CHAPTER VII
MORRIS AND KELMSCOTT
At the age of thirty-six, in the full prime of vigour and in the rising light of fame which had not yet drawn after it its inevitable shadows of imitation and detraction, Morris occupied a position in some ways as enviable as could have been devised for him by his own imaginings. Watts's great portrait[1] is the memorial which represents him at this stage of his life most fully if not most intimately. From it looks out the "powerful and beautiful face" which impressed itself unforgettably even on those who saw it but once. The massive head with its thickly clustering dark curls; the vague inexpressive eyes; the sensitive mouth, a little overweighted by the broad frank brows, are recorded in it with the felicity of genius. One sees in it the dreamer of dreams, as he described himself in a much quoted phrase, who is at the same time the man of action, overflowing with practical energy, and as eager as he had been in the days of his earliest enthusiasm, not only "to do and say and see so many things," but to carry out "things I have thought of for the bettering of the world as far as lies in me."
Of Morris as a poet and as an artist, the truest record is to be found in his actual work. In both cases alike he gave his best to the world quite simply
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- ↑ See: the portrait of 1870 on Wikimedia Commons (Wikisource-Ed.)
