[1] Of Nicola Rossetti and Francesca Pietrocola, a respected married couple, I was born in Vasto, a city in Abruzzo Citeriore, in the year 1783. My brothers, all senior to me, were Andrea, Antonio, and Domenico. The first, admired for his pulpit-eloquence, became a Canon of the Collegiate Church of St Mary, the principal church in the city. The other two, endowed with much poetical talent, have left good evidence of this in their compositions. I had also three sisters—Angiola Maria, Maria Giuseppe, and Maria Michele. The first died unmarried; the other two married.
[2] I had various masters in the first rudiments of literature; but none was of so much benefit to me as the one who started me in “philosophy,” and who also nurtured in me the taste for poetry. He was a Regular Priest of that province, and he died in Naples at a somewhat early age. I shall always bless the name of Padre Vincenzo Gaetani.
[3] Now on my hands: one specimen forms our frontispiece. I have spoken of this matter in my Memoir of Dante Gabriel Rossetti, pp. 5 and 6, and I know that my father’s statement concerning it is not exaggerated. He executed also, towards 1804, a miniature of himself, of which, writing to his brother Domenico, he speaks in the following terms:—“A miniature portrait of myself, the work of my own hand when I exercised myself much in the fine art which imitates visible truths. I was at that time fresher-looking, and perhaps rather plumper, and slightly paler; before the sanguine-choleric temperament obtained the mastery in me with that vigour which it now displays. All who have seen it aver that it is truly myself.” This miniature used once to be in the possession of a Signora Vezzi of Parma: I know not where it may now be.—W.
[4] The Marquis who brought me to Naples was Tommaso, of the famous and very ancient house of D’Avalos, which was transplanted from Spain to Italy. [It was the same family as that into which the sixteenth-century poetess, Vittoria Colonna, beloved by Michelangelo, married.—W.]
[5] Joseph Bonaparte (I need hardly observe) was not strictly a Frenchman. He was a Corsican, of Corsican or Italian parentage, born before Corsica had become a French possession. He was thus an Italian, naturalized as a Frenchman.—W.
[6] My first volume of poems, printed in Naples in 1807, was dedicated by me to Baron Giovanni Avalloni, who, upon hearing me recite some of the compositions, voluntarily offered to have the whole of them printed. That volume, which was never re-issued, must have become very scarce. [I possess an imperfect copy of it. The poems—some of them poor, and not any exactly good—deal partly with national events, and this naturally in a spirit conformable to the Napoleonic rÉgime. There are some strong animadversions on the Bourbon monarchy.—W.] My dramas, written for the Theatre of San Carlo, were printed at the time; were they collected together, they would make up a volume.
King Joseph and King Joachim have been depicted by grave historians, and I will not add anything regarding their public and private character. But, for truth’s sake, I may say that here in London I was very well acquainted with Joseph Bonaparte, after he had returned from America in 1831, and that I found many personal gifts in him to admire. In his house I saw a good deal not only of him but of his brother Lucian, his nephew Louis (the present President of the French Republic), Lucian’s daughter Lady Dudley Stuart, with whom I became intimately acquainted, and who, at the baptismal font, gave her own name, Christina, to my younger daughter. I might say that I have known all the members of that renowned family, either in Naples or in London, except the great Napoleon, whom I never saw. Joseph was kind-natured and cultivated in mind; but in Naples, spoiled by courtiers, he was a bad king. One evening, while I was improvising in his house, his daughter, Princess Charlotte, made a pencil sketch of me, and she sent it me framed as a present: I still preserve it. [I also have preserved it, and have given it to my youngest daughter.—W.] I could here relate many dialogues which I had with Lucian, his son Pierre, etc., and with the present French President. But I will only say that Lucian was a republican, but with many prejudices, and the present President was and is of a character all puffed up with ambition. Never did I hear from his lips a single word indicating a liberal spirit.
[7] I possess the printed Giulio Sabino, 1809; not the other two libretti.—W.
[8] One may suppose it to have been at first a very subordinate post; for the pay, I find, was only 15 ducats a month, which appears to be £31, 2s. 6d. a year. Later on it was 28 ducats a month.—W.
