Remembering poet and painter Dante Gabriel Rossetti On His Birthday

Insomnia

BY DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI

Thin are the night-skirts left behind 

By daybreak hours that onward creep, 

And thin, alas! the shred of sleep 

That wavers with the spirit's wind: 

But in half-dreams that shift and roll 

And still remember and forget, 

My soul this hour has drawn your soul 

A little nearer yet. 

Our lives, most dear, are never near, 

Our thoughts are never far apart, 

Though all that draws us heart to heart 

Seems fainter now and now more clear. 

To-night Love claims his full control, 

And with desire and with regret 

My soul this hour has drawn your soul 

A little nearer yet. 

Is there a home where heavy earth 

Melts to bright air that breathes no pain, 

Where water leaves no thirst again 

And springing fire is Love's new birth? 

If faith long bound to one true goal 

May there at length its hope beget, 

My soul that hour shall draw your soul 

For ever nearer yet.

Remembering Mom on Mother’s Day!

My beloved mom and me

The Mother Moon By Louisa May Alcott 

THE moon upon the wide sea 

Placidly looks down,

Smiling with her mild face,

Though the ocean frown. 

Clouds may dim her brightness,

But soon they pass away, 

And she shines out, unaltered,

O'er the little waves at play. 

So 'mid the storm or sunshine,

Wherever she may go, 

Led on by her hidden power 

The wild see must plow. 

As the tranquil evening moon 

Looks on that restless sea, 

So a mother's gentle face, 

Little child, is watching thee. 

Then banish every tempest, 

Chase all your clouds away, 

That smoothly and brightly 

Your quiet heart may play. 

Let cheerful looks and actions 

Like shining ripples flow, 

Following the mother's voice, 

Singing as they go.

Reprinted from the Saturday Evening Gazette, August 23, 1856.

In Charlotte Bronte’s Own Words

Charlotte Bronte

My Father is a Clergyman of limited though competent income, and I am the eldest of his children-He expended quite as much in my education as he could afford in justice to the rest. I thought it therefore my duty when I left school to become a Governess-In that capacity I find enough to occupy my thoughts all day long, and my head and hands too, without having a moment’s time for one dream of the imagination. In the evenings I confess I do think but I never trouble any one else with my thoughts. I carefully avoid any appearance of pre-occupation and eccentricity-which might lead those I live amongst to suspect the nature of my pursuits. 

I have endeavored not only attentively to observe all the duties a woman ought to fulfill, but to feel deeply interested in them-I don’t always succeed, for sometimes when I’m teaching, and sewing I’d far rather be reading and writing; but I try to deny myself-and my father’s approbation has hitherto amply rewarded me for the privation. (Charlotte Bronte letter to Robert Southey, 16 March 1837).

Mademoiselle Rachel Elisabeth Felix (1820/1-1858)

Theatre Actress

Most readers of Charlotte Bronte novels will recognize this name as the real life woman who inspired Charlotte Bronte’s character, Vashti from her novel, Villette. Rachel or Elisa Felix was Charlotte Bronte’s favorite actress between the years 1850-1 as her letters dictate. 

On 7 June 1851 at the St. James Theatre, Charlotte went to see Elisa Felix in the play, Adrienne Lecouvreur of which she originated the role. Later, Sarah Bernhardt would also star in this play as Elisa Felix was her inspiration to become an actress. 

On 21 June 1851, Charlotte Bronte went back to the theatre to see Elisa Felix in Corneille’s Horace. Charlotte wrote the following words...

Mademoiselle Rachel’s Acting transfixed me with wonder, enchained me with interest and thrilled me with horror. The tremendous power with which she expresses the very worst passions in their strongest essence forms an exhibition as exciting as the bullfights of Spain and the gladiatorial combats of old Rome-and not one whit more moral than these poisoned stimulants to popular ferocity.  It is scarcely human nature that she shews you; it is something wilder and worse; the feelings and fury of a fiend. The great gift of Genius she undoubtedly has-but-I fear-she rather abuses than turns it to good account. (Charlotte Bronte letter to James Taylor, 15 November 1851).

