych-<epage/>
                     <page n="32" image="a."/> picture for Llandaff Cathedral; and he speaks disparagingly of a
       drawing with some male heads. I don't know which drawing this was, nor whether the censure
       was just; but it emphasizes the fact that, from an early date in Rossetti's painting, his
       predilection and his mastery were in female heads, those of men being rather wanting in
       energy and variety of virile type. Ruskin also proposed to exhibit at a lecture in Oxford
         <quote>&#8220;the<xref doc="a.s81.rap">
                           <title level="pic">
                              <hi rend="i">Beatrice&#8221;</hi>
                           </title>
                        </xref>
                     </quote> and the<xref doc="a.s75.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Paolo and Francesca</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>.</p>
                  <p>It was in 1857 that my brother undertook to paint a series of Arthurian pictures in the
       Hall of the Union Club in Oxford. He must have known something of Mr. Burne Jones, then an
       Oxford student, in 1856, or possibly 1855; that gentleman having sought him out, and asked
       his opinion as to some of his romantic pen-and-ink designs, very remarkable in promise and
       originality of suggestion. Through Mr. Jones, Rossetti came to know Mr. William Morris, and
       afterwards Mr. Algernon Swinburne, also Oxford students. The decoration-project for the Union
       Hall was, however, undertaken apart from these acquaintances, and also apart from any direct
       influence of Mr. Ruskin. It was concerted at the outset of the Long Vacation between Rossetti
       and Mr. Benjamin Woodward, the architect employed both for the Union Hall and for the Oxford
       Museum; an Irishman of the most genuine artistic gifts and sympathies, and of a character
       singularly prepossessing in its retiring modesty. Morris at once tendered his co-operation.
       Rossetti gave his work gratis, the funds of the Union not admitting, presumably, of any other
       arrangement; but his materials were paid for, and he lived at free quarters in Oxford. Mr.
       Burne Jones was soon associated with him as<epage/>
                     <page n="33" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <bibliosig>D</bibliosig>
                     </pageheader> painter of some of the subjects; also Mr. Hungerford Pollen, of Oxford, Mr.
       Spencer Stanhope, Mr. Arthur Hughes, a choice painter and early friend, and Mr. Val Prinsep,
       a friend of more recent date. These, along with Alexander Munro for sculptural work, were
       all. Not any one of them was conversant with the processes of solid and permanent
       wall-painting. The works were executed, I understood, in a sort of watercolour distemper, and
       were from the beginning predestined, by Fate and Climate, to ruin. My brother allotted to
       himself two large spaces on the walls; painted one subject more or less completely,<xref doc="a.s93.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Sir Launcelot at the Shrine of the Sangrael</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and began or schemed out the other,<xref doc="a.s94.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Sir Galahad receiving the Sangrael</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. In October 1857 I was minded to go to Oxford, and see what was doing; but my
       brother, on the 30th of the month, wrote to me that things were then <quote>&#8220;in a
        muddle,&#8221;</quote> and advised me to wait awhile, which I did. The scheme was in
       active operation in 1857, stagnated in 1858, and was partially revived, and soon afterwards
       finally dropped, in 1859.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.10" type="section" n="10" title="1858">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.12">
                        <hi rend="b">1858.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>A letter from Mr. Ruskin, which may perhaps belong to this year, informs Rossetti that he
       need not worry about money which he owed to the writer (rather maybe about work which he owed
       in return for money paid), but recommends him to attend to commissions given by other
       persons, and to the one for Llandaff Cathedral. He offers to remit £73 of the debt, provided
       Rossetti will do another side of the painting-work for the Union Hall, but stipulates that
       the objects therein must be properly represented&#8212;a<epage/>
                     <page n="34" image="a."/> clause which suggests that Ruskin regarded some of the
       object-painting already done in the Hall as departing not a little from the rigid accuracy of
       the Præraphaelite dogma. On the last day of this year Rossetti was expecting to receive in a
       fortnight some money from the authorities in Llandaff. He was engrossed with a picture&#8212;which
       I should presume to be one section of this same<xref doc="a.s105.rap">Llandaff
       commission</xref>&#8212;and was eager to get it finished. This however was not to be accomplished
       for some time yet to come, so far as the entire <xref doc="a.s105.rap">triptych</xref> is
       concerned. The price paid for the triptych may probably have been £400. A letter of
       Rossetti's is extant saying that he had named £400 as the figure for the three compartments,
       and £200 for the central one singly. At the time he regarded these sums as
        &#8220;<quote>impracticable</quote>&#8221;; but he was not likely to take less, and may possibly even
       have received somewhat more. As we have seen, Mr. Thomas Seddon, the painter, had been
       instrumental in procuring this commission for Rossetti; his brother, Mr. John P. Seddon,
       being one of the firm of architects charged with the restoration and the general oversight of
       Llandaff Cathedral, was also much concerned in all details connected with the triptych, and
       did everything which friendly and intelligent zeal could do to smooth the painter's path in
       the affair.</p>
                  <p>This may be a convenient place for saying something more definite about the<xref doc="a.s105.rap">Llandaff triptych</xref>, one of the largest pictures which my brother
       produced, and (apart from easel-pictures, some minor church-decorations, and the now totally
       faded distemper-work in Oxford) the only one which occupies a permanent position in a public
       building. The central compartment<epage/>
                     <page n="35" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <bibliosig>D 2</bibliosig>
                     </pageheader> has sometimes (as for instance in the<xref doc="a.ac-royalacad1883.rad" link="dead">Royal Academy catalogue of 1883</xref>) been termed<xref doc="a.s105.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Adoration of the Magi</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>; but this is a decided misnomer, and reduces to practical commonplace and
       insignificance the purport of the entire work. The central compartment represents in fact the
       Infant Christ adored by a King and a Shepherd; and, taken in connexion with the
       side-pictures, it indicates the spiritual equality and communion of all conditions of men in
       the eye of God. The side-pictures show respectively David as a Shepherd about to confront
       Goliath, and David as a King harping to the Lord. This is substantially another form, or
       another exemplification, of the same idea&#8212;the shepherd and the king being here not only equal
       in service to the Most High, but actually one and the same man. I venture to say that the
        <xref doc="a.s105.rap">triptych</xref>, thus understood&#8212;and its message is plainly enough
       conveyed&#8212;is something very different from being a three-hundredth version of that
       hack-subject of mediæval and renaissance painters<title level="pic">
                        <hi rend="i">The Adoration of the Magi</hi>
                     </title>.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.11" type="section" n="11" title="1859">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.13">
                        <hi rend="b">1859.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>It was in or about this year that my brother made the personal acquaintance of an actress
       whom he greatly admired for beauty of face and person, and whose professional talents he also
       appreciated, though less warmly; her stage-name was Miss Herbert. A letter from Mr. Ruskin
       expresses a hope that he would soon paint Miss Herbert's head in his picture; the<xref doc="a.s105.rap">Llandaff triptych</xref> is probably meant. Another letter from the
       friendly but unsparing critic warns Rossetti that, in one of his works, his careless use of
       pigment has caused a lady in blue to change colour.</p>
                  <epage/>
                  <page n="36" image="a."/>
                  <p>In February Mr. Plint bought two pen-and-ink drawings &#8212;a Hamlet [<xref doc="a.s108.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Hamlet and Ophelia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, I suppose] for £42, and a Guenevere [perhaps<xref doc="a.s95.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Launcelot escaping from Guenevere's Chamber</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>] for £31; <quote>&#8220;a certain yellow lady&#8221;</quote> was expected
       to be returned in exchange for the latter. My brother also joined together into one whole a
       separate head and a separate landscape, upon which Plint looked with favour. In June Rossetti
       painted in a week an entire<xref doc="a.s116.rap">picture</xref> upon one of the doors in the
       house of Mr. William Morris&#8212;the Red House, Upton, Bexley Heath. This was, I think, one of the
       two allied subjects,<xref doc="a.s116.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante meeting Beatrice</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> in a Florentine street, and in the Garden of Eden.</p>
                  <p>In November my brother was setting to work on the centre-piece of the <xref doc="a.s105.rap">Llandaff triptych</xref>. Mr. Leathart, of Newcastle-on-Tyne (now of
       Gateshead, close to Newcastle), had by this time become one of my brother's purchasers; he
       continued for some years a steady buyer, and was always a valued friend, and one on whose
       natural judgment in works of art, more especially as regards a true colour-sense, Rossetti
       laid considerable stress. Mr. Leathart was by this time the owner of the high-pitched
       water-colour named<xref doc="a.s98.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">A Christmas Carol</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and of the recently executed water-colour of<xref doc="a.s115.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Sir Galahad</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, being the same design which is engraved in the<xref doc="a.tennyson017.rad" link="dead">illustrated Tennyson</xref>; and he had commissioned the oil-picture<xref doc="a.s64.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Found</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> for £367. The commission given originally by Mr. McCracken for this last-named work
       had collapsed, perhaps as far back as 1855. My brother had also lately painted a head for Mr.
       Boyce. This was, I have no doubt, the one entitled<xref doc="a.s114.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Bocca Baciata</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, in which the marigold-flower figures conspicuously. He hardly painted anything in a
       more delicate and even style of<epage/>
                     <page n="37" image="a."/> art than that. When one comes to the date of<xref doc="a.s114.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Bocca Baciata</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, one may fairly say that Rossetti was in his prime, and had well emerged from the
       tentative or experimental stage, being then in his thirty-second year.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.12" type="section" n="12" title="1860">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.14">
                        <hi rend="b">1860</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>may, I think, be the date of a letter from Mr. Coventry Patmore referring to my brother's
       watercolour of<xref doc="a.s124.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Lucrezia Borgia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, in which the princess is represented washing her hands after concocting a
       poison-draught; her father the Pope, and with him the destined victim of the plot, are seen
       by reflection in a mirror. The victim is Lucrezia's own husband, the Duke of Bisceglia; he is
       propped on crutches, and the scene is his sick-chamber.</p>
                  <p>In the spring of this year my brother, after a long engagement, protracted partly by the
       always delicate and often perilous condition of her health, married Miss Siddal, and settled
       down with her in the chambers, considerably enlarged for the occasion, which he had occupied
       for several years at No. 14 Chatham Place, Blackfriars Bridge. One small thing which he did
       about this time was to collect together, into a handsome and solid scrapbook presented to him
       by a lady friend, a number of the pencil-drawings and sketches which had accumulated on his
       hands within the last few years. He continued adding to this collection from time to time,
       and every now and then he sold some of the items. A large number of them, extracted from the
       scrapbook and mounted singly, remained up to the day of his death, and were disposed of,
       among other works of his, at the auction-sale at Christie's in May 1883. I find a letter from
       Mr. Ruskin dated in September 1860, saying that he had been looking over my<epage/>
                     <page n="38" image="a."/> brother's book of sketches, and particularly liked those of his
       wife, which were numerous, and marked by a peculiar <foreign lang="french">cachet</foreign>
       of delicacy and grace.</p>
                  <p>Somewhere about the same time one of his principal purchasers of recent years&#8212;Mr.
       Plint&#8212;died very suddenly. This gentleman was a stockbroker of Leeds, a very worthy man, and a
       leader in a local dissenting body, and was not a little interested in the new movement in art
       in which my brother took a principal share. He also bought works from Madox Brown, Holman
       Hunt, and others. The death of Mr. Plint was severely felt by Rossetti. In him he lost a man
       whom personally he esteemed and liked; and the event threw his affairs into some considerable
       confusion at this early stage of married life, as Plint had advanced sums of money for three
       works not completed, or perhaps hardly begun; and the pressure from executors and their
       agents was equally inopportune and harassing. The total amount was £714.</p>
                  <p>A letter from my brother dated 29th September refers to this matter. He speaks also of an
       offer made by Mr. Gambart the picture-dealer&#8212;£52 for &#8220;<quote>the head,</quote>&#8221; which he
       liked less than another head (possibly the<xref doc="a.s114.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Bocca Baciata</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>) painted for Mr. Boyce; mentions a pen-and-ink<xref doc="a.s108.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Hamlet</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, due to Colonel Gillum for £50; and suggests whether the pen-and-ink<xref doc="a.s127.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Cassandra</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, nearly completed, might not be substituted for that, and might not be priced at £60.
       Were Gillum to take the<xref doc="a.s127.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Cassandra</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, the beginning of <quote>&#8220;the Dante series&#8221;</quote> in
       watercolour for him might be deferred till the ensuing quarter. Colonel Gillum (now well
       known in the world of philanthropy) was then a somewhat recent acquaintance of my brother,
       and a tolerably steady purchaser.</p>
               </div2>
               <epage/>
               <page n="39" image="a."/>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.13" type="section" n="13" title="1861">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.15">
                        <hi rend="b">1861.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>A note of January 12 records: <quote>&#8220;Yesterday I sold for £25 a coloured sketch
        which had taken me about half an hour.<hi rend="i">That</hi> paid.&#8221;</quote> It
       may have been towards the same time that Rossetti painted his wife as<xref doc="a.s120.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Queen of Hearts</hi>
                        </title>, or <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Regina Cordium</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, a small oil-picture. This seems to have been commissioned by some one&#8212;perhaps Mr.
       Miller&#8212;for in February 1862, very soon after Mrs. Rossetti's death, it was about to be
       offered for sale in an auction, and was withdrawn by friendly intervention in deference to my
       brother's feelings.</p>
                  <p>Being bound to complete <xref doc="a.s64.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Found</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> for Mr. Leathart, and the<xref doc="a.s105.rap">Llandaff triptych</xref> due towards
       the end of August, and other work besides, Rossetti found it impracticable to devote himself
       exclusively to finishing the three pictures for the Plint estate. He completed in July the
       watercolour (for this estate) of<xref doc="a.s119.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dr. Johnson at the Mitre Tavern, with two Methodist Ladies</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and he proposed to deliver, instead of the oil-pictures, and before the time already
       stipulated, different works already in hand; and finally some arrangement, either on this or
       some other basis, was agreed upon and carried out. A young artist named Wigand sat for the
       head of Boswell in the<xref doc="a.s119.rap">Dr. Johnson group</xref>. Towards the end of
       September, Rossetti sent off a picture painted for Captain Goss&#8212;I cannot define the subject.
       He had previously completed a large head named<xref doc="a.s128.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Fair Rosamund</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>.</p>
                  <p>The first published poetry by our sister Christina,<xref doc="a.cgr015.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Goblin Market and other Poems</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, came out in 1862. My brother designed its <xref doc="a.s143.raw">two
       illustrations</xref>, and also its<xref doc="a.s143.raw">binding</xref>. The principal <xref doc="a.s143.rap">drawing</xref> was cut on the wood<epage/>
                     <page n="40" image="a."/> by Mr. Morris with uncommon spirit&#8212;I believe his first attempt in
       that line, and pretty nearly his only one.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.14" type="section" n="14" title="1862">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.16">
                        <hi rend="b">1862.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>My brother's brief term of married life came to a close in February of this year, when he
       suddenly found himself a widower. It is no part of my plan to deal with the events of his
       life, apart from such as concern his works in art and in literature. I therefore pass on at
       once to the next indication, which I find in September 1862, regarding his paintings.</p>
                  <p>Mr. Leathart had now undertaken to buy the triple watercolour of<xref doc="a.s75.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Paolo and Francesca</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and he expressed a wish that the earlier<xref doc="a.s75.rap">watercolour</xref> of
       the same subject, once belonging to Ruskin, should not be so altered as closely to resemble
       the version purchased by himself.<xref doc="a.s86.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Mariana</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (the Tennyson design as a watercolour) was also offered to him for £50. He likewise
       mentioned a design of <xref doc="a.s140.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Crucifixion</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> by Rossetti (where John is trying to draw the Madonna away from the foot of the
       cross) as praised by Mr. W. Bell Scott. Mr. Leathart asked Rossetti to paint a <xref doc="a.s343.rap">portrait of Mrs. Leathart</xref>, which by the end of the year was done&#8212;a
       small oil-picture. Mr. James Anderson Rose, the solicitor, who had known my brother well for
       about a couple of years, commissioned<xref doc="a.9-1879.s162.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Joan of Arc</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> kissing the sword of deliverance&#8212;an oil-picture, of which one or two duplicates were
       afterwards painted. The <xref doc="a.s162.rap">original</xref> remained, to my thinking,
       unrivalled.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.15" type="section" n="15" title="1863">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.17">
                        <hi rend="b">1863</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>was a year replete with artistic activity on my brother's part. In one letter he asks for
       some photographs that<epage/>
                     <page n="41" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <note>The unknown watercolour version of <title level="pic">
                              <hi rend="i">The Salutation of Beatrice</hi>
                           </title> mentioned here as having been commissioned by George Rae may in fact be the<xref doc="a.s116.r-1.rap">version</xref> commissioned by Lady Ashburton and later purchased by
         her. See <bibl>
                              <xref doc="a.nd497.r8.m33.rad" from="87" workcode="s116">Marillier </xref>
                              <pages>87</pages>.</bibl>
                        </note>
                     </pageheader> may serve to guide him <quote>&#8220;in painting Troy at the back of my
         <xref doc="a.s163.rap">
                           <title level="pic">
                              <hi rend="i">Helen</hi>
                           </title>
                        </xref>.&#8221;</quote> The <xref doc="a.s163.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Helen</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was, I believe, sold to Mr. Blackmore (of the firm of solicitors, Duncan, Squarey,
       and Blackmore), at Hooton, Cheshire; it may now perhaps be in the Blackmore Museum in
       Salisbury. This was a small oil-painting of the Grecian princess&#8212;head and shoulders. I
       thought it then&#8212;and should probably still think it, were I to get sight of it again&#8212;a very
       choice specimen of my brother's skill.</p>
                  <p>Mr. George Rae, of Birkenhead, the manager or managing-director of the North and South
       Wales Bank, and a great authority in his vocation, as proved by his book published towards
       1885, now appears as a purchaser of Rossetti's works. Eventually he formed a very important
       collection of them, comparable with those belonging to two purchasers of later date&#8212;Mr.
       Leyland and Mr. Graham. Mr. Rae's first transaction with Rossetti occurred in 1862; he then
       bought the<xref doc="a.s86.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Mariana</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (or<xref doc="a.s86.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Heart of the Night</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>), which had been previously offered to Mr. Leathart, and a circular painting in oil
       of a female head. In June 1863 the painter wrote to enquire whether he might regard a double
       watercolour named<xref doc="a.s116a.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Salutation of Beatrice</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, already seen by Mr. Rae, as commissioned by him for £210. This and all other letters
       from Rossetti to Rae have been liberally and spontaneously placed by the latter at my
       disposal, for the purpose of my present record. The answer returned was presumably in the
       affirmative. In December Rossetti wrote again, mentioning two pictures, either of which might
       probably please Mr. Rae. One of these he had seen begun&#8212;the oil-picture named<xref doc="a.s182.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Beloved</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. The other was<xref doc="a.s200.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Tristram and Yseult</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> drinking the love-potion, of which Rossetti had shown Mr. Rae a design.<epage/>
                     <page n="42" image="a."/> The former was to cost £315, in case the artist should introduce
       into its treatment all that he then proposed; if the background were made to contain less
       matter, as suggested by Rae, the cost would diminish to £262: the painter, however,
       stipulated that the nature of any change should be left entirely to his own discretion. Miss
       Heaton, he added, had already a certain claim upon<xref doc="a.s182.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Beloved</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, but this would not be likely to prove an obstacle. The<xref doc="a.s200.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Tristram and Yseult</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, to contain full-length figures, was rated at £367. This was seemingly to be an
       oil-picture; but I think my brother never did treat this subject in oil, but only in
       watercolour. It would appear that Mr. Rae did not at the first blush wholly acquiesce in
       these proposed prices; for there is another letter from Rossetti, also dated in December,
       saying that he had asked and received from his correspondent very slight prices for &#8220;<quote>a
        few small things</quote>&#8221; some time previously, but the sums now indicated were none the
       less quite within the artist's present range. Mr. Rae had been willing to give £105 for
        <quote>&#8220;the little<xref doc="a.s113.rap">
                           <title level="pic">
                              <hi rend="i">Lady Greensleeves</hi>
                           </title>
                        </xref>,&#8221;</quote> a watercolour executed in 1859, and the prices now proposed
       were not out of scale with this. The result was that Mr. Rae commissioned<xref doc="a.s182.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Beloved</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, the price being finally settled at £300, and the delivery of the picture being
       promised for not later than the end of 1864&#8212;an undertaking which, as we shall see, was not
       accurately fulfilled.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.16" type="section" n="16" title="1864">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.18">
                        <hi rend="b">1864.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>The picture of <xref doc="a.s182.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Beloved</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, called also<xref doc="a.s182.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Bride</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which has been accounted by some admirers Rossetti's finest work, represents the
       Bride of the Canticles, duly attended by her women, who unveils as she<epage/>
                     <page n="43" image="a."/> approaches the advancing (but in the picture unseen) bridegroom.
       The head of the bride is one of the few which my brother painted from a professional model; a
       sweet-looking beautiful young woman, bearing a Scotch name (Miss Mackenzie, I think): she was
       in high repute among artists about that time, and sat for the face only, not the figure.
       Another head, that of the dark energetic-looking woman in profile to the spectator's right,
       was painted from a gipsy named Keomi. The head of the negro boy may have been begun in
       December, as Rossetti was then looking out for a proper model. Mr. Rae always rated the
       picture highly; and indeed the cordial appreciation with which he and his family viewed my
       brother's art in general was such as to make it a pleasure to work for him.</p>
                  <p>Scarcely was this matter of<xref doc="a.s182.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Beloved</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> arranged with Mr. Rae when my brother found occasion to write to him, 24th February,
       on another subject. Mr. William Morris, he said, would like to dispose of the five
       watercolours by Rossetti which Mr. Rae had recently seen. These were<xref doc="a.s101.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Death of Breuse sans Pitié</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, from the <title level="wrk" lang="french">
                        <hi rend="i">Mort Arthur</hi>
                     </title>,<xref doc="a.s99.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Chapel before the Lists</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>,<xref doc="a.s92.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Tune of Seven Towers</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>,<xref doc="a.s90.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Blue Closet</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and<xref doc="a.s75.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Francesca da Rimini</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. The first two were then very far advanced; the next two quite finished; the last, a
       subject in three compartments, needed a little re-touching. Mr. Morris had also at his own
       house a watercolour of a single figure,<xref doc="a.s91.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Damsel of the Sangrael</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, from the<xref doc="a.malory001.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="wrk" lang="french">
                           <hi rend="i">Mort Arthur</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. For all these six works, in their then actual state, Mr. Morris, as Rossetti
       understood, would probably accept £262, but not any less. For their completion Rossetti would
       himself charge £35 at the present time, but more at any other date. &#8220;<quote>They are all,&#8221; he<epage/>
                        <page n="44" image="a."/> added, &#8220;good specimens of my work&#8212;several, I believe, remarkably
        so; and two of them are of considerable size.</quote>&#8221; Mr. Rae having closed with these
       terms, Rossetti proceeded to complete the watercolours, which was done by the end of March.
       He pronounced the finishing of the<xref doc="a.s101.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Breuse sans Pitié</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> a <quote>&#8220;tough job,&#8221;</quote> and opined that it ought to have
       been managed with less labour, <quote>&#8220;as the brilliancy of such effects requires
        the least work possible.&#8221;</quote>
                     <xref doc="a.s99.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Chapel before the Lists</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> satisfied him better, and was spoken of later on as <quote>&#8220;one of my
        favourite drawings.&#8221;</quote> Soon afterwards there was a
        <quote>&#8220;double Dante,&#8221;</quote> a <xref doc="a.s116.r-1.rap">watercolour</xref> which Mr. Rae wished to obtain; but Lady Ashburton had forestalled him.
       Towards 1872 Mr. Rae had a catalogue of his pictures drawn up, and inserted in it certain
       quotations from the poems of Mr. Morris, as illustrating (I infer) the watercolours
        named<xref doc="a.s92.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Tune of Seven Towers</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> and<xref doc="a.s90.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Blue Closet</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. Rossetti's remark on this point is worth recording here: <quote>&#8220;The
        quotations from Morris should have been left out, as the poems were the result of the
        pictures, but don't at all tally to any purpose with them, though beautiful in
        themselves.&#8221;</quote>
                  </p>
                  <p>In May Mr. Trist, a wine-merchant at Brighton, asked Rossetti to execute as an oil-picture
       a composition,<xref doc="a.s175.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">King René's Honeymoon</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which had been painted some while before on a wood panel for a cabinet belonging to
       Mr. John P. Seddon; the small oil-picture, which got finished on 1st September, was to match
        <xref doc="a.">another</xref>, of the like theme, painted by Madox Brown for Mr. Trist. In
       this same month of May another purchaser came forward. This was Mr. Mitchell, of Manchester,
       who commissioned for £315 a picture, the subject to be at Rossetti's option. Immediately<epage/>
                     <page n="45" image="a."/> afterwards the subject of Venus was fixed upon, and the result was
       the oil-picture, <xref doc="a.s173.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Venus Verticordia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. This was among the largest canvases which my brother had as yet worked upon, and the
       picture had a greater degree of boldness and freedom of execution&#8212;not by any means, however,
       to the neglect of careful finish&#8212;than he had heretofore displayed. I always regarded it as
       one of his masterpieces; and was disappointed when, seeing the<xref doc="a.s173.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Venus</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> again in a sale-room in 1885, I found that he must at some time or other&#8212;probably
       towards 1873&#8212;have got it back from the purchaser, and reworked upon it very extensively,
       seriously damaging (if I may trust my own judgment) the harmony or keeping between the figure
       and the floral and other accessories, and impairing the freshness and spontaneity of the
       entire conception and treatment. This was only one instance out of many of an uneasy
       over-fastidiousness on my brother's part, prompting him to the refurbishing of finished work
       of an earlier phase in his practice, and leading to results seldom (I do not say never)
       wholly approvable, and often detrimental, or even not far from disastrous. About the same
       time, June 1864, Mr. Mitchell bought from Mr. Gambart a Rossetti watercolour named<xref doc="a.s167.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Brimfull</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which, along with another watercolour,<xref doc="a.s150.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Marriage of St. George</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, he had seen in the dealer's possession.</p>
                  <p>The last stage in the <xref doc="a.s105.rap">triptych</xref> for Llandaff Cathedral was
       reached in this same June. Rossetti announced that his<xref doc="a.s105.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">David</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> would soon be sent away, being probably the right-hand figure of the royal and virile
       David, playing on his harp to the glory of God.</p>
                  <p>Rossetti was now in full swing of employment and commissions&#8212;an artist of high reputation
       in his own<epage/>
                     <page n="46" image="a."/> circle, although, through his systematic avoidance of
       exhibition-rooms, the general public of amateurs and connoisseurs was necessarily unaware of
       his powers and performances, and only vaguely perhaps privy to his existence. His prices, as
       we have just had occasion to see, were still moderate, and very different from what he
       commanded in later years; but they were quite sufficient to give him a steady and adequate
       income, which a man of more prudence in money-matters would have turned into the foundation
       of a handsome fortune. This was not in my brother's line: money dripped from his fingers in
       all sorts of ways, unforecast at the time, and not always easily accounted for afterwards. In
       June yet another purchaser came forward, but he disappeared after a short while in a
       mysterious form of collapse highly unsatisfactory to Rossetti, and to himself perhaps not
       altogether pleasurable. I refer to Mr. William Dunlop, a commercial magnate of Bingley, near
       Bradford in Yorkshire. He purchased for £136 a drawing (no doubt a watercolour) of<xref doc="a.s131.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Annunciation</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which had previously been assigned to Mr. John Miller to clear off a debt. I have no
       recollection of the composition of this subject; it was probably different both from the
       early oil-picture known as<xref doc="a.s44.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Ecce Ancilla Domini</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and from the <xref doc="a.s69.rap">watercolour</xref> belonging to Mr. Boyce, in
       which the Virgin is represented as surprised by the apparition of the angel while she is
       standing in a streamlet. Mr. Dunlop also spoke of another picture which Rossetti was to paint
       for him&#8212;the subject to be settled soon; and ultimately he commissioned that which Rossetti
       was wont to call<xref doc="a.s239.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Boat of Love</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> &#8212;Dante, Beatrice, and their intimates, embarking in a pleasure-boat, according to a
       fancy shadowed forth in<epage/>
                     <page n="47" image="a."/> one of the Florentine poet's sonnets, &#8220;<quote>Guido vorrei</quote>&#8221;
       &amp;c. Mr. Dunlop appears to have assented to a very large and wholly exceptional figure
       named for this picture (or possibly for this and something else beside), £2050, or even
       £2100. He was closely succeeded by Mr. John Heugh, whose proposed commissions, and their
       subsequent non-fulfilment, followed in the line of Mr. Dunlop, with equal and puzzling
       inconsistency. Mr. Heugh agreed to buy two watercolours,<xref doc="a.s176.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Socrates taught to dance by Aspasia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which he saw begun, and some sacred subject. As a more important commission, the
       subject of<xref doc="a.s109.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Magdalene at the Door of Simon the Pharisee</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> &#8212;a composition which Rossetti had begun on a large canvas somewhere towards 1860&#8212;was
       proposed. But over this Mr. Heugh hesitated, as he had an obvious right to do so. He wished
       Rossetti first to paint the head of Christ, on the understanding that, if he were to like
       that, he would then definitely commission the picture. He admired the heads in &#8220;<quote>the
        Ophelia,</quote>&#8221; which must presumably be the watercolour named<xref doc="a.s169.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The First Madness of Ophelia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, where Horatio leads the forlorn maiden away. Such a suggestion as that made by Mr.
       Heugh regarding the head of Christ was not likely to fall in with the views of Rossetti, who
       appears to have proposed instead&#8212;and to this Mr. Heugh assented&#8212;that he would simply go on
       with the<xref doc="a.s109.rap">Magdalene picture</xref>, and that Heugh might eventually
       relinquish it if not well pleased with the head of the Saviour. These matters of Dunlop and
       Heugh hung over till the autumn of 1865, when Rossetti, having his hands comparatively clear
       of other work, wrote to each of the proposing purchasers, saying that he was ready to take up
       their respective commissions, and consulting them<epage/>
                     <page n="48" image="a."/> as to what remained to be attended to. Both of them replied with
       frigid or aggressive superciliousness. Some epistolary sparring ensued, at which my brother
       was a very dexterous hand whenever occasion compelled: and the commissions never came to
       anything. It may have been, I suppose, somewhere about this time, or possibly some few years
       later, that Rossetti sketched out in monochrome on a rather large canvas the composition
        of<xref doc="a.s239.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Boat of Love</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, one of the most considerable and trying groupings which he ever brought to the
       oil-colour stage. It remained in his studio up to his death, and was bought in 1883 for the
       Birmingham Public Gallery. My brother, I believe, could never understand&#8212;certainly at the
       time he could not&#8212;why these professing patrons had come voluntarily forward in 1864, with all
       apparent eagerness to obtain some of his work, and afterwards, when the time had ripened for
       obtaining it, called off in so disputable a manner.</p>
                  <p>Two of my brother's minor works are mentioned in a letter of July 1864. They are named<xref doc="a.s123.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Sweet-tooth</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> and<xref doc="a.s153.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Monna Rosa</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and had for some while past belonged to Mr. Peter Miller, of Liverpool, a son of Mr.