[9] Of the very many incidents which occurred to me in the Royal Museum, and which might furnish matter for anecdote, I will state in prose the following. In the year 1816 [it must have been in 1819, that being the year in which Charles IV. died.—W.] there came to Naples Charles IV., ex-King of Spain, elder brother of Ferdinand, King of Naples. The latter had also been numbered as fourth; then in Sicily he became third, and finally, on his return, he was declared first; and in his island-kingdom this epigram, almost prophetic, had been neatly made upon him:—
“Fourth thou wast and now art Third:—
By subtraction’s rule I’m taught—
Second—First—may yet be heard,
Till at last remains a nought.”
When King Charles came to visit the Museum—announced by a formal dispatch, the beating of drums, and a call to arms by the piquette stationed at the gate—we presented ourselves to receive him, with Cavalier Arditi, Director-General of the institution, at our head. The first section which is ordinarily inspected there is the collection of statues in marble and bronze, both Latin and Greek—a most important department on the ground floor, entrusted to my custody. Thus it became my work to show first those admired treasures to the Spanish monarch, who spoke Italian very fairly. In the discharge of my office I pointed out to him the leading objects; and I recollect that in the first portico I stopped before the statue of Trajan, and I referred to his rare excellences, saying that he had been the honour of the Roman Empire and of the Spanish nation. “What, was Trajan a Spaniard?” he exclaimed with surprise. “Certainly, your majesty, if Suetonius and other historians did not deceive us.” [N.B.—“Suetonius” appears to have been a random shot; he has left us nothing about Trajan.—W.] He visited the three porticoes and the five galleries, and showed much pleasure in my explanations. Having gone through the whole, I said that others would have the honour of showing him the picture-gallery, the Etruscan vases, the bronze implements, the collection of papyri, and the immense library, which were kept in the upper apartments. He said in a determined tone, “Come yourself.” I felt much embarrassed in obeying, because I knew how jealous were Don Giuseppe Campi, Canon Jorio, and others, if any one encroached on their departments, and especially on so solemn an occasion; but I made a bow and obeyed. He remained on that long visit upwards of four hours, and, highly satisfied, he left. The following day, towards the same hour, a fresh beating of drums and a fresh call to arms announced a visitor of importance. It was again the King of Spain. On his arrival I alone received him, as neither Cavalier Arditi nor any one else had been apprised by a dispatch, as on the preceding day, of this unexpected visit. Entering my small apartment, he asked for a seat, which I at once gave him. He sat down, and affably added, “Sit down also,” and, seeing that I hesitated, “Sit down, sit down,” he repeated. He said that he had returned to re-inspect some of the objects which had most struck him the previous day, and chiefly the Emperor Trajan—adding: “Now that I know he was a Spaniard, tell me all you know about him.” And I failed not to inform him that that Emperor, elected by the unanimous vote of the Roman Army, was surnamed Optimus; and that after his death, at the election of every new CÆsar, the senate installed him in the Empire with the salutation, “Sis bonus ut Trajanus, sis felix ut Augustus.” That on his accession to the throne he entered Rome on foot, to denote his disregard of worldly pomp; that, confident in the love of the entire nation, he abolished the offence of high treason; that he embraced any persons who came to visit him, and had his residence inscribed “Public Palace,” in order that all might enter without the least scruple, as though the house were their own. In short, I narrated what history sets down about him. On the third day the King renewed his visit. He remained alone with me, as on the preceding day, and, assuming a more confidential tone, he enquired whether I was married. I replied, No. He then told me that a Congress of Sovereigns was about to assemble in Verona, at which he meant to claim his throne which had been usurped by his son, with whom he showed himself very much displeased. “If I return to Spain, of which I am almost certain,” he added, “you shall come with me, and I will make you Director of the Escurial.” “But, your sacred Majesty, so many distinguished Spaniards—” “The one who is there now is my enemy, and I mean to dismiss him.”—“But I am in employ here, and your august brother—”—“Oh, I spoke to him about that last evening, and he will willingly concede you to my wishes.” I bowed, and thanked him for so much good-will. But a few days passed, and Charles IV. lay a frigid corpse in his brother’s palace. He was a simple, kindly man, given to talking, and he held with others the same sort of conversation that he had held with me. His right was manifest, and his son schemed to get rid of him by means of his Minister Labrador. This was the rumour which then ran through Naples. I could relate many other anecdotes of what happened to me in the Museum, but I leave them alone. I will only mention that I elucidated those admired monuments in two volumes entitled Catalogue RaisonnÉ of the Royal Museum. In order to give some credit to a young man whom I liked much—Giovanni Finati, son of the Controller—I allowed him to have his name on the title-page, with the condition that the two volumes should be printed at his expense, while the receipts from the sale should be halved between us. After my departure he took advantage of my misfortune, and wholly defrauded me of that labour of mine. The profits became and are entirely his; whereas he had no share in the work, except only the measuring of the statues and busts—nothing else. [I possess the book in question.—W.]