Photograveuvre Of Rachel Felix

Paris Musees Collection 

The following description of the character, Vashti is taken from Chapter XXIII Of Charlotte Bronte’s novel, Villette

Ihad heard this woman termed 'plain,' and I expected bony harshness and grimness - something large, angular, sallow. What I saw was the shadow of a royal Vashti: a queen, fair as the day once, turned pale now like twilight, and wasted like wax in flame.

For a while - a long while - I thought it was only a woman, though an unique woman, who moved in might and grace before this multitude. By-and-by I recognised my mistake. Behold! I found upon her something neither of woman nor of man: in each of her eyes sat a devil. These evil forces bore her through the tragedy, kept up her feeble strength - for she was but a frail creature; and as the action rose and the stir deepened, how wildly they shook her with their passions of the pit! They wrote HELL on her straight, haughty brow. They tuned her voice to the note of torment. They writhed her regal face to a demoniac mask. Hate, and Murder, and Madness incarnate she stood.

Here are Charlotte Bronte’s thoughts on Jane Austen’s novel Emma:

I have read one of Miss Austen’s works “Emma”-read it with interest and with just the degree of admiration which Miss Austen herself would have thought sensible and suitable-anything like warmth or enthusiasm; anything energetic,poignant, heartfelt, is utterly out of place in commending these works: all such demonstration the authoress would have met with a well-bred sneer, would have calmly scorned as extravagant. She does her business of delineating the surface of the lives of genteel English people curiously well. She ruffles her reader by nothing vehement, disturbs him by nothing profound: the Passions are perfectly unknown to her; she rejects even a speaking acquaintance with that stormy Sisterhood; even to the Feelings she vouchsafes no more than an occasional graceful but distant recognition; too frequent converse with them would ruffle the smooth elegance of her progress.
Her business is not half so much with the human heart as with the human eyes, mouth, hands, and feet. What sees keenly, speaks aptly, moves flexibly, it suits her to study; but what throbs fast and full, though hidden, what the blood rushes through, what is the unseen seat of life and the sentient target of death—this Miss Austen ignores. She no more, with her mind’s eye, beholds the heart of her race than each man, with bodily vision, sees the heart in his heaving breast. Jane Austen was a complete and most sensible lady, but a very incomplete and rather insensible (not senseless) woman.

To the Influenza by JM Barrie

To the Influenza by JM Barrie
Written or Published Around October 4, 1892.

The time has come for you to leave this house. Seventeen days ago you foisted yourself upon me, and since then we have been together night and day. You were unwelcome and uninvited, and you made yourself intensely disagreeable. We wrestled, you and I, but you attacked me unawares in the back, and you threw me. Then, like the ungenerous foe that you are, you struck me while I was down. However, your designs have failed. I struggle to my feet and order you to withdraw. Nay, withdraw is too polite a word. Your cab is at the door; get out. But, stop, a word with you before you go.

Most of your hosts, I fancy, run you out of their houses without first saying what they think of you. Their one desire is to be rid of you. Perhaps they are afraid to denounce you to your face. I want, however, to tell you that I have been looking forward to this moment ever since you put me to bed. I said little while I was there, but I thought a good deal, and most of my thoughts were of you. You fancied yourself invisible, but I saw you glaring at me, and I clenched my fists beneath the blankets. I could paint your portrait. You are very tall and stout, with a black beard, and a cruel, unsteady eye, and you have a way of crackling your fingers while you exult in your power. I used to lie watching you as you lolled in my cane-chair. At first it was empty, but I felt that you were in it, and gradually you took shape. I could hear your fingers crackling, and the chair creak as you moved in it. If I sat up in fear, you disappeared, but as soon as I lay back, there you were again. I know now that in a sense you were a creature of my imagination. I have discovered something more. I know why you seemed tall and stout and bearded, and why I heard your fingers crackling.

