s broken off through distance; though I saw him
occasionally almost to the time of his lamented death, and we had some
correspondence. My recollection of him is that of greatness, as might be
expected of one of the few who have been "illustrious in two arts," and
who stands by himself and has earned an independent name in both. His
work was great: the man was greater. His conversation had a wonderful
ease, precision, and felicity of expression. He produced thoughts
perfectly enunciated with a deliberate happiness that was indescribable,
though it was always simple conversation, never haranguing or
declamation. He was a natural leader because he was a natural teacher.
When he chose to be interested in anything that was brought before him,
no pains were too great for him to take. His advice was always given
warmly and freely, and when he spoke of the works of others it was
always in the most generous spirit of praise. It was in fact impossible
to have been more free from captiousness, jealousy, envy, or any other
form of pettiness than this truly noble man. The great painter who first
took me to him said, "We shall see the greatest man in Europe." I have
it on the same authority that Rossetti's aptitude for art was considered
amongst painters to be no less extraordinary than his imagination. For
example, that he could take hold of the extremity of the brush, and be
as certain of his touch as if it had been held in the usual way; that he
never painted a picture without doing something in colour that had
never been done before; and, in particular, that he had a command of the
features of the human face such as no other painter ever possessed. I
also remember some observations by the same assuredly competent judge,
to the effect that Rossetti might be set against the great painters
of the fifteenth century, as equal to them, though unlike them: the
difference being that while they represented the characters, whom
they painted, in their ordinary and unmoved mood, he represented his
characters under emotion, and yet gave them wholly. It may be added,
perhaps, that he had a lofty standard of beauty of his own invention,
and that he both elevated and subjected all to beauty. Such a man was
not likely to be ignorant of the great root of power in art, and I
once saw him very indignant on hearing that he had been accused of
irreligion, or rather of not being a Christian. He asked with great
earnestness, "Do not my works testify to my