[10] This vigorous tirade against the mighty Napoleon, written in Rossetti’s old age, is no doubt a true expression of his reasoned opinion, but only of one side of that. It should not be supposed that he was really blind to the enormous and many-sided genius of the man; if he condemned, he also most sincerely admired. See the sonnet at p. 191.—W.
[11] This poem by Rossetti forms one in a series bearing the following title: Per la Ricuperata Salute di S. M. Ferdinando I., Attestato di Gioia della SocietÀ Sebezia. Napoli, 1819. Agostino Gallo (named immediately afterwards) contributed a Sapphic ode. Of course the name Gallo means “Cock”: Corvo (“Raven,” or bird of ill-omen) is jocularly proposed as a substitute.—W.
[12] I have read this ode for the express purpose of discovering what Signor Gallo objected to, and can only see this. There are certain stanzas in which the overpraise (too truly termed “flatteries” by the author) takes the form of remonstrance. The King is told that the nation, in loving him, do in fact love themselves; that the public happiness demands that he should be duly careful of his invaluable life; and that, at his age, he must not persist in incessant hunting.—W.
[13] What I relate of Agostino Gallo, of Palermo, is strictly accurate; I confirm in prose what I have stated in verse.
[14] This relates to events in the time of King Joachim.—W.
[15] This poem is printed in the Versi of Rossetti (Lausanne, 1847). It begins, “Tu posi, o giusto, ed io ti seggo al fianco.”—W.
[16] Valletta was a lawyer and a poet. “Fair Paloma” was the Marchesina Luisa Gomez-Paloma, an associate of the Sebezian Society. The verses (which begin “Parmi vederti ancor quando animata”) indicate that she was accomplished both as a vocalist and as a painter.—W.
[17] This is also in the Versi. Begins—“Dunque muto per sempre ahi muto resta.”—W.
[18] Similar remark. Begins—“Sei tu che in questa riva a te natia.”—W.
[19] All that I relate here and in the following Canto is strict matter of fact. The Prince Royal of Denmark, who was afterwards King [Christian VIII., who came to the throne in 1839—W.], and is now dead, was enrolled in the SocietÀ Sebezia as an honorary member; and on that evening when the bust of Torquato Tasso was inaugurated—a fine work by Signor Solari of Naples,—he was seated, along with all the other Academicians, beside General Naselli, the honorary President. He was so impressed by my composition (which formed the close of the stately proceedings) that he said, embracing me, “May I ask a favour of you? I should like to have a copy of your poem to present to the Princess, who, owing to indisposition, was not able to come this evening.”—“I shall attend to it immediately, and to-morrow you shall receive it.” That royal couple was held in the highest esteem by all. The Prince, a man of masculine and imposing presence, had fought with signal courage against the French, especially in the forests of Norway. The Princess, a lady of extreme grace and beauty, was universally admired and praised. Next morning I rose early and copied out the poem; and hardly had I completed the work (rather a long one, 54 octaves) when I received a note from Baron Jubar, the Prince’s majordomo, to remind me of my promise, and invite me to dine with the royal couple the following day. At table were all the foreign ambassadors, and other diplomatists. This occurred, so far as I recollect, towards the beginning of 1820. The Prince invited me various times; and about the end of that year—when the revolution and the King’s departure had already occurred—one evening after dinner he called me aside, and said: “As it is our intention to pass the rest of the winter in several cities of North Italy, would not you come with us, to instruct the Princess in your beautiful language?”—“But, your Highness, I am here employed.”—“I have already spoken to the Minister of the Interior, who will grant you leave for six months.” A fierce lightning-flash seemed to strike my mind, and I comprehended that the King was betraying us. The Prince, cautioned through some diplomatic channel to quit Naples (as in fact he did), wished to withdraw me from that political danger in which he perceived me to be greatly entangled. With these sinister thoughts, I replied thanking him for an offer which highly honoured me, and saying that I would soon apprise him of my decision. On the following day I wrote to him that, in the peril to which my country would soon be exposed, I should be stained with cowardice if I left it; and that I therefore felt compelled to decline accompanying him in the proposed tour, an honour which in any other conditions I would gladly have welcomed. Nor do I repent of what I then did.
