though now and then she must be credited | cottage and the nursery artistic substiwith changes which, accepted as advances tutes for poor German prints; famous in the path of progress, have unfortunate- draughtsmen have adorned the fairy tales ly proved to be steps backward. The and fables of youthful literature with charreign of stucco in English, more particu-acteristic forms of beauty: the painter has larly in London, architecture-a tyranny left his garret among the London chimof ugliness only just now being dethroned ney-pots; and once more English archi-marks a period which might well be tects and builders are erecting English designated as that of the "mud-pie" order houses in which all that was useful and of architecture. The name of Nash will picturesque in the "Old Kensington" and go down to posterity as the interpreter of "Queen Anne" styles is restored and a spirit of vulgar economy and sham, adapted to our greater knowledge and betwhich found London a city of brick, and ter sanitary skill, and more or less idealleft it a city of stucco. ized through the impulse of the reaction that has set in against whitewashing church-wardens and the other Goths and Vandals of the interregnum now happily at an end.

It is fitting that in this paper, which can snatch glimpses of but a few representative features of its wide subject, he should have foremost mention who is not only enthroned by his peers as the official head of English art, but is in some respects the highest example of modern culture, and shows in his life-work that universality which some regard as better and greater than nationalism of aim and purpose. Sir Frederick Leighton's house and studio are notable not only in themselves, but as the centre of an art colony which has been somewhere strikingly described as a red group of artists' houses, like sol

It is in the discovery of errors that England is apt to be tardy; but mistakes or abuses once exposed, we have now and then a habit of vigor which surprises ourselves almost as much as our foreign critics. In nothing have we been more energetic of late years than in the hearty recognition of the errors of our ways in regard to architecture and decoration, or rather in our admission that since stucco came in there has been an interregnum of taste. The art preachers and teachers having fairly demonstrated the fact that we were groaning under a despotism of ugliness, we began to set about dethroning the tyrant, and though as late as a dozen years ago he still clung to possession inside and outside our houses, he is to-day tottering to his fall. Tributes to the new power are set up all over the land, and it is prop-diers or clansmen loyally closing round er that London, which accepted the stucco king, should be most active in its allegiance to the restoration of brick and stone, and most earnest in promoting the new alliance of beauty and utility. It does not come within the compass of this article to tell the story of the revival of artistic taste, but rather to illustrate its very notable existence. One might date its prominent beginning to the Exhibition year of 1851, since which time South Kensington has passed on the torch of knowledge from town to town. Art schools have sprung up all over the land; Lambeth has competed with Worcester, and both with the great potteries of the Continent; Durham and Kidderminster have vied with the carpet looms of Brussels, and the hand-weavers of Persia and Turkey; Birmingham and Sheffield have sought to perpetuate classic models in their metal wares; Manchester, Bradford, and Belfast have consulted the best schools of design and color for their textile fabrics; the illustrated newspapers have given the

VOL. LXVII.-No. 402.-52

It pre

their chief. There is no mistaking the
character of Sir Frederick Leighton's
house as you approach it by a side street
running out of Melbury Road.
sents itself to your understanding at once
as the private residence and studio of an
artist. I suspect the master would not
consider it infra dig. if you should credit
him with having seen the advantages of
the site long before many of his friends,
and found his reward thereby in an easy
purchase of land. He built his house ir-
respective of some very humble surround-
ings, and it is curious to-day to note at
his very gate the cottage of a "builder
and stone-mason," who still hangs out his
sign, in spite of the shadow that falls
upon it from over the way, where archi-
tect and constructor, as well as designer
and draughtsman, and poet and orator,
might learn many valuable lessons.
red brick house, with windows deep set
and various, with loop-holes here and
there, indications of inner stairways, and
suggestions of colonnades, and with a

A

domed octagon and bays wrought in terra cotta-there is an indescribable air of individuality about the house that marks it as the dwelling of a travelled man who has brought home to his own country many artistic memories.

fine portrait of the master, Leighton's study of the characteristic profile of Captain Burton, a landscape by Signor Costa, a figure subject by Legros, a woman and child by Armstrong (a Manchester man, and for some time a pupil of Ary Scheffer in Paris), and pencil sketches by Wilkie and John Leech. Even these few details between the porch and the entrance to the studio give a broad understanding of the artist's

The President makes it a point to be "at home" on Sunday afternoons, and he has friends who do not go more religiously to morning service at their churches than to his informal and cordial reception afterward. Pausing at the head of the staircase to have poured into my ear some grateful reminiscences of a young Academy Associate touching the kindnesses he had received at the hands of the master of the house, I pause here also to mention this generous characteristic of the famous painter: whatever the pressure upon his time, he always finds opportunities to give a word of counsel and a friendly hand to struggling workers who show signs of promise or surety of future power. And," says my friend-who is himself high up on the ladder of fame"when he begins to drop you, when he no longer looks in, or when he is too busy to give you the old attention, then you may be sure you are getting on, or that he can be of no further use to you, and that he is helping some one else who has more need of his sympathy and advice."

At Sir Frederick Leighton's house the taste of the master reveals itself as you cross the threshold. The entrance hall, or lobby, is decorated in subdued color, a chocolate tone prevailing. A fine draw-many-sidedness. ing of the "Fontana delle Tartarughe" hangs on one side, and some monochromes on the other. The former is the work of Sir Frederick's old Roman master Steinle. Near the door are several reminiscences of the figure studies of Jean Goujon, the sculptor, whose name comes down to us with the double interest of his work and his death. He was one of the victims of the Saint Bartholomew massacre. It is to be noted that in this lobby, which gives upon the central hall, the pictures are examples of black and white, the pavement is mosaic, the doors dead black, decorated with incised scroll-work. The effect is in useful contrast to the inner hall, where one is met by an effect of color in a setting of tiles that eclipses the peacock in azure sheen. Before, however, the eye is fully gratified with this variety of blue lustre, one has to pause and notice that the floor is a dark polished piece of Italian mosaic-work, in the centre of which stands an enormous antique brass pot, from which springs a tall palm. The lowest angle of the staircase is fronted with an inlaid Persian cabinet, upon which is perched a peacock singularly rich in plumage. There is a seat here enriched with olive-amber cushions, and as you look upward, while ascending the staircase to the studio, you find that with all the shimmer of color that made itself manifest at first, the tout ensemble impresses you as exquisitely harmonious and pleasant. The hues of the peacock strike a high key, but it is delightfully maintained without incongruity.

There are artists who seem to think that the painter's home is not the place for pictures. The President of the Royal Academy does not think so. One of the staircase walls is given over to a copy of Michael Angelo's cartoon of "Adam." There are many smaller works-several Venetian, bright with color, a head by Tintoretto, and an unfinished painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds. Approaching the studio door the visitor is arrested by Watts's

There are two studios in Sir Frederick Leighton's house. It is in his studio proper, his great art workshop, that the master especially reveals himself. The first impression of the place is exactly what one might expect.

Your mind travels back in imagination to the studio of one of the princely artists of Italy, to be brought back, however, to these modern days by a touch of nineteenth-century color or some latterday device of comfort. You are surrounded by sufficient in the way of luxury to suggest the home of a Rubens, a Titian, or a Rembrandt, but I suspect there is an air of elegant refinement and usefulness in this studio of to-day which was absent in perhaps the more regal aspect of the grand studios of those old masters who entertained kings. An artist might live here as well as work, might play the æsthetic hermit and never leave the room except for exercise, so pleasant, so adapted is it to

deference, but none the less satisfied that | labors of a blind worship of old masters,