       John Miller. I notice also a letter from Mr. Ruskin, dating perhaps in the same year, and
       saying (in reply to some question on the subject) that he had never parted with any drawing
       by Rossetti, except the<xref doc="a.s75.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Paolo and Francesca</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> and the<xref doc="a.s73.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Launcelot</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which I understand to be the group of Launcelot and Queen Guenevere meeting over the
       effigied tomb of King Arthur. This latter he had given to Mr. Butterworth, as Rossetti
        <quote>&#8220;had scratched out the eyes.&#8221;</quote> The<xref doc="a.s107.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Golden Water</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (<xref doc="a.s107.rap">Princess Parisade</xref> in the fairy tale) and<xref doc="a.s78.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Passover in the Holy Family</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, also belonging to Ruskin, were then deposited in a<epage/>
                     <page n="49" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <bibliosig>E</bibliosig>
                     </pageheader> ladies' school. He retained the portrait of Miss Siddal done by Rossetti, but
       would be willing to let him have it back some day. The letter closes with a reference to some
       money owing by the painter to the critic, and suggests that the latter might take, instead of
       the amount,<xref doc="a.46d-1861.s239.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Boat of Love</hi>
                        </title>&#8212;no doubt some version of the composition</xref> rateable at a price very different
       from that which had been named to Mr. Dunlop.</p>
                  <p>In August 1864 Rossetti was hard at work on the floral foreground&#8212;roses and honeysuckles&#8212;of
       his <xref doc="a.s173.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Venus Verticordia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. He <quote>&#8220;lost a whole week, and pounds on pounds,&#8221;</quote>
       in hunting up honeysuckles. He also executed a<xref doc="a.s173.r-1.rap">smaller watercolour
        version</xref> of the same subject. Mr. Rae, who bought the replica for £105, referred to
        <quote>&#8220;Blackmore's picture&#8221;</quote> as <quote>&#8220;the gem of
        our little exhibition&#8221;</quote> at Liverpool. I am uncertain what picture is here
       alluded to&#8212;possibly the <xref doc="a.s163.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Helen of Troy</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>; and I recall the slight detail chiefly as indicating that every now and then,
       notwithstanding his general and even rigid abstinence from exhibition-rooms, something or
       other painted by my brother came before the public eye. Rossetti considered that in the
       watercolour <xref doc="a.s173.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Venus</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, as compared with the <xref doc="a.s173.rap">oil-painting</xref>, some advantageous
       alterations had been introduced. These alterations affected <quote>&#8220;the character of figure,
        action, and expression, which please me much better as to charm and delicacy. I really&#8221; (he
        added) &#8220;do not think the<xref doc="a.s173.rap">large picture</xref> chargeable with anything
        like Ettyism, which I loathe; but am quite sure the<xref doc="a.s173.r-1.rap">little
        one</xref> has not a shadow of it. Drapery of any kind I could not introduce without quite
        killing my own idea.</quote>&#8221; He thought of modifying the larger picture, on the same lines
       as the smaller one; and I dare say this was actually<epage/>
                     <page n="50" image="a."/> done before the <xref doc="a.s173.rap">oil-picture</xref> reached
       Mr. Mitchell. The <xref doc="a.s173.r-1.rap">watercolour</xref> was sent to Mr. Rae in
       December, having (as the painter said) &#8220;<quote>stuck by me more than anything I ever did, I
        think.</quote>&#8221; Something had been done with it while Rossetti was on a short visit to Paris
       in November. Here he had inspected some recent works of the French school, and had been much
       delighted with the paintings (not then so generally famous as they are now) of Millet; a
       name, as he observed in writing to Mr. Rae, &#8220;<quote>curiously identical with that of our best
        English painter.</quote>&#8221;</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.17" type="section" n="17" title="1865">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.19">
                        <hi rend="b">1865.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>At some time in this year Rossetti made the two<xref doc="a.s185.raw">designs</xref> which
       were engraved as <xref doc="a.s185.raw">wood-cuts</xref> illustrating our sister's poem,
        <xref doc="a.">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">The Prince's Progress</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. Mr. Frederick J. Shields&#8212;whom I have already named in this record&#8212;now appears among
       his correspondents: an artist on whose work Rossetti set a high value, and whom he respected
       and loved as a man&#8212;an affectionate and self-oblivious friend, one of the small group present
       at my brother's death-bed. The introduction to Mr. Shields, then hardly known to be an
       artist, was, I believe, one of the benefits which my brother owed to Ruskin.</p>
                  <p>In January Mr. Shields wrote expressing admiration of the watercolour of<xref doc="a.s57.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Hesterna Rosa</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> belonging to Mr. Craven of Manchester. This is a composition of old date, best known
       in the form of a<xref doc="a.s57.rap">pen-and-ink drawing</xref> dated 1853. It represents a
       tent occupied by a group of men and women,&#8212;the men throwing dice, one of the women sadly
       reminiscent of the vanished days of her innocence; and it bears the motto of Sir Henry
       Taylor's verses,<epage/>
                     <page n="51" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <bibliosig>E 2</bibliosig>
                     </pageheader> &#8220;<quote>
                        <lg>
                           <l n="1" indent="2">&#8220;Quoth tongue of neither maid nor wife</l>
                           <l n="2" indent="2">To heart of neither wife nor maid,&#8221; &amp;c.</l>
                        </lg>
                     </quote>
                  </p>
                  <p>In the summer correspondence of the same year three other watercolours executed by Rossetti
       for Mr. Craven, or still in progress for him, are mentioned. One is &#8220;<quote>a drawing mainly
        gold and white,</quote>&#8221; with which the purchaser was highly pleased (the oil-picture
        of<xref doc="a.s191.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Monna Vanna</hi>
                        </title> or<title level="pic">Belcolore</title>
                     </xref> has the same combination of tints, but I cannot say whether the watercolour may or
       may not have been a <hi rend="i">replica</hi> of that). The second subject is
        <quote>&#8220;the <xref doc="a.s202.rap">
                           <title level="pic">
                              <hi rend="i">Aurora</hi>
                           </title>
                        </xref> drawing,&#8221;</quote> and the third is<xref doc="a.s179.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Washing Hands</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>&#8212;a large watercolour in which, contrary to my brother's usual practice, the costume
       adopted was that of the eighteenth century. The price of this last was, I gather, probably
       £157.</p>
                  <p>The transactions with Mr. Rae in this year related to various pictures. First came, at my
       brother's own suggestion, some little additional work to the watercolour of<xref doc="a.s173.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Venus Verticordia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and to the armour of the<xref doc="a.s101.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Breuse sans Pitié</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. In the foreground of<xref doc="a.s182.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Beloved</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> he had originally painted a mulatto girl; but in March he resolved to take out this
       figure, substituting for it a black boy. <quote>&#8220;I mean the colour of my
        picture,&#8221; he said, &#8220;to be like jewels, and the <hi rend="i">jet</hi>
        would be invaluable;&#8221;</quote> and he spoke of <xref doc="a.s182.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Beloved</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> as &#8220;<quote>my present pet among my pictures.</quote>&#8221; In June he explained that the
       delay which had occurred in completing this picture was really due to his having enlarged the
       subject beyond the terms of the original agreement. Early in December the only things which
       remained as yet undone were the roses in the black boy's cup, and one or two other details.
       In June he offered to Mr. Rae for £420 a picture just begun, to be named<xref doc="a.sa80.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Queen of Beauty</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. Mr. Rae<epage/>
                     <page n="52" image="a."/> assented, and paid a first instalment of £100; but by December
       Rossetti had determined to lay aside<xref doc="a.sa80.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Queen of Beauty</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>&#8212; and I think it was never proceeded with&#8212;in favour of a different subject from a
       different sitter. This was first entitled<xref doc="a.s193.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Palmifera</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and afterwards<xref doc="a.s193.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Sibylla Palmifera</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and was likewise offered to Mr. Rae. So also was a watercolour named<xref doc="a.s180.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">A Fight for a Woman</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. It had been begun for Mr. Gambart, who however considered it likely to prove
        <quote>&#8220;unpopular.&#8221;</quote> Mr. Rae was not disconcerted on hearing
       this, and he bought the painting for £52. It was finished by 21st December, and went off to
       Mr. Rae, along with the revised<xref doc="a.s173.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Venus</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> and<xref doc="a.s101.raw">
                        <title level="pic" lang="french">
                           <hi rend="i">Breuse sans Pitié</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>.</p>
                  <p>Two letters from Mr. Ruskin, belonging probably to this if not to the preceding year, are
       the last which I find from his hand; I hardly think that he and my brother either
       corresponded or met again. In one letter he says that he still likes the painter's old work,
       and has just been framing a subject which he terms &#8220;<quote>the golden girl with the black
        guitar;</quote>&#8221; but he disliked a recent (so-called)<xref doc="a.s173.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Flora</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, evidently in fact the large oil-picture of<xref doc="a.s173.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Venus Verticordia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, with its foreground of roses and honeysuckles. In the second letter he explains his
       view as to this painting: he thought the flowers wonderful but coarse. I cannot say whether
       my brother ever answered this letter; perhaps he regarded the divergence of view as now
       radical and irreparable, and therefore fruitful of irritation without compensating advantage,
       and preserved a moody and a final silence. He was certainly one of those artists who think
       that their own innate personal turn in invention and in style cannot profitably be pruned and
       trimmed to suit the dicta of criticism, however enlightened. The<epage/>
                     <page n="53" image="a."/> critic may possibly be right; but the artist has to pursue his own
       path none the less, and guide himself by his own light. Probably the great majority of
       creative or inventive painters are of his mind. They could not work out on any other terms
       such faculty as is within them; and it is well for the art that so it should be, for the
       levelling and moderating line of criticism is, after all, only a deduction or an equilibrium
       between the varying and often irreconcilable aims and extra-normal developments of artists of
       exceptional calibre. The originating minds and hands in art cannot&#8212;to use the arithmetical
       phrase&#8212;be &#8220;reduced to a common denominator.&#8221;</p>
                  <p>In a letter of October the oil-picture of<xref doc="a.s128.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Fair Rosamond</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> is mentioned, and in one of December that of<xref doc="a.s178.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Blue Bower</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which had been begun in April, and finished in two months; also the designs for
       stained glass illustrating in seven subjects <xref doc="a.s133.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Parable of the Vineyard</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. Of these more anon.</p>
                  <p>Of <xref doc="a.s178.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Blue Bower</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> the story was told to my brother by some one that Mr. Gambart, having bought this
       picture of him for £210, had re-sold it to a collector&#8212;Mr. Mendel&#8212; for £1680. The
       picture-dealer wrote to deny this statement, adding that, were the story to get about, the
       collector would no doubt return the picture on his hands, and £500 would not again be
       forthcoming for it; also that he presumed the false rumour to have been Rossetti's incentive
       for recently asking the dealer £525 for a single head, out of scale with his usual prices.
       This little controversy belongs to the last month of the year. Some years afterwards it was
       alleged that in fact Gambart had sold the picture to the Agnews for £500, and that the Agnews
       had re-sold it for a much larger<epage/>
                     <page n="54" image="a."/> sum. <xref doc="a.s178.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Blue Bower</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, a half-figure of a woman playing a musical instrument, is one of my brother's most
       vigorous and brilliant pieces of painting, with much sumptuous accessory. It is however less
       ideal and more sensuous in feature and treatment than almost any other of his female figures:
       hence, while it attracts some eyes, it is in comparative disfavour with others.</p>
                  <p>A letter from my brother to a relative, dated towards the end of the year, states that his
       diary for the five months ending 31st October shows that only twelve days had passed when he
       was not working at his easel: a very fair record of professional diligence. I cannot
       accurately define what this <quote>&#8220;diary&#8221;</quote> may have been. To
       the best of my knowledge and belief, my brother never kept a diary, in the ordinary sense of
       the term, later than in 1846 or thereabouts, when I can remember that he did so for some few
       months. His so-called diary in the year 1865 can only, I think, have been a brief
       jotting-down of work in hand &amp;c. Even that has disappeared, leaving no trace behind.
       The earlier diary of 1846&#8212;which I knew at the time, and thought entertaining&#8212;must, I
       apprehend, have been purposely destroyed within two or three years ensuing. How gladly would
       I re-examine its pages now!</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.18" type="section" n="18" title="1866">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.20">
                        <hi rend="b">1866.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>The picture of <xref doc="a.s182.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Beloved</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was in the hands of its purchaser, Mr. Rae, by the 23rd February 1866&#8212;a long delay
       beyond the originally promised date, the end of 1864, yet not unreasonable in proportion to
       the further development which had been given to its pictorial material. Early in 1873 it was
       again, at his own invitation, confided to its painter, then living at<epage/>
                     <page n="55" image="a."/> Kelmscott; and he re-worked upon it with zeal and satisfaction. He
       considered several things in the picture to be out of keeping. When he finished with it
       towards the end of March, he deemed it to be <quote>&#8220;worth double the
        money,&#8221;</quote> and could say, &#8220;<quote>It is now as mellow and rich as ever I
        did, without being a bit darker.</quote>&#8221; He had modified the tone of colour, and the heads
       of the bride and the gipsy-woman, and had repainted the bride's left hand.</p>
                  <p>As mentioned under the preceding year, my brother had offered to Mr. Rae his forthcoming
        picture<xref doc="a.s193.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Sibylla Palmifera</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. The price, at first assessed at £577, was reduced to £420, on condition that the
       instalment of £100 already paid for the relinquished work,<xref doc="a.sa80.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Queen of Beauty</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, should not count as applicable to<xref doc="a.s193.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Sibylla Palmifera</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, but should be made good to Mr. Rae by delivery of some additional production as
       well. The title<xref doc="a.s193.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Palmifera</hi>
                        </title> (<title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Sibylla</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was an afterthought) was adopted, wrote Rossetti, <quote>&#8220;to mark the
        leading place which I intend her to hold among my beauties.&#8221;</quote> His
       experience with<xref doc="a.s182.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Beloved</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> not having been favourable to the prefixing of a definite date for delivery of a
       picture, he held back from making any stipulation of that kind regarding<xref doc="a.s193.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Palmifera</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, remarking in a characteristic phrase, <quote>&#8220;There is no knowing in such
        a lottery as painting, where all things have a chance against one&#8212;weather, stomach, temper,
        model, paint, patience, self-esteem, self-abhorrence, and the devil into the
        bargain.&#8221;</quote>
                  </p>
                  <p>In May he sent the canvas of this picture to be enlarged, and he wrote:
        <quote>&#8220;I have somewhat extended my idea of the picture, and have written a <xref doc="a.1-1867.s193.raw">sonnet</xref> (which I subjoin and shall have put on the frame) to
        embody the<epage/>
                        <page n="56" image="a."/> conception&#8212;that of <hi rend="i">Beauty the Palm-giver, i.e.</hi>,
         the<hi rend="i">Principle of Beauty</hi>, which draws all high-toned men to itself, whether
        with the aim of embodying it in art, or only of attaining its enjoyment in
       life.&#8221;</quote> This is the sonnet which was first published as<xref doc="a.1-1867.s193.raw">
                        <title level="wrk" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Sibylla Palmifera</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> in my brother's volume of<xref doc="a.1-1870.raw">
                        <title level="doc">
                           <hi rend="i">Poems</hi>
                        </title>, 1870</xref>; and was afterwards, with the altered title of<xref doc="a.1-1867.s193.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Soul's Beauty</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, inserted into the Sonnet-sequence named<xref doc="a.22-1881.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">The House of Life</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>.</p>
                  <p>There is a letter from Rossetti to Mr. Rae dated in April 1870, saying that he had then
       undertaken to paint for a friend a replica of<xref doc="a.s193.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Sibylla Palmifera</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, of the same size as the original work, at rather more than double its price. I
       should say however that this project was relinquished, and that no such full-sized replica
       was ever produced.</p>
                  <p>In August 1866 Lord Mount-Temple, then the Honourable William Cowper Temple, settled to buy
        the<xref doc="a.s168.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Beata Beatrix</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which has often, but not accurately, been termed<xref doc="a.s168.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Dying Beatrice</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. It represents Beatrice in a semi-supernatural trance, ominous and symbolic of death,
       but not in any sense dead; and was painted some while after the death of my brother's wife,
       probably beginning in 1863, with portraiture so faithfully reminiscent that one might almost
       say she sat, in spirit and to the mind's eye, for the face. In 1866 my brother was occupied
       also upon an <xref doc="a.s450.rap">oil-portrait</xref> of our mother&#8212; life-sized and
       three-quarters length.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.19" type="section" n="19" title="1867">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.21">
                        <hi rend="b">1867.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>In February Mr. Craven asked Rossetti to proceed with the watercolour of<xref doc="a.s62.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Return of Tibullus to Delia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, one of the more important compositions which he <epage/>
                     <page n="57" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <note>Typo: on page 57, in the third complete sentence on the page (beginning "Mr. Craven
         speaks likewise"), the phrase immediately following the semicolon reads "and he expressed a
         that hope".</note>
                     </pageheader> executed in this medium, some 19 inches by 23 in dimensions. Its price was
       about £235. It seems to have been finished in July, along with the<xref doc="a.s202.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Aurora</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> watercolour for the same purchaser. Mr. Craven speaks likewise of the watercolour
        of<xref doc="a.s170.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Morning Music</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which he had seen at a dealer's, and of <quote>&#8220;another
        toilet-subject,&#8221;</quote> which he undertook to buy on the understanding that the
       painter would at some future time produce a pendent to it at the same price; and he expressed
       a that hope Rossetti would soon set-to in earnest at the large composition&#8212;also, I think, a
        watercolour&#8212;of<xref doc="a.29-1869.s222.raw" workcode="29-1869.s222">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Michael Scott's Wooing</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. This was an invention of my brother's own, weird in feeling and pictorial in
       distribution, for which he tried various <xref doc="a.29-1869.s222.raw">designs</xref> in
       preparatory stages. It was a subject of predilection with him, and yet, to the best of my
       knowledge, he never actually produced it in colour. A letter of Rossetti's, of uncertain
       date, refers to the <quote>
                        <xref doc="a.s62.r-1.rap">&#8220;bad copy of Tibullus&#8221;</xref>,</quote>
       evidently implying that there was some other and better copy; the figures in the bad copy
       were of about the same size as in <quote>&#8220;the <xref doc="a.s116.r-1.rap">double
         watercolour of Dante</xref> which I sold to Lady Ashburton.&#8221;</quote> A
        <quote>&#8220;companion&#8221;</quote> to the Tibullus is also mentioned; also a
        <quote>&#8220;Beatrice watercolour,&#8221;</quote> which was priced at £315.</p>
                  <p>The painting of <xref doc="a.s64.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Found</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> is again referred to in the spring of this year. Rossetti was then proposing to repay
       to Mr. Leathart the money which had already been advanced for the work, and to relinquish the
       commission. Mr. Leathart would have preferred to receive his purchase; yet assented to the
       proposal, in case the painter could not see his way to completing the picture in some
       moderate space of time. The life-sized<xref doc="a.s429.rap">crayon-drawing</xref> of our
       sister Christina, poising her head on her<epage/>
                     <page n="58" image="a."/> raised hands, is also referred to in correspondence of this year.</p>
                  <p>Another abortive commission now appears on the scene. Mr. Michael Halliday, a Parliamentary
       Clerk who took to painting, and who earned a rather marked reputation as a semi-professional
       painter, was on friendly terms with my brother&#8212;being indeed one of the most companionable and
       serviceable of men&#8212;and he had prompted Mr. Matthews, of the wealthy brewing firm of Ind,
       Coope, &amp; Co., to commission a life-sized<xref doc="a.1-1865.s183.raw" workcode="1-1865.s183">picture</xref> from a design which my brother had made, named<xref doc="a.1-1865.s183.raw">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i"/>Aspecta Medusa</title>
                     </xref>. The price was to be £1575, as settled in July. This design represents Andromeda,
       who, having an extreme curiosity to see the severed head of Medusa, is allowed by Perseus to
       contemplate its reflection in a tank of water&#8212;the head itself (it need hardly be remarked)
       having the fatal property of turning the gazer into stone. Rossetti wrote and published a few
        <xref doc="a.1-1865.s183.raw">verses</xref> embodying this <xref doc="a.1-1865.s183.raw">conception</xref>. He laid much stress on the design, began life-sized studies for it, and
       was for years very anxious to carry it out as a picture, but never did so. After giving the
       commission, however, Mr. Matthews felt a great repugnance to the notion of the severed head,
       as being a horrid and unsightly detail; and on the last day of the year, following not a
       little debate and uncertainty, he wrote, asking that some different subject might be
       substituted. The sequel of this affair belongs to the ensuing year.</p>
                  <p>The photographs taken from a series of designs, seven in number, made by Rossetti from
        the<xref doc="a.s133.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Parable of the Vineyard</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, as cartoons for stained glass, are again mentioned in a letter of July 1867; the
       designs had been done, or at any rate begun, as far back as December 1861.<epage/>
                     <page n="59" image="a."/> The glass is to be seen, I believe, in a church at Scarborough, St.
       Martin on the Hill, built by Mr. Bodley. This leads me to speak of my brother's connexion
       with the now celebrated firm of decorative art, Morris &amp; Co., originally Morris,
       Marshall, Falkner, &amp; Co., which was the name borne by the firm throughout the period
       of Rossetti's association with it. The firm was certainly in existence in 1861, for a letter
       from Rossetti of July in that year speaks of his having been at work <quote>&#8220;on
        the centre light for the shop glass.&#8221;</quote> Mr. William Morris, the poet
        of<xref doc="a.morris001.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">The Earthly Paradise</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, had, as we have seen, joined with Rossetti, Burne Jones, and others, in the painting
       of the Hall of the Oxford Union; he had, from the first, a particular turn for decorative art
       in its various branches, whether as regards invention, or in relation to the practical
       processes of work. Another leading member of the group who had always been attentive to
       decorative art, in such matters as the furnishing of houses &amp;c., was Mr. Ford Madox
       Brown, my brother's most intimate friend since 1848. The first suggestion for forming some
       such firm came from Mr. Peter Paul Marshall, an engineer, son-in-law of Mr. John Miller of
       Liverpool, who has been already mentioned more than once. Rossetti was the first to close
       with the idea. Through him Madox Brown was enlisted, followed by Burne Jones; also the
       &#8220;Falkner&#8221; whose name appeared in the firm, and Mr. Philip Webb the architect. All these seven
       were in fact the partners constituting the firm. Mr. Morris put some money into the concern
       to set it going, and each of the others co-operated in a minor degree; Mr. Charles Falkner,
       an Oxford mathematician, joined, as being an intimate friend of Mr. Morris. The latter<epage/>
                     <page n="60" image="a."/> took the principal part as director and manager of all the firm's
       practical operations. He himself furnished many designs in the various classes of decorative
       art; Brown, Jones, and Rossetti, and in a lesser degree Webb, co-operated with designs,
       confined chiefly to stained glass, receiving payment in proportion to their actual produce.
       The total number of designs thus executed by my brother cannot have been large; the series
       from the<xref doc="a.s133.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Parable of the Vineyard</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was about the most considerable. The firm continued for several years on much the
       same footing, the partners meeting from time to time in a sufficiently informal manner, and
       constantly speaking of the enterprise as <quote>&#8220;the shop.&#8221;</quote> It
       gradually advanced in import and influence. Towards the close of 1874 the partnership was
       dissolved, with the full concurrence of some of the members, but not of all, and Mr. Morris
       remained for a while in sole possession. Of the great part which the firm of &#8220;Morris,
       Marshall, Falkner, &amp; Co.,&#8221; or now &#8220;Morris &amp; Company,&#8221; has borne in
       developing, or indeed revolutionizing, decorative design and practice in this country, I need
       not speak here. It is a portion of the artistic and industrial history of our times, written
       upon our walls in the guise of wall-papers, spread out beneath our feet in the form of
       carpets, and patent to the eye in a hundred ways.</p>
                  <p>It was in 1867 that Mr. Henry Treffry Dunn was engaged by my brother as his artistic
       assistant, a position which he continued to occupy up to very nearly the end of Rossetti's
       life&#8212;tracing drawings on to canvas, preparing duplicates, and otherwise rendering much
       valuable and zealous assistance. He worked to some extent also on his own account, with
       superior perception and skill.<epage/>
                     <page n="61" image="a."/> Mr. Dunn was not my brother's first assistant, having been preceded
       for two or three years by Mr. W. J. Knewstub, who showed good artistic aptitude. He had from
       the first a marked gift for comic design (but this was not staple work for Rossetti's
       studio), and eventually for colour and other graceful qualities in watercolour.</p>
                  <p>A letter from Mr. Shields, dated in December, refers to a picture of<xref doc="a.s205.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Lilith</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>; it was then in the possession of Mr. Tong, having been bought from Mr. Gambart. This
       is a less elaborate<xref doc="a.s205.r-1.rap">version in watercolour</xref> of the<xref doc="a.s205.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i"/>Lilith</title>
                     </xref> to be mentioned in the year ensuing.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.20" type="section" n="20" title="1868">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.22">
                        <hi rend="b">1868</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>begins with further correspondence between Rossetti and Mr. Matthews. In consequence of the
       objection raised to a necessary detail of treatment in the<xref doc="a.1-1865.s183.raw" workcode="1-1865.s183">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Aspecta Medusa</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, Rossetti offered to substitute another subject,<xref doc="a.23p-1881.s81.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>&#8212;the same subject of which he had made various years before a <xref doc="a.s81.rap">watercolour</xref>, the property of Miss Heaton of Leeds. For the oil-picture there would
       be five figures of less than life-size, the price (higher than that of the<xref doc="a.1-1865.s183.raw">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Medusa</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>) to be £2100. Mr. Matthews liked the subject, but not the price; and pronounced that
       some small works would suit him best. Rossetti hereupon undertook to execute the Dante for
       £1575. But to this also Mr. Matthews demurred: he would not be tied down to any defined
       price. The correspondence does not show any subsequent stage in this affair. I can recollect
       that my brother felt hurt and nettled, and made this apparent to Mr. Matthews, who expressed
       much concern, and, by means of Mr. Halliday (who firmly upheld Rossetti's general view of the
       transaction), effected a reconciliation. Mr. Matthews did not<epage/>
                     <page n="62" image="a."/> however, to the best of my remembrance, buy anything: certainly not
        the<xref doc="a.s81.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>&#8212;which, as is well known, was not very long afterwards taken in hand and executed<xref doc="a.s81.r-1.rap">in oils on a large scale</xref>, far larger than any other picture
       whatsoever from Rossetti's easel. A different oil-painting from Dante&#8212;apparently the
        monochrome<xref doc="a.s239.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Boat of Love</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, spoken of under the year 1864&#8212;is mentioned in a letter from Mr. Craven dated in
       January 1867; he had seen and liked it, and wished to have a<xref doc="a.46d-1861.s239.raw" workcode="46d-1861.s239">watercolour</xref> of it for <quote>&#8220;the money paid on
        account of the larger commission&#8221;</quote> (perhaps this refers to<xref doc="a.s56.s222.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Michael Scott's Wooing</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>). I am satisfied that no such watercolour was ever painted.</p>
                  <p>I find in this year two abortive attempts to induce my brother to recede from his system of
       abstaining from exhibition altogether. Sir Joseph Noel Paton the painter (now Queen's Limner
       in Scotland) asked him to exhibit something in the Royal Scottish Academy, saying that, if
       Rossetti could procure from the owners the pictures of<xref doc="a.s182.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Beloved</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> and<xref doc="a.s173.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Venus Verticordia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, both of which Sir Joseph had seen in a state approaching completion, they would not
       fail to obtain places of honour. In the following month, February, Mr. Craven said that he
       had promised to lend to the Great Exhibition at Leeds the<xref doc="a.s62.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Tibullus and Delia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> and the<xref doc="a.s179.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Washing Hands</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. He withdrew this offer on learning that it was contrary to the artist's liking, and
       the Scottish Academy had also to forego the paintings designated by Sir Noel Paton. About the
       same time Rossetti was engaged in insuring from fire his own paintings and drawings in his
       house in Cheyne Walk; he assessed their value at £2000.</p>
                  <p>Mr. Shields, writing in February, said that he had seen at Mr. McConnel's Rossetti's
       watercolour of<epage/>
                     <page n="63" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <note>Typo: on page 63, the final complete sentence on the page (beginning "There is thus in
         the picture not anything") lacks a puncutation mark separating it from the next sentence
         (beginning "In Rossetti's").</note>
                     </pageheader>
                     <xref doc="a.s200.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Tristram and Yseult</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> drinking the love-potion, and he agreed with the painter in rating it highest among
       all his watercolours. This painting passed out of Mr. McConnel's possession in 1872; as we
       have seen under the year 1863, Rossetti then contemplated painting the subject in oil, for
       which the medium of watercolour was substituted in 1867. Mr. Shields added that a Mr.
       Johnson, after some demur, was desirous of purchasing, for the £100 which had been asked, the
       designs (already mentioned) from the<xref doc="a.s133.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Parable of the Vineyard</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>.</p>
                  <p>At the end of February comes the first trace of Mr. Frederick R. Leyland as one of the
       purchasers of my brother's paintings. He then wrote that &#8220;<quote>the three pictures</quote>&#8221;
       had arrived, without giving any indication of what they were. Mr. Leyland soon became
       personally intimate with Rossetti, to their mutual satisfaction. He was very attentive to him
       in his last illness at Birchington; and at the time of my brother's death possessed a
       collection of his works second to none&#8212;or indeed superior to all others. In August he sent
       some money, on account either of<xref doc="a.s198.rap">Mrs. Leyland's picture</xref>
       (portrait presumably) or of the<xref doc="a.s183.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Aspecta Medusa</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>; but the latter, as I have already said, was never executed on canvas. He had
       commissioned the picture of<xref doc="a.sa14.s205.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Lilith</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and also a<xref doc="a.s124.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Lucrezia Borgia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> &#8212;one of the variations of the subject (already mentioned) of Lucrezia preparing a
       poison-draught for her husband.<xref doc="a.sa14.s205.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Lilith</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> represents a beautiful blonde woman (the same sitter as in<xref doc="a.s114.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Bocca Baciata</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> and <xref doc="a.s178.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Blue Bower</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>) combing out her hair; the accessories are those of an ordinary modern
       tiring-chamber. There is thus in the picture not anything to connect it with Lilith the first
       serpent-bride of Adam, nor to indicate a deep occult meaning of any kind In Rossetti's<epage/>
                     <page n="64" image="a."/> intention, however, the picture means<xref doc="a.2-1867.s205.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">&#8220;Body's Beauty&#8221;</title>
                     </xref>, as contrasted with<xref doc="a.1-1867.s193.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">&#8220;Soul's Beauty&#8221;</title>
                     </xref> in the<xref doc="a.s193.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Sibylla Palmifera</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>; and he wrote two sonnets, now bearing these titles, which develop the intention.
       This <xref doc="a.sa14.s205.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Lilith</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was begun, I believe, in 1864.</p>
                  <p>This same year, 1868, bears record of two other new purchasers&#8212;Mr. Leonard R. Valpy, a
       solicitor, and Mr. William Graham, then M.P. for Glasgow. Both these gentlemen were earnest
       admirers of Rossetti's works&#8212; Mr. Valpy mainly in relation to their spiritual significance or
       suggestiveness, Mr. Graham for their general attraction as works of art in beauty and colour.