[20] The Sapphic ode is likewise in the Versi. It begins—“Furon tristi, O Luigi, i giorni tuoi.”—W.
[21] He died in Parma in July 1816, aged forty-three. The paralysis which killed him had been going on for about a twelvemonth. My father had himself more than one stroke of paralysis in his closing years.—W.
[22] Of Biondi I cannot say anything distinct: Ferretti continued corresponding with Rossetti, in very affectionate terms, after the latter had settled in London.—W.
[23] I may mention that, besides performing this service under the Government of King Joachim, Rossetti was enrolled in his National Guard (or Guard of Internal Security) in Naples. I have a document, 15th December 1814, which shows this. His berth in Rome has been termed by him elsewhere “a provisional post in the Secretariate of the Provisional Government, being the post which concerns Public Instruction and the Fine Arts.”—W.
[24] This occurred in 1817.—W.
[25] Dr Curci, who had a passionate attachment to my father, came to London to see him towards 1836; Durso also I can remember as having visited him towards 1840. “Cesare Malpica” is a name I often heard him pronounce; of Caccavon I am not able to say anything.—W.
[26] The statements here made about the Principe di Canosa are not inventions; they will be found confirmed in Colletta’s Storia del Regno di Napoli, Book viii. Canosa’s scheme amounted (in general terms) to an attempt to get up in 1816 a massacre of the Carbonari and their sympathizers, by a hostile sect named the Calderari.—W.
[27] Consigned to eternal infamy by Dante.—W.
[28] Rossetti was a Carbonaro; but (I understand) he was not enrolled in that secret society until the second half of the year 1820, when, as the constitution had been already granted by the King, there was nothing illegal in his being a member. The word Carbonaro means literally “coalman, charcoal-burner”: hence certain technical terms of the sect, occurring further on.—W.
[29] Gaetano Vardarelli, with his two brothers, commanded a formidable band of brigands (who may or may not have been Carbonari): the whole band was generally called the Vardarelli. In July 1817 the Government entered into a dishonouring compromise with these brigands; but soon afterwards, at Ururi, slaughtered the three Vardarelli and others by treachery, and, later on, others of the disbanded band at Foggia, and the remainder underwent military execution. A grimly Italian incident accompanied the massacre of the brothers Vardarelli. One of the brothers had outraged the sister of a man from Porto-Cannone. This man dipped his hands repeatedly in the blood gushing from the corpse, washed his face in it, and cried to the multitude, “L’ho purgata” (I’ve washed it clean).—W.
[30] For Capobianco’s judicial murder King Joachim (not Ferdinand) was responsible; it took place in 1813. Capobianco was a Carbonaro, young, and of very daring spirit. He was invited by General Jannelli to a public dinner in Cosenza, well feasted, seized at the moment of departure, and next day condemned to be beheaded.—W.
[31] What I state here is matter of general knowledge; and, relating as it does to public events of that agitated period, it belongs more to history than to biography. Those authors should therefore be consulted who have treated of it; among whom I recommend the valuable Memoirs of General Guglielmo Pepe, who was greatly concerned in the occurrences, in preference to the elegant History of General Pietro Colletta, who, whether through mis-information or through distorting envy, is not always a veracious narrator. I have been intimately acquainted with both these writers; but more than either I prize sacred Truth; and the little which I state in this note is consequent upon most candid examination.
[32] This remark relates mainly, though not exclusively, to the condition of France, 1830 to 1848, under King Louis Philippe—a potentate whom Rossetti most heartily abhorred.—W.