Fever—one of your dastard weapons—was no doubt what set me drawing portraits, but why did I see you a big man with a black beard? Because long ago, when the world was young, I had a schoolmaster of that appearance. He crackled his fingers too. I had forgotten him utterly. He had gone from me with the love of climbing for crows’ nests—which I once thought would never die—but during some of these seventeen days of thirty-six hours each I suppose I have been a boy again. Yet I had many schoolmasters, all sure at first that they could make something of me, all doleful when they found that I had conscientious scruples against learning. Why do I merge you into him of the crackling fingers? I know. It is because in mediæval times I hated him as I hate you. No others have I loathed with any intensity, but he alone of my masters refused to be reconciled to my favorite method of study, which consisted, I remember (without shame) in glancing at my tasks, as I hopped and skipped to school. Sometimes I hopped and skipped, but did not arrive at school in time to take solid part in lessons, and this grieved the soul of him who wanted to be my instructor. So we differed, as Gladstonian and Conservative on the result of the Parnell Commission, and my teacher, being in office, troubled me not a little. I confess I hated him, and while I sat glumly in his room, whence the better boys had retired, much solace I found in wondering how I would slay him, supposing I had a loaded pistol, a sword, and a hatchet, and he had only one life. I schemed to be a dark, morose pirate of fourteen, so that I might capture him, even at his black-board, and make him walk the plank. I was Judge Lynch, and he was the man at the end of the rope. I charged upon him on horseback, and cut him down. I challenged him to single combat, and then I was Ivanhoe. I even found pleasure in conceiving myself shouting “Crackle-fingers” after him, and then bolting round a corner. You must see now why I pictured you heavy, and dark, and bearded. You are the schoolmaster of my later years. I lay in bed and gloried in the thought that presently I would be up, and fall upon you like a body of cavalry.

What did you think of my doctor? You need not answer, for I know that you disliked him. You and I were foes, and I was getting the worst of it when he walked in and separated the combatants. His entrance was pleasant to me. He showed a contempt for you that perhaps he did not feel, and he used to take your chair. There were days when I wondered at his audacity in doing that, but I liked it, too, and by and by I may tell him why I often asked him to sit there. He was your doctor as well as mine, and every time he said that I was a little better, I knew he meant that you were a little weaker. You knew it, too, for I saw you scowling after he had gone. My doctor is also my friend, and so, when I am well, I say things against him behind his back. Then I see his weaknesses and smile comfortably at them with his other friends—whom I also discuss with him. But while you had me down he was another man. He became, as it were, a foot taller, and I felt that he alone of men had anything to say that was worth listening to. Other friends came to look curiously at me and talk of politics, or Stanley, or on other frivolous topics, but he spoke of my case, which was the great affair. I was not, in my own mind, a patient for whom he was merely doing his best; I was entirely in his hands. I was a business, and it rested with him whether I was to be wound up or carried on as usual. I daresay I tried to be pleasant to him—which is not my way—took his prescriptions as if I rather enjoyed them, and held his thermometer in my mouth as though it were a new kind of pipe. This was diplomacy. I have no real pleasure in being fed with a spoon, nor do I intend in the future to smoke thermometers. But I knew that I must pander to my doctor’s weakness if he was to take my side against you. Now that I am able to snap my fingers at you I am looking forward to sneering once more at him. Just at this moment, however, I would prefer to lay a sword flat upon his shoulders, and say gratefully, “Arise, Sir James.” He has altered the faces of the various visitors who whispered to each other in my presence, and nodded at me and said aloud that I would soon be right again, and then said something else on the other side of the door. He has opened my windows and set the sparrows a-chirping again, and he has turned on the sunshine. Lastly, he has enabled me to call your cab. I am done. Get out.

