athy and affection. It was Watts who discovered this
home for them in a quiet corner of London, that has not yet lost all its
charm. Behind Holland House and adjoining its park was a smaller
property with a rambling old-fashioned house, built in the days when
London was still far away. At Little Holland House the Prinseps lived
for a quarter of a century. Here the sisters came and went freely with
their children who were growing up around them. Here were gatherings of
their friends, among whom Tennyson, Thackeray, Rossetti, and Burne-Jones
might be met from time to time; and here Watts remained a constant
inmate, giving regular hours to his work, enjoying their society in his
leisure, a special favourite with the children, who admitted him to
their confidence and called him by pet names. There was no lionizing, no
striving after brilliance; all work that was genuine and of high
intention received due honour, and Watts could hope here to carry to
fruition the noble visions which he had seen since the days of his
youth.

These visions had little to do with the exhibitions of Burlington House,
the winning of titles, or the acquisition of worldly wealth. Watts
cherished the old Greek conception of willing service to the community.
And he was alive to the special needs of an age when men were struggling
for gain, and when 'progress' was measured by material riches. To him,
if to few others, it seemed tragic that, in the wonderful development of
industrial Britain, art, which had spoken so eloquently to citizens of
Periclean Athens and to Florence in the Medicean age, should remain
without expression or sign of life. For a moment our Government had
seemed to hear the call, and the stimulus of the Westminster
competitions had been of value; but the interest died away all too
quickly, and the attention of the general public was never fully roused.
If the latter could be won, Watts was only too willing to give the time
and the knowledge which he had acquired. The building of the great
railway stations in London seemed to offer a chance, and Watts
approached the directors of the North Western Company with a humble
petition. All that he asked for was wall space and the payment of his
expenses in material. Had his request been granted, Euston might have
enjoyed pre-eminence among railway stations, and passengers for the
north might have passed through, or waited in, a National Gallery of
their own. But the Railway Director's mind i