[33] These were two sub-lieutenants of cavalry; after the abolition of the constitution they were both hanged.—W.
[34] I saw Minichini once or twice in my father’s house—probably towards 1840. His personal appearance was anything but prepossessing.—W.
[35] This pÆan may seem misapplied, considering the rapid collapse of the Neapolitan emancipation of 1820. That movement was, however, the first awakening of the Italian national sentiment since 1815, and in 1859 (though Gabriele Rossetti did not live to see it) the great cause had triumphed. Readers may recollect that Shelley’s Ode to Naples celebrates in exalted terms these same events of 1820.—W.
[36] Rossetti refers here to his most celebrated ode, beginning “Sei pur bella cogli astri sul crine.” I quote it on p. 177.—W.
[37] I wrote several patriotic odes for that great event of the revolution of Naples, and I will here name two, which are introduced into my Veggente in Solitudine. They begin thus—
“Sei pur bella cogli astri sul crine”—
“Fratelli, all’armi, all’armi!”
I also composed more than sixty manifestoes upon various occurrences; they circulated in print throughout the whole Carboneria, in which I was a member of the General Assembly; likewise a brochure of some length entitled Alla Difesa, O Cittadini. This inflamed all hearts, when the treachery of the perfidious Bourbon King came to be known. [I possess the brochure in question. It was printed towards the end of 1820, at the time when Ferdinand I. was still professing to adhere cordially to the Constitution, notwithstanding the threatening attitude assumed by Austria. Consequently the tone of the author is highly respectful towards Ferdinand, at the same time that the nation is urged to prepare energetically for a war—possible, though as yet not exactly probable—against Austria.—W.]
[38] Sir Graham Moore, brother of the famous General Sir John Moore, who died in the field in the campaign of Corunna. The brothers might truly be called duo fulmina belli.
[39] The house in which I kept needfully concealed for three months is in the Concordia quarter. Opposite it was a meagre invalid, who posted himself all day at the window, to peer at whatever was going on in the neighbourhood—which prevented me from getting a little fresh air. One day, from the shadowed inside of my room, I saw that a funeral-car stopped at his door. I perceived he must be dead, and I was glad of it—why conceal the fact? My prying bugbear being gone, I felt more at liberty, and I wrote for him the following epigrammatic epitaph:—
“Here lies a man of prying peering art,
Who in other folk’s affairs made endless pother:
And he from this world did at last depart,
Merely to fathom what is done in t’other.”
[I may add that on 18th March 1821, midway between the military disaster at Rieti on 7th March, and the dissolution of the Parliament on 21st March, Rossetti procured a Neapolitan passport for either Spain or Malta; but it seems that he never attempted to use it, but lay perdu instead, until shipped off to Malta by Admiral Sir Graham Moore.—W.]
[40] It appears that one of these officers was named Stanford. My aunt, Charlotte Polidori, being in Naples in 1840, knew something of a Mr Stanford, who (as she wrote) “knew Rossetti well; it was on his arm that he leaned when, dressed as an English officer, he went on board. He would have been put to death, had he not left, merely on account of his political opinions—on no other subject could a word be said against him.”—W.
[41] I remember that, when I set off in the coach between the two English officers, as we passed before the royal palace to reach Santa Lucia where the skiff awaited, a police inspector exclaimed—“By God! the man in the middle looks to me like Rossetti!” But the coach passed rapidly on, and a few moments afterwards I found myself in the skiff, and then in the ship.
[42] The flagship, a first-class man-of-war. [Rossetti Italianizes the name into Roccaforte, and then proceeds to some jeux de mots on Rocca (which in Italian means fortress). I have had to take the second syllable, fort, for a like purpose.—W.]
[43] The allusion is to the justly-admired lyric by Rossetti, commencing “Nella notte piÙ serena.” See p. 182.—W.
[44] No doubt this is true; the practice of dictation having been frequently adopted by my father after the sight of one eye had been lost totally, and of the other partially. However, the copy of the poem from which I am translating is all in his own handwriting; and very good handwriting it is, though done with some perceptible effort.—W.