The Unforgetting by Rose Black: A Book Review

Her fate was decided. Her death foretold. Her past about to be unforgotten.

When Lily Bell is sold by her father to a ‘Professor of Ghosts’ to settle a bad debt, she dreams of finding fame on the London stage. But Erasmus Salt wants Lily not as an actress, but his very own ghost – the heart of his elaborate illusion for those desperate for a glimpse of the spirit world…

Obsessed with perfection, Erasmus goes to extreme lengths to ensure his illusion is realistic. When Lily comes across her own obituary in the paper, and then her headstone in the cemetery, she realises she is trapped, her own parents think she is dead, and that her fate is soon to become even darker…

Publisher: Orion
Published: January 9th, 2020
Format: Hardcover
Victorian Gothic

Erasmus Salt is a deeply troubled man. When you meet his father you’ll understand his fascination with young girls. He calls himself a ‘Professor of Ghosts.’ You will have to find out for yourself about his deep interest in ghosts and the spirit world and how it is connected to family.  The final chapters leaving the door open for a continuation perhaps with Faye, Clara Valentina, and Maria Hedges. I need more Maria Hedges.

Poor Lily Bell won in a bet to Erasmus Salt. She quickly becomes an actress playing a ghost appearing on stage. Be careful what you wish for girl! For in The Unforgetting nothing is as it seems. 

I can’t go into real details because I don’t want to give anything else away. 

Nothing about this novel is predictable. I enjoyed some twists in the storyline and for once I was not beaten over the head with the love story between Lily and fellow actor Tom Ames. 

The Unforgetting is a very enjoyable novel. I felt the Salt family could’ve been further explored but other than that I loved the wonderful descriptions of dark London streets and the theatre scenes of men waiting off stage to snuff out the lights as the play began and ended.

Thank you to Orion Publishers for my review copy.

Review: The Rossettis in Wonderland by Dinah Roe

The Rossettis in Wonderland by Dinah Roe

The exiled Italian poet Gabriele Rossetti arrived in London in 1824 with a few letters of introduction, little money and less English. But within one generation, he would bequeath his new city with a remarkable cultural legacy through the accomplishments of his children.

This is the family biography of Matriarch, Gabriele Rossetti, his wife, Frances Rossetti (Polidori), their four children:
Dante Gabriel Rossetti,Maria Rossetti, Christina Rossetti, and Willliam Michael Rossetti. 

Paperback, 412 pages

Published November 2011 by Haus Publishing

ISBN 1907822011 

ISBN13: 97819078

The P.R.B

by Christina Georgina Rossetti

The P.R.B. is in its decadence:—

for Woolner in Australia cooks his chops;

And Hunt is yearning for the land of Cheops;

D. G. Rossetti shuns the vulgar optic;

While William M. Rossetti merely lops

His B.s in English disesteemed as Coptic;

Calm Stephens in the twilight smokes his pipe

But long the dawning of his public day;

And he at last, the champion, great Millais

Attaining academic opulence

Winds up his signature with A.R.A.:—

So rivers merge in the perpetual sea,

So luscious fruit must fall when over ripe,

And so the consummated P.R.B.

The Rossettis in Wonderland is such an accomplishment in its nature that I will try my best not to gush. I term this book as a 'family biography' because what Dinah Roe has done is absolutely exquisite.  She has written biographies for all six members of the Rossetti family from father and mother to all four children.

Husband and Father:  Gabriele Rossetti

Wife and Mother:  Frances Rossetti (Polidori)

Son:  Dante Gabriel Rossetti - Painter and Poet

Daughter:  Christina Rossetti - Poet seated below her mother, Frances.

Daughter:  Maria Frances Rossetti - Dedicated her life to Christ.

Son:  William Michael Rossetti - Critic and keeper of the Pre-Raphaelite flame.  

