Word: rossettis
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...dismissed the writings of Henry James as "honest scribble work and no more." After characterizing the early works of William Butler Yeats as "sheer nonsense," Macmillan's really went overboard and insisted that his works had no more enduring value than "Maeterlinck's . . . Ibsen's . . . or Rossetti...
...King's Highway; Christina Rossetti's somber In the Bleak Mid-Winter; a Negro spiritual, Were You There When They Crucified My Lord...
Painter & Poet. For Rossetti, Pre-Raphaelitism was a neomedieval dream of romantic love and beauty. His rich, sensuous canvases became as famous as the poems he wrote to go with them. Rossetti had married the beautiful Elizabeth who for years had served as model for the dreamy, giraffe-necked ladies he painted. When his wife died Rossetti buried his book of unpublished verses in her coffin. Years later he had to exhume his wife's coffin to recover them. Laboriously deciphering the words on the worm-eaten pages, he presented the poems to a public pre-thrilled by their...
...Rossetti, who had once urged Pre-Raphaelites to "abjure bohemianism," was the most bohemian of the group. He collected "kangaroos, a wallaby, a chameleon, some salamanders, wombats, an armadillo, a marmot, a woodchuck, a deer, a jackass, a raccoon. . . ." He bought a Brahmin bull because its eyes reminded him of one of his lady friends. Even his Pre-Raphaelite brothers were gradually estranged by Rossetti's eccentricities. When the novelist George Meredith made an annoying remark, Rossetti simply threw a cup of tea in his face. But some hero-worshipers remained faithful. "Why is he not some great exiled...
Greatest satirist of the Pre-Raphaelites is artist and author Sir Max Beerbohm. His Rossetti and His Circle gently caricatured the Brotherhood's esthetic antics, helped keep their memories green. Sir Max, one of the keenest wits and sveltest exquisites of the 1890s, came into the late Victorian world when Oscar Wilde was just a lily-loving boy and Dante Gabriel Rossetti a doddering gaffer. Now something of a gaffer himself, Sir Max celebrated his 70th birthday last fortnight with London's Maximilian Society, a club formed and named in his honor...