       Mr. Valpy was an estimable gentleman, a little punctilious and fidgeting; he had a particular
       objection to nudity (to which indeed my brother's pictures show no propensity worth speaking
       of), and was disquieted even by a pair of bare arms. Mr. Graham showed himself a constant,
       cordial, and affectionate friend, conspicuously so in 1872, in a dangerous crisis of my
       brother's health. In May 1868 Mr. Valpy wrote of his possessing a <quote>&#8220;full
        bust&#8221;</quote> (half-length figure in crayons I assume) by Rossetti, and said that
       he would like to obtain other works of the same calibre. He had heard that the<xref doc="a.1-1865.s183.raw">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Aspecta Medusa</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was to be executed, and remarked that Mr. Burton the painter (now Sir Frederick,
       Director of the National Gallery) greatly admired the <xref doc="a.s183.rap">crayon
       design</xref> of it. Mr. Graham sent £500 on account of anything which Rossetti might be
       minded to allot to him from among works then in hand. Rather than the subject of<xref doc="a.s238.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Three Roses</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (called also<xref doc="a.s238.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Rosa Triplex</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>,) he would wish to have a version of the<xref doc="a.23p-1881.s81.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, or of the<xref doc="a.28-1869.s109.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Magdalene at the Door of Simon the Pharisee</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>; but he was not prepared to commission definitely either of these extensive<epage/>
                     <page n="65" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <bibliosig>F</bibliosig>
                     </pageheader> and costly subjects. He also wanted Rossetti to do a<xref doc="a.s168.r-1.rap">crayon-drawing</xref> of the<xref doc="a.s168.raw">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Beata Beatrix</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>.</p>
                  <p>Another letter, belonging I think to this year, is from Miss Spartali (now Mrs. Stillman),
       herself a painter of uncommon gifts, who more than once favoured my brother with sittings for
       some ideal head&#8212;as for instance the lady at the spectator's right in<xref doc="a.s81.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and the<xref doc="a.s252.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Fiammetta</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. Her letter refers to the oil-portrait of<xref doc="a.s372.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Mrs. William Morris</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>&#8212;seated, in a dark-blue dress&#8212;as being now finished. There seems to have been some
       idea of getting this work engraved, but it was never effected.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.21" type="section" n="21" title="1869">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.23">
                        <hi rend="b">1869.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>This year affords evidence of the zeal with which Mr. Graham was animated for my brother's
       art. He had seen the design of <xref doc="a.22-1869.s224.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Pandora</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, but hesitated to commission it at the price required&#8212;£682, or £735. This difficulty
       was solved by an offer from Mr. Graham's uncle, Mr. John Graham of Skelmorlie, to buy
        the<xref doc="a.s224.rap">large-sized picture</xref> (to be finished that same year, 1869)
       for £735, or £787, which seems to have been the price eventually paid; the nephew himself
       taking a<xref doc="a.s224b.rap">smaller duplicate</xref> for £367. The latter had by this
       time (February 1869) made up his mind to the purchase of the<xref doc="a.s81.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and in April he assented to the proposed price, £1575, suggesting as dimensions 6
       ft. by 3 1/2; I need not remind such readers as know the picture that in point of fact this
       size was enormously exceeded, somewhat to Mr. Graham's dismay. He wished likewise to have the
       refusal of any drawings which Rossetti might make as studies for the painting.<xref doc="a.23p-1881.s81.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (being the same subject of which Rossetti had made an early<epage/>
                     <page n="66" image="a."/>
                     <xref doc="a.s81.rap">watercolour</xref>, as noted under the year 1856, but a different
       composition) represents the vision which Dante, in the<xref doc="a.dante005.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="wrk" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Vita Nova</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, records himself to have had of the then imminent death of Beatrice. Beatrice has,
       according to the vision, just expired; two ladies are in the act of lowering a pall over her;
       Love, kissing her lips, leads Dante forward to gaze and mourn. Mr. Graham also commissioned a
        <xref doc="a.">replica</xref> of the<xref doc="a.s193.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Sibylla Palmifera</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, in watercolour, or of small size in oil, for £367; bought the<xref doc="a.s238a.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Three Roses</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>; wished for a duplicate of a drawing of Miss Spartali; and undertook to buy a
       variation in watercolour of the<xref doc="a.s372.rap">oil-portrait of Mrs. Morris</xref> for
       £367, and the<xref doc="a.s64.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Found</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> for £840, leaving over for further consideration some question as to the copyright of
       this picture, and a <xref doc="a.s64.r-1.rap">replica</xref> of it. He appears to have been,
       in the early part of the year, the owner of a minor <xref doc="a.s173.r-2.rap">version</xref>
       of the<xref doc="a.s173.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Venus Verticordia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>; and of the oil-picture of<xref doc="a.s213.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Mariana in the Moated Grange</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, into which Rossetti had undertaken to put a second figure, that of the page playing
       on a lute. The head of this page was painted from Mr. Graham's son William; and a<xref doc="a.s319.rap">crayon drawing</xref> of the youth was executed gratis towards the same
       time.</p>
                  <p>In the spring of 1869 my brother made a <xref doc="a.s142.rap">cartoon</xref> for a
       stained-glass window,<xref doc="a.s142.raw" workcode="s142">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Sermon on the Plain</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. It was done in memory of our aunt, Miss (Margaret) Polidori, deceased in 1867; and
       was executed by the Morris firm, and set up in Christ Church, Albany Street, Regent's Park,
       the place of worship assiduously attended by our aunt for at least a quarter of a century
       preceding her death. A <xref doc="a.s524.rap">crayon-portrait of Mrs. Tebbs</xref> (a cordial
       friend, herself a member of the Seddon family) belongs also to this year.</p>
                  <epage/>
                  <page n="67" image="a."/>
                  <pageheader>
                     <bibliosig>F 2</bibliosig>
                  </pageheader>
                  <p>In a letter addressed to myself by my brother in September I find a reference to one of his
       pen-and-ink designs, the <xref doc="a.s127.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Cassandra</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> prophesying the death of Hector, for which he wrote a brace of <xref doc="a.27-1869.s127.raw">sonnets</xref>. This design had (as previously indicated) been done
       several years before; it was one of those which my brother anxiously wished to carry out some
       day as a picture, but he never did so. In the autumn of 1869 circumstances had arisen which
       alarmed him as to the possibility of finding himself forestalled by some other painter in the
       use of some of the subjects of his own invention which he saw no early opportunity of
       executing: and it was on this ground that he mentioned to me the<xref doc="a.27-1869.s127.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Cassandra</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, along with two other inventions that he viewed with partiality&#8212;<xref doc="a.s78.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Passover in the Holy Family</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and<xref doc="a.s109.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Magdalene at the Door of Simon the Pharisee</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>.</p>
                  <p>About the same time he was occupied with the idea of re-working upon the<xref doc="a.s105.rap">Triptych</xref>, in Llandaff Cathedral, of the worship of the Infant Christ
       by a King and a Shepherd. A letter from the Rev. W. Bruce, of Llandaff, expresses his
       willingness to support Rossetti's wish to receive back the picture for this purpose, adding
       that the notion of colouring the frame could not be entertained. I infer, however, that the
       picture was in fact never sent to London for re-working. In the September of one year or
       other, perhaps 1869, my brother went to Llandaff, and there re-touched the picture, and
        <quote>&#8220;much improved&#8221;</quote> (as he considered)
        <quote>&#8220;the centre-piece by lightening the Virgin and Child.&#8221;</quote>
                  </p>
                  <p>Another work of restoration or completion was mooted in the autumn. Mr. Thursfield wrote
       enquiring whether Rossetti would like to finish his<xref doc="a.s93.rap">distemper-painting</xref> in the Hall of the Oxford Union, or whether<epage/>
                     <page n="68" image="a."/> he could suggest some mode of filling the central blank. This must
       refer to the second of the two subjects which Rossetti had of old undertaken&#8212;<xref doc="a.s94.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Sir Galahad receiving the Sangrael</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. Subsequently he notified the willingness of the Committee to spend a sum not
       exceeding £100 for completing the aforenamed painting, on the understanding that Rossetti
       (from whom no doubt this suggestion came) would send down an artist for the purpose; and in a
       later letter it was arranged that Mr. Dunn should act. It may be safely said that this scheme
       never took effect, but I know not why.</p>
                  <p>A letter to Mr. Rae, dated in August 1869, adverts to two pictures executed in preceding
       years. Rossetti expressed himself as pleased to hear that<xref doc="a.s191.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Monna Vanna</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, painted in 1866, <quote>&#8220;bears not only inspection but
        possession.&#8221;</quote>
                     <xref doc="a.s191.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Monna Vanna</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (which has in practice retained that title, although, as we shall see further on, it
       ought properly to be called<xref doc="a.s191.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Belcolore</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>) is a half-figure of a lady holding a feather fan: the tints of the richly patterned
       dress are white and gold. When this picture appeared in 1883 in Burlington House, in the
       collection of works by Rossetti which was associated with the display of Old Masters for that
       year, it proved to be a special favourite with the public: indeed, I consider that according
       to the taste of most visitors&#8212;of whom only a minority gave their predilection to the product
       of Rossetti's later period dating from about 1872 onwards&#8212;<xref doc="a.s191.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Monna Vanna</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> divided with<xref doc="a.s182.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Beloved</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> the highest praise of all; nor was it undeserving of this preference, so far as
       sweetness, evenness, and fine simplicity of execution, are concerned, apart from depth of
       insight or of significance. In the same exhibition was a smaller oil-picture named<xref doc="a.s164.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Aurelia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, of very high finish of handling,<epage/>
                     <page n="69" image="a."/> and bearing some analogy, on a minor scale, to the painting
       entitled <xref doc="a.s205.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Lilith</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. This <xref doc="a.s164.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Aurelia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, painted in 1863, and originally named <xref doc="a.s164.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Fazio's Mistress</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, is also referred to in the letter of August 1869.<quote>
                        <xref doc="a.s164.rap">
                           <title level="pic">
                              <hi rend="i">&#8220;Fazio's Mistress</hi>
                           </title>
                        </xref>,&#8221; wrote Rossetti, &#8220;ought to be renamed. It was always an
        absurd misnomer in a hurry; and the thing is much too full of queer details to embody the
        poem quoted, which is a thirteenth-century production. Do have the writing on the frame
        effaced, and call it anything else.<xref doc="a.s164.rap">
                           <title level="pic">
                              <hi rend="i">Aurelia</hi>
                           </title>
                        </xref> would do very well for the golden hair. I don't think it bad; but it was done at a
        time when I had a mania for buying bricabrac, and used to stick it into my
        pictures.&#8221;</quote>
                  </p>
                  <p>In 1873 Rossetti got back both these pictures, to give them a re-touching: they, as well
        as<xref doc="a.s182.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Beloved</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, came prosperously out of the dangerous ordeal. He then wrote that he had
        re-named<xref doc="a.s191.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Monna Vanna</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> as <xref doc="a.s191.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Belcolore</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which had served as a female name in Venice. This, he wrote, <quote>&#8220;was
        the title I originally meant the picture to have; only, when done, I doubted whether it
        quite deserved the name of &#8216;Fair Colour&#8217;; I think now there will be no
       misnomer.&#8221;</quote> Some question had been raised about certain rings painted in
       this picture. One of them was removed by the artist in 1873. As to another ring, he observed
       that its strong green was required to balance the colours of the work, and he considered the
       tint not excessive for a beryl or emerald-matrix. The name of<xref doc="a.s191.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Monna Vanna</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> had (like that of <xref doc="a.s164.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Fazio's Mistress</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>) a thirteenth-century sound about it, being got by Rossetti out of Dante; and he felt
       it to be inappropriate for so comparatively modern-looking a picture.</p>
               </div2>
               <epage/>
               <page n="70" image="a."/>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.22" type="section" n="22" title="1870">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.24">
                        <hi rend="b">1870</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>was one of the marked years of my brother's life. The<xref doc="a.s81.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was growing into form and colour under his hand, and his volume entitled<xref doc="a.1-1870.raw">
                        <title level="doc">
                           <hi rend="i">Poems</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> came out in the Spring, with his own design for the binding, just before he completed
       the forty-second year of his age.</p>
                  <p>The year opens with a letter from Mr. Shields, expressing satisfaction that Rossetti had
       again taken up his old picture <xref doc="a.s64.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Found</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and had engaged a male model to sit for it; also that he had resolved to set about
       painting various subject-pictures already projected or designed. I have often&#8212;too often&#8212;had
       occasion to say before now that some important design by my brother, intended as the
       foundation for a picture, was never carried out in that form&#8212;as for instance the <xref doc="a.s127.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Cassandra</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, the <xref doc="a.s239.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Boat of Love</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, the<xref doc="a.s183.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Aspecta Medusa</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, &amp;c. It may be as well here to offer a few remarks as to the reasons for
       these frequent miscarriages of his inventive projects. The first and most constantly
       operating reason was that my brother, as a non-exhibiting artist, had necessarily to rely
       upon a small and close circle of purchasers; and that these purchasers were in general more
       anxious to secure such specimens of his art as consisted of ideal female half-figures or
       heads than to commission work of any other class. Steadily occupied as he thus was, Rossetti
       had little time, though he had earnest inclination, to set-to upon work requiring a large
       amount of previous reflection and preparation. He often chafed to see the months and the
       years slipping away without adequate embodiment of his more elaborate and significant
       inventions; but so fate and opportunity willed it. Something should also be allowed for the
       fact that<epage/>
                     <page n="71" image="a."/> he had very little natural turn, and had never applied himself to
       the requisite technical discipline, for carrying out large scenic schemes, whether of
       open-air landscape or of interior combinations, such as would have been needed for his more
       crowded compositions, the<xref doc="a.s109.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Magdalene</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, or the<xref doc="a.s127.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Cassandra</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, or some others; and intensity of spiritual expression, even in a single face, had to
       his mind some counterbalancing claims, even against the moving and fascinating qualities of
       an epic or dramatic story, however vividly grouped, or whatever its depth of meaning. After
       making every allowance of this kind, the rarity of achievement of his larger projects in art
       must remain matter of regret, and to some extent of censure.</p>
                  <p>Mr. William Graham is again in 1870 an active correspondent. On the 10th of March he spoke
        of<xref doc="a.s81.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> as being <quote>&#8220;nearly on the stocks;&#8221;</quote> and reminded
       Rossetti of a promise of his to paint<xref doc="a.">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Amy</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> soon as a companion to<xref doc="a.s181.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Bellebuona</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which is the same small oil-picture that was exhibited, under the title of<xref doc="a.s181.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Il Ramoscello</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, at Burlington House in 1883. Later on, 29th June, Rossetti had offered Mr. Graham
       ten of the studies made in preparation for the painting of<xref doc="a.s81.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>; but for these Mr. Graham could not find the requisite space, so he proposed to take
       only four of them, for which £100 had been paid, or preferably four different female studies.
       In the middle of September the<xref doc="a.s224.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Pandora</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> then in preparation for Mr. John Graham (the Uncle) is discussed. Rossetti was minded
       to enlarge it from three-quarters size to full-length: this suggestion was staved off by a
       proposal that William Graham would himself take a separate full-length version. The picture
       for Mr. John Graham was completed in February 1871. As to the<xref doc="a.23p-1881.s81.raw">studies</xref> of heads made for the <xref doc="a.s81.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                        <epage/>
                        <page n="72" image="a."/>
                     </xref> there is in one of Rossetti's letters the observation: <quote>&#8220;I have made
        careful <xref doc="a.23p-1881.s81.raw">studies</xref> of the heads, of a certain size; which
        should be adhered to in order to trace them, which is the only way of sure work in painting,
        I find.&#8221;</quote>
                     <quote>&#8220;The different nude studies&#8221;</quote> for the same picture are
       likewise spoken of, and <quote>&#8220;the drapery-studies.&#8221;</quote> The
       following remarks on the oil-picture are also worth extracting:&#8212;<quote>&#8220;I am quite
        bent on making the picture thoroughly forcible and well relieved as a primary necessity,
        without which I could not endure its existence. This has been the case, I feel sure, with
        all work I have finished lately, and is rapidly becoming the case with this now. Only my
        habit is to leave these considerations absolutely alone in putting-in the materials of a
        picture, and to transform it completely afterwards in such respects. The outside parts are
        getting light again as I go on, and will be quite brilliant eventually.&#8221;</quote>
                  </p>
                  <p>A letter from Mr. Gambart the picture-dealer may perhaps belong to this year. It shows that
       he had at some time bought a head by Rossetti named<title level="pic">
                        <hi rend="i">Fiammetta</hi>
                     </title> (I remember nothing of it, but regard it as not in any way closely related to the
       large oil-picture,<xref doc="a.s252.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">A Vision of Fiammetta</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, painted some years later), and the painter had now made an offer of another head as
       a pendent to the first. Mr. Gambart would have been disposed to take the <xref doc="a.s109e.rap">head of Christ</xref>, executed towards 1859 in watercolour and oil, from
       sittings given by Mr. Burne Jones, as a study for the head to be introduced into the
       never-completed oil-picture of<xref doc="a.s109.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Magdalene at the Door of Simon the Pharisee</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. This Rossetti was unwilling to part with: he offered instead a female head for no
       further payment, or finished with hands for £40.</p>
                  <epage/>
                  <page n="73" image="a."/>
                  <p>In the spring of this year Rossetti spent, to recruit his health, a few weeks at Scalands,
       near Robertsbridge in Sussex, a house belonging to his hearty friend of many years, Mrs.
       Bodichon. Here he made a crayon drawing of Mrs. Morris, <quote>&#8220;which I am
        sure&#8221; (so he wrote) &#8220;is the best thing I ever did.&#8221;</quote>
       I am not certain which <xref doc="a.s259a.rap">drawing</xref> is here spoken of: perhaps the
       one which served, several years afterwards, as the foundation of his oil-picture<xref doc="a.s259.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Daydream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. There was also a study of a country-girl's head, sold to Mr. Graham for some £52. At
       a later date, September, a drawing is spoken of, perhaps a crayon-drawing, named <title level="pic">
                        <hi rend="i">Margaret</hi>
                     </title>. Whether this had anything to do with the Margaret or Gretchen of<xref doc="a.goethe002.rad" link="dead">Göthe's <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Faust</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and with the picture which Rossetti began some years later (but never finished) of
       Gretchen looking at the jewels, afterwards entitled<xref doc="a.s253.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Risen at Dawn</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, I cannot say.</p>
                  <p>By 17th December the<xref doc="a.s193.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Sibylla Palmifera</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was finished, all but a little final glazing; and Rossetti could write to its owner,
       Mr. Rae: <quote>&#8220;I am well pleased with the work when done; it will quite eclipse
        my others you have as to force of colour.&#8221;</quote>
                  </p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.23" type="section" n="23" title="1871">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.25">
                        <hi rend="b">1871</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>continues the correspondence with Mr. Graham. Early in January the <xref doc="a.s213.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Mariana</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was completed. On the following day he asked Rossetti for a <xref doc="a.s168.r-1.rap">duplicate</xref> of the<xref doc="a.s168.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Beata Beatrix</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. This work, as I have already said, had been painted as a reminiscence of the
       artist's wife, and Rossetti showed no little reluctance to undertake a duplicate. He did not
       actually refuse, however. A beginning was made; and the work hung over, with weak and
       half-hearted endeavours, until, late in 1872,<epage/>
                     <page n="74" image="a."/> it was taken up with earnestness, and brought to completion. As a
       work of art, it could not be regarded as coming fully into competition with its original, the
       property of Lord Mount-Temple. The price fixed for the duplicate was £900, or up to £945. On
       14th January Mr. Graham suggested to Rossetti his own poem of<xref doc="a.1-1847.s244.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">The Blessed Damozel</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> as a theme for a picture: as it turned out, the painter had himself projected doing
       this, and in due course the work was executed. Mr. Graham also enquired whether Rossetti
       would make a painting, to be offered to Mr. Hamilton, from the crayon-drawing named<xref doc="a.s214.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Silence</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>&#8212;one of his principal productions in that medium: this proposal did not take effect.
       In May Mr. Graham expressed a wish that his<xref doc="a.s168.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Beata Beatrix</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> might be distinguished from its <xref doc="a.s168.rap">original</xref> by the
       addition of a predella, representing some incident such as the meeting of Beatrice and Dante
       in the Garden of Eden, a sketch of which subject was in the possession of Mr. Boyce: if such
       a predella were added to the<xref doc="a.s168.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Beata Beatrix</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, the other picture,<xref doc="a.s244.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Blessed Damozel</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, might be docked of a predella heretofore intended. But in point of fact both
       predellas were ultimately painted, the one for<xref doc="a.s168.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Beata Beatrix</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> being priced at £157. Meanwhile the<xref doc="a.s81.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was advancing steadily, or even rapidly. On 17th July my brother was able to announce
       that, on his returning to London from Kelmscott in Oxfordshire (where for some years he
       tenanted the Manor-house, jointly with the Morris family), little would be needed for the
       completion of the picture; and by 7th November it is spoken of as actually finished. The
       purchaser (it appears) had not been invited or allowed to see it at any stage of its
       production: my brother being one of those artists who<epage/>
                     <page n="75" image="a."/> shrink from displaying work in an incomplete condition, when the
       ruling intention is only half expressed, and suggestions or objections are apt to be
       forthcoming, forestalled, or perhaps advisedly disregarded, by the painter himself.</p>
                  <p>Another <xref doc="a.s168.r-2.rap">replica</xref> of<xref doc="a.s168.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Beata Beatrix</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>&#8212;in this instance for Mr. Craven&#8212;is spoken of in some letters of this year; painted in
       watercolour after the original in oil&#8212;price some £350. In August my brother expected it to be
       ready for delivery within three months. Towards November Mr. Craven bought from Agnews the
       picture-dealers a water-colour of<xref doc="a.s146.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">St. George and the Princess Sabra</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>: he thought it wanting in luminosity, and proposed to consign it to the artist for
       some reworking. This proved to be impracticable, as the colour had been painted over Indian
       ink. An arrangement was also made that Rossetti should complete the<xref doc="a.s238.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Rosa Triplex</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, as companion to the watercolour of<xref doc="a.s57.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Hesterna Rosa</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> already belonging to Mr. Craven. But it was soon afterwards settled that the<xref doc="a.s238.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Rosa Triplex</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, price £236, should form a pendent to the<xref doc="a.s62.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Tibullus and Delia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, while something else should be painted as a pendent to<xref doc="a.s57.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Hesterna Rosa</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. The <xref doc="a.s170.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Morning Music</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was taken back by Rossetti from Mr. Craven, as the painter fancied that the purchaser
       was not quite satisfied with it.</p>
                  <p>In August my brother was getting on with a small picture having a river-background: no
       doubt this must be the half-figure of Mrs. Morris now entitled<xref doc="a.s226.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Water-willow</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which he regarded with predilection. It must be to this picture that a
       characteristic remark of his applies:&#8212;<quote>&#8220;I have painted the better part of a
        little picture, but don't know who is to buy it. I can't be<epage/>
                        <page n="76" image="a."/> bothered to stick idle names on things now&#8212;a head is a head; and
        fools won't buy heads on that footing.&#8221;</quote> He was also making drawings from
       the two daughters of Mrs. Morris, then children. A letter from Messrs. Pilgeram and Lefévre
       the picture-dealers, dated in November, shows that another watercolour of<xref doc="a.s124.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Lucrezia Borgia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was in progress at that time for them.</p>
                  <p>The year closes with two letters from Mr. Leyland. They speak of some picture of<xref doc="a.29-1869.s222.raw" workcode="29-1869.s222">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Michael Scott</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> which he appears to have owned; of<xref doc="a.s201.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Loving Cup</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which Rossetti had in 1870 proposed to take back from him, but this arrangement was
       not carried out for some while yet; of<xref doc="a.s229.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Bower-meadow</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, begun as far back as 1850; and of a picture to serve as a pendent to the <xref doc="a.s205.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Lilith</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, Mr. Leyland's property. At a later date <xref doc="a.s201.raw">three watercolour
        replicas</xref> of<xref doc="a.s201.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Loving Cup</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> are referred to.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.24" type="section" n="24" title="1872">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.26">
                        <hi rend="b">1872</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>opens with a letter from Mr. William A. Turner, a Manchester manufacturer who in course of
       time bought two or three of Rossetti's leading pictures. This gentleman, between whom and the
       painter very amicable relations were established, died in 1886. He wrote on the present
       occasion to say that he was the owner of a small oil-picture of a girl, with a heart-shaped
        gem-trinket,<xref doc="a.s196.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="french">
                           <hi rend="i">Joli C&#339;ur</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which he had bought from Mr. Ellis the publisher. The colour was tarnishing in
       parts, and he wished to know what remedy could be applied. This work, it appears, had at one
       time belonged to Mr. William Graham, and was mentioned by him in 1873 as the only Rossetti he
       had ever parted with.</p>
                  <p>At the beginning of the year Rossetti was minded to take up in earnest, as an oil-picture,
       his design of<epage/>
                     <page n="77" image="a."/>
                     <xref doc="a.27-1869.s127.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Cassandra</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> prophesying doom to Hector. He offered it to Mr. Leyland for some large price, which
       (as the correspondence shows) must have exceeded £2100: to this proposal Mr. Leyland did not
       assent, and he also resigned the idea of purchasing<xref doc="a.s229.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Bower-meadow</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. He commissioned, for £840, the<xref doc="a.s228.raw">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Veronica Veronese</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (the picture of a lady touching a violin in a note suggested by the lilt of a
       canary). An earlier commission for a similar price was<xref doc="a.s207.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">La Pia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> &#8212;the subject from Dante's<xref doc="a.dante002.3.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="wrk" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Purgatorio</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, begun perhaps as far back as 1868, and only finished towards 1880.<xref doc="a.19-1880.s207.raw">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">La Pia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was (as many of my readers will be aware) a Sienese lady, who was kept by her
       husband, through jealousy or some other motive of malignity, in the pestilential district of
       the Maremma, and there detained until the climate killed her. In the picture she is
       represented seated languidly on the battlements of the castle, and fingering her fatal
       wedding-ring.</p>
                  <p>A letter from Mr. McConnel, dated in May, shows that he was then the owner of the small
       oil-picture named<xref doc="a.s53.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Two Mothers</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which is an offshoot from that very extensive composition after Browning,<xref doc="a.s49.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Hist, said Kate the Queen</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which I have mentioned under the remote years 1849-50. The<xref doc="a.s53.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Two Mothers</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> represents a mother and child before an image of the Madonna and the infant Jesus. It
       is painted on a small strip of the large canvas which had been destined for the Browning
       subject: and the head of the human mother is the very same head which, in the full
       composition, had been intended for a middle-aged lady of the court, reading to Queen Kate as
       she sits having her hair combed out.</p>
                  <p>In the same month of May Mr. Rae wrote<epage/>
                     <page n="78" image="a."/> observing that he then possessed a larger number of Rossetti's
       works than any other purchaser. He enumerated them as follows (my readers must be asked to
       pardon the repetition involved):&#8212;<xref doc="a.s193.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Sibylla Palmifera</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>,<xref doc="a.s191.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Monna Vanna</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>,<xref doc="a.s182.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Beloved</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>,<xref doc="a.s173.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Venus Verticordia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>,<xref doc="a.s91.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Damsel of the Sangrael</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>,<xref doc="a.s164.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Fazio's Mistress</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>,,<xref doc="a.s92.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Tune of Seven Towers</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>,<xref doc="a.s90.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Blue Closet</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>,<xref doc="a.s86.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Mariana</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>,<xref doc="a.s99.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Chapel before the Lists</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>,<xref doc="a.s101.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Sir Breuse sans Pity</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>,<xref doc="a.s75.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Paolo and Francesca</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and<xref doc="a.s97.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Wedding of St. George</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. This makes thirteen subjects altogether&#8212;presumably all that Mr. Rae then possessed.</p>
                  <p>In June of this year my brother had a very serious illness, which will be more particularly
       mentioned when I come to speak of his writings. It compelled him to retreat from London, and
       for a while to drop all professional occupation whatsoever. He resumed work towards the close
       of August.</p>
                  <p>At some time in this year, perhaps September, Mr. Valpy wrote to him asking him to do a
       crayon portrait of Mrs. Valpy, and observing that he had seen some of his works of the like
       kind at the house of Mr. Stevenson in Tynemouth. At Trowan, in the Highlands of Scotland,
       Rossetti had already, towards the beginning of September, taken up (under urgent pressure
       from Mr. Madox Brown, who, with his usual warmth of friendship, had accompanied him out of
       London) the <xref doc="a.s168.r-3.rap">replica</xref> of his<xref doc="a.s168.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Beata Beatrix</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> for Mr. William Graham, abandoned in the previous year as hopeless. It was finished
       before he left Scotland. He spoke of <xref doc="a.s168.r-3.rap">this <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Beata Beatrix</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> as having been completed <quote>
                        <foreign lang="french">
                           <hi rend="i">&#8220;tant bien que mal</hi>
                        </foreign>, or <foreign lang="french">
                           <hi rend="i">plus mal que bien</hi>
                        </foreign>. &#8221;</quote> A
       later notice of this picture occurs in January 1873, when Rossetti varnished it, with most
       beneficial results in depth and transparency, and was able to pronounce<epage/>
                     <page n="79" image="a."/> 
                     <quote>&#8220;It looks almost tolerable.&#8221;</quote> There was still one
       drawback: the painting had been glazed with a mixture of Roberson's and Parris's mediums, and
       the varnishing produced here and there a sort of whitish soapy bloom. When finally the frame
       came in February, and the picture could be viewed complete with its predella, it was even
       dubbed <quote>&#8221;quite satisfactory,&#8220;</quote> and <quote>&#8220;up to his usual level.&#8221;</quote>
                  </p>
                  <p>Rossetti regretted to learn that, during his absence from London, his crayon drawing named
        <xref doc="a.s214.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Silence</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> had been sold to Messrs. Heaton and Brayshay, of Bradford; he intended to paint it
       one day (which however he never did), and resolved to get it back, and this he succeeded in
       doing soon afterwards. The purchasers rated it at £250. This drawing was resold, towards the
       end of 1876, to Mr. Councillor Rowley, of Manchester.</p>
                  <p>On leaving Scotland, Rossetti returned to Kelmscott, and there he remained settled up to
       the summer or early autumn of 1874. He contemplated undertaking two pictures as soon as he
       should reach Kelmscott: (1) the subject named <xref doc="a.s259.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Daydream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (or, in the first instance,<xref doc="a.s259.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Monna Primavera</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>), which nevertheless was not seriously begun on the canvas till some years
       afterwards; and (2) a full-length<xref doc="a.22-1869.s224.raw" workcode="22-1869.s224">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Pandora</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, of small life-size; he considered that this subject would benefit much by being
       treated in full length, and by some changes of detail. He had also an idea of painting the
       noble subject of the suicide of<xref doc="a.s230.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Pætus and Arria</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, but of this no trace remains except a slight but expressive<xref doc="a.s230.raw" workcode="s230">pencil-sketch</xref>. I question, moreover, whether he ever produced
        the<xref doc="a.22-1869.s224.raw" workcode="22-1869.s224">full-length <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Pandora</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. He had by him, in the house in Cheyne Walk, heads both for the<xref doc="a.s224.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Pandora</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> and for the <xref doc="a.s259a.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Daydream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and <xref doc="a.7-1880.s259.raw">studies</xref> for the background of the latter were<epage/>
                     <page n="80" image="a."/> then being made at Trowan by Mr. Dunn. For each of these pictures
       he meant to charge a price of £1050, and he thought of offering either of them to Mr.
       Leathart. Before the end of September he had received at Kelmscott from Chelsea various
       drawings, including the two heads above-named, and a<xref doc="a.s542.rap">head of Mrs.
        Zambaco</xref>, a Greek lady of his acquaintance, now known as a sculptress or medallist.