Can you imagine the dedication and the research that writing this Victorian family history would take? I am in awe of what she has done. Dinah Roe dedicates the beginning chapters of the book on Gabriele and Frances Polidori. I was very pleasantly surprised to discover that the matriarch of the family was part of the Polidori family. A direct genetic link to Lord Byron, Percy Shelley, Frankenstein and Dracula fame which is now stuff of legends. There is talent and genius on both sides of the Rossetti family along with some medical and genetic diseases as in any family.  

The title of this family biography is a play on words referring to family friend, Lewis Carroll, but also a family 'wonderland' reference as well. I will leave it to you, the reader, to discover all the wonders of this beautiful family saga for yourself. I wouldn't want to spoil anything for you. 

What I really enjoyed was how cleverly and with painstaking passion Dinah Roe included a few siblings per chapter. She did not just focus on one sibling per chapter. It can be read chronologically however the focus on the creativity, financial status, and artistic friendships of son, Dante Gabriel Rossetti seemed to be the focal point for reasons that become clear as you read.  The life of painter and poet, DGR, is here in full spotlight spectrum; all the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, love life, illness, sibling rivalry is here.  It is all fascinating to read. 

You will discover, for those interested, the sibling relationships between brothers:  William and 'Gabriel'/DGR. You will learn how even though William was artistic, he always felt in the shadow of older brother, Dante Gabriel Rossetti.  So, William focused on the written word and thank goodness for us. Whether you agree with his critiques of his family is not the point. If it were not for William's painstaking documentation of family letters, drawings, etc., we would not have any reference to such talented artists like Christina Rossetti and the paintings and poetry of her brother Dante Gabriel Rossetti who reflected his lovers and Pre-Raphaelte subject matter in his paintings and poems.  

When it comes to Christina Rossetti I learned that she had neuralgia as a young girl which may or may not contributed to her short temper and bursts of anger. She developed Graves Disease later in life which photographs will show the change of her facial appearance. She was very close to her brother, Dante Gabriel Rossetti who thought her to be the best poet of the family.  He seemed to understand her moods and helped her get published within the artistic family community before finding publication later in her life. 

William and Maria seem to share similar natures both being shy and quieter than their outspoken siblings.  I didn't get the feeling that Maria felt in Christina's shadow; they were close but the artistic focus was with brother Rossetti where as Maria was more like her mother enjoying religious fervor.  Again, Dinah Roe dedicates chapters focused on Maria Frances Rossetti which brings her to light as a woman. She is the lesser known sibling having published works of her own. She was not physically attractive and never found a man to marry.  She had crushes but no proposals came her way. She turned down financial and career help from her brothers later in life, opting to marry Christ and live out her days serving him.  

It was such fun to read chapter eight which focused on the decorating of Red House which I didn't know that Dante Gabriel Rossetti and his then wife, Lizzie Siddal, helped paint and decorate the house as well as friends Edward Burne-Jones and his wife, Georgie.  There was a wonderful mention of William Morris and how the arts and crafts movement began with Morrises' creation of Morris, Marshall, Faulkner, + Co., which would become Morris and Co. in 1875, which the PRB nicknamed, 'The Firm', (page 214).

It seems that Oscar Wilde was a fan of Dante Gabriel Rossetti. He tried to become friends with him late in Rossetti's life when he was near to death and quite ill. Wilde created a comic opera entitled, Patience' or Bunthorne's Bride where a character called Bunthorne - 'pretentious fleshy poet' was supposedly modeled after Rossetti. Needless to say, Dante Gabriel Rossetti hated Wilde and his poetry.

Lastly, during the chapters covering the illness and death of Dante Gabriel Rossetti, I was happily surprised to see the author acknowledge parallels between son Rossetti's decline and his father's  death i.e. paranoia, psychosomatic blindness and deep depression (page 314, 15). 

If you are a fan of Christina Rossetti and never heard of her brother Dante Gabriel Rossetti doesn't matter. I urge anyone curious about the Rossettis to please read this wonderfully fun and intriguing Victorian family history. 