[45] The chief poem thus improvised was San Paolo in Malta. See p. 186.—W.
[46] What I indicate regarding the Right Honourable J. Hookham Frere is far less than the truth. The life of that admirable and exemplary man ought to be written. [This was done in publications of the years 1871 and 1899.—W.] All Malta was full of his munificences, and still resounds his praise; and, when in the sequel I quitted that island for England, I found wide-spread confirmation of his repute as a most erudite man, and a genuine Christian. After being English Ambassador in Spain, he settled in Malta, with his sister Susan, to watch over the health of his invalid wife in a mild climate: there he had the grief of losing them both. Oh what excellent women those were! Early in 1846 he himself, struck by apoplexy, closed his beneficent life.
[47] A reference to the progress of constitutional liberty in the Sardinian kingdom.—W.
[48] The name of Minasi was known to me from boyhood; but I am unable to say much about him, or to account in detail for the singular burst of rage and obloquy (here abridged) which my father bestows upon him. He held in London some official appointment (perhaps consular) from the Neapolitan Government, and refugees were prone to speaking of him as a spy—as to which, see p. 98.—W.
[49] Two members of the Ruffo family were conspicuous as Bourbon devotees from 1799 onwards. The Cardinal was the more important and celebrated; but I think the Principe di Castelcicala is here meant. He was an Ambassador, and as such he lived in London for some years during my father’s sojourn.—W.
[50] General Rossaroll headed, in 1821, a short-lived insurrection in Messina.—W.
[51] General Michele Carrascosa took a leading part in the events of 1820-21 in the Kingdom of Naples. His conduct was not wholly approved by the constitutional party.—W.
[52] I do not distinctly recognize this name, nor those of Florio and de Luca.—W.
[53] This must be Colonel Francesco Capecelatro, who was excepted from the amnesty granted by the King in September 1822. Thirteen persons in all were excepted; Rossetti figured as the thirteenth.—W.
[54] More than one member of the Poerio family suffered in these Neapolitan turmoils. The one who went to Malta was, I think, a major in the army.—W.
[55] The Veggente in Solitudine. Rossetti, I gather, embarked from Malta in January 1824, and reached London in April. His first London residence was No. 37 Gerard Street, Soho.—W.
[56] I, of course, do not know whether this statement regarding Ferdinand I. is accurate or not. My father, I am sure, believed it: I more than once heard him recount it by word of mouth.—W.
[57] I know at least five of these. They are neat, and cannot have been gratifying to the Lord of Lusciano. Here is one:
“I read that tragedy whereof you wist;
And wept in pity ... for the dramatist.”—W.
[58] Literally, “will know how to pierce.” Sand (as it may be hardly requisite to say) was a German student who on political grounds assassinated the poet Kotzebue; Louvel, a Frenchman who assassinated the Duc de Berri, heir to the French throne.
[59] Mr Lyell died in 1849.—W.
[60] The London University, consisting of University College and King’s College. Rossetti competed for the Italian Professorship in the former, but Panizzi obtained it; afterwards (1831) in the latter, and there he was elected.—W.
[61] This phrase must designate the Salterio, though the term would almost equally apply to the Veggente in Solitudine. The three prose works mentioned in the sequel are the Mistero dell’Amor Platonico, the Beatrice di Dante, and Roma verso la MetÀ del Secolo Decimonono. This last, though separately published, is in fact a long note printed in the Amor Platonico.—W.
[62] i.e. “a new life.”—W.
[63] Not only in writing, but also in conversation, all matters of this sort were left in oblivion by my father. I, at any rate, never heard him refer to them, even distantly.—W.
[64] This is perfectly accurate. Mrs Rossetti shrank from being eulogized in verse which might one day be published, and I have known her to plead for the omission of some such matter written by my father. To me, naturally, it is as pleasant to publish these not exaggerated praises as to her it was unpleasant to conceive them published.—W.
[65] The date of the proposal was 7th December 1825; of the wedding (Roman Catholic and English Church), 8th and 10th April 1826.—W.
[66] Taken literally, this is of course correct. But my mother had only an ordinary modicum of musical practice and aptitude, and neither of my sisters pursued the art with any zest.—W.