       Soon afterwards Rossetti got back from Mr. Leyland the picture of<xref doc="a.s205.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Lilith</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, with a view to making some alteration in it: he thought of refinishing the head from
       a then very childish sitter, Miss May Morris, who (as he wrote) <quote>&#8221;has the right
        complexion.&#8220;</quote> He re-consigned this picture to Mr. Leyland in December, and wrote to a
       friend: <quote>&#8220;I have made it, I think, a complete success, quite worthy to hang with the
        Fiddle-picture&#8221;</quote> (<hi rend="i">i.e</hi>., the <xref doc="a.s228.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Veronica Veronese</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>).</p>
                  <p>Notwithstanding these various projects and performances, it would seem that a different
       theme was the first which Rossetti worked upon after settling down at Kelmscott&#8212;the<xref doc="a.1-1872.s233.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which he always looked upon with more than wonted approval. His first experiment
       upon this subject (I call it the first provisionally, and for convenience sake, but there may
       have been some attempts even earlier) did not satisfy him; but he thought that it might sell
       as a separate thing, by cutting out the existing head, and substituting another. The subject
       was originally intended for Eve holding the apple: it was converted by afterthought into
       Proserpine holding the pomegranate. Then he began a<xref doc="a.sa100.s233.rap">second <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, for which he received an offer of £577 from two acquaintances of old standing, Mr.
       Charles Augustus Howell and Mr. William Parsons, who acted as partners in some picture-buying
       speculations. By the beginning<epage/>
                     <page n="81" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <bibliosig>G</bibliosig>
                     </pageheader> of November the<xref doc="a.sa100.s233.rap">second <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> promised to be soon completed. A careful <xref doc="a.">chalk-drawing</xref> of Miss
       May Morris had also been done. Mr. Murray Marks, the dealer in works of art, who had been
       well known to Rossetti for some years past, procured this drawing, and sold it to Mr. Prange
       for £170, receiving in part-payment the smallish oil-picture of <xref doc="a.s195.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Christmas Carol</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>; and he succeeded in re-selling this picture, for a like sum of £170, to Mr. Alderson
       Smith. In 1876 it passed into the hands of Mr. Rae: there is a letter to that gentleman from
       Rossetti, saying&#8212;<quote>&#8220;I must make<xref doc="a.s195.rap">
                           <title level="pic">
                              <hi rend="i">The Christmas Carol</hi>
                           </title>
                        </xref> all right for you now you have got it.&#8221;</quote> The oil-picture of <xref doc="a.s195.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Christmas Carol</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> is a single half-figure of a girl playing, quite different from an earlier
       watercolour bearing the same title.</p>
                  <p>My brother had first known Mr. Howell, an Anglo-Portuguese, then an extremely young man,
       towards 1857, and again, on his return from the Continent, in 1864. For some years following
       1864 they were on terms of great intimacy. This had been interrupted for a year or two
       preceding our present date, the autumn of 1872. The familiarity was then resumed, and, up to
       the close of 1874 or thereabouts, Mr. Howell was not only a frequent visitor to Kelmscott,
       and a constant correspondent, but he became also a selling agent for Rossetti's pictures, and
       in that character did some very vigorous and successful strokes of work, being rich in
       versatile resource and in attractive personal qualities. The period of Rossetti's
       business-connection with Mr. Howell must be regarded as that when he was most prosperous as a
       professional man, with the least amount of trouble to himself. Providently concerting his
       plans with Mr. Howell, he was able to trust to that gentleman<epage/>
                     <page n="82" image="a."/> to carry them out with abundant <hi rend="i">
                        <foreign lang="french">savoir faire</foreign>
                     </hi>. In a letter from Mr. Howell, dated in August 1873, I observe the statement that he had
       readily sold sixty-eight pictures and drawings by Rossetti, which had passed through his
       hands in a period of six years. Ultimately both the business-connection and the personal
       intimacy ceased. Mr. Parsons, whom I have mentioned above, was by profession a portrait and
       landscape painter, who had afterwards taken to photography and also to picture-dealing. His
       partnership with Mr. Howell was (as I understand it) only partial, for in most of my
       brother's dealings with Howell Parsons had no share at all, and many such dealings ensued
       after Parsons had closed his business-transactions with my brother.</p>
                  <p>The first experimental version of<xref doc="a.1-1872.s233.raw" workcode="1-1872.s233">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and the drawing of Miss May Morris, were in November bought by Messrs. Howell and
       Parsons for £300. In the same month Mr. Aldam Heaton asked Rossetti to do for a friend a
       watercolour head of Christ.</p>
                  <p>It seems that about this time a so-called <xref doc="a.s109.r-2.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Magdalene</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (which I infer to be an oil-sketch of the frequently mentioned design, <xref doc="a.s109.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Mary Magdalene at the Door of Simon the Pharisee</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>) was in the hands of Mr. Clabburn, a Norwich manufacturer and art-collector, whom my
       brother had known for several years, and it was likely to be sold off by auction. In this and
       in most other cases my brother regarded the chances of an auction-room as likely to serve his
       interests amiss: he was therefore well pleased when Mr. Howell purchased the work from Mr.
       Clabburn, and sent it to Bradford to find another buyer. Messrs. Heaton and Brayshay became
       the purchasers, at a price of £220, on the understanding that<epage/>
                     <page n="83" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <bibliosig>G 2</bibliosig>
                     </pageheader> the painter would re-touch the work. Mr. Rae was inclined to buy it in the
       autumn of 1874: but Rossetti wrote of it in discouraging terms, both as to its then actual
       value, and as to the sum which would be needed for fully working it up, and the project was
       dropped. Two auction-sales of works belonging to Miss Bell, a schoolmistress with whom Mr.
       Ruskin was on friendly terms, took place about the same time. At the first of these sales Mr.
       Howell bought up for a friend all the Rossetti specimens of minor account, excepting two
       which had been done at Hastings, representing Miss Siddal: these two (and probably also a
        <xref doc="a.">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Girl playing the Harp</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which fetched £10) were purchased, for about £15 each, by Mr. F. S. Ellis, the
       publisher of Rossetti's poems, and his esteemed personal friend. One subject, termed<xref doc="a.s79.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Carol</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, was bought by Mr. Leyland, acting through Howell. On the other hand, Howell had
       purchased from Leyland a design which his letter names <quote>&#8220;the Dante,&#8221;</quote> and the
       other well-known composition, <xref doc="a.s118.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">How they met Themselves</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (two lovers startled by encountering their own wraiths in a forest); and Leyland was
       desirous that Rossetti should take back from him, at £200 or £250, the <xref doc="a.s124.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Lucrezia Borgia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. The subjects thus obtained by Howell are specified as follows:<xref doc="a.s102.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Luke Preaching</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>;<xref doc="a.sa205.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante and Beatrice</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, a drawing for a water-colour belonging to Mr. Leyland;<xref doc="a.">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante Seated</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, in pencil and ink, £11; a man who is being knighted, the head done from Benjamin
       Woodward, the architect of the Museum and the Union building in Oxford;<xref doc="a.">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">St. George and the Dragon</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (a slight specimen); a female sketch. No doubt all these works, sold by Miss Bell,
       had originally belonged to Ruskin. The latter, according to Mr. Howell's account, had some
       years before sent<epage/>
                     <page n="84" image="a."/> the <xref doc="a.s120.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Regina Cordium</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (portrait of Mrs. Dante Rossetti) to America, and now only retained <xref doc="a.s78.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Passover in the Holy Family</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and the <xref doc="a.s107.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Golden Water</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.25" type="section" n="25" title="1873">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.27">
                        <hi rend="b">1873.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>This year opens with a letter (3rd January) from Mr. William Graham, who expresses regret
       at having missed buying from Rossetti the picture (mentioned aforetime) named <xref doc="a.s229.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Bower-meadow</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. Mr. Gambart, who had been concerned in purchasing it from Rossetti, had now offered
       it to Graham for £1000, or at lowest £900. This tender was declined, and Mr. Dunlop had then
       become the purchaser.<xref doc="a.s239.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Boat of Love</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> is here again mentioned&#8212;in terms which indicate that Rossetti proposed to execute the
       subject on a large scale for Mr. Leyland, and on a smaller scale for Mr. Graham. Neither
       project (as already indicated) took effect. Later on, three of the pictures belonging to
       Graham were in the hands of Rossetti, who apparently wished to do some additional work on all
       three. <xref doc="a.s181.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Il Ramoscello</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was one; also<xref doc="a.s131.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Annunciation</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (now in the National Gallery), on which Graham asked Rossetti to do as little as
       possible; also the <xref doc="a.s173.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Venus Verticordia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (a smaller replica from the oil-picture), which Graham wished to receive back
       unaltered. The<xref doc="a.s181.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Ramoscello</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> returned to him in June. He had bought <xref doc="a.s131.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Annunciation</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> for £425, from Messrs. Agnew.</p>
                  <p>On the 17th January Rossetti wrote: <quote>&#8220;I have pleased myself at last with the <xref doc="a.s233.rap">
                           <title level="pic">
                              <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                           </title>
                        </xref>, having begun an entirely new one, which I feel sure is the best picture I have
        painted.&#8221;</quote> All the figure-part was by this time done, and only the drapery remained
       over. Proserpine is depicted as in Hades, holding the<epage/>
                     <page n="85" image="a."/> fateful pomegranate which debarred her from returning to the living
       world, with a faint reflection behind her from the light of day. This I regard as <xref doc="a.s233.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> No. 3 (and may at times find it convenient thus to designate it); the painter had an
       idea of getting it introduced to the notice of Sir William (now Lord) Armstrong, who was
       understood to be forming a large collection of pictures; but this idea came to nothing. The
       two previous essays at<xref doc="a.s233.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> were now rated as only fit to be made into <quote>&#8220;little head-pictures,&#8221;</quote> and
       the painter counted upon realizing £1050 out of the three. No. 3 was nearly finished by 15th
       May. One of the others was in the hands of Mr. Parsons by June. Mr. Leyland was willing to
       buy No. 3 for £840, and offered a similar price for another picture which now first comes in
       for mention, <xref doc="a.s236.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Roman Widow</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. This latter was not perhaps begun until some little while further on; and the final
       completion of the<xref doc="a.s233.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was delayed till August, or indeed later.</p>
                  <p>Early in March Rossetti wrote of having had down at Kelmscott a female model, found for him
       by Mr. Dunn; and of having made from her a drawing, nearly down to the knees, of a naked
       Siren playing on an extraordinary lute&#8212;&#8220;<quote>certainly one of my best things.</quote>&#8221; This
       was completed by the end of the month, named <xref doc="a.s234.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Ligeia Siren</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and valued by the artist at £210, as, though in strictness only a crayon-drawing, it
       ranked as <quote>&#8220;quite an elaborate picture.&#8221;</quote>
                  </p>
                  <p>A letter from Mr. Valpy, dated in April, refers to the works by Rossetti which he then
       possessed. These were the heads of Miss Wilding (the lady who sat for the head of <xref doc="a.s193.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Sibylla Palmifera</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and of <xref doc="a.s232.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">La Ghirlandata</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and for various other pictures); a portrait of <title level="pic">
                        <hi rend="i">Mrs.
        Valpy</hi>
                     </title>;<epage/>
                     <page n="86" image="a."/>
                     <xref doc="a.s207.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">La Pia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (more correctly called <xref doc="a.s209.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Aurea Catena</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>);<xref doc="a.s168.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Beata Beatrix</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>;<xref doc="a.s193.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Sibylla Palmifera</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>;<title level="pic">
                        <hi rend="i">Miss Kingdon</hi>
                     </title> (a drawing which the owner wished to
       get draped); <title level="pic">
                        <hi rend="i">Andromeda</hi>
                     </title>; and <title level="pic">
                        <hi rend="i">Miss Spartali</hi>
                     </title> (who was by this time Mrs. Stillman). Most of these, or probably all
       of them, must have been crayon-drawings. Another drawing, belonging to Mr. Leyland, is
       mentioned in a letter from Rossetti dated 15th May. This was<xref doc="a.1-1847.s244.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Blessed Damozel</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> &#8212;the subject being, of course, from the artist's own poem so named. The
       crayon-drawing thus spoken of was nearly, yet not absolutely, the first instance in which the
       theme had been transferred by him from language into form. He referred to the drawing as
        <quote>&#8220;a very complete thing,&#8221;</quote> and added that he was minded to paint a picture
       right off from it, <quote>&#8220;as I really believe such pictures have more unity if one does not
        do them from nature but from cartoons&#8221;</quote>&#8212;an important indication of the growing bent
       of his mind, at this period, in matters of artistic invention and execution. It would seem
       that <xref doc="a.1-1847.s244.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Blessed Damozel</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was soon afterwards begun on canvas&#8212;or even on two canvases successively.</p>
                  <p>The large picture named <xref doc="a.s232.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">La Ghirlandata</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was commenced in the early summer of 1873. On 1st July Rossetti wrote of
        it:&#8212;<quote>&#8220;My new picture of Miss Wilding goes on swimmingly, in spite of two November days
        created on purpose for the start of it.&#8221;</quote> The two heads of angels were painted from
       Miss May Morris. Mr. Graham was willing to give £840 for this picture, or £1000 for the<xref doc="a.s232.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Ghirlandata</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> and the <xref doc="a.s234.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Ligeia Siren</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> together. By the close of August the former was far advanced towards completion, and
       was about finished in September. The name<xref doc="a.s232.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">La Ghirlandata</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> may be translated &#8220;The Garlanded Lady,&#8221; or &#8220;The Lady of<epage/>
                     <page n="87" image="a."/> the Wreath.&#8221; The personage is represented singing, as she plays on
       a musical instrument; two youthful angels listen. The flowers which are prominent in the
       picture were intended by my brother for the poisonous monkshood: I believe he made a mistake,
       and depicted larkspur instead. I never heard him explain the underlying significance of this
       picture: I suppose he purposed to indicate, more or less, youth, beauty, and the faculty for
       art worthy of a celestial audience, all shadowed by mortal doom.</p>
                  <p>Some of Mr. Howell's letters of this year speak of <quote>&#8220;the snowdrop
        head&#8221;</quote>&#8212;<quote>&#8220;the white-flower picture&#8221;</quote> (priced at £210)&#8212;<xref doc="a.s227.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Blanzifiore</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. These I take to be different designations of one and the same performance; it lay
       for a while in Mr. Howell's own house.</p>
                  <p>With the end of the summer the large picture of<xref doc="a.s81.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> becomes again a prominent subject of consideration. This work, the property of Mr.
       William Graham, had always been too large to find convenient housing on his walls, and it
       remained hung upon a staircase. Consequently Mr. Graham was disposed to relinquish the large
       picture, and to obtain from the painter a smaller (though still well-sized) replica of it, at
       the same price, to which was to be added a sum of £300 for a double predella, Mr. Graham's
       own suggestion; and Mr. Valpy showed a strong inclination to become the purchaser of the
       large picture, at the same amount which Mr. Graham had given for it. The original was
       replaced in Rossetti's house in Cheyne Walk, in order that Mr. Dunn might make the
       preparation for the replica&#8212;outlining the subject, and laying-in the background; Rossetti
       himself undertaking to do the figures throughout, and the entire colouring. The<epage/>
                     <page n="88" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <note>Typo: on page 88, the third sentence in the third paragraph begins with the phrase "He
         laid it all in in green," rather than &#8220;He laid it all in green.&#8221;</note>
                     </pageheader> replica was to be got ready, if possible, within eighteen months; but in fact
       this limit of time was considerably exceeded. Mr. Howell secured Mr. Valpy as purchaser of
       the larger picture, and he claimed a commission of £200 upon the sale-price of £1575. To this
       Rossetti assented, but preferred to deliver works of art rather than £200 in cash; and <xref doc="a.s227.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Blanzifiore</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, along with the <xref doc="a.s234.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Siren</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (I presume the original drawing of <xref doc="a.s234.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Ligeia Siren</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>) were agreed upon as an equivalent for £200.</p>
                  <p>In October Mr. Leyland undertook to send off<xref doc="a.s153.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Monna Rosa</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> as soon as Rossetti might wish to re-work upon it.</p>
                  <p>Towards the end of October the <xref doc="a.s233.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> subject is again in the ascendant. My brother had now begun a new<xref doc="a.s233.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (No. 4) from the same design. He laid it all in in green, and expected, when he
       wrote, to get it finished in about ten days; and he regarded this as very greatly the best
       version of the subject. He had been induced to undertake it because, upon recurring to No. 3,
       destined for Mr. Leyland, in order to give it a last finishing, he was again mortified by
       observing in the face some rucks, caused by the lining process. <quote>&#8220;This design,&#8221; he
        wrote, &#8220;is a favourite one with me, and so I determined to have another tussle to make it my
        best, which I hope it is now sure to be. The head is much better, both in expression and as
        a likeness [of Mrs. William Morris], than the others; and the whole thing, done in this way,
        has a unity which is the right thing for a work of the kind.</quote>&#8221; As this new<xref doc="a.s233.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, No. 4, was destined to supersede No. 3 as Mr. Leyland's property, No. 3 was now
       reduced in price to £500; and Rossetti thought of offering it to Mr. Rae in lieu of the
       earlier and much less satisfactory version which had previously been in the hands of Mr.
       Parsons, but which<epage/>
                     <page n="89" image="a."/> had by this time, after some rather irritating correspondence,
       returned unsold to Rossetti. But this project was also for a while set aside, for, continuing
       to work at No. 3 simultaneously with No. 4, Rossetti made No. 3 <quote>&#8220;so completely&#8221; (as he
        expressed it) &#8220;of my best work&#8221;</quote> that he once more decided to consign it to Mr.
       Leyland as the fulfilment of his £840 commission.</p>
                  <p>By the end of the year&#8212;12th December&#8212;Rossetti had agreed to paint as an oil-picture for Mr.
        Graham<xref doc="a.s244.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Blessed Damozel</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, at the price of £1157, including a predella. He also wrote of a <quote>&#8220;little
        stained-glass sketch&#8221;</quote> of<xref doc="a.s155.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Christ in Glory</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which was shortly to go to Mr. Graham; and offered to re-work upon<xref doc="a.s201.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Loving Cup</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, one of the watercolour replicas which had been made after the original oil-picture
       belonging to Mr. Leyland. Mr. Graham also suggested that the oil-picture of <xref doc="a.s213.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Mariana in the Moated Grange</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> should be brightened; but Rossetti did not regard this as a judicious proposal, and
       the <xref doc="a.s213.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Mariana</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> remained, I believe, fortunately untouched. Having assigned the original<xref doc="a.s244.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Blessed Damozel</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, Rossetti thought of undertaking a second version of that subject, and he offered it
       to Mr. Rae for £630, but without effect. A letter from Mr. Graham, dated in the same month of
       December, details the various works by Rossetti which he then possessed. Some of them have
       been sufficiently mentioned here already. Others are a <xref doc="a.s75.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Francesca da Rimini</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, the water-colour of <xref doc="a.s170.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Morning Music</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>,<xref doc="a.s116d.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante and Beatrice in Eden</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>,<xref doc="a.s118.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">How they met Themselves</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and <xref doc="a.9-1850.s126.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Romaunt of the Rose</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (both as a watercolour and also on panel&#8212;this is the design of two lovers kissing,
       which had been originally drawn to serve as a frontispiece to the volume of translations,
        <xref doc="a.1-1861.rad">
                        <title level="doc">
                           <hi rend="i">The Early Italian Poets</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>). Rossetti had also<epage/>
                     <page n="90" image="a."/> lately sent Graham a chalk head, <quote>&#8220;in payment of the
        unfinished Miss Macbeth,&#8221;</quote> a phrase which I fail to understand.</p>
                  <p>Towards Christmas the <xref doc="a.s233.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> reached Mr. Leyland's hands; not after all No. 3, but the version which I have termed
       No. 4. In transit the glass and other accessories got much damaged: the picture itself, save
       for a slight scratch on neck and cheek, escaped scatheless. It was returned to Rossetti, who
       easily set it to rights. He gives, in one of his letters, a curious catalogue of the numerous
       repetitions and recurrent disasters of the<xref doc="a.s233.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> design. It was begun on seven different canvases, to say nothing of mere drawings.
       Three, after being brought well forward, were rejected; next came the one which had
       ill-success with Mr. Parsons. That which I have called No. 3 had its glass twice smashed and
       renewed, and twice it was lined to prevent accidents. No. 4 had its frame smashed twice, and
       its glass once, besides the last disaster which nearly destroyed it, and it had been nearly
       spoiled while under transfer to a fresh strainer. My brother had a strong spice of
       superstition in his character; and I should not be at all surprised if he suspected that
       there was a &#8220;fate&#8221; against the <xref doc="a.s233.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> pictures, germane to their grievous theme.</p>
                  <p>A letter to Mr. Rae, dated in November, shows in a rather amusing light the dislike with
       which Rossetti regarded any clumsiness of subsidiary detail in connection with his pictures.
       It had been proposed to add an inscription upon the frame of<xref doc="a.s193.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Sibylla Palmifera</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>.<quote>&#8220;An inscription,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;is much more difficult to do properly than a
        picture. If it is a bit too large or too black, the picture goes to the devil; and, if you
        have not<epage/>
                        <page n="91" image="a."/> some one to do it who has an elective affinity for commas and
        pauses, I will ask you to spare my poor sonnet. I will get it done myself one
      day.&#8221;</quote>
                  </p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.26" type="section" n="26" title="1874">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.28">
                        <hi rend="b">1874.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>At the beginning of this year, 15th January, Rossetti was again occupied with the picture
       which he had commenced in the preceding spring, entitled <xref doc="a.s235.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Bower-maiden</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>&#8212;a girl in a room with a pot of marigolds and a black cat. It was painted from
        <quote>&#8220;little Annie&#8221;</quote> (a cottage-girl and house-assistant at Kelmscott), and it
        <quote>&#8220;goes on&#8221; (to quote the words of one of his letters) &#8220;like a house on fire. This is
        the only kind of picture one ought to do&#8212;just copying the materials, and no more: all others
        are too much trouble.&#8221;</quote> It is not difficult to understand that the painter of a <xref doc="a.s233.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> and a<xref doc="a.s232.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Ghirlandata</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> would occasionally feel the luxury of a mood intellectually lazy, and would be minded
       to give voice to it&#8212;as in this instance&#8212;in terms wilfully extreme; keeping his mental eye
       none the less steadily directed to a<xref doc="a.s236.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Roman Widow</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> or a<xref doc="a.s244.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Blessed Damozel</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> in the near future. As a matter of fact, my brother painted very few things, at any
       stage of his career, as mere representations of reality, unimbued by some inventive or ideal
       meaning: in the rare instances when he did so, he naturally felt an indolent comfort, and
       made no scruple of putting the feeling into words&#8212; highly suitable for being taken <foreign lang="latin">
                        <hi rend="i">cum grano salis</hi>
                     </foreign>. Nothing was more alien from his nature or habit than
       &#8220;tall talk&#8221; of any kind about his aims, aspirations, or performances. It was into his
       work&#8212;not into his utterances about his work&#8212;that he infused the higher and deeper elements of
       his spirit. <xref doc="a.s235.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Bower-maiden</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was finished early in<epage/>
                     <page n="92" image="a."/> February, and sold to Mr. Graham for £682, after it had been
       offered to Mr. Leyland at a rather higher figure, and declined. It has also passed under the
       names of<xref doc="a.s235.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="french">
                           <hi rend="i">Fleurs de Marie</hi>
                        </title>,
         <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Marigolds</hi>
                        </title>, and <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Gardener's
          Daughter</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. After the <xref doc="a.s235.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Bower-maiden</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> had been disposed of, other work was taken up&#8212;more especially<xref doc="a.s236.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Roman Widow</hi>
                        </title>, bearing the alternative title of 
        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Dîs Manibus</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which was in an advanced stage by the month of May, and was completed in June or
       July. It was finished with little or no glazing. The Roman widow is a lady still youthful, in
       a grey fawn-tinted drapery, with a musical instrument in each hand; she is in the sepulchral
       chamber of her husband, whose stone urn appears in the background. I possess the antique urn
       which my brother procured, and which he used for the painting. For graceful simplicity, and
       for depth of earnest but not strained sentiment, he never, I think, exceeded <xref doc="a.s236.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">he Roman Widow</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. The two instruments seem to repeat the two mottoes on the urn, <quote>
                        <foreign lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">i&#8220;Ave Domine&#8212;Vale Domine.&#8221;</hi>
                        </foreign>
                     </quote> The head was painted from Miss Wilding, already mentioned; but it seems to me
       partly associated with the type of Mrs. Stillman's face as well. There are many roses in this
       picture&#8212;both wild and garden roses; they kept the artist waiting a little after the work was
       otherwise finished. <quote>&#8220;I really think it looks well,&#8221; he wrote on one occasion; &#8220;its
        fair luminous colour seems to melt into the gold frame (which has only just come) like a
        part of it.&#8221;</quote> He feared that the picture might be <quote>&#8220;too severe and
       tragic&#8221;</quote> for some tastes; but could add (not perhaps with undue confidence) <quote>&#8220;I
        don't think Géricault or Régnault would have quite scorned it.&#8221;</quote>
                  </p>
                  <p>In the summer of 1874 <xref doc="a.s454.rap">a head of my wife (Lucy<epage/>
                        <page n="93" image="a."/> Madox Brown)</xref> was executed in coloured chalks, as a
       wedding-gift (one out of many) to ourselves; also<xref doc="a.s238.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Triple Rose</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, a triplicate version of the head of Miss May Morris, purchased by Mr. Craven for
       £196.</p>
                  <p>Towards the end of the autumn another oil-picture was finished, <xref doc="a.s91.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Damsel of the Sangrael</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, bought for £500 by Mr. Rae, who already possessed<xref doc="a.s91.rap">a watercolour
        bearing the same title</xref>. Mr. Rae also purchased for £126 the watercolour of<xref doc="a.s124.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Lucrezia Borgia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> which had previously belonged to Mr. Leyland. The latter gentleman had towards 1870
       sold off by auction all the small pictures in his possession, except the<xref doc="a.s124.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Lucrezia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and he now preferred to part with this also. The sale of the <xref doc="a.s124.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Lucrezia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (at the same price which it had cost to Mr. Leyland), and of the <xref doc="a.s91.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Damsel of the Sangrael</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, were, I think, the last money transactions of any importance which passed between
       Mr. Rae and my brother.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.27" type="section" n="27" title="1875">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.29">
                        <hi rend="b">1875.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>A letter written by a friend in March of this year refers to two designs by my brother,
       then no doubt of recent date&#8212;<xref doc="a.s241.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Sphinx</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> and<xref doc="a.s249.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Venus Astarte</hi>
                        </title>, called also <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Astarte Syriaca</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>; the former in pencil, the latter in pen-and-ink.<xref doc="a.s241.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Sphinx</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was one of my brother's most important inventions; he wished to carry it out as a
       picture, but found no feasible opportunity of doing so. On his death-bed he composed <xref doc="a.1-1882.s241.raw">two sonnets, as yet unpublished, to illustrate the same idea</xref>.
       In this design the Sphinx represents the mystery of existence, or the destiny of man,
       unfathomable by himself. Three personages&#8212;a youth, a man of mature age, and an old man &#8212;are
       shown as coming to the secret haunt of the Sphinx, to consult her as to the arcana of fate. The<epage/>
                     <page n="94" image="a."/> man is putting his question; the greybeard toils upward towards the
       spot; the youth, exhausted with his journey, sinks and dies, unable so much as to give words
       to the object of his quest. With upward and inscrutable eyes the Sphinx remains impenetrably
       silent. It may be worthy of mention that, in representing the dying stripling, Rossetti was
       thinking of the premature fate of Oliver Madox Brown, the youth of singular promise, both as
       painter and as writer, who had ended his brief life of less than twenty years in the November
       of 1874&#8212;a bitter grief to his father, Rossetti's lifelong friend, Ford Madox Brown. This
       design Rossetti characteristically wrote of as being meant to be a sort of painted<xref doc="a.32-1871.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Cloud Confines</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (the name will be recognized as that of one of his poems). <quote>&#8220;I don't know,&#8221; he
        added, &#8220;whether it would do to paint, being moonlight.</quote>&#8221; The other design referred
       to, <xref doc="a.s249.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Venus Astarte</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, was soon afterwards taken up as the subject of one of my brother's leading pictures.</p>
                  <p>Mr. Howell negotiated for the sale of the forthcoming <xref doc="a.s249.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Venus Astarte</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and he induced Mr. Clarence Fry, the eminent photographer, to commission the picture
       for a sum of £2100, exclusive of the copyright, which the artist retained; although, as the
       latter explained to Mr. Fry, this reservation was intended, not really for the purpose of
       preventing the purchaser from getting the work engraved, were he so minded, but in order to
       provide against any mischance of a <hi rend="i">bad</hi> engraving apart from the painter's
       own control. My brother's constant practice, in all his later years, was to sell his pictures
       with reservation of the copyright to himself, and he took certain precautions which he
       supposed at the time to be sufficient for this object;<epage/>
                     <page n="95" image="a."/> but, as it turned out eventually, the method which he adopted did
       not fulfil the requirements of the complicated copyright-law, and the result (as I have been
       given to understand) is that at the present date no copyright, available either to his
       representatives or to the owners of the pictures, attaches to them, and they remain destitute
       of legal protection. I gather that the<xref doc="a.s249.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Venus Astarte</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was begun on the canvas towards the commencement of November 1875&#8212;a full-scale
       outline of it having been prepared by the middle of October.</p>
                  <p>The first reference which I find to the oil-picture entitled <xref doc="a.s240.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">La Bella Mano</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> &#8212;or rather to the preparatory work for it&#8212;is in a letter from Mr. Howell, dated in
       June. He speaks of three drawings by Rossetti which he has bought, price £150; one of them
       being <xref doc="a.s240c.rap">a figure of a Cupid</xref>, clearly applicable to<xref doc="a.s240.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">La Bella Mano</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. The picture itself must have been begun many months before this date, for in August
       it seems to have been in a completed state. Mr. Ellis the publisher became eventually its
       purchaser; but from its artist's hands the work had passed into those of the dealer Mr.
       Murray Marks.<xref doc="a.s240.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">La Bella Mano</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> &#8212;a lady washing her hands, waited on by two Cupids&#8212;is one of my brother's most mature
       and finished works of execution, although many exceed it in strength or depth of meaning.</p>
                  <p>By the middle of August another oil-picture was advancing&#8212;the head and shoulders, with the
       arms and hands, being then nearly finished. This was<xref doc="a.s248.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Sea-Spell</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>&#8212;which was as yet intended to bear a different title, consisting of the quotation from
       Coleridge: <quote>
                        <lg>
                           <l n="1" indent="2">&#8220;A damsel with a dulcimer</l>
                           <l n="2" indent="2">In a vision once I saw.&#8221;</l>
                        </lg>
                     </quote>
                     <epage/>
                     <page n="96" image="a."/> This was painted from Miss Wilding, who had sat for the<xref doc="a.s228.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Veronica Veronese</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and it was intended to serve as a pendent or companion to that. In the<xref doc="a.s228.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Veronica</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> there was a player on a musical instrument listening to a bird (a canary); so in the
        <xref doc="a.s248.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dulcimer</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> there was a bird (a dove as at first intended, but finally a sea-gull) flitting
       fascinated towards the player. Rossetti offered this picture to the owner of the<xref doc="a.s228.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Veronica</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, Mr. Leyland, who closed with the proposal&#8212;the price being, as in some previous
       instances, £840.</p>
                  <p>In the autumn of this year, my brother, with a view to health and quietude, went down to
       Bognor, where he remained some few months. The<xref doc="a.s249.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Venus Astarte</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was with him to be worked upon, and also<xref doc="a.s244.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Blessed Damozel</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.28" type="section" n="28" title="1876">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.30">
                        <hi rend="b">1876.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p> This matter of <xref doc="a.1-1847.s244.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Blessed Damozel</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> is elucidated in a letter from Rossetti to Mr. William Graham, dated 5th April 1876.
