Holland House stands upon rising ground, a little to the north of the high-road which leads from Kensington to Hammersmith.[1] It is interesting to all passers-by, as affording a correct idea of the baronial mansions peculiar to the age of James I.; and, from its vicinity to the metropolis, its examination is easy to thousands who rarely obtain opportunities of viewing the “old houses,” with which are associated the records and pictures of English hospitality as it existed in the olden time. Although modern dwellings of all shapes and sizes have grown up about it, the house retains so much of its primitive character—its green meadows, sloping lanes, and umbrageous woods, in which still sings the nightingale; with gables and chimneys bearing tokens of a date two centuries back—that few traverse the highway without a word of comment, and a sensation of pleasure, that neither time nor caprice have yet operated to remove it from its place, or even to impair its imposing and impressive features. It is almost alone in its “old grandeur,” in a vicinity at one period crowded with ancient houses; the baronial halls have, with this exception, that of Campden House,[2] adjacent, and Kensington Palace, a comparatively recent structure, been removed, to make way for “detached villas” and streets of narrow dwellings; and there are many sad surmises that, ere long, the park, and gardens, and venerable mansion, will be also displaced, to supply building-ground for speculators in brick and mortar. This will be a grievous outrage on taste, and a sore mortification to the antiquary, and be another terrible inroad on the picturesque in a district which, within living memory, was as primitive in character as if London had been distant a hundred miles.

The approach to Holland House is by an avenue of venerable elms; the entrance-gates are examples of wrought iron, remarkably elegant in design and fine in execution. Within the demesne, small although it be, all sense is lost of proximity to a great city: the close foliage completely shuts out the view of surrounding houses, and the birds are singing among the branches, as if enjoying the freedom of the forest. Yet Holland House is now enclosed on all sides—north, south, east, and west—by brick houses of all sorts and sizes, upon which it seems to look down, from its elevated position, with supreme contempt for the convenient “whimsies” of modern architects.

Before we conduct the reader about the grounds and into the mansion, it will be well to give some history of the several personages through whose hands they have passed. As we have shewn in a note, the manor, during the reign of Elizabeth, became the property of Sir Walter Cope, a knight who became high in favour with her successor, James I., and who obtained, partly by grant and partly by purchase, considerable possessions in and around Kensington. By him the house, subsequently called “Holland House,” was built. His daughter, Isabella, having married Sir Henry Rich, the second son of Robert Rich, first Earl of Warwick, this Sir Robert inherited the estates in right of his wife; in 1622 he was created Baron Kensington; and in the 22d James I. was elevated to the dignity of Earl of Holland, and installed a Knight of the Garter. Having taken part with the king during the civil wars, he was tried by the Parliament, condemned to death, and beheaded on the 9th of March, 1649.[3] His lady was, however, permitted to return to Holland House, where she brought up her family, and where she was succeeded by her son, Robert, the second earl, who, in 1673, became also Earl of Warwick, by the death of Charles, the fourth earl. He was succeeded by his son, the third earl, who married Charlotte, only daughter of Sir Thomas Middleton of Chirk Castle, Denbighshire, who survived, and subsequently took for her second husband, in 1716, the renowned Joseph Addison; “but,” writes Dr. Johnson, “Holland House, although a large house, could not contain Mr. Addison, the Countess of Warwick, and one guest—Peace:” they lived on ill terms, which probably hastened the death of Addison; an event which took place in the mansion on the 17th of June, 1719.[4] Edward Henry, the fourth Earl of Holland, dying unmarried, his cousin, Edward, succeeded as fifth earl; but he dying without issue, in 1759, his honours and titles became extinct; but the family estates were inherited by William Edwardes, Esq., son of the sister of Edward, the third earl, created Baron Kensington of the kingdom of Ireland in 1776. Holland House came into the possession of the family to whom it now belongs (the family of Fox), first about the year 1762, when the Right Hon. Henry Fox, Secretary of State (soon afterwards created Lord Holland), became a tenant of the mansion, which he subsequently purchased, together with the manor, from Mr. Edwardes. Here the first Lord Holland resided until his death in 1774, and was succeeded by his son, Stephen, the second peer,[5] who died the year following, and was succeeded by his son, Richard Vassal; during whose long minority the house was let to the Earl of Roseberry and Mr. Bearcroft. On his death in 1840, he was succeeded by the present peer, Henry Edward Fox, the fourth Lord Holland.

During the lifetime of the late peer, Holland House obtained a certain degree of fame as the occasional rendezvous of the wits of the age; and the fÊtes at which they were assembled furnished brilliant themes for the exercise of poetical talent; but the records of genius there fostered and encouraged are singularly few. The historian, the poet, the artist, and the man of science, became guests in the mansion when they had acquired fame, but those who were achieving greatness, and stood in need of “patronage,” were not permitted to share its enjoyments and advantages.

