Few men have been so richly endowed with great friendships as Theodore Watts-Dunton: Swinburne, the Rossettis, William Morris, Matthew Arnold, Tennyson, Borrow, Lowell, Latham, men of vastly dissimilar temperaments; yet he was on terms of intimacy with them all, and as they one by one passed away, to him was left the sad duty of giving to the world by far the most intimate picture of their various personalities. There was obviously some subtle quality in Watts-Dunton’s nature that not only attracted to him great minds in the world of art and letters; but which seemed to hold captive their affection for a lifetime. Even an instinctive recluse such as Borrow, a man almost too sensitive for friendship, found in Watts-Dunton one whose capacity for friendship was so great as to override all other considerations. Watts-Dunton was “the friend of friends” to Rossetti, who wished to make him his heir, and was dissuaded only when he saw that to do so would pain his friend, who regarded it as an act of injustice to Rossetti’s own family. During his lifetime Swinburne desired to make over to him his entire fortune. The man to whom these tributes were paid was undoubtedly possessed of some rare and strange gift.
The greatest among his many great friendships
was with Swinburne. For thirty years they lived together at “The Pines” in the closest unity and accord. They would take their walks together, discuss the hundred and one things in which they were both interested, living, not as great men sometimes live, a frigid existence of intellectual loneliness; but showing the keenest interest in the affairs of the everyday, as well as of the literary, world. When death at last severed the link that it had taken upwards of thirty years to forge, it is not strange that there should be no reminiscences written of the man who had been to Watts-Dunton more than a brother.
It was not always easy to get Watts-Dunton to talk of those he had known so intimately; but when he did so it was frankly and freely. Once when telling of some characteristic act of generosity on the part of that strangely composite being, half genius, half schoolboy, William Morris, he remarked, “Yes, Morris was a very dear friend of mine; but he had strange limitations. Swinburne had the utmost contempt for the narrowness of his outlook. It was incredible! Outside his own domain he was unintelligent in his narrowness, and frequently bored and irritated his friends.”
As artist, poet, and craftsman, however, Watts-Dunton spoke with enthusiasm of Morris;
but intellectually he regarded him as inferior to Mrs. Morris. On the day following the announcement of her death, the present writer happened to be taking tea at “The Pines,” and the conversation not unnaturally turned upon the Morrises. Watts-Dunton called attention to the large number of magnificent Rossetti portraits of her that hung from the walls of his study. “A remarkable woman,” he said, “a most remarkable woman; superior to Morris intellectually, she reached a greater mental height than he was capable of, yet few knew it.” Then he proceeded to tell how she had acquired French and Italian with the greatest ease and facility. When Morris had met her she possessed very few educational advantages; yet she very quickly made good her shortcomings. When reminded that Mr. H. Buxton Forman had recently written that he had seen beautiful women in all quarters of the globe, “but never one so strangely lovely and majestic as Mrs. Morris,” Watts-Dunton remarked, “She was the most lovely woman I have ever known, her beauty was incredible.”
In answer to a question he went on to say that Rossetti painted her lips with the utmost faithfulness. In spite of her beauty and her high mental qualities, she was very shy and retiring, almost fearful, in her attitude towards others.
In literature and criticism Watts-Dunton
stood for enthusiasm. His gospel as a critic was to seek for the good that is to be found in most things, literary or otherwise; and what is, perhaps, most remarkable in one who has known so many great men, he never seemed to draw invidious comparisons between the writers and artists of to-day and those of the great Victorian Era.