       He says that he began a picture of this subject years ago; afterwards worked upon a second
       such picture; and is now near to completing a third, which is intended for Graham. Among
       several other details, aiming to show how large a portion of the painter's time had been
       given for years past to work commissioned by Graham, it is mentioned that the replica of<xref doc="a.s81.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> is now more than half done, and that some attention, by way of re-work, had been
       given to <xref doc="a.s44.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Annunciation</hi>
                        </title> picture (<title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Ecce Ancilla Domini</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>) since it came into Graham's possession. For this re-work no charge had been made.
       This is a somewhat interesting point, considering that the picture in question is now in the
       National Gallery. I am not<epage/>
                     <page n="97" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <bibliosig>H</bibliosig>
                     </pageheader> well aware what the recent re-touching may have been, but should say that it
       was (in accordance with the request made by the owner, as noted under the date of 1873) not
       by any means extensive, nor of such a kind as to interfere with the genuineness of the
       picture as representing Rossetti in his early or expressly &#8220;Præraphaelite&#8221; period. I think
       the lily in the angel's hand was one of the alterations&#8212;or rather an addition.</p>
                  <p>Nearly at the same date, 11th April, comes a letter from Sir Joseph Noel Paton, always a
       most generous estimator of Rossetti's art. He says that the picture (I presume <xref doc="a.s109.r-2.rap">the oil sketch</xref>) of<xref doc="a.s109.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Magdalene at the Door of Simon the Pharisee</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was then owned by Mr. Laurie, a picture-dealer in Glasgow; and that the painting
        of<xref doc="a.s224.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Pandora</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was among the works displayed in the Glasgow Exhibition.</p>
                  <p>During this same month of April Mr. Fry consulted Rossetti about a drawing which he had
       purchased of Mr. Howell, and of which he now sent the painter a sketch. Rossetti replied that
       the drawing represented<xref doc="a.s237.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Madonna Pietra</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, a lady to whom Dante in his exile addressed a celebrated little poem in the peculiar
       form named <hi rend="i">
                        <foreign lang="italian">Sestina</foreign>
                     </hi>. The crystal globe in the hand of the figure was intended to present the reflection of
       a rocky landscape, symbolizing the lady's pitiless heart. In the study, the figure was nude;
       but in the projected picture she would have been chiefly draped, and her upper hand was to
       have been holding some of the drapery. Rossetti added that he still proposed to paint the
       subject, but in a different action: this project remained unfulfilled. In June Rossetti
       mentioned to Mr. Fry that he had lately finished an oil-picture named<xref doc="a.s261.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">La Ricordanza</hi>
                        </title>, or<title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Lamp of Memory</hi>
                        </title> (also at times termed <title level="pic" lang="greek">
                           <hi rend="i">Mnemosyne</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>),<epage/>
                     <page n="98" image="a."/> and he offered it to this gentleman for £500. This work did not,
       however, pass into Mr. Fry's hands. It lingered a long while in Rossetti's studio, and was at
       last, towards 1881, sold to Mr. Leyland.</p>
                  <p>From Bognor my brother returned to his house in Cheyne Walk; and in the summer he paid a
       visit to two of his kindest and most considerate friends, Lord and Lady Mount-Temple, at
       their seat of Broadlands in Hampshire. He executed there a portrait in chalks of Lady
       Mount-Temple. He went on also with the picture of<xref doc="a.s244.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Blessed Damozel</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. For the head of an infant angel which appears in the front of this picture he made
       drawings from two children&#8212;one being the baby of the Rev. H. C. Hawtrey, and the other a
       workhouse infant. <xref doc="a.s244f.rap">The former sketch</xref> was presented to the
       parents of the child, and<xref doc="a.sa183.s244.rap">the latter</xref> to Lady Mount-Temple;
       and the head with its wings was painted on to the canvas at Broadlands. Here he made the
       acquaintance also of Mrs. Sumner, a lady of commanding presence, who, after his return to
       London, favoured him with sittings for various heads. One of them was named<xref doc="a.s246.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Domizia Scaligera</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.29" type="section" n="29" title="1877">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.31">
                        <hi rend="b">1877.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>It was towards the beginning of this year, say in the final days of January, that the large
       picture of<xref doc="a.s249.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Venus Astarte</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was brought to a conclusion. I think that my brother was always wont to regard this
       as his most exalted performance; ranking it, in a certain proportionate scale, along with
        the<xref doc="a.s81.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> and the<xref doc="a.s233.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. The <xref doc="a.s81.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>&#8212;in point of dimensions, and as a composition of several figures telling a moving
       story, and moreover from its relation to the supreme<epage/>
                     <page n="99" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <bibliosig>H 2</bibliosig>
                     </pageheader> poet of his special and lifelong homage&#8212;naturally took the first place; but he
       probably accounted it to be less developed in style and execution. The<xref doc="a.s233.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, an invention of his own, satisfied him best as a thing achieved&#8212;an adequate
       realization of his conception: it was, however, smaller in size and simpler in subject than
       either of the others. Into the<xref doc="a.s249.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Venus Astarte</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> he had put his utmost intensity of thinking, feeling, and method&#8212;he had aimed to make
       it equally strong in abstract sentiment and in physical grandeur&#8212;an ideal of the mystery of
       beauty, offering a sort of combined quintessence of what he had endeavoured in earlier years
       to embody in the two several types of<xref doc="a.s193.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Sibylla Palmifera</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> and<xref doc="a.s205.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Lilith</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, or (as he ultimately named them in the respective sonnets)<xref doc="a.1-1867.s193.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Soul's Beauty</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> and<xref doc="a.2-1867.s205.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Body's Beauty</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. It may be well to remark that, by the time when he completed the<xref doc="a.s249.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Venus Astarte</hi>
                        </title>, or <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Astarte Syriaca</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, he had got into a more austere feeling than of old with regard to colour and
       chiaroscuro; and the charm of the picture has, I am aware, been less, to many critics and
       spectators of the work, than he would have deemed to be its due, as compared with some of his
       other performances of more obvious and ostensible attraction. Mr. Fry, who purchased the<xref doc="a.s249.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Venus Astarte</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, became also the owner of the original and very finished pen-and-ink design of the
       same composition. He was minded to exhibit the picture in the Grosvenor Gallery, then a new
       enterprise: but Rossetti raised a decided objection to this proposal, and referred Mr. Fry to
        <xref doc="a.">a letter</xref> which the painter had recently published in <xref doc="a.ltimes.001.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="per">
                           <hi rend="i">The Times</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> regarding his non-appearance in exhibitions generally, and in the Grosvenor Gallery
       in particular. This letter is certainly not the writing of a self-conceited man; for<epage/>
                     <page n="100" image="a."/> it substantially amounts to saying that Rossetti withheld his
       pictures from the eyes of the public in exhibition-rooms because they never rightly satisfied
       his own eye in his studio.</p>
                  <p>In February one of Rossetti's large chalk heads, the<xref doc="a.s255.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Donna della Finestra</hi>
                        </title> (or <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Lady of the Window</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, from<xref doc="a.pq4308.a24.vol3.rad">Dante's <title level="wrk" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Vita Nova</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>), was being autotyped for sale; and it was soon afterwards followed by the<xref doc="a.s214.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Silence</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and by the<xref doc="a.sa96.s81.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Head of Dante</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, a study for the figure in the picture of <xref doc="a.s81.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. In April mention is made of a large watercolour painted as far back as 1868, and
       resembling to a great extent the small oil-picture named<xref doc="a.s114.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Bocca Baciata</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. The watercolour, entitled<xref doc="a.s114.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">La Bionda del Balcone</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, belonged to Sir William Bowman, who wrote that he would like Rossetti to re-inspect
       it, as some change had occurred in the pigments. In the same month begins an interchange of
       letters with Mr. Valpy concerning certain works by Rossetti which this gentleman had received
       from Mr. Howell. It may suffice here to say that<xref doc="a.s256.rap">an oil head of
        Beatrice</xref> is named as among the works; also a figure termed <xref doc="a.">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Beatrice's Maid</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which had at one time been erroneously regarded as a study for <xref doc="a.s248.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Sea-Spell</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>; two or three of the studies for the picture of<xref doc="a.s81.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>; and <xref doc="a.s240d.rap">a chalk-drawing</xref> of two boy-Cupids for the<xref doc="a.s240.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Bella Mano</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which drawing, as being a nudity, was distasteful to Mr. Valpy.</p>
                  <p>The oil-picture of the <xref doc="a.s244.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Blessed Damozel</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, commissioned by Mr. Graham, was finished about the end of April.</p>
                  <p>A letter from Mr. Leyland, dated 31st July, bears record of one of the subjects which my
       brother intended to paint, but which in fact he never executed&#8212;I even think he never began
       it. This subject is termed <xref doc="a.1-1875.sa88.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Hero</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>; and the picture was, I believe, to have represented Hero<epage/>
                     <page n="101" image="a."/> standing with her torch to give light to her wave-buffeting lover
       Leander, perhaps on that very night of storm and doom when the Hellespont engulfed him. It
       was to have been of like size and price with other pictures for each of which Mr. Leyland had
       paid £840. A similar sum was indeed actually paid for the <xref doc="a.1-1875.sa88.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Hero</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and must have been afterwards transferred to the account for some other picture. I
       cannot but regret that this work, which seemed highly suited to my brother's powers, was not
       carried out. The idea of executing it seems to have been finally abandoned&#8212;or at least
       indefinitely postponed&#8212;in the autumn of 1880.</p>
                  <p>In the late summer of 1877, in consequence of an infirmity for which surgical treatment had
       been required, my brother fell into a state of great languor and prostration; and, under the
       more than fraternal escort of Madox Brown, he removed to Hunter's Forestal, near Herne Bay,
       and for some few weeks appeared incapable of resuming the implements of his art. Our mother
       and our sister Christina were soon with him; and at last, with an uncertain hand and great
       misgivings as to the result, he made an attempt at a life-sized <xref doc="a.s433.rap">chalk-portrait</xref> group of the two&#8212;head and shoulders. Fortunately the experiment
       turned out a complete success; and he perceived at once that nothing but an effort of will
       was needed to enable him to continue working at his art with undiminished faculty of head and
       hand. Two separate chalk heads of Christina were done about the same time, and with a result
       equally reassuring. His mind now reverted to <xref doc="a.sa170.s252.rap">a head</xref> which
       he had previously done from Mrs. Stillman, as a preliminary to a picture of<xref doc="a.s252.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">A Vision of Fiammetta</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>; and, not long after returning to London in the autumn, he was favoured<epage/>
                     <page n="102" image="a."/> with some further sittings from Mrs. Stillman, and made the <xref doc="a.s252.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Fiammetta</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> picture one of his principal concerns. It seems to have been brought to some degree
       of completion before the end of the year, but was not finally sent off to its owner&#8212;Mr.
       Turner&#8212;until October 1878.<xref doc="a.s252.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Fiammetta</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, her head encircled (as Boccaccio describes it) by a mystical flame, is shown
       standing, parting with her hand the bloom-laden boughs of an apple-tree. As had long
       previously been the case with the roses and honeysuckles in the<xref doc="a.s173.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Venus Verticordia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, Rossetti found a great deal of trouble in satisfying his feeling as an artist in
       procuring good apple-blossom to paint from in the<xref doc="a.s252.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Fiammetta</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. At last he called in the friendly aid of Mr. Shields as a caterer, writing more than
       one letter on the subject, and averring that he <quote>&#8220;would of course be glad to pay <hi rend="i">anything</hi> for good blossom.&#8221;</quote>
                  </p>
                  <p>In the autumn another of Rossetti's chalk-drawings was autotyped, entitled <xref doc="a.">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Perlascura (Dark Pearl)</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. I hardly think it was placed on sale along with the other subjects previously
       mentioned.</p>
                  <p>Mr. Turner bought two more pictures in 1877. One was the small oil-painting entitled <xref doc="a.s226.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Water-willow</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. The female figure in this painting is (as Rossetti defined it in a letter to Mr.
       Turner), <quote>&#8220;as it were, speaking to you, and embodying in her expression the penetrating
        sweetness of the scene and season.&#8221;</quote> The second picture was a<xref doc="a.s226.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>&#8212;the same which I have in a previous instance spoken of as No. 3. I have more than
       once found that opinions differ as to the comparative merits of this No. 3 and the No. 4
       disposed of at an earlier date to Mr. Leyland&#8212;some persons preferring the one version, and
       some the other. My own suffrage is for Mr. Leyland's picture; but at any rate the question of
       superiority has<epage/>
                     <page n="103" image="a."/> to be weighed in a nice balance. My brother finally preferred No.
       3. He had, before effecting the sale to Mr. Turner, offered to Mr. Rae both this picture and
        the<xref doc="a.s226.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Water-willow</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. In doing so he wrote that the <xref doc="a.s233.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> &#8212;which, although begun earlier than Mr. Leyland's version of the subject, had been
       still worked on to some extent towards the opening of 1877&#8212;was <quote>&#8220;unquestionably the
        finer of the two, and is the very flower of my work.&#8221;</quote> The prices named to Mr. Rae
       were £315 for<xref doc="a.s226.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Water-willow</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and £1050 for <xref doc="a.s233.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. Probably enough Mr. Turner disbursed the same sums. After a while a question arose
       of sending to a public exhibition in Manchester, got up in aid of the Art-Schools
       building-fund, some of the pictures by Rossetti belonging to Mr. Turner. As usual, the
       painter expressed a great reluctance to this proposal; finally he waived his objection so far
       as the<xref doc="a.s233.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was concerned, but adhered to it in relation to the other examples.</p>
                  <p>The pictures by Rossetti which had belonged to Mr. Turner were brought to the hammer at
       Christie's in 1888. It may not be out of place to note here the prices which they fetched.
       The largest price&#8212;indeed, a disproportionately large one&#8212;came to the<xref doc="a.s252.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Fiammetta</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>&#8212;£1207. The <xref doc="a.s233.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> went for £745; <xref doc="a.s226.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Water-willow</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (far below its value, I think), £126;<xref doc="a.s196.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="french">
                           <hi rend="i">Joli C&#339;ur</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, £236;<xref doc="a.s179.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Washing Hands</hi>
                        </title> (watercolour)</xref>, £152; the <xref doc="a.s199.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Rose</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (watercolour), £89. There was also a<xref doc="a.">
                        <title level="pic" lang="Greek">
                           <hi rend="i">Mnemosyne</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, £42, which may, I presume, be a crayon head.</p>
                  <p>The year closes (31st December) with a request from Mr. Graham that Rossetti would take in
       hand the predella&#8212;an afterthought&#8212;for the <xref doc="a.s244.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Blessed Damozel</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. It may be as well to explain that the subject of the picture<epage/>
                     <page n="104" image="a."/> is the Blessed Damozel leaning over <quote>&#8220;the gold bar
        of heaven,&#8221;</quote> and looking earthward with a yearning gaze, while behind her the
       background is filled with groups of blue-clad lovers embracing, reunited in their eternal
       mansion. The predella&#8212;which got executed in five or six weeks&#8212;was to represent the Damozel's
       lover disconsolate on earth, and looking, through dark autumnal foliage, towards the
       perturbed sky. I hardly know whether the idea of this predella&#8212;certainly very appropriate for
       completing pictorially the subject-matter embodied in the poem&#8212;came from Rossetti himself, or
       from Mr. Graham; perhaps rather from the latter. He offered to add for the predella, if done
       without delay, a sum of £150 to the £1000 which had been already paid for the picture.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.30" type="section" n="30" title="1878">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.32">
                        <hi rend="b">1878.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>One of Rossetti's latest watercolours was a female head named <xref doc="a.s251.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Bruna Brunelleschi</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. It now belonged to Mr. Valpy, who, being in Rome in February of the present year,
       asked the painter to send it in the first instance to Canon Bell. After a while however
       Rossetti resumed ownership of the <xref doc="a.s251.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Bruna Brunelleschi</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, delivering something else in exchange for it. A watercolour<xref doc="a.s233.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, costing £262, was sold in the summer to Mr. Ellis.</p>
                  <p>Another upset now ensued in relation to the larger and earlier version of the <xref doc="a.s81.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which we have already seen transferred from the possession of Mr. Graham to that of
       Mr. Valpy. The last-named gentleman, towards the middle of the year, was contemplating to
       retire from the active pursuit of his profession as a solicitor, to quit London finally, and to<epage/>
                     <page n="105" image="a."/> settle down in Bath. Rossetti, as he wrote to Mr. Valpy, could not
       reconcile himself to the removal of this picture to so remote a residence. It had from the
       first been apparent that Mr. Valpy, after committing himself, at the instance of Mr. Howell,
       to the purchase of this large work, had regarded it as somewhat out of scale with his
       moderate establishment, and with the other specimens of art pertaining to that, and that he
       would not unwillingly have entered into some different arrangement, had he but felt himself
       free to do so. Rossetti therefore (it must certainly have been he who took the initiative)
       proposed that Mr. Valpy should resign to him the<xref doc="a.s81.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and receive in substitution for it other works, all of minor dimensions, to a total
       value not only equivalent to that of the relinquished picture, but even definitely larger;
       thus giving Mr. Valpy an advantage in the terms of exchange, to smooth over any possible
       asperity incident to such a transaction. Indeed, a value of no less than £1995 is spoken of
       by Rossetti, as against the £1575 at which the<xref doc="a.s81.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> had been priced; but the £1995 was to be reduced to about £1650 by the return to
       Rossetti of some secondary works&#8212;chalk heads &amp;c.&#8212;belonging to Valpy. An even larger
       value&#8212;£2230&#8212;is specified at a later date in the letter-writing. From August onward, a good
       deal of correspondence&#8212;at times rather tentative and complicated in detail&#8212;proceeded between
       Rossetti and Mr. Valpy. At one stage two replicas from works belonging to Mr. Leyland were
       proposed. Afterwards it was felt by the painter that this would not be consistent with Mr.
       Leyland's liking. He then offered only one such replica&#8212; either the <xref doc="a.s248.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Sea-Spell</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (of reduced size) or the <xref doc="a.s228.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Veronica Veronese</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, at Valpy's option; along with<epage/>
                     <page n="106" image="a."/> an oil-picture already begun&#8212;<xref doc="a.s253.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Gretchen</hi>
                        </title> (from <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Faust</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>), trying-on the jewels, a subject for which a different title&#8212;<xref doc="a.s253.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Risen at Dawn</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>&#8212;was soon adopted; a duplicate<xref doc="a.s244.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Blessed Damozel</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, or something else; and a <xref doc="a.">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, a reduction in oils, or else a watercolour. Deferring to Mr. Valpy's rooted dislike
       of any nudity, the painter expressed himself willing to drape the bosom and part of the
       shoulders of the <xref doc="a.s253.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Gretchen</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. Afterwards a <xref doc="a.s162.r-3.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Joan of Arc</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> kissing the sword of deliverance was offered. Of this subject a watercolour, the
       property of Lady Ashburton, was at the time lying in the painter's studio; and he proposed to
       paint another larger version of it in oil. He stipulated that the works to be exchanged for
        the<xref doc="a.s81.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> would not be deliverable until after he should have succeeded in re-selling that
       picture; and with a view to re-sale, he at once offered it at a diminished price to Mr.
       Turner, who however proved irresponsive. In the course of this Valpy correspondence Rossetti
       observes that he had scarcely ever made a full-sized replica of any life-sized picture&#8212;had
       only done so in the case of the<xref doc="a.s168.r-3.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Beata Beatrix</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and of one other subject, which I should presume to be the <xref doc="a.">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. Of the watercolour <xref doc="a.s162.r-2.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Joan of Arc</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> he says, &#8220;<quote>Neither in expression, colour, nor design, did I ever do a better
        thing.&#8221;</quote>
                  </p>
                  <p>In October, having despatched the<xref doc="a.s252.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Vision of Fiammetta</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> to its purchaser Mr. Turner, Rossetti turned his mind to some new subject. He fixed
       upon <xref doc="a.s254.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Desdemona's Death-Song</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>&#8212; where Desdemona sits crooning the willow-song, as Emilia combs out her hair. For
       this subject he made several studies and designs, the composition being altered more than
       once. He did not, I think, actually begin painting it on the canvas, but he must<epage/>
                     <page n="107" image="a."/> have come very near to so doing. He was particularly occupied with
       this theme in the summer of 1881.</p>
                  <p>In the last month of the year Mr. Valpy arranged with my brother that Miss Williams, the
       daughter of a lady residing at Shirley Hall, Tunbridge Wells, was to sit to him for a chalk
       portrait. It was finished in May of the following year.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.31" type="section" n="31" title="1879">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.33">
                        <hi rend="b">1879.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>A letter to Mr. Graham, dated in May, shows that the replica of <xref doc="a.s81.r-2.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, long ago commissioned by that gentleman, was now so far advanced as to be quite
       ready for glazing. The double predella for this picture was expected to be completed very
       soon afterwards. The entire work was in fact finished by the end of November; but then the
       painter avowed himself not satisfied with the figure of Beatrice, and held it over for
       alteration. The predella represents (1) Dante sick in body and perturbed in mind, dreaming
       his troublous dream, watched by ladies of his family; and (2) Dante narrating his dream to
       the same ladies. Both these incidents appertain to the poem which the picture illustrates. A
       full-sized monochrome of the old subject, <xref doc="a.sa89.s64.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Found</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>&#8212;also due to Mr. Graham&#8212;was in hand in May as an aid towards bringing the picture
       itself to a conclusion.</p>
                  <p>About the same date another picture was painted, and was purchased by Mr. Ellis, who
       received it towards the end of the year. This is <xref doc="a.s255.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">La Donna della Finestra</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, the same subject (sometimes bearing the alternative title of <xref doc="a.s255.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Lady of Pity</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>) of which more than one chalk drawing had previously been done; but I think the
       successive treatments of the theme always varied in<epage/>
                     <page n="108" image="a."/> arrangement. This ranks, I think, among my brother's most mature
       paintings; the expression being at once deep and reserved. It may be worth mentioning that
       the Donna della Finestra is (in the narrative in <xref doc="a.pq.4308.a24.vol3.rad"> Dante's <title level="wrk" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Vita Nova</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>) a lady who looked from a window upon Dante when sunk in sorrow for the death of
       Beatrice, and whose aspect manifested so much pity for him that he was after a while almost
       lured into falling in love with her. According to the allegorical interpretation of the<xref doc="a.pq4308.a24.vol3.rad">
                        <title level="wrk" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Vita Nova</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (an interpretation for which Dante's own statements in the<xref doc="a.pq4308.a24.vol3.rad">
                        <title level="wrk" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Convito</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> are largely responsible), this same lady really represents Philosophy; but Rossetti
       had no sympathy with any downright allegory of that sort, and, in representing the Donna
       della Finestra, he had no notion of representing Philosophy, or any abstract personification
       of like kind. He contemplated the Donna as a real woman; but neither was her human reality
       intended to be regarded as the essence of the pictorial presentment&#8212;rather her personal
       reality subserving the purpose of poetic suggestion&#8212;an emotion embodied in feminine form&#8212;a
       passion of which beautiful flesh-and-blood constitutes the vesture. Humanly she is the Lady
       at the Window; mentally she is the Lady of Pity. This interpenetration of soul and body&#8212;this
       sense of an equal and indefeasible reality of the thing symbolized, and of the form which
       conveys the symbol&#8212;this externalism and internalism&#8212;are constantly to be understood as the
       key-note of Rossetti's aim and performance in art. I have emphasized the point here, as the
       particular subject from the<xref doc="a.pq4308.a24.vol3.rad">
                        <title level="wrk" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Vita Nova</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, with its dubious balance (so far as Dante's intention is concerned) between the
       actual and the allegorical, seemed to invite some such observations; but remarks to the like<epage/>
                     <page n="109" image="a."/> effect might have been made in relation to many of the works of my
       brother previously specified, and they apply to the general range and scope of his art from
       first to last.</p>
                  <p>It may have been in 1879 that Rossetti made a chalk portrait of Mr. Leyland, as a
       wedding-gift to that gentleman's daughter, Mrs. Hamilton.</p>
                  <p>The picture which occupied him most towards the end of the year, and for some months
       ensuing, was the full-length figure entitled at starting <xref doc="a.s259.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Monna Primavera</hi>
                        </title>, but afterwards <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Daydream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>&#8212;a youthful lady seated in the fork of a sycamore-tree, with a book and a sprig of
       honeysuckle (the flower had at first been the snowdrop). This is perhaps the only instance in
       which one of his life-sized ideal female figures was pictured at whole length. Mr.
       Constantine Ionides, a friendly acquaintance of old standing, saw the painting in progress,
       or perhaps rather he saw the chalk-drawing which served as foundation for the painting; and
       he showed a disposition, which took effect, to become its purchaser. Hereupon Rossetti
       addressed to him on the 5th October a letter which gives some practical details. He says that
       the price of <xref doc="a.s259.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Daydream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> would be £735; being lower (as it certainly was) than the scale of prices which had
       prevailed in Mr. Graham's commissions. For instance,<xref doc="a.s232.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">La Ghirlandata</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> had cost £840, the<xref doc="a.s168.r-3.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Beata Beatrix</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> £1102, the <xref doc="a.s244.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Blessed Damozel</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>
                     <phrase id="A.PN3">£1207.*</phrase> The <xref doc="a.s252.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Fiammetta</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, sold to Mr. Turner, had brought £840; and its price would have been higher but for
       the fact that Mr. Turner purchased several works at once. Rossetti added<pagenote place="f" anchor="y" resp="au" target="A.PN3">
                        <p>* This price (apparently through substituting guineas for pounds) exceeds the price named
         under the year 1877: I fancy the guineas are probably correct.</p>
                     </pagenote>
                     <epage/>
                     <page n="110" image="a."/> that the drawing serving for <xref doc="a.s259a.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Daydream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was his favourite among all those which he had done from the same sitter, Mrs.
       William Morris.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.32" type="section" n="32" title="1880">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.34">
                        <hi rend="b">1880.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>Early in this year Rossetti was occupied in completing the picture of<xref doc="a.s207.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">La Pia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, commissioned several years before by Mr. Leyland; and his friend Mr. Charles Fairfax
       Murray, settled in Florence as a painter and agent for works of art, obliged him by sending
       over a sketch of the scenery of the fever-stricken Maremma, needed for the background of this
       picture. He afterwards forwarded some photographs of picturesque ancient street-views from
       Siena, to guide Rossetti in composing the background of a Florentine street, applicable to
       his later painting of<xref doc="a.s260.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Salutation of Beatrice</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, which illustrates more particularly the sonnet of the Florentine poet, <quote>&#8220;Tanto
        gentile e tanto onesta pare.&#8221;</quote> This painting was probably begun in 1880, and was
       continued in 1881: it was purchased by Mr. Leyland for £682, and had reached a stage not very
       remote from completion at the date when my brother's shaken and failing health passed into
       the final stages of disease, and he could work no more upon the canvas. The same gentleman
       also bought towards November the second version of<xref doc="a.s244.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Blessed Damozel</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>&#8212;an oil-painting differing considerably (especially in lacking the background groups)
       from the first version, in the possession of Mr. Graham. Rossetti accepted for the second
       version a sum&#8212;£500&#8212;much below the usual range of his prices in these latter years. The work
       had remained long on hand, and more than one disappointment had occurred with regard to its
       sale, and the picture-<epage/>
                     <page n="111" image="a."/> market generally was then in a rather depressed condition.</p>
                  <p>A design in pen-and-ink of <xref doc="a.s528.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Sonnet</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was produced, to be sent as a present to our mother for her eightieth birthday, 27th
       April. It embodies the same ideas of the typical quality of the sonnet-form of verse which
       are expressed in a sonnet which my brother wrote to accompany it. An engraving of this design
       forms the frontispiece to the book on Rossetti which Mr. William Sharp published in 1882,
       soon after his death.</p>
                  <p>A letter of this year refers to a painting which Rossetti had executed as far back as 1861.
       It is an<xref doc="a.sa858.s131.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Annunciation</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, done upon the pulpit in the church built by Mr. Bodley at Scarborough. In 1880 a
       Manchester picture-buyer, who admired this composition, notified a wish to obtain a duplicate
       of it: nothing however came of this proposal.</p>
                  <p>The picture of <xref doc="a.s259.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Daydream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was still proceeding meanwhile. Rossetti worked upon it with earnest assiduity,
       sparing no pains to bring it up to his highest standard, and altering freely when he found
       that some improvement could be effected. In July he effaced the head first painted-in, and
       proceeded to substitute another; the original head had never impressed him as being quite
       equal to the one in the cartoon.</p>
                  <p>In August the<xref doc="a.s168.r-6.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Beata Beatrix</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> intended for Mr. Valpy was nearly finished, and Rossetti expected to deliver it
       shortly.</p>
                  <p>The old picture named <xref doc="a.s64.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Found</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was again much in my brother's thoughts towards the end of this year. It had long
       been due to its last commissioning purchaser, Mr. Graham; and would probably about this time
       have been actually finished, had it not been that an<epage/>
                     <page n="112" image="a."/> unfortunate difference of view arose between the purchaser and the
       painter with regard to transactions dating several years back. Mr. Graham had at that period
       commissioned the Dantesque subject<xref doc="a.s239.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Boat of Love</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, as well as the <xref doc="a.s64.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Found</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, each of them at £840; and had made, on account of both of these works, certain
       payments which he now claimed a right of concentrating on the<xref doc="a.s64.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Found</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> alone, thus dropping altogether the proposed purchase of <xref doc="a.s239.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Boat of Love</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. Naturally this variation of plan was not agreeable to Rossetti, who maintained that
       the payments ought to continue distributed as at first purposed, and that additional sums
       remained due for each picture, and that his unrelinquished intention of at some time taking
       up <xref doc="a.s239.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Boat of Love</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and carrying it to completion as a work bespoken by Mr. Graham, should not be thus
       thwarted. His interests were obviously at stake; and of these, though not inclined to urge
       them harshly or graspingly, he was always somewhat tenacious. The result of the whole
       controversy was untoward.<xref doc="a.s64.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Found</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> remained uncompleted, and <xref doc="a.s239.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">The Boat of Love</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, except in its olden form of a large monochrome in oil, was never even begun. There
       is a letter dated in November from Mr. Arthur Hughes the painter, showing that preparations
       were then being made for finishing <xref doc="a.s64.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Found</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. As Mr. Hughes resided in the country, he undertook to oblige Rossetti by looking out
       for a smock-frock, to be used for painting the costume of the male figure in <xref doc="a.s64.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Found</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. My brother, living a severely secluded life in his latter years, was out of the way
       of attending to such matters for himself: it was his good fortune to have various friends who
       never grudged to render him the requisite aid.</p>
               </div2>
               <epage/>
               <page n="113" image="a."/>
               <pageheader>
                  <bibliosig>I</bibliosig>
               </pageheader>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.33" type="section" n="33" title="1881">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.35">
                        <hi rend="b">1881.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>Of this year, the last which my brother lived to see completed, the principal transaction
       was the sale, to the Walker Gallery in Liverpool, the municipal or public collection of that
       city, of the original and larger version of the oil-painting <xref doc="a.s81.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. As we have already seen, this painting, finished in 1871, was at first sold to Mr.