The grounds and gardens of Holland House have been skilfully and tastefully laid out; the trees are remarkably fine, and give a character of delicious solitude to the place, keeping away all thought of the vast city, the distant hum of which is at all times audible; and, although “prospects fresh and fair” are in a great degree shut out, imagination may easily follow the steps of Addison into this calm retreat, and quote the lines of Tickell on the poet’s death, as applicable to the present day as they were to a century back:—

The prospect, however, notwithstanding the multiplicity of houses by which the grounds are surrounded, is not all destroyed; vistas are here and there formed between the trees, which command extensive views; and garden-seats still exist, to wile the visitor into “shady places,” where the hill of Harrow and other striking objects are seen in the distance, while the surrounding shadow enhances the value of the bright scene beyond:—

But judgment, tastefully exercised, has made many openings among those thick woods; and those who wander among them enjoy the feelings of entire solitude—a feeling augmented if the time be evening; for, as we have intimated, although scarcely two miles distant from the heart of London, here the nightingale

The beautiful gates which open upon the avenue that leads to the principal entrance to the mansion are pictured in the appended woodcut; they were brought from Belgium by the late Lord Holland, and placed in their present position about twelve years ago; they are of wrought iron, and are considerably impaired by time. Recently they have been repainted, and picked out with gold; and they now make a gay appearance; they are, however, of a much later date than the venerable structure, with which they would be out of “keeping,” but that they are separated from it by considerable space—a long avenue of ancient and finely grown elm-trees, which shadow the broad path that conducts to the house. The immediate entrance is between two piers of Portland stone, designed by Inigo Jones, and “executed by Nicholas Stone in 1629, for which he was paid 100l.;” they have no peculiar merit, but serve the purpose of supporting “the arms of Rich quartering Bouldry, and impaling Cope.” The pleasure-grounds are behind the house, “falling abruptly to the north-east:” they were laid out by Mr. Hamilton in 1769. Scattered in various parts are memorials to some of the personal friends of the late Lord Holland: among others, the author of “The Pleasures of Memory” is honoured by this poor couplet:—

Some lines, scarcely better, have been appended by Henry Luttrell, Esq.; but the genius of the place has essayed a flight no higher than that which might grace a school-girl’s album. Nature has done more for the domain than art; from various points, fine views are obtained of the country that surrounds London; and although, of late years, they have been sadly narrowed by “endless piles of brick,” when Tickell wrote his lines on the death of Addison, no doubt they were “Fresh and Fair.”

Considerable alterations internally were made to the building by Inigo Jones. The entrance-hall, the two staircases, and the parlour leading out of the principal staircase, are the only parts of the mansion on the ground-floor that still retain their original character. On the first floor, beside the Gilt Room, is a noble long gallery, now the library, and the late Lady Holland’s drawing-room or boudoir. All these rooms preserve their ancient decorations, and are in the purest taste and the most costly style of execution.

“The Gilt Room,” which forms the subject of the appended print, is approached from the entrance-hall by a richly ornamented oak staircase. From the style of the details it would appear that it was the work of John Thorpe, and that the painted decorations were the produce of Francis (or Francesco) Cleyn, a favourite artist of the time, who was employed largely by the kings James I. and Charles I., from whom he derived an annuity of 100l., settled on him during his natural life, and which he enjoyed till the Civil War. The ceiling of the room was originally painted by him in the same style as the other portions of the apartment; being out of repair during the minority of his late lordship, it was removed, and a plain one put up in its stead. In the view here given, Mr. Richardson has supplied it from such fragments and sketches as were obtainable several years ago.

Notwithstanding the loss of its painted ceiling, the room presents an appearance of elaborate magnificence, and of unique singularity—carrying us back at once to that luxurious period, the early part of the reign of Charles I. The paintings, the figures over the fireplaces, deserve great praise, although we cannot entirely coincide with Horace Walpole, who declares (in his life of Cleyn) that they are not unworthy of Parmigiano. The paintings—such as remain over the fireplaces and soffites of the arches—certainly are masterly, though the architect might discover a little of the “contract style” about them. Cleyn was employed by Charles I., whose good taste led him to patronise only the most eminent men in art. The painter was denominated “Il famosissimo pittore Francesco Cleyn, miracolo del secolo, e molto stimato del Re Carlo della Gran Britania.”[6]

This cut represents some of Cleyn’s painting in the soffite of one of the arches in the gilt-room; it is roughly painted—although in a free and masterly style—in umber, on a white ground; the drapery, dress, and hair of the figures, are gilt.

