n his sitters. His nervous temperament made him
anxious at starting, while his high standard of excellence made him
often dissatisfied with what he had accomplished. Even when he was
painting Tennyson, a personal friend, he was miserable at the thought of
the responsibility which he had undertaken; and in 1879 he gave up a
commission to paint Gladstone, feeling that he was not realizing his
aim. So far as mere money was concerned, he would have preferred to
leave this branch of his profession, the most lucrative of all, perhaps
the most suited to his gifts, severely on one side, and to confine
himself to the allegorical subjects which he felt to be independent of
external claims.

In the years after 1850, when he was first living at Little Holland
House, Watts formed some of the friendships with brother artists which
added so much pleasure to his life. Foremost among these friends was
Frederic Leighton, the most famous President whom the Royal Academy has
known since the days of Reynolds, a man of many accomplishments,
linguist, orator, and organizer, as well as sculptor and painter, the
very variety of whose gifts have perhaps prevented him from obtaining
proper recognition for the things which he did really well. The worldly
success which he won brought him under the fire of criticism as no other
artist of the time; but, apart from his merits as a draughtsman and a
sculptor he was a man of singularly generous temper, a staunch friend
and a champion of good causes. These qualities, and his sincere
admiration for all noble work, endeared him to Watts; and, at one time,
Leighton paid daily visits to his studio to exchange views and to see
his friend's work in progress.

For a while Rossetti frequented the circle, but this wayward spirit
drifted into other paths, and the chief service which he did to Watts
was to introduce to him Edward Burne-Jones, most refined of artists and
most lovable of men. The latter's work commanded Watts's highest
admiration, and his friendship was valued to the end. To many lovers of
painting these two remain the embodiment of all that is purest and
loftiest in Victorian art; and though their treatment of classic
subjects and of allegory were so different their pictures were often
hung side by side in exhibitions and their names were coupled together
in the current talk of the time. Burne-Jones was markedly Celtic in his
love of beautiful pattern, in the ghostly refinement of his figures, in