       Graham. He, finding it too large for advantageous hanging in his house&#8212;spacious though that
       was&#8212;resigned it after a while in exchange for a reduced duplicate. The larger picture was
       then purchased by Mr. Valpy; who had not long been its possessor when his removal from London
       to Bath re-opened the question of the location of the picture, and Rossetti then induced him
       to return it, in exchange for various other and smaller works. The <xref doc="a.s81.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> reverted to Rossetti's house, perhaps at the beginning of 1879; and there it remained
       unsold, and monopolizing a large space in his studio, until the arrangement for its purchase
       for Liverpool reached a conclusion. That arrangement was by no means plain sailing: it had
       its ups and downs, and at one moment seemed to the artist to have failed altogether. However,
       he had two staunch allies throughout. One of these, and indeed the first suggester of the
       idea that the authorities of the Liverpool Gallery might be induced to bid for the picture,
       was Mr. T. Hall Caine; who, having recently given up his connection with an architectural
       firm in Liverpool, had been received as a resident in my brother's house, 16 Cheyne Walk,
       doing his endeavour (not too successfully at times, I may admit) to brighten his solitude and
       relieve his now permanent sense of despondency, and at<epage/>
                     <page n="114" image="a."/> any rate undertaking on his behalf many good offices of a
       miscellaneous kind. I say &#8220;his solitude,&#8221; because the attached artistic assistant who had for
       several years been domiciled with my brother, Mr. Henry Treffry Dunn, had of late ceased to
       be in the house, although his professional aid was still at times called into requisition.
       Mr. Caine took a very active part in managing the disposal of the <xref doc="a.s81.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> to Liverpool, revisiting that city more than once on his own affairs, and partly on
       Rossetti's, and he showed equal perseverance and address in bringing the matter to a head.
       The second ally was Mr. Edward Samuelson, a leading member of the Liverpool Corporation, who
       from the first showed a strong inclination to get the picture purchased, and stuck to his
       text, spite of opposition here or lukewarmness there, until his object was accomplished. In
       visiting London and my brother's studio on two or three occasions, he secured the painter's
       personal regard and liking, and he kept up with him an active correspondence as to details.</p>
                  <p>The first letter which I find on this subject is one from Mr. Samuelson, dated 8th March.
       It refers to his having called at Rossetti's studio, with a view to treating for the
       purchase. By 2nd May matters had proceeded so far that Mr. Samuelson expressed in writing his
       opinion that Rossetti might now begin making certain alterations which the painter himself
       considered desirable in the picture. These proposed alterations, which he proceeded at once
       to effect, related to two points in especial: the drapery of the lady who stands at the head
       of the dead Beatrice, and in this respect a manifest improvement was effected; and the head
       of Beatrice herself, which Rossetti thought fit to<epage/>
                     <page n="115" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <bibliosig>I 2</bibliosig>
                     </pageheader> change from a brunette to a blonde type. I for my own part never regarded this
       as an advantage: the head was painted from a brunette, and the change in the colour of the
       hair, even had it been in itself beneficial, was less in unison with the mould of feature and
       the personal type. This seems to me one more instance of the rule that, when my brother
       recurred to and modified an old picture, he seldom bettered it. Before undertaking these
       alterations, Rossetti stipulated that he could only do so upon the understanding that the
       picture must be deemed practically sold to the Walker Gallery. On this condition, he would be
       able to deliver the work by the end of August, if £500, out of the full price of £1575, were
       previously paid, the balance remaining to be discharged by the close of the year. He could
       not consent to send the picture to Liverpool at all, unless in the character of a purchased
       work: this restriction referred to the fact that it had been proposed that the painting
       should in the first instance figure as a contribution to the ordinary annual exhibition in
       Liverpool, from which it was to pass into the Walker Gallery&#8212;nominally as bought for the
       Liverpool public out of the annual exhibition, but really under a strict precontract of sale
       and purchase. Satisfactory assurances being given on these points, the re-painting was
       actually begun early in June, and was finished before the end of the month, and regarded by
       the artist as a decided amelioration. Other difficulties however ensued; or perhaps my
       brother, who in his later years was of anything but a sanguine or buoyant temperament,
       imagined that spokes were inserted in his wheel when in fact that mechanism was running
       smoothly enough: at any rate, he wrote to me on 3rd August announcing that the proposed
       purchase of the<epage/>
                     <page n="116" image="a."/> picture had collapsed. Soon however Mr. Caine was enabled to
       satisfy Rossetti that there was no ground for discouragement or dubiety: and on 9th August
       the painter wrote again to Mr. Samuelson quoting Mr. Caine's assurances, and proposing to
       send the picture to Liverpool&#8212;perhaps after an interval of a few days, as he might yet be
       putting a final touch to it. He required that his own printed description of the work should
       appear <foreign lang="latin">verbatim</foreign> in the exhibition-catalogue, and pointed out
       that the picture ought to be hung so as to slope slightly forward. These arrangements were
       ratified by Mr. Samuelson on the 11th: he stated that the terms of purchase had then been
       confirmed by the Arts Committee, and would now be completed, and the picture therefore should
       be forwarded. By the 17th it had arrived in Liverpool. The price was fixed at a sum of £1650,
       minus the usual commission to the exhibiting gallery. By the 7th of September it was
       definitively bought for the Walker Collection. My brother was not wanting in a feeling of
       gratitude to any one who, like Mr. Samuelson, undertook to do him a service in a matter of
       art, and who held steadily to his purpose. He requested Mr. Samuelson to accept as an
       acknowledgment a crayon study for the head of Dante in the oil-picture; an offer which was
       gracefully assented to. It need hardly be said that this disposal of his largest and most
       important painting, a work which may be termed monumental in subject and size, was entirely
       pleasing to the artist. That it should obtain a permanent home, and should hold a conspicuous
       place in a public gallery of only less than metropolitan importance, was the fate he would
       himself have selected for it. I should add that this was the last salient<epage/>
                     <page n="117" image="a."/> artistic transaction of his life, and was almost coincident with
       his last appearance in the field of authorship&#8212;his new volume entitled<xref doc="a.2-1881.raw">
                        <title level="doc">
                           <hi rend="i">Ballads and Sonnets</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, along with the reissue, in a modified form, of his volume<xref doc="a.1-1881.raw">
                        <title level="doc">
                           <hi rend="i">Poems</hi>
                        </title> of 1870</xref>, taking place almost directly
       afterwards. He then, in quest of health and repose, left London for a brief sojourn at Fisher
       Place, in the Vale of St. John, near Keswick in Cumberland: but health was no more to be his,
       nor any repose save that of the deathbed and the grave.</p>
                  <p>Other doings of the year 1881 remain to be mentioned. It may have been early in this year,
       or perhaps in 1880, that an etching from his old pen-and-ink design of<xref doc="a.op61.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Hamlet and Ophelia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, where the lady returns to the prince his love-gifts of less agitated days, was made
       by Mr. J. S. B. Haydon&#8212;a gentleman whom Rossetti in youth had known slightly as a sculptor,
       and who afterwards engaged in business as a print-seller, and of whom my brother saw a good
       deal in these closing years. The etching (of which I now possess the copper) was a vigorous
       effective performance, and very like the original in most essentials, but diverging from it
       in method by being somewhat heavy and rough, instead of delicately keen. My brother, though
       anxious to accommodate Mr. Haydon in this and other matters, felt that on the whole he would
       not wish the etching to be published as a print. Mr. Haydon could but acquiesce, and
       reconsigned the copper to the designer's keeping.</p>
                  <p>The oil-picture of<xref doc="a.s207.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">La Pia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> &#8212;so many years in hand&#8212;must have been finally completed late in the summer of 1881.
       There is a letter from Mr. Leyland, dated 12th July, asking that the glazing of the picture might<epage/>
                     <page n="118" image="a."/> soon be finished. In August Rossetti was painting some magnolias
       into a new version of the<xref doc="a.s255.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">Donna della Finestra</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> &#8212;a work which he did not live to complete, nor even to carry up to any considerable
       point of advance. Early in August the replica of the<xref doc="a.s168.r-6.rap">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Beata Beatrix</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (it may perhaps have been on a reduced scale) was delivered to Mr. Valpy, as one of
       the various items which were to serve as an equivalent for the relinquished and now re-sold
        <xref doc="a.s81.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. Mr. Valpy found the flesh of the<xref doc="a.">
                        <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i">Beatrix</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> somewhat too dark for his liking; and Rossetti consented to receive the picture back
       for a while, and lighten the tints. Another of the Valpy paintings, the reduced replica of
        <xref doc="a.s233.r-3.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, was in hand at the end of September, during my brother's brief stay at Fisher Place,
       after the Liverpool transaction had reached its conclusion.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.2.34" type="section" n="34" title="1882">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.36">
                        <hi rend="b">1882.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>The above is the latest detail regarding my brother's works of art which I find recorded in
       the correspondence. It will not be out of place, however, to say that this smaller <xref doc="a.s233.r-3.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Proserpine</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, and more especially the <xref doc="a.s162.r-3.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Joan of Arc</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> kissing the sword of deliverance (another of the Valpy commissions), must have been
       the very last canvases to which he set his hand, stiffening within the clasp of Death. Early
       in 1882 he finally left London for Birchington-on-Sea, near Margate, where one of the
       bungalow-villas (now named Rossetti Bungalow) was liberally placed at his disposal by his old
       friend, the architect Mr. John P. Seddon, with the assent of its owner, Mr. Cobb. The two
       pictures in question were taken down by him to the bungalow. They were already nearly
       finished; and some further touches bestowed upon them at<epage/>
                     <page n="119" image="a."/> Birchington brought them to a state of practical completion, such
       as to allow of their being delivered, after Rossetti's death, to the purchaser. In his
       failing state of health, the consideration of the large amount of work which he owed to Mr.
       Valpy, to compensate for the<xref doc="a.s81.r-1.rap">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">Dante's Dream</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, hung weightily on his mind; and his last attempts, spite of disease and pain, were
       to clear off  this obligation. The night, &#8220;<quote>wherein no man can work,</quote>&#8221; came on
       Easter Sunday the 9th of April 1882.</p>
               </div2>
               <epage/>
               <page n="[120]" image="a."/>
               <pageheader>
                  <note>blank page</note>
               </pageheader>
            </div1>
            <epage/>
            <page n="[121]" image="a."/>
            <div1 anchor="0.1.3" type="section" n="3" title="Writings">
               <divheader>
                  <title>
                     <hi rend="c">WRITINGS.</hi>
                  </title>
               </divheader>
               <epage/>
               <page n="[122]" image="a."/>
               <pageheader>
                  <note>blank page</note>
               </pageheader>
               <page n="[123]" image="a."/>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.1" type="section" n="1" title="1843">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.37">
                        <hi rend="c">WRITINGS.</hi>
                        <lb/>
                        <hi rend="b">1843.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>As it happens, the year 1843, which is the first that we found bearing some record of the
       work of Dante Rossetti in design, is also the first to which we can advert as respects his
       writings. On 14th August of this year, his age being then fifteen, he wrote to our mother
       that he had done a third chapter of
       <xref doc="a.1-1843.s10.raw"> 
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Sorrentino</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>.
        This<xref doc="a.1-1843.s10.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Sorrentino</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was a prose tale of the romantic and thrilling kind, in which the Devil bore a
       conspicuous part. It was narrated in the first person, with considerable detail of incident
       and emotion. The scene must have been laid in Italy (I think Venice), as deducible from the
       surname &#8220;Sorrentino.&#8221; I cannot however recollect that my brother took any particular pains to
       give an Italian colouring to his story, nor that he concerned himself much as to the date at
       which it might be supposed to occur; perhaps the first half of the seventeenth century should
       in a vague way be assumed. The Devil was, for literary and inventive purposes, a great
       favourite with my brother, before, during, and after, the period when he wrote <xref doc="a.1-1843.s10.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Sorrentino</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. I apprehend that Göthe's <xref doc="a.goethe002.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i"/>
        Faust</title>
                     </xref>
        must have been about the first form in which diabolism became a potent influence on
       his mind&#8212;the outlines of Retzsch from the great drama having been highly familiar to him at a
       very early age (say six), and, along with the outlines, some relevant extracts from the drama
       itself. A multitude of fantastic stories&#8212;such as <xref doc="a.">
                        <title level="wrk" lang="german">
                           <hi rend="i">Der Freischütz</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, 
       <xref doc="a.chamisso001.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Peter</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>
                     <epage/>
                     <page n="124" image="a."/>
                     <xref doc="a.chamisso001.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">
       Schlemihl</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, 
       <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">The Bottle Imp</hi>
                     </title>,
       <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">The Diamond Watch</hi>
                     </title>, 
       Fitzball's <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">Devil Stork</hi>
                     </title>,
       and in especial Maturin's romance of <xref doc="a.maturin001.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">
         Melmoth the Wanderer
       </hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>,
        along with
       <xref doc="a.byron005.rad" link="dead">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">
         Manfred
       </hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>
       and
        <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">The Deformed Transformed</hi>
                     </title>
       in poetry&#8212;passed through the crucible of his mind. The Prince of Darkness was, in his
       conception, constantly <quote>&#8220;a gentleman&#8221;</quote>&#8212;not a horrid wild beast of horns, tail,
       and talons, but a personage mixing in human society, tempting, prompting, and blasting, the
       actions of the beings upon whom he operated. In
       <xref doc="a.1-1843.s10.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">
         Sorrentino
       </hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>
        the Devil was mainly of the Mephistophelian order&#8212;caustic, cynical, and malignant,
       with a certain Byronic tinge as well. I cannot remember exactly what part he played in the
       narrative, which began as a love-story, more or less. I rather think he assumed from time to
       time the person of the hero, and, by his misdeeds in this character, brought the victim into
       bad odour with his lady-love. There still exists a duplicate design which my brother made
       (sufficiently boyish) illustrating a scene in the tale: the lady seated, and the lover&#8212;or the
       Devil personating the lover&#8212;standing behind her chair. I recollect also an incident&#8212;perhaps
       the last in the unfinished narrative&#8212; of a duel; the hero was, I fancy, opposed to his rival
       in love, and, greatly to his disgust, was turned from an honest duelist into a virtual
       assassin by the unwished-for aid which the Devil (like Mephistopheles in the affray with
       Valentine) afforded him. What was written of<xref doc="a.1-1843.s10.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Sorrentino</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> may have been some four or five chapters, of the length of chapters in an ordinary
       novel. I thought it extremely good at the time; and even now I believe that, were it
       recoverable, it would be found vastly superior (this is not saying much) to the early
        ballad-poem
       <xref doc="a.1-1841.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">
         Sir Hugh the Heron
       </hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>,
        written by my brother<epage/>
                     <page n="125" image="a."/> about the same period. No trace, however, remains of
       <xref doc="a.1-1843.s10.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Sorrentino</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>.
        Its author must have advisedly destroyed it; I dare say, as early as 1848 or 1847.</p>
                  <p>Another work of <foreign lang="french">
                        <hi rend="i">diablerie</hi>
                     </foreign> in which my brother delighted
       intensely&#8212;but it must have been some two or three years later than the date of<xref doc="a.1-1843.s10.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Sorrentino</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>&#8212;was
        <title level="wrk" lang="french">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.soulie001.rad" link="dead">Les Mémoires du Diable</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, by Frédéric Soulié;
        <title level="wrk" lang="german">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.hoffman001.rad" link="dead">Contes Fantastiques</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> of Hoffmann, in a French translation, but of these stories there are perhaps
       few, or hardly any, that deal with the Devil himself.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.2" type="section" n="2" title="1845">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.38">
                        <hi rend="b">1845.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>Among my brother's early efforts in translation (which were chiefly from the German&#8212;
       Bürger's <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1844.raw">Lenore</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>,
        the opening chaunts of the
        <title level="wrk" lang="german">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1845.raw">Nibelungenlied</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>,
        Hartmann von Aue's <title level="wrk" lang="german">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1846.raw">Arme Heinrich</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>,
        &amp;c.) came one from the French, or presumably from the Italian in a French
       version&#8212;a ballad from <xref doc="a.">Prosper Mérimée's famous Corsican tale, <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Colomba</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. On re-inspecting <xref doc="a.">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Colomba</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, I find it to contain three ballads, given in the form of French prose; they begin respectively&#8212;<quote>
                        <foreign lang="french">
                           <hi rend="i">&#8220;Dans la vallée bien loin derrière les montagnes,&#8221;</hi>
                        </foreign>
                     </quote>
                     <quote>
                        <foreign lang="french">&#8220;Charles Baptiste, le Christ reçoive ton âme,&#8221;</foreign>
                     </quote> and<xref doc="a.3-1845.raw">
                        <quote>
                           <foreign lang="french">
                              <hi rend="i">&#8220;L'épervier se réveillera, il déploiera ses ailes</hi>
                           </foreign>.&#8221;</quote>
                     </xref> The translation has lapsed from my memory, but I have no doubt that its<xref doc="a.3-1845.raw">original</xref> was the last of these three ballads.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.3" type="section" n="3" title="1847">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.39">
                        <hi rend="b">1847.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>I observe, in a letter dated as late as 1873, a reference to the poem of
       <xref doc="a.1-1847.s244.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">
         The Blessed Damozel
       </hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>,
        which may as well find mention here. This poem, as Rossetti informed Mr. Hall Caine,
       was written in his nineteenth<epage/>
                     <page n="126" image="a."/> year, which terminated with 11th May 1847. In the letter in
       question he observes that
       <xref doc="a.1-1847.s244.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">
         The Blessed Damozel
       </hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>
        was written to be inserted in a sort of manuscript family-magazine named <xref doc="a.5-1843.raw">
                        <title level="per">
                           <hi rend="i">Hodgepodge</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>,
        which was concocted, never passing beyond the range of the family circle, during
       some months or weeks of 1847, or possibly 1846. The poem named 
       <xref doc="a.50-1869.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">
         The Portrait
        </hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> (which had been considerably altered and improved before it appeared in the
       <xref doc="a.1-1870.raw">
                        <title level="doc">
                           <hi rend="i">
         Poems
        </hi>
                        </title> published in 1870</xref>) had a similar origin.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.4" type="section" n="4" title="1848">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.40">
                        <hi rend="b">1848.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>Rossetti wrote two sonnets for his first picture, 
       <xref doc="a.9-1848.s40.raw">
                        <title level="pic">
                           <hi rend="i">
         The Girlhood of Mary Virgin
        </hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>; one of them was composed on 21st November 1848. It was probably the sonnet which begins&#8212;<quote>
                        <lg>
                           <l n="1">&#8220;This is that blessed Mary, pre-elect</l>
                           <l n="2">God's Virgin,&#8221;</l>
                        </lg>
                     </quote> and which was printed in the <xref doc="a.n8640.a8.rad">
                        <title level="doc">
                           <hi rend="i">catalogue of the Free
        Exhibition</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, when the picture appeared there in 1849, and reprinted in the volume
       <xref doc="a.1-1870.1stedn.rad" workcode="9-1848.s40">
                        <title level="doc">
                           <hi rend="i">Poems
        </hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. The <xref doc="a.1-1886.1sted.vol1.rad" workcode="a.r.193">second sonnet</xref>,
       commencing <quote>&#8220;These are the symbols,&#8221;</quote> was inscribed on the
       frame of the painting, but was not otherwise published by the author. As this second
       composition explains with minuteness the details of the picture, and as these cannot have
       been far advanced in November 1848, I infer that the sonnet composed in that month must have
       been the one first mentioned.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.5" type="section" n="5" title="1849">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.41">
                        <hi rend="b">1849.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>Up to this year Rossetti had never been further abroad than to Boulogne and its
       neighbourhood. The autumn of 1849 was rendered memorable to him by his<epage/>
                     <page n="127" image="a."/> visiting, in company with Mr. Holman Hunt, Paris, and some of the
       principal cities of Belgium&#8212;Brussels, Antwerp, Ghent, and Bruges. Short and unextensive and
       unadventurous as this trip was, it remained nevertheless the least inconsiderable one which
       my brother ever undertook. He re-visited Belgium, in my company, once afterwards, and Paris
       two or three times; but he did not again cover, in any single tour, so large a space of
       ground as in 1849.</p>
                  <p>On 18th September, just before starting for the Continent, he wrote to me that he had
       observed in the <title level="wrk" lang="latin">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.anon003.rad" link="dead">Gesta Romanorum</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> a story, of which he sent me a modified prose version of his own, naming it <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1851.raw">The Scrip and Staff</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>: this was the foundation of his poem bearing nearly the same title, and written, I
       think, not immediately afterwards, but within two or three years ensuing. His letter of
       September expressed the intention of versifying this tale, and also another story of his own
       invention, which may, I suppose, have been the <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1849.raw">Last Confession</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. He had written but little lately: twelve additional stanzas of <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.2-1848.s221.raw">Bride-chamber Talk</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> (the long but uncompleted narrative poem which is now entitled <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.2-1848.s221.raw">The Bride's Prelude</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>), and three stanzas added <quote>&#8220;as stop-gaps&#8221;</quote> to
        <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.3-1847.raw">My Sister's Sleep</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. This last-named short poem had been written some considerable while before, I
       should think not later than 1847. My brother's object in inserting
        <quote>&#8220;stop-gaps&#8221;</quote> must no doubt have been to make the
       composition available for the then forthcoming Præraphaelite magazine, <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.g415.raw">The Germ</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, in whose opening number it appeared. If my memory does not deceive me, it may have
       been printed once before. As my brother was growing up towards manhood he became acquainted
       with Major Calder Campbell, an officer<epage/>
                     <page n="128" image="a."/> retired from the Indian army, and a rather prolific producer of
       verses and tales in annuals and magazines, and at times in volumes: an eminently amiable and
       kindly old bachelor (or rather then elderly bachelor, as his age may have been about
       fifty-five), gossipy, and a little scandal-loving, who conceived a very high idea of my
       brother's powers. He must, I think, have been the first literary man familiar with the ups
       and downs of London publishing whom Rossetti knew. For a year or two my brother and I had an
       appointed weekly evening when we called upon Major Campbell in his quiet lodgings in
       University Street, Tottenham Court Road; and the time passed lightly and pleasantly over a
       cup of tea, with all sorts of talk, slight or serious, sensible or amusing; our good-natured
       host assuming no air of stiffness or superiority on the score of age and varied experience,
       but chatting away with something which, as the months and years lengthened, partook even of
       deference for the foreseen intellectual initiative and eminence of Dante Rossetti. It was
       here that on one occasion we met by appointment, to our great delectation, Ebenezer Jones,
       the author of <title level="bk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.jonese001.rad" link="dead">Studies of Sensation and Event</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. I well remember that, at the instance of Calder Campbell, <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.3-1847.raw">My Sister's Sleep</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> was produced to the editress of <title level="per" lang="french">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.n47.29.raw">La Belle Assemblée</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, a magazine of that date, 1847 or 1848, which must have seen better days aforetime,
       but was then still tolerably well accepted in the regions of light literature. The editress
       certainly admired the poem, and perhaps she inserted it; if so, this was the very first
       appearance of Dante Rossetti in published print.</p>
                  <p>My brother started on his foreign trip with Holman Hunt at the end of September; and in a
       letter of the<epage/>
                     <page n="129" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <bibliosig>J</bibliosig>
                     </pageheader> 27th to the 29th of that month he sent me some poems written <foreign lang="french">en route</foreign>&#8212; <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.12-1849.raw">London to Folkestone</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>; <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.43-1849.raw">Boulogne Cliffs</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> (which began <quote>&#8220;The sea is in its listless
       chime,&#8221;</quote> and is the first form of the lyric now named <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.43-1849.raw">The Sea-limits</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, and <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.13-1849.raw">Boulogne to Amiens and Paris</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. The first and third are snatches of blank verse, and are partly printed in my
       brother's <title level="bk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1886.raw">Collected Works</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> (1886), although not by himself at any period of his lifetime. On 4th October he
       wrote that, a day or two before, while he was ascending the stairs of Notre Dame in Paris, a
       sonnet had come whole into his head, but had afterwards drifted away again. Four days later
       he sent me this sonnet, beginning <quote>&#8220;As one who groping in a narrow
        stair&#8221;</quote>; also the sonnet <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.15-1849.raw">On the Place de la Bastille</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, and that <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.40-1849.raw">For a Venetian Pastoral by Giorgione</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> (the picture in the Louvre), which had been written on the spot. There were two
       others in a grotesque strain, which remain unpublished, <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i"/>
                        <xref doc="a.">On the Louvre Gallery</xref>
                     </title>, and <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.33-1849.raw">On a Cancan at the Salle Valentino</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, a dance which disgusted Rossetti not a little. In a letter of 18th October other
       verse followed: sonnets on a <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.19-1849.raw">Last Visit to the Louvre</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>; three <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.20-1849.raw">Last Sonnets in Paris</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>; the couple (published) <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.39-1849.raw">For Ruggiero and Angelica by Ingres</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>; some blank verse (partially printed in the <title level="bk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.pr5240.f11.raw">Collected Works</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>) <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.23-1849.raw">From Paris to Brussels</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.24-1849.raw">On the Road</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, <title level="wrk" lang="french">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.35-1849.raw">L'Envoi</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>; and again sonnets, <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.25-1849.raw">On the Road to Waterloo</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.27-1849.raw">The Field of Waterloo</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.28-1849.raw">Return to Brussels</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>; and a lyric, <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.26-1849.raw">Near Brussels, a Halfway Pause</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> (<title level="bk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.pr5240.f11.raw">Collected Works</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. He made the remark in this letter that, of all he had written since leaving London,
       only the two Ingres sonnets and the one <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.25-1849.raw">On the Road to Waterloo</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> had received any consideration: a remark which, when we take into account the
       calibre of <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.43-1849.raw">Boulogne Cliffs</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> and the Giorgione sonnet (not to speak of<epage/>
                     <page n="130" image="a."/> some other items), shows that he was well capable of throwing off
       good work at a heat.</p>
                  <p>A letter dated from 24th to 26th October was sent also to our &#8220;Præraphaelite
       Brother&#8221; James Collinson. As Collinson did not make the mark which, in the early days of
       Præraphaelitism, his colleagues had hoped for, and as he is now perhaps nearly
       forgotten, I will here give a few words of information about him. He was a man of small
       stature, with a short neck, son of a bookseller at Mansfield in Nottinghamshire; of composed
       demeanour, retiring and modest. He was brought up in the Church of England, but got converted
       to the Church of Rome by the influence of Dr. (Cardinal) Wiseman: a relapse to Anglicanism,
       and a reversion to Catholicism, ensued. As a re-converted Catholic, Collinson became for a
       while exceedingly strict: he thought that the Præraphaelite Brotherhood was a
       society more or less secular and latitudinarian, and this formed his principal, perhaps
       almost his sole, motive for seceding from it. He had begun art as a domestic painter, with
       subjects of the anecdotic or semi-humorous kind in low life; and save for one ambitious and
       in some respects very laudable &#8220;Præraphaelite&#8221; attempt, <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.">St. Elizabeth of Hungary</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, he adhered in the main to this line of subject. He died towards 1880. His rather
       long blank-verse poem in <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.g415.raw">The Germ</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, named <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.collinson001.raw">The Child Jesus</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, shows that Collinson was certainly not without poetical feeling, and even possessed
       some true poetical aptitude: I am not aware, however, that at any subsequent period he
       produced anything in verse. To Collinson, as I have said, my brother wrote towards the close
       of October, enclosing a sonnet <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.37-1849.raw">Between Ghent and Bruges</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>; also a lyric, <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.30-1849.raw">The Carillon</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, which was<epage/>
                     <page n="131" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <bibliosig>J 2</bibliosig>
                     </pageheader> published with an extra stanza in <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.g415.raw">The Germ</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, and is now re-named <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.30-1849.raw">Antwerp and Bruges</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. He observed that, on leaving London, he had intended to finish <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.2-1848.s221.raw">Bride-chamber Talk</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> while abroad, but that he had in fact not written one additional line of it. This
       letter to Collinson is the last of the Franco-Belgian series&#8212;the trip itself terminating very
       soon afterwards.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.6" type="section" n="6" title="1850">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.42">
                        <hi rend="b">1850.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>This year affords some indirect record of the prose tale, <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.9p-1850.s121.raw">St. Agnes of Intercession</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, which, begun towards 1848, remained unfinished at my brother's death, but is
       published in the <title level="bk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.pr5240.f11.raw">Collected Works</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. In 1850, the year of <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.g415.raw">The Germ</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, it was naturally intended that this tale should be completed, and published in that
       magazine: it was also purposed that my brother should make an etching illustrative of his own
       story. The etching was in fact begun; but, proving quite disappointing and even exasperating
       to its artist who had no previous acquaintance with the aquafortis process, it was thrown
       aside, and then Millais undertook to produce an etching of the same subject. Millais wrote
       accordingly to Rossetti, stating that he was about to commence his task, and enquiring
       whether the costume of the figures ought to be modern. The reply must have been in the
       affirmative. Millais then made his etching, which was included in the great Millais
       Exhibition held at the Grosvenor Gallery in 1886; it was never used in <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.g415.raw">The Germ</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, as that magazine died a natural, and at the time an unlamented, death almost
       immediately. The design represents what would no doubt have been the final incident in the
       tale&#8212;the hero painting the portrait of his affianced bride, who dies while sitting to him:
       this being a<epage/>
                     <page n="132" image="a."/> recurrence of the events which had happened to the same painter
       and the same lady in the fifteenth century&#8212;for the story is essentially one of
       metempsychosis.</p>
                  <p>A few words may here be given to <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.g415.raw">The Germ</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. It was projected as the organ of the Præraphaelite Brotherhood for promulgating
       their views in art and in literature&#8212; especially poetic literature. The seven members of the
       Brotherhood were owners of the concern; but they did not wish to be <hi rend="i">exclusive</hi> owners, in case the co-operation of some friends, as sharers in the pecuniary
       risk, could be secured. Various friends were invited, and one or two were precariously
       enlisted. The prime mover in the whole affair was certainly Dante Rossetti, who (unlike most
       of his colleagues in the Brotherhood) was at this date just as keen in literary as in
       pictorial interest and ambition: without him no such project would have been mooted, and no
       such risky venture brought to bear. Next to him, Woolner was the most active spirit, and, for
       artistic purposes, Holman Hunt. I (at the mature age of twenty) was appointed editor. I
       cannot charge myself with negligence in the practical conduct of the magazine; but may
       unreservedly avow that, but for my brother's ascendancy, and the contagion of his
       enterprizing spirit, it would never have entered my head to tempt the malice of Fortune by
       any knight-errantry of the kind. The title of the magazine, <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.g415.raw">The Germ</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, was not my brother's invention. I recollect a conclave which was held one evening
       in his studio, then in Newman Street, with a view to settling the title of the forthcoming
       publication, and other points affecting it. A great number of titles were proposed, and
       jotted down on a fly-sheet which I still possess. Mr. William Cave<epage/>
                     <page n="133" image="a."/> Thomas the painter (whom we came to know through Mr. Madox Brown)
       suggested <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.g415.raw">&#8220;The Germ&#8221;</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, and after due pondering this sufficiently apposite title was adopted.</p>
                  <p>In a letter of 3rd September&#8212;dating after the decease of <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.g415.raw">The Germ</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> &#8212;my brother sent me the small lyric termed <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.5-1850.raw">The Mirror</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> &#8212;published only in the <title level="bk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.pr5240.f11.raw">Collected Works</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. </p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.7" type="section" n="7" title="1851">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.43">
                        <hi rend="b">1851</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>bears trace of a few newspaper critiques written by my brother upon works of art, simply,
       for the most part, as an accommodation to me. In the summer of 1850, consequent upon my
       performance as editor of <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.g415.raw">The Germ</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, I became the art-critic of the weekly review named <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.c88.raw">The Critic</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> (a paper of the same class as <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.a85.raw">The Athenæum</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> and <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.lgjbl.rad" link="dead">The Literary Gazette</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>), edited by Mr. (afterwards Serjeant) Cox. In November of the same year my services
       were transferred to <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.s7.rad" link="dead">The Spectator</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, with which I remained until some time in 1859. In the Royal Academy exhibition of
       1851 one of the leading pictures was <title level="pic">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.">The Goths in Italy</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, by Poole: my brother felt inclined to have his say about it&#8212;being at that time, and
       not at that time only, a great admirer of this painter on broad grounds, with considerable
       exception in some details: he wrote the paragraph, and it was incorporated with my article on
       the gallery. In August I was out of town, and my brother then obliged me by taking up the pen
       on my behalf, with the sanction of the editor Mr. Rintoul, and writing a review of an
       exhibition termed <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.5p-1851.raw">The Modern Pictures of all Nations, at Lichfield House, St.