The Rossetti family by Lewis Carroll, albumen print, 7 October 1863

L-R:  seated left on stairs Christina Rossetti, next to her Dante Gabriel Rossetti, seated mother, Frances Rossetti, brother William Michael Rossetti and sister Maria Frances Rossetti. Absent is father Gabriele away in Italy.

The black marks on the albumen print is rain splashing down on the camera lens as written by Lewis Carroll in his diary entry.

Upcoming Book Reviews: Pre-Raphaelite, Victorian Gothic & Sixteenth Century French History!

The Rossettis in Wonderland: A Victorian Family History By Dinah Roe

The exiled Italian poet Gabriele Rossetti arrived in London in 1824 with a few letters of introduction, little money and less English. But within one generation, he would bequeath his new city with a remark- able cultural legacy through the accomplishments of his children. There was the poet and Pre-Raphaelite painter Dante Gabriel, the poet and religious thinker Christina, the nun and Dante Alighieri scholar Maria, and William, who combined a life of English letters with a successful career in finance. The lives and achievements of the Rossettis are placed within the wider context of the artistic, literary and spiritual communities that inspired them and that they shaped in their turn. They worked with each other and in collaboration with the most famous figures of their day - the Barrett-Brownings, Tennyson, Swinburne and Ruskin - as well as within significant groups like the Pre-Raphaelites, Anglo-Catholics, Freemasons and suffragists.

Paperback, 412 pages

Published November 2011 by Haus Publishing

ISBN

1907822011 (ISBN13: 9781907822018)

The Unforgetting by Rose Black

"This haunting Victorian novel weaves a spellbinding web of deluded dreams and dark deceptions" Essie Fox

Her fate was decided. Her death was foretold. Her past is about to be unforgotten...

1851. When Lily Bell is sold by her father to a 'Professor of Ghosts' to settle a bad debt, she dreams of finding fame on the London stage. But Erasmus Salt wants Lilly not as an actress, but as his very own ghost - the heart of his elaborate illusion for those desperate for a glimpse of the spirit world . . .

Obsessed with perfection, Erasmus goes to extreme lengths to ensure his illusion is realistic. When Lily comes across her own obituary in the paper, and then her headstones in the cemetery, she realises that she is trapped, her own parents think she is dead, and that her fate is soon to become even darker . . .

Hardcover, 368 pages

Published January 9th 2020 by Orion

Original Title

The Unforgetting

ISBN

1409190617 (ISBN13: 9781409190615)

The City of Tears By Kate Mosse (Book 2 in trilogy)

Following on from the Sunday Times number one bestseller, The Burning Chambers, Kate Mosse's The City of Tears is the second thrilling historical epic in The Burning Chambers series, for fans of Ken Follett and Dan Brown.

August 1572: Minou Joubert and her family are in Paris for a Royal Wedding, an alliance between the Catholic Crown and the Huguenot King of Navarre intended to bring peace to France after a decade of religious wars. So too is their oldest enemy, Vidal, still in pursuit of a relic that will change the course of history. But within days of the marriage, thousands will lie dead in the streets and Minou’s beloved family will be scattered to the four winds . . .

A gripping, breathtaking novel of revenge, persecution and loss, the action sweeps from Paris and Chartres to the city of tears itself, Amsterdam. 

Hardcover, 608 pages

Expected publication: May 28th 2020 by Mantle

A Review of The Burning Chambers By Kate Mosse

Power and Prejudice: France, 1562. War sparks between the Catholics and Huguenots, dividing neighbors, friends, and family—meanwhile, nineteen-year-old Minou Joubert receives an anonymous letter at her father’s bookshop. Sealed with a distinctive family crest, it contains just five words: She knows that you live.

Love and Betrayal: Before Minou can decipher the mysterious message, she meets a young Huguenot convert, Piet Reydon. Piet has a dangerous task of his own, and he will need Minou’s help if he is to stay alive. Soon, they find themselves on opposing sides, as forces beyond their control threaten to tear them apart.

