THE QUEEN OF TEE PRERAPHAELITES.

Lyttelton Times, Volume XCIII, Issue 10599, 7 March 1895, Page 3

THE QUEEN OF TEE PRERAPHAELITES.

[CORRESPONDENT " CANTERBURY TIMES,”] London, Jan. 4. Miss Christina Rossetti, who died rather suddenly on Saturday morning, was recently described by an acknowledged judge as “ within her range the most perfect poetess that this country has produced.” And yot many tolerably wellread people had never even heard of her, or if they had, know nothing of her work. I remember when .the discussion as to who Tennyson’s successor should be was on, and Mr Patchetfc-Martin aud others were stoutly maintaining the claims of Miss Rossetti, hearing an Oxford M.A. ask, "Who is this Christina Rossetti? Dante Gabriel Rossetti I have heard of, but Christina ia new to me. Tell me about her.” Needless to say this student was a Scot, and confined his rending of poetry to Emms and tho Wizard of the North. Nevertheless, so far as Miss Rossetti is concerned, I am afraid a good many of us are like him. Christina Rossetti belonged to one of the most remarkable families of our century, every member of which seemed to be endowed with the indescribable quality we call genius. The Rossettis were the children of an Italian refugee, aud the finest Italian qualities were .common to all of them. They wore brought up on Dante and saturated with his work and his spirit. Only those can truly appreciate the greatest of Florentines who possess a religious mind, combined with an artistic sense. It was the “ Divina Commedia ” and “ Vila Nuova,” which, above all else, inspired the work of the Rossettis, and gave them their sense of form as well as their ideas. Christina was the youngest child !o£ Gabriel Resettle, born in 1830, and two years younger than the poet-painter. She has been styled tho Queen of tho BraRaphselitos, and, aptly enough, her position amongst the brotherhood has been compared with that of the very different Margaret Fuller amongst the Tranecandentaliata. All the Rossettis were precocious, and iu her teens Christina blossomed into an authoress. Her early efforts were printed at her grandfather’s press for private circulation, and the little book that contains thorn is (amongst proRaphaelites and ex - pre - Eaphaelites), one of the rarest and most precious literary curios. When the Germ was started. Miss Rossetti contributed some beautiful lyrics thereto, but the preRaphael magazine had too limited a circulation for them to attract general notice. In 1862, however, appeared “ Goblin Market,” which established Christina Rossetti’s reputation, and proved her one of our rarest songsters. , .Both this work and “The Priaca’o Progress” were illustrated by Dante Gabriel, and first editions now command their weight in silver. In appearance, Christina Rossetti in girlhood resembled, tho ideal " blessed damozel.” She radiated peace and purity indescribable. Her brother painted her again and again, but his boat portrait aa well as his masterpiece is the world famous “ The Girlhood of tho Virgin,” engravings of which are common, and sure to bo familiar to you. Tho face of the virgin is pale and aacetic, uniting the simplicity of refined girlhood with the individuality of approaching womanhood. Her long fair hair sweeps over her shoulders past her waist. The face ia an exact likeness of Christina, but her hair was brown and not fair as in the picture. A complete edition of Mias Rossetti's poems came out in 1890, arid can ho obtained for a few shillings. “In the extremely .rare gift of songwriting,” wrote Me Edmund Gosse some time ago, "Miss Rossetti has bean singularly successful. Of the poets of our time she stands next to Lord Tennyson in this branch of the art, in the spontaneous and complete quality of her lieder, aud in their propriety for the purpose of being sung.” The same critic points out a peculiarity in her sonnets, which must indeed, commend themselves to all judges, that many of them are objective; and be declares that as a religious poet of our time she had no rival but Cardinal Newman-—" she is the sister of George Herbert ; sho is of the family of Craahaw, of Vaughan, of Wither.” Wo must find space for one libblo poem, which has a pathetic in tar eat now s—■When I am dead, my dearest. Sing no aad songs for mo ; Plant thou no roses at my head. No shady cypress tree; Ec the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet; And if thou wilt, remember, • „ Aud if thou wilt, forget. I shall not seo tho shadows, I shall not feel the rain; I shall not hear tho nightingale Sing on, as if in pain; And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember. And haply may forget. Miss Rossetti of lata years lived tho life of a recluse. That elder sister of hers. Maria Francesca, tho Dante student, who entered a sisterhood, couid scarce have lived more secluded from the world. Yet the poetess was born in London, and always lived in London. 'When Mr William Rossetti married tho daughter of Mr Madox Brown, some twenty years ago, the poetess and her mother removed to 30, Torrington Square. It was in this house that Misa Rossetti, bereaved one by one of her mother and her mother’s two sisters, ended liff.’s little spars. Mrs S. A. Tooley has described in the Young Woman a recent visit that she paid to the poetess “She lies on her couch in the front drawing-room, her pale sweet face and dark brown hair little touched by time. Sho is too weak to, converse, almost too weak to move. That “sweet face” was long ago immortalised as that of the virgin in her brother’s masterpiece, "The Girlhood of tho Virgin Mary.'” In such circumstances as these, when, as Miss Rossetti herself insisted, to die is gain, the sorrow that the news of her death excites must necessarily be soothed. _ A complete edition of Miss Rossetti’s works appeared in 1890, and a new edition of " Goblin Market ” was published only recently. We cannot conclude this memoir more fitly than by quoting a few stanzas from one of the most characteristic, and perhaps the most beautiful, of all _ Miss Rossetti’s poems—tho poem of the Christian’s progress, “ From House to Home Then life swooned from me. And I heard the song Of spheres and spirits rejoicing over me ; One cried : “Our sister, rhe hath suffered long”— One answered : “-Hake her nee." Multitudes—multitudes—stood up in bliss. Made equal to the angels, glorious, fair; With harp, palms, weO ding-garments, kiss of peace, And cr.owned and haloed hair. Each face looked one way like a moon new-lit. Each face looked one way towards its Sun of I.ove; Drank love and bathed in love and mirrored it, Aud knew no end thereof. Glnrv touched glory on each blessed head. Hands locked dear b mils never to sunder more; These were tho new-begotten from the dead Whom the great birthday bore.