          James's</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. He made few or no notes on the spot, but wrote his critique from recollection. I
       can remember that on my return Mr. Rintoul (who was a first-rate<epage/>
                     <page n="134" image="a."/> editor, and a man of clear and quick discernment, though not
       specially conversant with matters of fine art) expressed to me a sense of my brother's
       uncommon aptitude as a writer: he was probably a little surprised to find that a young man,
       only just known to him by name as an artist, had but to be tried and to figure well as a
       press-critic to boot. This article was followed by another on an <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.6p-1851.raw">Exhibition of Sketches and Drawings in Pall Mall East</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, got up by the picture-dealer Mr. Pocock.</p>
                  <p>In the letter which my brother wrote to me regarding the Lichfield House exhibition is a
       reference to his translation, executed towards 1847-48, of Dante's <title level="wrk" lang="italian">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.">Vita Nova</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. He had then consigned the MS. to Mr. John Edward Taylor, the printer&#8212;an old family
       friend, and a man of elegant tastes and accomplishments, especially in Italian
       literature&#8212;with a view to its possible publication by the firm of Murray. No such
       publication, however, ensued: and it was only in 1861 that the <title level="wrk" lang="italian">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1861.yale.rad">Vita Nova</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> translation appeared in print, as a portion of the volume, <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1861.raw">The Early Italian Poets</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, published by Smith &amp; Elder. In writing to me about this translation, my
       brother spoke in a deprecating tone of its defects, real or supposed&#8212; especially ruggedness.
       It is also referred to in his letter (May 1854) to Mr. McCracken, from which some passages
       were cited in pp. 20, 21. <quote>&#8220;I made some years ago,&#8221; he said,
        &#8220;a translation of the entire <title level="wrk" lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">
                              <xref doc="a.dante005.rad" link="dead">Vita Nova</xref>
                           </hi>
                        </title>, which I have by me, and shall publish one day, as soon as I have leisure to etch
        my designs from it.&#8221;</quote> But he never found any leisure, nor possibly any
       downright inclination, for that particular purpose.</p>
               </div2>
               <epage/>
               <page n="135" image="a."/>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.8" type="section" n="8" title="1852">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.44">
                        <hi rend="b">1852</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>was the year of the death of the great Duke of Wellington. The funeral took place on 18th
       November: on the 29th of the same month Rossetti wrote to Madox Brown, saying that he had
       written the poem <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.3-1852.raw">Wellington's Funeral</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, which remained unpublished until, in 1881, it appeared in the second form of the
       volume entitled <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1870.raw">Poems</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. Any one who reads that lyric will perceive that there was a good deal of the
       Englishman in Rossetti. He was even a sort of typical John Bull in a certain unreasoned and
       impatient preference of Englishmen and things English to foreigners and things foreign. For
       Italy and Italians he had necessarily a fellow-feeling&#8212;substantial, though by no means
       indiscriminate or thorough-going: but for France and Frenchmen, or for Belgium or Germany and
       Belgians or Germans, and so on for other nationalities, he certainly had no bias of
       predilection: he shared, and in some sense exaggerated, the ordinary type of British
       sentiment regarding them. To give a clear and comprehensive account of my brother's attitude
       of mind upon national and political questions would not be altogether easy: I understood it
       well enough, but to define it briefly is another thing. There was a certain mixture in his
       mind of solid respect for his own race (I here mean the English, without taking count of the
       Italian) and its achievements; of sympathy with the working and suffering millions in all
       countries, and desire for their just treatment, progress, and advancement; of respect for
       authority exercised with humanity and enlightenment; of impatience of any fussy or frothy
       clamour, whatever its object and however clamorous its appeal, whether in the direction of<epage/>
                     <page n="136" image="a."/>
                     <quote>&#8220;liberty, equality, and fraternity,&#8221;</quote> or of
        <quote>&#8220;hearths and homes,&#8221;</quote> or of <quote>&#8220;the
        throne and the altar&#8221;</quote>; and of genuine and dense indifference to, and
       practical ignorance of, all the current bustle of politics, Liberal or Conservative, British
       or foreign. He did not belong, even remotely, to any party in the state; but might in a broad
       sense be said to have more of the Liberal than of the Conservative in his feelings and
       opinions, and more of the Conservative than of the Liberal in his practical leanings.</p>
                  <p>As a poet, Rossetti was, I think, more than commonly free from plagiarisms, conscious or
       unconscious. Here and there one finds a resemblance to some other writer; hardly an imitation
       or a borrowing. It is rather curious therefore that in the lyric <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.3-1852.raw">Wellington's Funeral</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> occurs a decided reminiscence (I do not say a wilful and prepense one) from another
       poet; and this the poet for whom Rossetti cared least among such as were acknowledged to be
       very great by his contemporaries&#8212;I mean Wordsworth. The eighth stanza of <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.3-1852.raw">Wellington's Funeral</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> relates to the Battle of Waterloo, and runs thus:<quote>
                        <lg>
                           <l n="1" indent="1" r="43">&#8220;Be no word</l>
                           <l n="2" r="44">Raised of bloodshed Christ-abhorred.</l>
                           <l n="3" r="45">Say: &#8216;'Twas thus in His decrees</l>
                           <l n="4" r="46">Who himself, the Prince of Peace,</l>
                           <l n="5" r="47">For His harvest's high increase</l>
                           <l n="6" indent="1" r="48">Sent a sword!&#8221;</l>
                        </lg>
                     </quote> The thought here&#8212;though not in any degree the form of diction&#8212;is obviously allied to
       that of the lines which Wordsworth wrote about the very same Battle of Waterloo:<quote>
                        <lg>
                           <l>&#8220;We bow our heads before Thee, and we laud </l>
                           <l>And magnify Thy name, Almighty God!<epage/>
                              <page n="137" image="a."/>
                           </l>
                           <l>But thy most dreaded instrument </l>
                           <l>In working out a pure intent </l>
                           <l>Is man arrayed for mutual slaughter: </l>
                           <l indent="1">Yea, Carnage is thy daughter.&#8221;</l>
                        </lg>
                     </quote>
                  </p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.9" type="section" n="9" title="1854">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.45">
                        <hi rend="b">1854.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>A letter written by Rossetti on 3rd January in this year shows that <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1850.raw">The Burden of Nineveh</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> had been composed at some earlier time; the poem may, I think, date back as far as
       1851, or at any rate 1852. The letter says that James Hannay wanted to get the <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1850.raw">Nineveh</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> for a proposed journal named <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.pen.rad" link="dead">The Pen</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. Rossetti was minded to assent. I am afraid that the name of James Hannay may be
       little familiar to the present generation of readers. He was a bright and cherished figure in
       the literary Bohemia of those days; my brother and I had known him since 1850 or earlier.
       Hannay was in early youth a naval officer; but, while still quite young, he took to
       authorship, and published various sketches and novels connected with sea-life&#8212; <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.">Biscuits and Grog</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>,<title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.">Singleton Fontenoy</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.">Eustace Conyers</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, &amp;c. He was busy with reviewing, comic writing, and journalism; a fluent,
       witty, and telling speaker in private and in public, taking with great zest, as the years
       lapsed, to whatsoever savoured of high Toryism, whether in politics, or in the minor matters
       of genealogy and heraldry; a man of attaching qualities of head and heart, with much
       geniality, and joviality more than enough. Ultimately he obtained an appointment as British
       Consul in Barcelona; and there he died in middle age, very suddenly, in 1873. Whether
       Hannay's projected journal <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.">The Pen</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> came out I cannot now say; at any rate, <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1850.raw">The Burden of Nineveh</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> was never printed in it, but was first published<epage/>
                     <page n="138" image="a."/> in 1856 in <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.o93.raw">The Oxford and Cambridge Magazine</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, in the opening days of my brother's intimacy with Edward Burne Jones and William
       Morris.</p>
                  <p>In the same letter which mentions this matter of <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1850.raw">The Burden of Nineveh</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> and Hannay my brother observed that some while ago he had consigned the ballad of
        <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.2-1851.s220.raw">Sister Helen</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> to Mrs. Howitt, <quote>&#8220;for an English edition of a German something or
        other, which will be coming out now.&#8221;</quote> This German publication was named
        <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.dusseldorf.rad" link="dead">The Düsseldorf Annual</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. The ballad appeared in it, without the author's name, but only with the initials
        <quote>&#8220;H. H. H.&#8221;</quote> attached.</p>
                  <p>From an early date in my brother's acquaintance with Mr. Ruskin, the latter was apprised of
       Rossetti's performances in writing, as well as in painting. I find a letter from Ruskin,
       dated 5th June, saying that he had been looking at some of the translations from the old
       Italian poets. There is also another letter from the same correspondent, observing that he
       likes <quote>&#8220;the translation&#8221;</quote>&#8212;probably that of the <title level="wrk" lang="italian">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1861.yale.rad">Vita Nova</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. A third letter says that he has told Miss Siddal how much he likes
        <quote>&#8220;The Witch&#8221;</quote>&#8212;a term which can apparently only mean
        <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.2-1851.s220.raw">Sister Helen</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. </p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.10" type="section" n="10" title="1856">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.46">
                        <hi rend="b">1856</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>gives evidence of another reader of the poems translated from the Italian&#8212;Mr. Coventry
       Patmore, of whom Rossetti had seen a good deal from the year 1849 onwards. Rossetti was in
       early youth, and prior to personal acquaintanceship, an ardent admirer of Mr. Patmore's
       poetry; the admiration continued when they knew one another, and was combined with reciprocal
       regard and good-will. Gradually they ceased to meet,<epage/>
                     <page n="139" image="a."/> but without any estrangement, or any motive for such, on either
       side.</p>
                  <p>As I have already observed, <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1850.raw">The Burden of Nineveh</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> was published in <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.o93.raw">The Oxford and Cambridge Magazine</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> in 1856; no author's name was given. Mr. Ruskin read it there, and wrote to Rossetti
       that he admired it greatly, and would like to know who was the author&#8212;a rather curious
       instance of praise unconsciously addressed to the right recipient.</p>
                  <p>A letter from Rossetti to Madox Brown, dated 6th September, indicates his authorship of an
       article which might now count as a literary curiosity in its small way. I have no
       recollection of it, and cannot aver that I ever saw it. In the letter in question he says:
        <quote>&#8220;The article is to be written to-day, chiefly about the Liverpool
        pictures, and will no doubt be published in a day or two.&#8221;</quote> This phrase,
       it is true, does not show that the article referred to was the writing of Rossetti himself;
       but there is another letter of several years afterwards, perhaps 1875, which says:
        <quote>&#8220;The Elliot and <title level="per">
                           <hi rend="i">
                              <xref doc="a.mchron.rad" link="dead">Chronicle</xref>
                           </hi>
                        </title> question (<hi rend="i">was</hi> it the<xref doc="a.">
                           <title level="per">
                              <hi rend="i">Chronicle</hi>
                           </title>
                        </xref>?)&#8212;I now remember almost certainly that I did write the article, and Elliot only
        fathered it.&#8221;</quote> Putting these two statements together, I understand that
       Mr. Elliot, a journalist who was on amicable terms with Madox Brown and Rossetti, allowed the
       latter to contribute to his newspaper (without raising any overt question of actual
       authorship, which thus passed as being Elliot's) an article about certain pictures, all or
       most of them by Brown, including especially some work or works then on exhibition in the
       gallery of the Liverpool Academy. This Academy was in those days exceptionally noted&#8212;and in
       some quarters highly unpopular&#8212;for upholding the pictures of the so-<epage/>
                     <page n="140" image="a."/> called Præraphaelite school: the Liverpool Academy awarded an
       annual prize, and on more than one occasion gave it to Mr. Madox Brown&#8212;in one instance (1856)
       for the picture of <title level="pic">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.">Christ washing Peter's Feet</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, and in another for the <title level="pic">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.op44.rap">Chaucer reading the Legend of Custance to the Court of Edward
         III</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. My brother's reminiscence as to <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.mchron.rad" link="dead">The Morning Chronicle</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> appears to me to be fallacious; if I am not mistaken, the paper with which Mr.
       Elliot was connected was <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.dailynews.rad" link="dead">The Daily News</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. If a file of that journal for September 1856 were searched, the article thus
       referred to might probably be traced.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.11" type="section" n="11" title="1857">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.47">
                        <hi rend="b">1857.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>In or about this year Rossetti wrote another little article about Madox Brown&#8212;the brief
       biographical notice which appears in <title level="bk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.">Men of the Time</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>; a notice which has been added to by some other hand at a later date, and which may
       or may not, in other respects, stand strictly as written by Rossetti.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.12" type="section" n="12" title="1859">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.48">
                        <hi rend="b">1859.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>A letter from Mr. Ruskin may perhaps belong to this year. He says that Rossetti's
       translations from the early Italians had been well criticized by Mr. William Allingham, the
       poet; also that Mr. Ruskin himself would have been more severe than Mr. Allingham, and he
       recommends some excisions. Mr. Allingham, known to Rossetti through Mr. Patmore, was another
       of the poetical writers with whom my brother maintained a considerable degree of intimacy for
       many years; what may have been the nature of his criticisms does not appear.</p>
               </div2>
               <epage/>
               <page n="141" image="a."/>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.13" type="section" n="13" title="1861">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.49">
                        <hi rend="b">1861.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>The translations just mentioned, executed so many years before, were now actually
       progressing towards publication. Want of the means in ready money was the only cogent reason
       why they had not been published long before, for neither press of professional and other
       occupations, though no doubt substantial enough, nor any notion of producing etchings for the
       work, would have been allowed to stand much in the way, if only&#8212;in default of a publisher
       willing to undertake the risk&#8212;the money had been forthcoming on Rossetti's part. There is a
       letter from Mr. Patmore, written presumably in 1861, giving some advice as to the publication
       of the book, and saying that he had inspected a proof-sheet of it. The firm of Macmillan was
       at that time proposed as publishers, but this project was set aside in the spring of the
       year, and Messrs. Smith &amp; Elder undertook to act. No doubt this latter firm was
       selected principally on the ground of being Ruskin's publishers. A letter from Ruskin states
       that the publication would soon be settled; adding that Smith &amp; Elder, if they were
       to pay £50 for the book, would be likely to make an edition of a thousand copies. As to this
       matter of payment, it appears that my brother received neither £50 nor any other lump payment
       for his MS., but was offered some contingent advantages which, in course of time, became a
       realized fact on a very small scale.</p>
                  <p>The volume, <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1861.raw">The Early Italian Poets</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, was published in the course of this year&#8212;the only year which its author both began
       and ended as a married man. It must have been printed some while before the arrangements for
       publication were completed. On 18th<epage/>
                     <page n="142" image="a."/> January, while the work was passing through the press, my brother
       asked me to collate his version of the <title level="wrk" lang="italian">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1861.rad">Vita Nova</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> with the original, and to amend any inaccuracies and mannerisms; also to insert
       (what he himself had as yet omitted) a translation of those rather minute and formal analyses
       supplied by Dante of the various poems which form part of the <title level="wrk" lang="italian">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1861.rad">Vita Nova</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. On 25th January he was enabled to thank me for the completion of this small labour
       of love, including a few foot-notes which I had inserted; and he thanked also our mother for
       the help, by way of comparison and advice, which she had rendered (for she knew Italian with
       more verbal and grammatical precision than either of her sons.) He then expressed the
       intention of writing a short essay to precede the Dante section of his book; an intention
       which was approximately, rather than literally, realized. When the book actually appeared,
       both Ruskin and Patmore expressed themselves by letter as being
        <quote>&#8220;delighted&#8221;</quote> with it. In fact, the volume was generally
       very well received&#8212;so far as a book of translated poems has in this country a chance of
       welcome and encomium&#8212;and gave Rossetti a sufficiently solid position as a scholar in his own
       line of study, and a poet as well, for it was recognized that none save a poet in his own
       right could have made such a transfer of poetry from one language into another.</p>
                  <p>It may have been towards the same time that Rossetti handed-in to Ruskin some of his
       original poems, with a view to getting the potent aid of that gentleman in offering a few to
       Thackeray, the original editor of the <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.cornhill.rad" link="dead">Cornhill Magazine</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. To the best of my recollection, my brother did not know Thackeray otherwise than by
       sight; he may have seen him two or three times in Little Holland House, the hospitable and<epage/>
                     <page n="143" image="a."/> much-frequented home of the Prinsep family. One of the poems
       produced to Ruskin was <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.3-1848.raw">Jenny</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, <phrase id="A.PN4">the first version of which had been written many years before&#8212;at
        least as early, I should say, as 1850.*</phrase> Mr. Ruskin did not much approve of <xref doc="a.3-1848.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Jenny</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. He sent a letter criticizing the poem, one of his objections being that <quote>
                        <hi rend="i">&#8220;Jenny&#8221;</hi>
                     </quote> is not a true rhyme to <quote>&#8220;guinea,&#8221;</quote> as in the
       opening couplet. This I regard as the stricture of a Scotchman. He expressed himself
       indisposed to offer this composition to Thackeray, but was willing to make tender of the
       lyric named <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1854.raw">Love's Nocturn</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, a comparatively recent performance, or of <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1868.s212.raw">The Portrait</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, still earlier than <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">Jenny</hi>
                     </title>. It seems reasonable to surmise that one or other of these poems was offered
       accordingly to the <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.cornhill.rad" link="dead">Cornhill Magazine</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> through its pre-eminent editor; certain it is that, if offered, neither poem was
       accepted, for neither of the productions, nor anything else from Rossetti's pen, appeared in
       that magazine. As is pretty well known, my brother contemplated, at the date when <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1861.raw">The Early Italian Poets</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> was issued, the early publication of a volume of original verse, to be entitled
        <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.3-1861.raw">Dante at Verona and other Poems</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. It was probably with a view to paving the way for his intended volume that Rossetti
       sought admission into the <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.">Cornhill Magazine</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. But with the death of his wife in February 1862 died out for the time all his
       projects of poetic publicity or distinction. I will not here go through any details of the
       story, so often<pagenote place="f" anchor="y" resp="au" target="A.PN4">
                        <p>* In his article of 1871, <title level="wrk">
                              <hi rend="i">
                                 <xref doc="a.ap4.a85.1871b.rad">The Stealthy School of Criticism</xref>
                              </hi>
                           </title>, Rossetti spoke of <title level="wrk">
                              <hi rend="i">
                                 <xref doc="a.3-1848.raw">Jenny</xref>
                              </hi>
                           </title> as having been written <quote>&#8220;some thirteen years
         before,&#8221;</quote> or about 1858. This must be true of the poem as a completed
         whole; but I am sure the beginning or first draft of it goes back to some years
        earlier.</p>
                     </pagenote>
                     <epage/>
                     <page n="144" image="a."/> repeated, of how Rossetti consigned to his wife's coffin and grave
       the poems composed with ardour and ambition during a somewhat long sequence of years, and
       collected together in the hope of early publication, not unmixed with confident
       foreshadowings of fame. From that day, for some two or three years ensuing, he relinquished
       not only his hopes founded upon poems already written, but also the habit of poetic
       production. The impetus or impulse, the core of poetic thought, remained (we may well
       conceive) much the same as it had been before; and it is curious to reflect how many ideas
       may from time to time have passed through his mind, furnishing the potential groundwork of
       poems to which his settled resolve denied any concrete form.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.14" type="section" n="14" title="1865">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.50">
                        <hi rend="b">1865.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>A letter of March in this year refers to the work contributed by my brother (late in 1862
       and early in 1863) to the <title level="bk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.2p-1863.1880.rad">Life of William Blake</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> by Alexander Gilchrist, consisting of a final chapter upon Blake's position in art,
       of an account of his <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.">Inventions to the Book of Job</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, and of the critical editing of his works in verse and prose. The writer of this
       letter was Mr. Charles Eliot Norton, a name now familiar in connection with Carlyle's
       biography. To Rossetti he was known as a cultivated American man of letters, deeply versed in
       Dantesque study. Rossetti had met Mr. Norton more than once, and entertained a sincere
       friendly regard for him.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.15" type="section" n="15" title="1867">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.51">
                        <hi rend="b">1867.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>The first record which I find of verses written by Rossetti since the death of his wife
       occurs in this year.<epage/>
                     <page n="145" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <bibliosig>K</bibliosig>
                     </pageheader> A letter from our mother, dated in July, mentions that she had then received
       the lines&#8212;they are but eight in all&#8212;composed by my brother in illustration of his design and
       projected picture named <title level="pic" lang="latin">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1865.s183.raw">Aspecta Medusa</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. I do not say that these were actually the very first verses which Rossetti had
       written since the date of his widowerhood; probably enough not.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.16" type="section" n="16" title="1868">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.52">
                        <hi rend="b">1868.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>A letter from a painter-friend, Mr. James Smetham, refers to three sonnets by Rossetti
       which were published in a pamphlet-review, <title level="bk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.n5054.r47.rad">Notes on the Royal Academy Exhibition</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, 1868, the work of Mr. Swinburne and myself. The three sonnets were those entitled
        <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.2-1867.s205.raw">Lady Lilith</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> (now <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.2-1867.s205.raw">Body's Beauty</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>), <title level="wrk" lang="latin">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1867.s193.raw">Sibylla Palmifera</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> (now <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1867.s193.raw">Soul's Beauty</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>), and<xref doc="a.4-1868.s173.raw">
                        <title level="wrk" lang="latin">
                           <hi rend="i"> Venus Verticordia</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. I name these sonnets in order as they stand printed in the pamphlet: the pictures to
       which they apply may be assigned respectively to the years 1864, 1866, and 1864, or
       thereabouts. It is more than likely that each sonnet was written nearly at the same time when
       each picture was painted. In that case Rossetti must have resumed the practice of verse
       towards 1865; and by 1868 he was so far willing to appear in print in the character of a poet
       as to allow these three sonnets to be published, at Mr. Swinburne's instance, in the pamphlet
       in question. Mr. Smetham, to whose letter I referred above, is, I think, still living, but
       has long been withdrawn from the exercise of his profession as a painter. He was first
       encountered by my brother, I believe, as a pupil, already of mature age, in the drawing-class
       of the Working Men's College, where Rossetti&#8212;prompted thereto more or less by Ruskin&#8212;acted
       for some while as a gratuitous art-instructor;<epage/>
                     <page n="146" image="a."/>the practice may have begun towards 1857, and may have continued
       some three years or so. Mr. Smetham was esteemed by my brother not only as an artist of high
       aims and fine invention, but also as a man of deep religious convictions, which swayed and
       fashioned the entire course of his life. He was a thoughtful and capable writer as well, as
       proved <foreign lang="latin">
                        <hi rend="i">inter alia</hi>
                     </foreign> by his review-article on William Blake (reprinted in the second edition of
       Gilchrist's <title level="bk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.2p-1863.1880.rad">Life</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> of the painter), and more recently by some extracts from his correspondence which
       appeared in <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.">The Century-Guild Hobby-horse</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. </p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.17" type="section" n="17" title="1869">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.53">
                        <hi rend="b">1869.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>Rossetti was now rapidly tending towards the natural outcome of the whole affair&#8212;that of
       printing a volume of his original poems. On 1st March he sent to our mother various sonnets,
       which he described as <quote>&#8220;a lively band of bogies,&#8221;</quote> with
       other grotesque expressions to correspond&#8212;<hi rend="i">i.e</hi>. (as one may understand the
       phrase), sonnets embodying painful thoughts, or fertile of grievous reminiscences. I presume
       that these were most probably the sonnets which he had then just printed in the <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.f7.raw">Fortnightly Review</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, including the series of four named <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1886.1sted.vol1.rad" workcode="a.r. 60">Willow-wood</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. Mr. Browning, writing to him about the same time, referred to this contribution.</p>
                  <p>In May Messrs. Smith &amp; Elder sent him an account relating to the volume 
       <xref doc="a.1-1861.raw">
                        <title level="doc">
                           <hi rend="i">
         The Early Italian Poets
        </hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, extending up to the close of 1868. This account shows 593 copies sold, and 64 still
       on hand. The money realized was £108 11s. 8d., out of which a sum of £100 had been placed to
       Mr. Ruskin's credit, while the balance, £8 11s. 8d., was due to Rossetti himself. A large<epage/>
                     <page n="147" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <bibliosig>K 2</bibliosig>
                     </pageheader> proportion of copies, no fewer than 93, had been
        <quote>&#8220;presented&#8221;</quote> to reviews and to private friends. The
       reference to Mr. Ruskin is not further defined: the natural assumption is that that gentleman
       had, with his wonted liberality, undertaken the expense of the printing up to a limit of
       £100, with the proviso that he was to be reimbursed out of the sale.</p>
                  <p>While the volume of <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1861.raw">The Early Italian Poets</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> was waning, the project of the original poems was waxing, and by the middle of
       August it had reached the stage of an estimate, furnished by Mr. Strangeways, for the cost of
       printing such a volume. Proofs were obtained accordingly: the notion being in the first
       instance that of printing some old and some new poems for private circulation, and for
       service in a possible future published volume. My brother spent a considerable portion of
       this summer in the company of his old friend the painter and poet Mr. William Bell Scott, at
       Penkill Castle, near Girvan, Ayrshire, the seat of a lady of exceptional gifts of mind and
       character, Miss Boyd, to whom he was indebted, on more than one occasion, for salient
       evidences of amicable regard. On 21st August, writing from Penkill Castle, he sent me the
       proofs&#8212;such as they then stood&#8212;of his poems, asking me to correct anything in them which
       might be obviously wrong, and to notify any points to which I might demur. The proofs
       included a very early composition named <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.10-1847.dukems.rad">To Mary in Summer</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>; the three sonnets entitled <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.4-1848.raw">The Choice</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>; and another called <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.2-1855.sa55.raw">The Bullfinch</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> (afterwards, <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.2-1855.sa55.raw">Beauty and the Bird</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>.) All these Rossetti proposed to cut out: the only one, however, which remains
       finally unpublished is <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.10-1847.dukems.rad">To Mary in Summer</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. As to inserting <title level="wrk" lang="latin">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.51-1869.raw">Ave</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> (which some of my<epage/>
                     <page n="148" image="a."/> readers will remember as a semi-devotional address to the Madonna,
       embodying in verse conceptions not unlike those of the early masters in painting) he had
       hesitated, on the ground that it might lead&#8212;and in fact it has in some instances led&#8212;to
       definite misconceptions regarding his ideas about Christian faith and dogma: he had, however,
       eventually decided to retain the poem&#8212;and few perhaps will contest that he did well in coming
       to this decision. He expressed an inclination to include the sonnet named <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.5-1869.raw">Nuptial Sleep</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> (or, as originally entitled,<title level="wrk" lang="latin">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.5-1869.raw">Placatâ Venere</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>), an item in the series <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.44-1869.raw">The House of Life</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>: an inclination which was carried into effect with a result the reverse of
       fortunate; as the sonnet, when published, gave rise to severe strictures, on the justice of
       which I will not here offer any comment, and was ultimately withdrawn when the <xref doc="a.22-1881.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">House of Life</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> reached its completed form in 1881. My own opinion had been expressed in August in
       favour of retaining the sonnet in print, so long as the collection remained unpublished: I
       afterwards, and no doubt unwisely, withdrew this qualifying clause. My brother had cancelled
       (though it was printed in the proofs) another sonnet termed <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1859.raw">On the French Liberation of Italy</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>; as this also, though alien in subject-matter from any possible question of sexual
       morals, dealt with its theme under a physical metaphor open to exception. Another item which
       was printed in the same form for private circulation was the prose tale <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.46p-1849.sa76.raw">Hand and Soul</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> (originally published in <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.g415.raw">The Germ</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>); it was excluded from the volume, as ultimately issued in 1870. This is the printed
        <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.46p-1849.sa76.raw">Hand and Soul</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> of which a moderate number of copies have got into circulation, and into
       booksellers' catalogues, since<epage/>
                     <page n="149" image="a."/> Rossetti's death. One rather sanguine bookseller priced it at £6
       6s.; whether he obtained his price is a question which I cannot determine, but as to which I
       should remain sceptical in default of definite assurance.</p>
                  <p>The interchange of letters between my brother and myself, as to the details of the
       privately-printed poems, went on at this time rather actively. On 26th August he wrote
       discussing the metre of his Italian song <quote>
                        <foreign lang="italian">
                           <hi rend="i">&#8220;La bella donna&#8221;</hi>
                        </foreign>
                     </quote> (in the <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1849.raw">Last Confession</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>); to some laxities in which, as contrary to the scheme of Italian rhythm, I had
       started an objection. Soon afterwards he decided to cut out this song altogether; but then
       again relented, and retained it. He proposed to omit a lyric named <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.44-1849.raw">A Song and Music</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>; referred to his having added an opening stanza to <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.2-1851.s220.raw">Sister Helen</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, for clearness' sake; and expressed the opinion that, as Mr. Buxton Forman had
       recently, in an article in <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.">Tinsley's Magazine</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, made mention of the early poem <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.3-1847.raw">My Sister's Sleep</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, it would become a practical necessity to include this composition in the series,
       although contrary to my brother's personal preference. Another very early poem was <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.3-1849.raw">The Card-dealer</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>; which he modified, and inserted. On 14th September he apprised me that he had been
       sending to the printer seven new sonnets&#8212;including those on his own designs of <title level="pic">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.27-1869.s127.raw">Cassandra</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, <title level="pic">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.3-1867.s78.raw">The Passover in the Holy Family</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, and <title level="pic">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.28-1869.s109.raw">Mary Magdalene at the Door of Simon the Pharisee</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. He had also begun two new poems of greater length; one of them being <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.34-1869.raw">The Orchard-pit</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> (of which he had then done little beyond a prose synopsis, and indeed it never
       proceeded much further), and the other being probably <xref doc="a.21-1869.raw">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">The Stream's Secret</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. Next day he expressed a doubt as to inserting the<xref doc="a.8a-1850.raw">brace of
        sonnets</xref> on Ingres's picture of <title level="pic">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.39-1849.raw">Ruggiero and <epage/>
                              <page n="150" image="a."/> Angelica</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>; finally it found grace in his eyes. By 21st September Rossetti had again written
       some more verse, including the ballad of <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.30-1869.raw">Troy Town</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>: <quote>&#8220;my best thing, I think,&#8221;</quote> was his comment upon
       this&#8212;but it does not follow that, when the glow of recent composition had faded, he would
       have re-affirmed the same opinion. Other works of this period, which received the praise of
       Mr. Scott, were <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.20-1869.f30.raw">Eden Bower</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> and the sonnet on <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.16-1869.raw">The Glen</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. </p>
                  <p>Although Rossetti had in his hands several of his old poems, and was much in the vein for
       writing new ones, still a good number of the verses of past years, those which would be most
       needful for a volume taking the ordinary published form, remained as yet buried with his wife
       in Highgate Cemetery. He took the extreme resolution of having them unburied. This is a fact
       which has been frequently stated ere now: I simply re-state it, and leave all my readers to
       judge for themselves whether the act was laudable, condonable, or otherwise. His object
       manifestly was the desire of poetic fame, and reluctance that his light should be permanently
       hid under a bushel: the state of his feeling in relation to his deceased wife had no less
       manifestly undergone the calming and assuaging influence which comes with the passing of six
       years and upwards. The MSS. were recovered from the coffin, and were consigned to Dr.
