International studio (20.1903)

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His energetic, far-seeing and vigorous development
of a method he has consistently believed in and
laboured for is worthy of the success he has already
achieved, and of the golden opinions of all virtuosi
and of those who love to see their favourite books
so nobly clothed in garments of permanent and
changeless beauty—truly a joy for ever !
Here is given unlimited opportunity for the
artist, while his work remains unassailable from the
point of view of the binder as a craftsman.
H. GRANVILLE FELL.
R. G. F. WATTS' PORTRAITS
AT HOLLAND HOUSE. BY
MRS. STEUART ERSKINE.
THOSE who are well acquainted with Mr. Watts'
exhibited work — with the large collection in the
Tate Gallery, the incomparable portraits in the
National Portrait Gallery, the pictures in the
annexe to his studio in Melbury Road—have very

little idea of the important works which are to be
found in Holland House and which we are able,
by the courtesy of Lord Ilchester, to reproduce
with this article.
Mr. Watts' connection with Holland House and
its owners is of very long standing, dating from the
year 1843, when he went to Florence with an intro-
duction to the third Lord Holland, at that time
Minister at the Court of the Grand Duke of Tus-
cany. Lord Holland, who had a real devotion to
art and literature and an inherited talent for
gathering around him all that was gifted and in-
teresting, invited the young painter to spend a few
days at Casa Ferroni, then the British Legation.
The invitation was accepted, and from four or live
days it was extended to something like four years,
and, indeed, went on for some time indefinitely, for
Mr. Watts, after the above-mentioned visit, always
had a room kept for him at Holland House, and
he accompanied the Hollands to Paris in 1836.
Holland House is a name to conjure with. It
is not only the actual charm of the
old red-brick and stone house, with
its terraces and formal garden, its
cedars bordering green lawns where
water-lilies lie in silent pools and
where the sound of running water is in
the air—an island of verdure, as it
were, set in the great sea of London—
but the charm of association is there
too. London and the twentieth cen-
tury disappear behind the great iron
gates designed by Inigo Jones which
stand at the entrance to the avenue
leading up to the house. Up this
avenue the wit and talent and beauty
of succeeding generations have passed,
in coaches and sedan chairs, on foot
and on horseback, and the echo of
ghostly footfalls is almost audible.
Inside the house there is the same
wealth of association. Room after
room hung with ancient damask,
adorned with pictures and china, and
valuable books and antique furniture
are there, and it is in this setting
of ancient and mellow beauty that we
go to see the works of a modern
master. It is surely a tribute to Mr.
Watts' greatness that his work holds
its own so completely, for here, rarely
enough, the present sits enthroned on
the past and we can pass from one
century to another without breaking