Honor and Treachery: As the religious divide deepens, Minou and Piet find themselves trapped in Toulouse, facing new dangers as tensions ignite across the city—and a feud that will burn across generations begins to blaze. . .

Minotaur Books

St. Martin's Publishing Group

On Sale: 06/18/2019

ISBN: 9781250202161

592 Pages

The flagstones were cold under her stockinged feet and she could see her breath, white, in the chill air. She slipped into her leather boots, took her hood and green woolen cloak from the stand, put the keys and the book into the purse tied around her waist. Then, holding her gloves in her hand, she slid back the heavy metal bolt and stepped out into the silent street. A spirit girl abroad on a chill February dawn.

I must say a huge thank you to Minotaur Books for my review copy. My huge apologies for taking so long to review another incredible historical saga from the incomparable author, Kate Mosse. I’ve been in awe of her research and writing since Labyrinth way back when. She is a continued inspiration for my passion in research and writing.

The prologue takes place in South Africa during winter 1862. A mysterious unnamed woman stands at a gravestone she can barely look at. This is the day of my death...

The Burning Chambers covers the year 1562 broken down into three parts and three seasons: Winter, Spring and Summer. This year will never be the same for booksellers daughter, Minou Joubert. A letter, an inheritance, a lost relic, a family bible will lead young Minou to find the love of her life and change her life forever as her family secrets come out against the backdrop of The Wars of Religion. All the elements are here in true Dumas fashion: Catherine de Medici, poison, dead husbands, villainous women and treacherous men! 

Nobody brings history to life with more intelligence, heart, violence, blood, rage and love like Kate Mosse.

I cannot wait for the second book in the series, The City Of Tears.

For more information about Kate Mosse, visit. Minotaur Books

Christina Rossetti's Parents: Gabriele Rossetti (1783-1854) and Frances Rossetti nee Polidori (1800-1886)

I've been reading up on the patriarch of The Rossetti Family:  Gabriele Rossetti (1783-1854) out of curiosity. I've just started reading, Dinah Roe's family tome, The Rossettis in Wonderland, and my curiosity has been running wild! 

So, I am including a few fun tidbits from father of Poet, Christina Rossetti and painter and poet, Dante Gabriel Rossetti.  First a bit of background:

Gabriele Rossetti was born in Vesto, in Abruzzi, Italy, on the Adriatic coast of Naples. He was custodian in the Museo Barbonico of Naples. He was also a poet as well. He was part of a movement supporting the constitution to Ferdinand I of Naples in 1820. He fled to London after the king revoked the constitution and persecuted the abettors. 

Having settled in London, he married Frances Polidori in 1824 and became Professor of Italian in Kings College. He also published two works on Dante. Later in life, one of his sons, William Michael Rossetti, published his memoirs and letters. 

One Stanza from poem

 Life In Italy by Gabriele Rossetti,

My children, grow, grow up to patriot love

In you the blood and name of me is stored

To England from Abruzzo transmigrate.

Free you were born, and I was born a serf.

O Providence! Mine exiled seemed to me

To dive injustice of a Fate my foe;

But, if mine exiles was to prove

A family like this, I bless the ban.

Yes, for they deadly rage which hurled me forth,

Perfidious Bourbon King, I give thee thanks.

Frances Mary Lavinia Rossetti (nee Polidori)

Drawing by her son, Dante Gabriel Rossetti

1877

(Rossetti Archive)

Frances Polidori was the daughter of Gaetano Polidori. She was English on her mother's side and Italian, from Tuscany, on her father's side. The Polidori's were a prominent family with ties to some who would become some of the greatest Romantic poets of our day. She married Gabriele Rossetti and had four children all academics and poets in their own right: 

Maria Rossetti, Christina Rossetti, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, William Michael Rossetti.