       Llewellyn Williams, of No. 9 Leonard Place, Kennington, to be properly treated with
       disinfectants before further use could be made of them. This process was going on in the
       middle of the month of October, when Rossetti was either still at Penkill Castle, or just
       returned to London. On the 20th of the month the papers were handed<epage/>
                     <page n="151" image="a."/> over to him. Four days before this he had written to me saying
       that he had always intended to dedicate to myself his first volume of poems, and would now do
       so.</p>
                  <p>Friends and acquaintances evinced an eager interest in the forthcoming volume. Thus Mr.
       Sidney Colvin suggested an order in which the poems might be printed, differing from that
       which appears in the published book. Mr. Thursfield undertook to trace back, into its classic
       sources, the legend about Helen's vow to Aphrodite embodied in the poem of <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.30-1869.raw">Troy Town</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, and he found it in Pliny, but not in any earlier author; Mr. Swinburne thanked
       Rossetti for some new sheets of the volume, and for the tale of <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.46p-1849.sa76.raw">Hand and Soul</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, which by this date (7th December) had been definitely severed from the poems. He
       expressed also a wish (which was unfortunately not ratified) that Rossetti would take up and
       complete his other prose story of remote years, <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.9p-1850.s121.raw">St. Agnes of Intercession</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>; and he referred to some new passages in the poem <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.3-1848.raw">Jenny</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. </p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.18" type="section" n="18" title="1870">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.54">
                        <hi rend="b">1870.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>A letter dated in February from Mr. Patrick Park Alexander shows that Messrs. Blackwood had
       made an offer for publishing Rossetti's <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1870.raw">Poems</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. Mr. Alexander expressed regret that this offer had not been accepted. The publisher
       selected was (as is well known) Mr. F. S. Ellis, then settled as a bookseller in King Street,
       Covent Garden, little concerned in publishing: he afterwards published the works of Mr.
       William Morris, and some few others. My brother had, from first to last, the utmost reason
       for satisfaction in having come to terms with Mr. Ellis, who acted with<epage/>
                     <page n="152" image="a."/> consistent liberality and friendly zeal, and who relieved him from
       all trouble in the matter more onerous than that of receiving cheques for author's royalty on
       sales, at punctual intervals. All my brother's subsequent publishing was done with Mr. Ellis
       and his then partners in New Bond Street; the reissue of <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1861.raw">The Early Italian Poets</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> under the title <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1874.raw">Dante and his Circle</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>; the reissue in 1881, in a <xref doc="a.1-1881.raw">modified form</xref>, of the
        <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1870.raw">Poems</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> of 1870; and the publication, also in 1881, of the<xref doc="a.2-1881.raw">
                        <title level="doc">
                           <hi rend="i">Ballads and Sonnets</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>. In the letter from Mr. Alexander above mentioned another matter is also touched
       upon: he enclosed an old sonnet by Rossetti, speaking of it as a <quote>&#8220;vigorous
        imprecation. &#8221;</quote> This must, I presume, have been the sonnet <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.9-1853.raw">On a Mulberry-tree (planted by Shakespeare, and felled by the Rev.
          Mr. Gastrell)</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>: it was published in 1881, but not in 1870.</p>
                  <p>The volume made its appearance towards the end of April. My brother was sufficiently
       liberal of presentation-copies to friends and acquaintances&#8212;not perhaps to any literary
       magnates who were not personally known to him. I find an acknowledgment of a copy from Sir
       Henry Taylor, whom Rossetti knew slightly, and whose stately historical drama of <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.taylor001.rad" link="dead">Philip van Artevelde</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> had been read and re-read by him with fervent admiration at a very youthful age;
       another from Sir Theodore Martin, who referred to the sonnet <quote>&#8220;This is that
        blessed Mary,&#8221;</quote> which he recollected from the date, 1849, when he had seen
       it printed to illustrate the picture of <title level="pic">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.9-1848.s40.raw">The Girlhood of Mary Virgin</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, as included in the Free Exhibition at Hyde Park Corner. A letter also came from Mr.
       Frank A. Marshall, whom my brother had known some years before, but had not seen recently: he asked<epage/>
                     <page n="153" image="a."/> permission to include <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1849.raw">A Last Confession</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> in a reading which he was to give in May in the Hanover Square Rooms. Alfred
       Tennyson, well known to be a reluctant and scanty letter-writer, was not wholly silent upon
       this occasion: his epistle, however, appeared to Rossetti <quote>&#8220;rather
        shabby&#8221;</quote>&#8212;which was a matter of opinion.</p>
                  <p>The success of the book was rapid and conspicuous. As early as 3rd May Rossetti was able to
       announce that Mr. Ellis had sold the whole of the first issue of 1000 copies, with the
       exception of 200 (these also were exhausted towards 20th May or earlier), and was about to go
       to press again at once with a second 1000; 250 of the copies disposed of had been sent to
       America. As Mr. Ellis's liberal plan was to pay to the author, as soon as an edition or relay
       was in type, the stipulated royalty (one quarter of the published price of 12s. per copy),
       the two issues would have brought in to the author £300 in the space of less than a month;
       another £150 became due by the end of July. Rossetti remarked in the same letter that <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1861.raw">The Early Italian Poets</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, the publication of Messrs. Smith &amp; Elder, was then just sold out, and that
       he would forthwith reprint it through Mr. Ellis, were the latter to assent. And this scheme
       was in fact carried out, but only after an interval of some three years. The idea was to make
       the edition in two volumes (and it seems that an advertisement appeared to this effect), with
       some additional matter. This was abandoned; the arrangement of the contents was altered, and
       the title along with that.</p>
                  <p>If readers were numerous, reviewers also were laudatory. Who that read it can have
       forgotten the gorgeous stream of praise in which Mr. Swinburne indulged his<epage/>
                     <page n="154" image="a."/> generous instincts as critic and as friend? Another critique which
       Rossetti particularly valued was that contributed to the <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.a85.raw">Athenæum</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> by Dr. Westland Marston, a very cordial acquaintance of more recent years. None of
       the reviews, however, impressed him more than one which appeared in an American paper, the
        <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.catholicw.rad" link="dead">Catholic World</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. He thought that its writer had shown remarkable power of penetrating through the
       printed page into the essential and not wholly self-avowed personality of the author.
       Naturally he knew nothing either of the<xref doc="a.">
                        <title level="per">
                           <hi rend="i">Catholic World</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref>, or of any person writing, or likely to be writing, in its columns. The interest
       which he felt in the article was such as to impel him to make what enquiry he could after its
       author. He addressed him, I think, under cover to the editor of the paper, but without
       result. He also consulted a Catholic acquaintance&#8212;the poet Mr. Aubrey de Vere&#8212;who replied
       that he thought it possible the critic might be a Mr. Rudd. Nothing more definite, I believe,
       was ever ascertained on this point.</p>
                  <p>A great literary event, followed by a great European event, gave a numbing shock to men's
       minds in the summer of 1870. On 9th June Charles Dickens died; and I recollect that my
       brother told me soon afterwards that the sale of his book seemed to have suffered a sudden
       decline in consequence. In the middle of the summer war was declared between France and
       Germany. The <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1870.raw">Poems by Dante Gabriel Rossetti</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> ran a bad chance when people who were just ceasing to talk about the author of
        <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.">Pickwick</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> and <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.dickens003.rad" link="dead">David Copperfield</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> had to discuss Napoleon III. and King William, Moltke and Macmahon, Gambetta and
       Bismarck, Empire and Republic. Thus, from the early summer, Rossetti and his friends<epage/>
                     <page n="155" image="a."/> had little more to say about a run of purchasers, and a succession
       of re-issues; and the book had the fate of most other books of moderate pretensions to
       popularity&#8212; selling now and again with some tolerable degree of steadiness, far in the
       background from general interest and sensation.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.19" type="section" n="19" title="1871">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.55">
                        <hi rend="b">1871.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>The ballad named <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.31-1871.raw">Down Stream</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> (originally <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">The River's Record</hi>
                     </title>) seems to have been written towards July of this year; its local colouring clearly
       points to Kelmscott. Soon afterwards Rossetti was invited, through Mr. Madox Brown, to
       contribute something to a magazine which had but a short lease of life&#8212; <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.d2.raw">The Dark Blue</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. He authorized Mr. Brown to send <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.31-1871.raw">Down Stream</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, if so disposed. This was done, and the poem appeared in those pages in October,
       with the advantage of two woodcut illustrations from Brown's hand. Rossetti did about the
       same time <quote>&#8220;a few songs and sonnets;&#8221;</quote> one of them was in
       Italian, being, I suppose, the <title level="wrk" lang="italian">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.37-1875.raw">Barcarola</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> which begins <quote>
                        <foreign lang="italian">&#8220;Per carità</foreign>.&#8221;</quote> This earned a
       word of encomium from Mr. Swinburne. <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.32-1871.raw">The Cloud Confines</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> (a short poem on which my brother not unnaturally laid considerable stress) also
       received Swinburne's marked approval in the same letter. At Kelmscott likewise, towards this
       date, my brother began his rather long narrative poem of <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.29-1871.raw">Rose Mary</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. Its first part was completed by 10th September, and the remainder proceeded
       rapidly, being finished by the 23rd of the same month. The <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.33-1871.raw">Sunset Wings</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, recording the arboreal evolutions of a flock of starlings at Kelmscott, was done in
       August. It was published in the <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.a85.raw">Athenæum</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> in the spring of 1873, and he then remarked in a letter <quote>&#8220;the
        description is<epage/>
                        <page n="156" image="a."/> most exact.&#8221;</quote> These details suffice to show
       that Rossetti, having brought out his volume, was not a little inspirited towards continuous
       poetic production, which, unless interrupted by untoward circumstance, might probably have
       proceeded much farther than in fact it did.</p>
                  <p>The untoward circumstance, however, was not to be wanting. It came in the shape of the
       article <title level="es">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.c7.18.rad">The Fleshly School of Poetry,</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> written by Mr. Robert Buchanan under the pseudonym of Thomas Maitland, and published
       in the <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i"/>
                        <xref doc="a.ap4.c7.raw">Contemporary Review</xref>
                     </title>. To this affair of <title level="es">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.c7.18.rad">The Fleshly School of Poetry</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>- an affair equally trumpery in itself and miserable in its consequences&#8212;I have made
       some reference aforetime, in my preface to the <title level="bk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.pr5240.f11.raw">Collected Works</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> of my brother. Suffice it here to say that Rossetti was in the first instance
       annoyed and partly amused&#8212;especially amused at the poor figure which the <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.c7.raw">Contemporary</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, or its editor, or its contributor, or all three, cut in some newspaper
       correspondence of the time, wherein the authorship or pseudonymity of the article was
       shuffled over not a little; but in the sequel, when the same article, in an extended form,
       was republished as a pamphlet, he was unfortunately very much more annoyed, and not amused at
       all. <phrase id="A.PN5">On the contrary he foolishly and blameably took very much to heart
        this ill-conditioned attack,* with its many imputations or implications of low and bad moral
        tone in his writings, and of low and bad moral motives conducing to that tone; and, instead
        of tossing the whole thing aside&#8212;the article or pamphlet into his</phrase>
                     <pagenote place="f" anchor="y" resp="au" target="A.PN5">
                        <p>* It is perfectly true&#8212;and I mention it to Mr. Buchanan's credit&#8212;that, after an interval
         of some years, he himself openly proclaimed that the attack was unjust and wrongful. If he
         thought so at that rather late date, it is no wonder if I do and always did think the
        same.</p>
                     </pagenote>
                     <epage/>
                     <page n="157" image="a."/> waste-paper basket, and its author into the limbo of unquiet
       spirits, actuated by some incentive or other towards detraction&#8212;he allowed a sense of unfair
       treatment, and a suspicion that the slur cast upon himself and his writings might be widely
       accepted as true, to eat into his very vitals, gravely altering his tone of mind and
       character, his attitude towards the world, and his habits of life. Constant insomnia
       (beginning towards 1867), and its counteraction by reckless drugging with chloral,
       co-operated, no doubt, to the same disastrous end; indeed, I find it impossible to say
       whether the more potent factors in the case were insomnia and chloral which gave morbid
       virulence to outraged feelings, or outraged feelings which promoted the persistence of
       insomnia, and the consequent abuse of chloral. All three had their share in making my brother
       a changed man from 1872 onwards. I am aware that in stating these details (which have indeed
       been touched upon with more or less precision by other writers as well as by myself) I am
       exposing him to some censure for want of that masculine scorn or sturdy indifference which is
       the right answer to unmerited disparagement; but the cause of truth would certainly not be
       served by my keeping strict silence either as to the unfairness of the attack, or as to the
       shock which was inflicted by it upon a nature too proud, too sensitive, and above all perhaps
       too isolated.</p>
                  <p>In these remarks I have been anticipating somewhat, for (as already indicated) the
       publishing of the article in the <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.c7.raw">Contemporary Review</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> (as distinguished from its subsequent re-issue as a pamphlet) was received by my
       brother light-heartedly enough. The first reference I find to this matter is in a letter
       which he addressed to<epage/>
                     <page n="158" image="a."/> me on 17th October, saying that he&#8212;if Thomas Maitland should turn
       out to be Robert Buchanan&#8212;would write and print a letter in answer to him. I replied
       dissuading, but without effect; and soon afterwards Rossetti's article in the <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.a85.raw">Athenæum</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, named <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.34p-1870.raw">The Stealthy School of Criticism</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, made its appearance. A letter from Mr. Swinburne, and another from Mr. J. T.
       Nettleship the painter (author of <title level="bk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.">A Study of Browning</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>), advert to this matter. From Mr. Colvin there is a letter regarding a ballad of a
       burlesque kind which Rossetti wrote on the Buchanan affair. For this ballad Mr. Colvin
       tendered his good offices with the <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.f7.raw">Fortnightly Review</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, but he wisely recommended that the effusion should not be published at all, and my
       brother, acquiescing in this advice, proceeded no further. The MS. ballad is in my
       possession; but is not likely ever to see the light of publication&#8212; not, at any rate, in my
       time. A letter from Mr. Ellis the publisher, dated 19th December, discloses another
       Rossettian move on the tarnished chessboard of the <title level="es">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.c7.18.rad">Fleshly School of Poetry</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> &#8212;he had written a letter to Mr. Buchanan, forming a separate pamphlet; and this
       pamphlet, according to Mr. Ellis's letter, was then in proof. But the very next day a note
       from the junior partner in the then firm of Ellis &amp; Green followed the missive of his
       senior. Mr. Green intimated that the pamphlet might probably be actionable as a libel, and no
       doubt any notion of publishing it must then have been finally abandoned. I never saw this
       pamphlet, nor I think any part of the MS. pertaining to it; neither did I ever enquire
       whether perchance Mr. Ellis or his printer yet owns a copy of it. Were such the case, the
       pamphlet might yet some day prove a literary curiosity highly<epage/>
                     <page n="159" image="a."/> appetizing to some of those bibliographic zealots who are prompt
       with cheques for £7 or £10 in exchange even for a copy of Rossetti's boyish, privately
       printed, and insipid ballad, <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1841.raw">Sir Hugh the Heron</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. Whether the brochure really was a libel I have of course no means of judging; nor
       whether it was more a libel on Mr. Buchanan than the <title level="es">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.c7.18.rad">Fleshly School of Poetry</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, its predecessor, had been on Rossetti; nor yet whether, if it <hi rend="i">was</hi>
       more a libel as aforesaid, this was or was not dependent on the legal axiom,
        <quote>&#8220;The greater the truth, the greater the libel.&#8221;</quote> My
       reader, who now knows as much about the pamphlet as I do, may be left to his own conjectures.</p>
                  <p>The year closes (30th December) with a business-announcement&#8212;Mr. Ellis writing to say that
       he would now advertize a sixth edition of the <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1870.6thedn.rad">Poems</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>; this sixth edition being, in fact, the second five hundred out of a set of a
       thousand copies which had been printed some while previously. This amounts to six editions
       (but probably three or four of them were small ones, like this last-named) in a space of
       about twenty months; not bad for poetry, as poetry rules in the market of the second half of
       the nineteenth century in England.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.20" type="section" n="20" title="1872">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.56">
                        <hi rend="b">1872.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>Mr. Ellis resumes the correspondence of this year. On 24th January he sent Rossetti the
       modest sum of £2 16s. 2d., remitted by Messrs. Roberts Brothers from Boston as the author's
       profit upon the American issue of the <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1870.raw">Poems</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> (possibly this sum was only applicable to the half-year just expired, but I am
       unable to determine that point). On 19th March he undertook to reprint <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1861.raw">The Early Italian Poets</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> at his own cost, on the<epage/>
                     <page n="160" image="a."/> understanding that any profit, beyond expenses recouped, would be
       halved between himself and the author.</p>
                  <p>The alarming illness from which my brother suffered in June of this year has been briefly
       mentioned on page 78. It was the result of the triple combination which I have just been
       discussing&#8212;insomnia, chloral, and the <title level="es">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.c7.18.rad">Fleshly School of Poetry</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> in its pamphlet form. The immediate cause was undoubtedly the pamphlet, which,
       working upon an excitable brain and overstrung feelings, betrayed Rossetti into the belief
       that he was fast becoming the object of widespread calumny and obloquy, not less malignant
       and insidious than unprovoked and undeserved:&#8212; unprovoked, for he never intermixed in any
       literary or personal wrangles; and undeserved, for neither his poetry nor his painting was
       fairly chargeable with any sort of ignoble pruriency. As I have already said, my brother
       recruited his health by leaving London for the Scottish Highlands, and afterwards he settled
       down for some while at Kelmscott.</p>
                  <p>The first record I find of renewed literary work is that on 7th November he sent me his
       Italian sonnet on his picture <title level="pic">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1872.s233.raw">Proserpina</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. </p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.21" type="section" n="21" title="1873">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.57">
                        <hi rend="b">1873</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>begins with a letter from Rossetti (January 2nd) saying that Mr. Ellis was then about to
       republish immediately <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1861.raw">The Early Italian Poets</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, long out of print. My brother asked me to attend to the proofs, which I did,
       commencing towards March, and forwarding to him each proof after revision. He dedicated to
       our mother this reissue, altering its title to <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1874.raw">Dante and his Circle</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>: the original book had been dedicated to his wife. The<epage/>
                     <page n="161" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <bibliosig>L</bibliosig>
                     </pageheader> volume was actually published in December. At the opening of 1873 Mr. Ellis was
       also prepared to bring out a new volume of original poetry by Rossetti; but the latter
       hesitated whether to go to press at once with such verse as he had on hand, equal only to
       some 150 pages of print, or to wait until more should be done. Finally he adhered to the
       second alternative, and eight more years elapsed until, in 1881, he issued both the <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.2-1881.raw">Ballads and Sonnets</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, and the partly reconstituted second form of the<xref doc="a.1-1870.raw">
                        <title level="doc">
                           <hi rend="i">Poems</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> of 1870.</p>
                  <p>In February he sent to the <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.f7.raw">Fortnightly Review</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> a critical notice of the new poetic volume, <title level="bk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.hake002.rad" link="dead">Parables and Tales</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, by Dr. Thomas Gordon Hake. It may have been towards 1866 that my brother first made
       the personal acquaintance of Dr. Hake. They at once became fast friends, and the doctor gave
       ample testimony of this by his exceeding kindness and attention to my brother throughout the
       course of his illness in 1872. Though it was only in middle life that Rossetti knew Dr. Hake
       personally, he had, even in boyhood, felt a particular interest in some of his writings.
       There was a strange psychological romance published anonymously by Dr. Hake in 1840, in a
       very large and handsome form, with startling illustrations by Thomas Landseer. It was named
        <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.hake004.rad" link="dead">Vates, or the Philosophy of Madness</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>&#8212;or, in a later reissue, <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">Valdarno</hi>
                     </title>, a colourless title which my brother viewed with regretful antipathy.<xref doc="a.">
                        <title level="wrk">
                           <hi rend="i">Vates</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> was read and re-read by Rossetti with great delight; not, I suppose, so early as in
       the year of its publication, 1840, but more towards 1843 or 1844. After a long interval,
       perhaps about the year 1860, he wrote to ascertain the name of the unavowed author, and
       learned this to be Hake; but Dr. Hake, I think, was then abroad, and<epage/>
                     <page n="162" image="a."/> some further years passed before a direct acquaintance was
       possible. At last he presented himself in my brother's house in Cheyne Walk, and the intimacy
       was established. In youth my brother had something of the same habit which was so marked in
       Shelley&#8212;that of writing at a venture to persons whose performances in the field of literature
       or of fine art he admired. I remember that towards 1849 he addressed Leigh Hunt, sending some
       of his own verses, and received a kind and encouraging letter in reply; he wrote to Mr. W. B.
       Scott, as the author of the poem <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.scottwb002.rad" link="dead">Rosabell</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, and thus began a lifelong friendship; to Ford Madox Brown, expressing a great
       admiration of his art, and a hope that he might be permitted to obtain some artistic guidance
       from him&#8212;this also led to a friendship, the warmest, most intimate, and most continuous, of
       Rossetti's life; to Robert Browning, to ask whether he had not rightly divined that great
       poet to be the author of <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.browning001.rad" link="dead">Pauline</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. This may have been as early as 1848; for in and about that year my brother was
       greatly in the habit of haunting the reading-room of the British Museum, and there perusing
       any poetic volumes which caught his fancy, and which he could not readily obtain otherwise.
       He lit upon <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.browning001.rad" link="dead">Pauline</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>; not only read it through, but copied it all out; recognized some lines which
       reappeared in some of Browning's acknowledged writings, and perceived moreover that the whole
       tone of the poem bespoke but one possible authorship; and he then ventured to ask his rather
       risky question. Mr. Browning was pleased to reply, and in the affirmative; and this again
       commenced a friendly intercourse, frank and pleasant, continuing through many years, and only
       curtailed at last by the exceptionally, and indeed morbidly<epage/>
                     <page n="163" image="a."/>
                     <pageheader>
                        <bibliosig>L 2</bibliosig>
                     </pageheader> recluse habits of my brother in the closing period of his life.</p>
                  <p>A project which was present to Rossetti's mind from the beginning of 1873 was that of
       translating and editing the poems of Michelangelo. He got me to send to him at Kelmscott the
       noble edition of these poems by Guasti, which had then been recently published, and which I
       possessed. This edition he studied to a certain extent; but press of other occupations,
       combined perhaps with some reluctance and procrastination over the beginnings of so serious a
       task, diverted my brother from the project, and I have not found among his MSS. any trace of
       actual translation. The skilled and scholarly hand of Mr. Symonds performed not long
       afterwards the work which Rossetti left undone; and probably the English reader now possesses
       a more accurate and more comprehensively thought-out version of the poems than he could have
       obtained from Rossetti, although I not unnaturally regret that an undertaking which from some
       points of view was so peculiarly appropriate for my brother remained unaccomplished.</p>
                  <p>A very small item of work which he performed in March was the revising, at the request of
       the Editor of <title level="bk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.">Maunder's Treasury</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, of the memoir of our father which appears in that publication. In May he wrote a
        <xref doc="a.">sonnet on the Spring</xref>&#8212;<quote>&#8220;the cold Spring, not yet
        warmed through,&#8221;</quote> as he expressed it in a letter.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.22" type="section" n="22" title="1874">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.58">
                        <hi rend="b">1874.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>A letter came on 30th January from Dr. Franz Hueffer, saying that the Tauchnitz firm
       offered £15 to<epage/>
                     <page n="164" image="a."/> Rossetti for the right of including his <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1870.raw">Poems</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> in their renowned series of English reprints. Rossetti accepted these terms. The
        <xref doc="a.1-1870.tauchnitz.rad">book appeared in that series</xref> soon afterwards, with
       a critical preface by Dr. Hueffer&#8212;one of the ablest notices which the poetic work of Rossetti
       ever received. Dr. Hueffer, who died rather suddenly in January 1889, at the comparatively
       early age of forty-three, was a German, born in Munster, who, coming over to London towards
       1869, soon made acquaintance with Madox Brown, with Rossetti, and with various members of the
       same artistic and literary circle. He became a close family-connection of mine in 1874, when
       I married the half-sister of the lady, a daughter of Madox Brown, whom Hueffer himself had
       wedded in 1872. Excluding from consideration a few men of powerful creative genius, I have
       known no person of more brilliant talents or of wider and more solid cultivation than
       Hueffer: his range extended to philosophy, linguistics, literature, and music. He became the
       pioneer in England of the enthusiasm for the once much-belaboured Wagner, and for several
       years preceding his death he exerted, as musical critic of the <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ltimes.001.rad" link="dead">Times</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, a powerful influence over musical taste and enterprise not only in England but
       throughout the civilized world. In literature he was a man of rapid appreciation, and of
       catholic taste&#8212;which tended, however, with advancing years, to adhere more and more firmly to
       those great monuments of the past which form the standard of achievement. Soon after settling
       in England, where he acquired an early and exceptional mastery of the language, Hueffer
       anglicized himself as much as possible, and was eventually naturalized as a British subject;
       and it may truly be said that England has now lost, in<epage/>
                     <page n="165" image="a."/> the German son of her adoption, one of the most forcible and
       luminous of her critical minds.</p>
                  <p>The letter from Dr. Hueffer to which I have already referred made mention of another
       subject besides that of the proposed Tauchnitz edition. He spoke of the translation which
       Rossetti had made in early youth&#8212; towards 1847&#8212;from the poem, <title level="wrk" lang="german">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.">Der Arme Heinrich</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, by the ancient German poet Hartmann von der Aue. Rossetti, as Hueffer reminded him,
       had recently thought of publishing the translation, along with an introduction to be written
       by his German friend. This hint, however, led to no practical result; and the translation
        from<xref doc="a.">
                        <title level="wrk" lang="german">
                           <hi rend="i">Der Arme Heinrich</hi>
                        </title>
                     </xref> remained unpublished until I included it, in 1886, in my brother's <title level="bk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.pr5240.f11.raw">Collected Works</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. </p>
                  <p>In February Rossetti sent to our mother the sonnet on <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.9-1873.raw">Winter</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, then lately written. Soon afterwards the sonnet on <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1872.s233.raw">Proserpina</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, in its Italian form, was discussed with our sister Maria. She agreed with the
       author in preferring the Italian to the English version.</p>
                  <p>In October, in consequence of my having compiled and prefaced the <xref doc="a.">
                        <hi rend="i">Aldine Edition of the Poems of William Blake</hi>
                     </xref>, some reference appeared in print to the manner in which those poems of his which
       were included in Gilchrist's <title level="bk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.2p-1863.1880.rad">Life of Blake</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> in 1863 had been edited&#8212;the writer attributing to myself, as well as to my brother,
       the rather liberal latitude of editorial revision and adjustment by which the treatment of
       the verses had been marked. My brother, in writing to me on the subject, justly took upon
       himself the sole responsibility for what had in that instance been done; and he added&#8212;and
       here again I could not but concur with him&#8212;that he would not now, if the work were before him
       to be done, make so many alterations.</p>
                  <epage/>
                  <page n="166" image="a."/>
                  <p>The death of Oliver Madox Brown, at the age of nineteen, took place on November 5th 1874.
       Rossetti, who had now resettled in London after a long sojourn at Kelmscott, was among the
       most earnest believers in the genius of which this extraordinary youth had given evidence
       both in painting and in literature. He wrote a sonnet expressing his sense of the calamity;
       and proposed to me (12th November) to publish it, with the consent of the bereaved father, in
       the <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.a85.raw">Athenæum</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. This was done without delay.</p>
                  <p>In the last month of the year Rossetti was proposing to write for the <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.f7.raw">Fortnightly Review</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> a critique on a recent volume of poems, <title level="bk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.">New Symbols</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, by his friend Dr. Hake. For some reason which I do not now remember this project
       miscarried.</p>
               </div2>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.23" type="section" n="23" title="1877">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.59">
                        <hi rend="b">1877.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>In January of this year two references occur to musical settings of some of Rossetti's
       poems. Mr. Moncure D. Conway wrote that he had been hearing Mr. Dannreuther's music to
       Rossetti's <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.7-1848.raw">Autumn Song</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> &#8212; a very early performance which was not included in any one of the volumes
       published during its author's lifetime. Mrs. Florence Marshall addressed Rossetti, observing
       that, about six years before, he had authorized her to publish music to his lyric, <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.3-1859.raw">A Little While</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>; and she wished now to do the same for <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.54-1869.raw">A New Year's Burden</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> &#8212;Messrs. Novello being the publishers.</p>
                  <p>The sonnet <title level="wrk" lang="latin">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1877.s249.raw">Astarte Syriaca</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> is referred to in a letter of 23rd March from Mrs. Fry, wife of the gentleman who
       had purchased the picture which the sonnet illustrates.</p>
               </div2>
               <epage/>
               <page n="167" image="a."/>
               <div2 anchor="0.1.3.24" type="section" n="24" title="1878">
                  <divheader>
                     <title id="A.R.60">
                        <hi rend="b">1878.</hi>
                     </title>
                  </divheader>
                  <p>Mr. Niles, representing the American publishing firm of Roberts Brothers, wrote to Rossetti
       in February, saying that the American edition of the <title level="doc">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1870.raw">Poems</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> had then long been out of print, and the firm were now selling imported copies of
       the English edition. He expected soon to print a new American issue of the work.</p>
                  <p>Probably the first poem by Rossetti which appeared in a foreign translation was the <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.1-1849.raw">Last Confession</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. In July Signor Luigi Gamberale sent over from Italy to the author his Italian
       version of the poem in question, entitled <title level="wrk" lang="italian">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.gamberale001.rad" link="dead">Un' Ultima Confessione</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. It will easily be understood that this composition, which embodies a story partly
       (though only subordinately) related to the Italian revolutionary movements which preceded the
       attainment of national unity, appealed with especial force to an Italian heart and
       imagination. Another book was issued by Gamberale in 1881, also including some translations
       from Rossetti&#8212; <title level="bk" lang="italian">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.">Poeti Inglesi e Tedeschi</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>: <title level="wrk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.3-1848.raw">Jenny</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> is one of the poems here translated.</p>
                  <p>Two letters of the later part of the year refer to some minor writings by Rossetti, of a
       date not then recent. One is from Mr. Richard Hearne Shepherd, who said that his pamphlet
       upon Ebenezer Jones, the author of <title level="bk">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.jonese001.rad" link="dead">Studies of Sensation and Event</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>, had been mainly suggested by a little notice of this poet which my brother had
       published in <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ag305.n7.raw">Notes and Queries</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> in February 1870. The other letter is from Mrs. Heaton (the biographer of Albert
       Durer), who asked permission to reprint, in a memoir of Maclise, Rossetti's description,
       printed in the <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.ap4.a15.raw">Academy</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> in April 1871, of the series of<epage/>
                     <page n="168" image="a."/> portraits which Maclise had of old contributed to <title level="per">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.frasers.rad" link="dead">Fraser's Magazine</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title>. She also proposed to quote Rossetti's <quote>&#8220;eloquent
       words&#8221;</quote> concerning the great works of Maclise in the Houses of Parliament,
       the <title level="pic">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.">Waterloo</xref>
                        </hi>
                     </title> and <title level="pic">
                        <hi rend="i">
                           <xref doc="a.">Trafalgar<