[67] The reference to “ethics” must be chiefly based on Maria Rossetti’s religious allegory named The Rivulets, semi-published in 1846. As to Christina, her volume entitled Verses had been privately printed in 1847, and the poems which she contributed to The Germ (following a brace in The AthenÆum) appeared in 1850.—W.
[68] These expressions need not count as an exaggeration. By 1850 Dante Gabriel had exhibited two pictures (one of them now in the National British Gallery); he had published The Blessed Damozel and other remarkable poems, and had done a multitude of translations from Italian, and some from German, poets.—W.
[69] I question whether my father was right in supposing me to resemble him in person; I should say that, of the two, Dante Gabriel resembled him more. I have suppressed some lines representative of fatherly fondness more than of myself.—W.
[70] The Conte Giuseppe Ricciardi was a prominent Republican politician, an attached friend of Rossetti. He exerted himself incessantly in the Italian cause; his death took place towards 1885. Terenzio Mamiani was an admired writer in verse and prose; Monsignor Muzzarelli a very open-minded churchman. Cagnazzi (I presume the same person) is spoken of by General Guglielmo Pepe as the “venerable archdeacon Luccado Samuele Cagnazzi, a profound and learned economist,” who became President of the Neapolitan Parliament in 1848. The other names, Saliceti and Gazzola, are identified by me less clearly than probably they ought to be. Pepe, the hero of Venice in 1848-9, was the same who had been the hero of Naples in 1820.—W.
[71] I cannot elucidate this matter of Paolelli and Turrigo.—W.
[72] Bozzelli became Minister of the Interior in Naples in 1848, when Ferdinand II. pretended to re-commence a constitutional government; he was afterwards Prime Minister, conniving in the cause of reaction. During the brief simulation of constitutionalism, General Pepe had much influence over the Government, and he advocated the recall of Rossetti to Naples. My father was nearly on the brink of returning thither, with his family, when the Liberal movement was quenched in blood. The other minister here mentioned, Borrelli, belongs to the earlier constitution of 1820-21; he was Minister of Police, and persuaded the Parliament to authorize the departure of Ferdinand I. from Naples; an event which was pretty soon followed by the repeal of the constitution, and the proscription of its abettors.—W.
[73] This diatribe is directed against Sir Antonio Panizzi, whose name is in the original, given at the close of it: I reduce it here to a comparative trifle, but have not thought it desirable to miss it out entirely. My father considered that, for some reason or none, Panizzi had from the first been ill-disposed towards him; and this feeling was strengthened when Panizzi published an article (or articles) opposing, and partly ridiculing, my father’s theories concerning Dante, etc. I am not sure that I ever read the articles; probably they were bitter (for Panizzi was the reverse of mealy-mouthed); but, when a man says that Beatrice did not exist, and that Dante was a sort of Freemason, he must expect that people who are of a contrary opinion will express themselves forcibly.—W.
[74] They might rather be called notebooks than volumes.—W.
[75] This seems to refer to the volume named—Versi, 1847; also to poems contributed to an Italian Protestantizing magazine, L’Eco di Savonarola.—W.
[76] Pius IX.—W.
[77] My father lost totally, and very suddenly, the sight of one eye. After that he was in constant danger of losing also the sight of the other eye, and he often expected that this would soon be lost. He did, however, to the end of his life, retain a much enfeebled modicum of eyesight. In the expectation of becoming wholly blind, he often spoke and wrote of himself as blind—an exaggeration, but a pardonable one.—W.
[78] The poem The Seer in Solitude (Il Veggente in Solitudine) has been previously mentioned. It is true that some of the ideas presented in that poem as visions or presages—as to the liberation of Italy, etc.—were getting “daily verified” even in Rossetti’s lifetime, and much more conspicuously so a few years afterwards.—W.
[79] Rossetti here, and in some other parts of the Autobiography, speaks of himself in an exaltÉ tone, as imbued with a spirit of prophecy, an instrument in the divine hand for combating despotism, etc. All this would have seemed forced and presumptuous to a reader of his own day; yet it was not a mere distempered dream. In less than ten years from the date of his writing, the thunderbolt had fallen, and Italian despots and Papal temporal dominion were in the agonies of dissolution.—W.
