---- Veggente in Solitudine, 48, 50, 52, 63, 69, 76, 83, 102-13
---- Versi, 1847, 29, 31, 69, 100, 155-63-5
Rossetti, Helen M. M., 156
Rossetti, Maria Francesca, 88, 89, 108-20-4-8-30
---- The Rivulets, by, 89
Rossetti, Maria Francesca (Pietrocola), 6, 8
Rossetti, Maria Giuseppe, 6
Rossetti, Maria Michele, 6, 9
Rossetti, Mary E. M., 15
Rossetti, Nicola, 6, 8, 70
Rossetti, William M., ix, 5, 9, 22, 48, 88, 89, 90, 108-9-19-23
---- Memoir of D. G. Rossetti, by, ix, 11, 79, 114-62
Royal Academy of Music, 117
Ruffo, Cardinal, 2, 74
Russia, 23, 119
S
Saint Helena, 23
Saint Mary’s Church, Vasto, 6
Saliceti, 91
San Carlo Theatre, Naples, 15, 17, 18, 111
San Sebastiano, 52, 53
Sand, 80
Sangiovanni, Benedetto, 122-4-7
Santa Croce Church, Florence, 150
Santa Lucia, Naples, 57
Santander, 158
Sardinia, Kingdom of, 64, 104-5-66
Sartoris, Mrs, 162
Schlegel, 66, 112
Scrope, 121
Sebeto (River), 53
Shelley, P. B., 45
---- Ode to Naples, by, 45
Sicily, 2, 3, 12, 19, 38, 40
Sigier, 143
Silvati, 44
Società Sebezia, Naples, 29, 30, 36, 37
Solari, 30
Soldi, G. B., 161
Spain, 1, 3, 12, 21, 44, 56, 62, 158-9
Spectator, The (Newspaper), 108-9
Spielberg, The, 122
Spontini, 150
Stanford, 57
Strozzi (Mazzini), 173
Stuart, Lady Dudley, 15
Suetonius, 20
Swedenborg, 141-3-4
Switzerland, 159
Sylvester, Pope, 140
Synesius, 140
T
Tallent, 119-20
Tasso, 29, 37, 73, 143
Taylor Institute, Oxford, 132
Taylor, J. E., 146
---- Michelangelo as a Philosophical Poet, by, 147
Tennyson, 112
---- In Memoriam, by, 112
Tertullian, 140
Tiber, The, 35
Tiberine Academy, 36
Ticino, Canton of, 168
Tommaseo, 157-72
Tommasi, 27
Trajan, 20, 21
---- Statue of, 20
Turin, 173
Turin, Archbishop of, 104
Turkey, 145
Turrigo, General, 97
Tuscany, 98
Two Sicilies, Kingdom of, 1
Tyrtæus, 49
U
University College, London, 83, 114
Ururi, 42
Utrecht, 1
V
Valletta, 29
Vantini, 155-7-8-9
Vardarelli, Brothers, 42
Vasari, Giorgio, 145
Vasto, 6 to 9, 65, 110-3
Vasto, Marchese del, 12, 110
Vecchioni, 66, 112
Venice, 91, 92
Vernon, Lord, 154
Verona, 21
Vezzi, Signora, 11
Villani, Francesco, 145
Villani, Odoardo, 161
Virgil, 37
W
Wellington, Duke of, 120-1
William IV., 120-1
Z
Zatta, 137
THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED
EDINBURGH
FOOTNOTES:
[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_.