Two samples from letters written by husband, Gabriele Rossetti to his wife, Frances Rossetti:

38 Charlotte Street, London

29th May 1832

My Dearly Loved Frances,

Every word you wrote pierced like a dagger into my heart. My sweetest Gabriel, there is so ill! My baby Christina suffers with her teeth and has wounded her forehead! Oh my poor children! If the distance were less great, I would come immediately to see my four treasures, and you, my beloved wife, who must be immeasurably afflicted, as I am myself. Good-bye, dearly loved, Frances, I am going to bed for it is 1 o'clock. I bless one by one the infant pledges of our love, and invoke on them health and prosperity. Kiss them for me, speak about me to them, and along with theirs-preserve your precious health, which is my greatest treasure. 

Your most affectionate husband,

Gabriele Rossetti

Gabriele Rossetti drawn by son,

Dante Gabriel Rossetti

1848

(Rossetti Archive)

50 Charlotte Street, London

21 October 1836

My Dearest Frances,

Oh that I had two arms as long as from here to Holmer Green! You would find your neck clasped of a sudden by the warmest marital embrace, and you would then be softly seized hold of and deposited in Charlotte Street, saving you the trouble of the journey by road: Yours should be aerial...The true one treasure of my life is my dear Frances, and to restore her to me renewed in health is to restore my existence. Good-bye to the better portion of myself. Three days hence you, by God's help, will be here with me and I will prove to you how much you are loved by 

Your Husband,

Gabriele

In closing, while reading through my source material; the opening pages consisted of a copied handwritten letter from Dante Gabriel Rossetti, painter and poet, to his mother, Frances Rossetti, a month before his wedding. He talks about his girlfriend, Elizabeth Siddal 'Lizzie'  which he spells (Lizzy not Lizzie), her ill health, and his concerns. The typed version is below the handwritten letter.  

Mrs. Rossetti, photographer unknown.

This miniature is in fact a photograph (probably an albumen print) painted over in gouache. The over-painting has been attributed to Elizabeth Siddall's husband, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, the English poet and founding member of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, formed in London in 1848. The lavish frame in gold, opal, sapphires and diamonds (made in London) was added in 1906 by J. Pierpont Morgan, a previous owner, and it was cataloged by G.C. Williamson in the same year as "Mrs. Rossetti." The story attached to the photograph is that, after Siddall's death in February 1862, Rossetti gave it to a nurse who had attended at the birth of Siddall's still-born child, and that it passed to the nurse's daughter, who in difficult financial times sold it to a clergyman (see G.C. Williamson, "Catalogue of the Collection of Miniatures, the Property of J. Pierpont Morgan," vol. 2, London: Chiswick Press, 1906, p. 116). This story is also told by Williamson with some variations in "Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan's Pictures, the English Miniatures, V.," Connoisseur, 8:70, June 1907, pp. 71-76, p. 75; "Stories of an Expert," 1935, pp. 36-39; and "The Cases of an Art Expert, II, The Rossetti Miniature," Country Life, 80, 11 July 1936, p. 35-6.). The costume is correct for ca. 1860 and the portrait shows strong resemblances to Siddall as depicted in several studies and paintings by Rossetti. The pose recalls the posthumously completed painting "Beata Beatrix" (ca.1864-70), Tate Britain, London, N01279. --  Archived at The Walters Art Museum, Baltimore, MD.

 Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Frances Rossetti (DGRs mother)

SOURCE for letters from Gabriele to Frances Rossetti and poem

Gabriele Rossetti: A Verified Autobiography by Gabriele Rossetti, Translated by William Michael Rossetti, London, 1901

SOURCE for letter from Dante Gabriel Rossetti to his mother, Frances Rossetti

US Edition: Handwritten version:  Dante Gabriel Rossetti: Family Letters by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Volume II, Boston, Roberts Brothers, 1895.

UK Edition: Typed version:  (same book as above), Volume II, London, Ellis + Elvey, 1895.