[80] Rossetti here dilates (at a length which I have much curtailed) on a matter now perhaps well-nigh forgotten, the exile in 1850 of the Archbishops of Turin and Cagliari for obstructing certain laws passed by the Piedmontese Parliament as a check upon the privileges of the Church.—W.
[81] “He unites the advantages of two rivals—Mars in strength, Adonis in beauty.”
[82] Gergo. The word might be translated as “slang” or “jargon”; but each of these words conveys a rather incongruous idea to an English mind, so I say (here and elsewhere) “the sect-language.”
[83] Rossetti’s volume Lo Spirito Antipapale che produsse la Riforma.
[84] “L’illusione È sÌ grande che scuote.” I understand the meaning to be as here rendered; but the phrase is not entirely clear.
[85] “Not I, if I had a hundred mouths and a hundred tongues, with iron lungs and iron breast.”
[86] This odd-seeming phrase offers no difficulty to the reader of the Vita Nuova. Dante there says that Beatrice had a special analogy with the number nine, and was (in a sense) a nine, or a three times three, whereof the root was the Holy Trinity.
[87] Rossetti’s letter, next before the present one, is dated 13th December 1836. It would seem (looking to dates) that Mr Lyell’s acknowledgment of being convinced cannot have applied to anything contained in that letter, but to something in the proofs, then passing through his hands, of the Mistero dell’Amor Platonico.
[88] i.e. “To remember is a sweet thought, and I rejoice.” My father proceeds here to quote the entire sonnet, underlining some words, and offering brief comments. I question whether the English reader would thank me for reproducing the whole. As regards the other (second) sonnet which follows, I give the whole of the octave, with comments.
[89] Translation: “As Paul, when he had descended from heaven, could not speak of the arcana of God, so my heart has covered all my thoughts with an amorous veil. Wherefore, for joy which I hide in my heart, I keep silence as to all that I saw and all that I did; and I shall change the hair on my brow sooner than guilty thoughts shall ever reverse the obligation.” I have translated the last line in conformity with the annotation made by my father, which runs thus: “‘Che mai pensier rei volger possano in me l’obbligo’ to keep silence, as he has said.” I feel, however, some considerable doubt whether this is the true order of the words, which are, as a matter of mere construing, anything but clear. It might be possible to attempt some conjectural emendation in the words, but I forbear.
[90] These words come from Dante’s Paradiso: “In Rue du Fouarre, syllogizing invidious truths.”
[91] Mr Taylor was a member of the firm that printed Rossetti’s Amor Platonico. His book was, I think, Michelangelo considered as a Philosophic Poet.
[92] i.e. The Mistero dell’Amor Platonico—which was dedicated to Mr Kirkup.
[93] By the phrase “your circumstances” Mazzini, I think, refers not so much to moderate pecuniary means, but rather to the fact that Rossetti, maintaining himself and his family by the teaching of Italian in private families and schools, could not with any prudence put himself forward as a revolutionary agitator. I am satisfied that he did not join the Association named by Mazzini.
[94] The Conte Carlo Pepoli, a member of an ancient and highly distinguished Bolognese family, was then a political exile in London. He ultimately became a Senator of the Italian Kingdom. An epistle in verse had, in his youth, been addressed to him by the great poet Leopardi.
[95] Adelaide Kemble, afterwards Mrs Sartoris.
[96] He was, I think, a music-master in Paris.
[97] The address (as noted down by my mother on Mazzini’s letter) was No. 40 Clarges Street.
[98] As I have mentioned in my published Memoir of Dante Gabriel Rossetti, my father spoke at this Anniversary-meeting, followed by Mazzini.
[99] This must have been a different celebration from that in which Signor Delavo was concerned. The latter was fixed for 14th May, the anniversary of the Battle of Marengo.
[100] King Charles Albert, of Piedmont, who had to abdicate in 1849.
[101] Mazzini’s word (indistinctly written) appears to be “raccolta,” which frequently means “harvest,” but may probably here mean “subscription.” Perhaps it was a public subscription for reinstating amnestied emigrants in the Papal States.
[102] The Italian word looks something like “compatisci,” which corresponds to “excuse”; I am not certain about it.
[103] General Guglielmo Pepe.
