There was the perpetual gleam of a glad smile on his mouth and in his
eyes. His eyes were either a light gray or a violet blue, according to
his mood. His hair was brown and waved loosely (I take it very hard
when people ask me if it was at all red!), and his complexion was as
clear and luminous as his mother's, who was the most beautiful woman
some people have ever seen. He was tall, and with as little
superfluous flesh and as much sturdy vigor as a young athlete; for his
mode of life was always athletic, simple, and abstemious. He leaned
his head a little to one side, often, in a position indicating alert
rest, such as we find in many Greek statues,--so different from the
straight, dogged pose of a Roman emperor. He was very apt to make an
assent with an upward movement of the head, a comfortable h'm-m, and a
half-smile. Sympathetic he was, indeed, and warm with the fire that
never goes out in great natures. He had much dignity; so much that
persons in his own country sometimes thought him shy and reticent to
the verge of morbidness. But it was merely the gentlemanliness of the
man, who was jocund with no one but his intimate friends, and never
fierce except with rascals, as I observed on one or two occasions.
Those who thought him too silent were bores whom he desired not to
attract. Those who thought him unphilosophical (and some philosophers
thought that) were not artists, and could not analyze his work. Those
who knew him for a man and a friend were manly and salubrious of soul
themselves.
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