The decorative panelling of the Gilt Room is continued round the four sides, and in the large recess in the centre (immediately above the entrance-porch); the interior of each panel has a small raised fillet, about an eighth of an inch in thickness, forming an ornamental border: this is gilt. In the centre of the panels are painted alternately cross-crosslets and fleur-de-lis, charges in the arms of Cope and Rich; they are surmounted by an earl’s coronet, with palm or oak branches, in gold, shaded with bistre. The figures over the fireplaces have the flesh painted, the rest is gold shaded; the lower columns of the fireplaces are painted black, the upper being of Sienna marble: both have gilt ornaments at the lower part of the shaft, and their caps and bases gilt: for the rest, all the prominent mouldings, the flutes, caps, and bases of the pilasters are gilt; the cima recta of the great entablature has a painted leaf enrichment, with acorns between, the latter of which are gilt. The groundwork of the whole is white. The busts in the room were placed there by his late lordship: over the fireplaces are those of King William the Fourth, and George the Fourth when Prince Regent. Arranged on pedestals round the room are busts of the late Lord Holland, Francis Duke of Bedford, Henry first Lord Holland, the late Duke of Sussex, John Hookham Frere, the Duke of Cumberland (of Culloden), Napoleon, Henry the Fourth of France, the Right Hon. Charles James Fox, by Nollekens, a duplicate made for the Empress Catharine of Russia. In the bow-recess are models of Henry Earl of Pembroke, and Thomas Winnington, Esq. The painted shields in the corner of the room bear the arms of Rich of Warwick, and Cope and Rich. Of the ancient furniture of the

Gilt Room two chairs alone remain; these are mentioned by Horace Walpole as being the work of Francesco Cleyn: they are painted white, and partly gilt. A large bench, formed by three of these chairs placed together, with one arm only at each end, was discovered by the artist some years ago, in a lumber-place over the stable, where, probably, it still remains. The Gilt Room, during the lifetime of his late lordship, was used as the state dining-room: the state drawing-room, lined with silk, and hung with paintings, led out of it by the door on the right—seen in the print. Parallel to these rooms, at the back of the

building, is another line of drawing-rooms, modernised, but which contain a valuable collection of paintings. Among them is a celebrated one by Hogarth—the amateur performance, by children of the nobility, of “The Beggar’s Opera.” This painting is very large: the whole of the figures are portraits. Another painting by Hogarth is in the collection, which has never been engraved. It is a view of the entrance to Ranelagh Gardens, Chelsea. The collection contains a few very fine Sir Joshua’s. Among them is his portrait of Joseph Baretti, well known from the engraving. There are likewise a few first-rate pictures of the old masters. The library contains a series of portraits of political and literary friends of his late lordship; and, in the boudoir, are the series of the late J. Stothard’s most exquisite compositions to illustrate Moore’s poems. These drawings are very highly finished, and are twice the size of the engravings which were made from them.

In “Lady Holland’s Boudoir,” among other curiosities, are two candlesticks formerly belonging to Mary Queen of Scots; they are of brass, each of eleven and a half inches in height. They are of French manufacture; the sunk parts are filled up with an inlay of blue, green, and white enamel, very similar to that done at Limoge. These candlesticks are extremely elegant; one of them is represented in the above woodcut.

The accompanying woodcut represents the fireplace in “the ancient parlour;” leaving the principal staircase in the ground floor; the door on the left leads into this room. It is supposed to have been painted in a similar style to the great chamber above-stairs. The fireplace in this room is of the most excellent design and capital execution. A portion of the framing of the room is shewn by the side of the fireplace: this is likewise very elegant. One of the ancient windows of this apartment is blocked up, and an ornamental arch placed in front of it by Inigo Jones. It was in this room that plays were performed by the direction of the first Lady Holland, when the theatres in London were shut up by the Puritans: it is commonly called “The Theatre Room.”[7]

The other rooms will require but a brief notice. “The Journal Room” is so named because a complete set of the journals of the Houses of Lords and Commons are there preserved: it contains several portraits, among which are three or four by Sir Joshua Reynolds. This is on the ground-floor. Underneath the hall is the ancient kitchen, not long ago fitted up as a servants’ hall. In the north-east wing is a large apartment, formerly the chapel of the mansion: it has been disused for half a century, having been converted into a bath-room.

The Libraries are spacious and “well stocked;” the principal, which forms the west wing of the house, is styled the Long Gallery; it is, in length, one hundred and two feet, and, in breadth, seventeen feet four inches. According to Mr. Faulkner (“History of Kensington”), whose account was written under the superintendence of the late Lord Holland, in the year 1746, this fine apartment was entirely out of repair, and even “unfloored:” it was, however, at that period completely restored, and converted from its ancient use, as the gallery for exercise, into a receptacle for books, of which it contains a rare selection. The first Lord Holland had fitted it up for pictures; blocking up many of the windows, and opening in lieu of them a large bow-window on the west side. The “West Library” and the “East Library”—two rooms of moderate extent—contain also several valuable folios—curious treasures of antiquity. Mr. Faulkner enumerates some of the more remarkable of the contents of the eastern library, which cannot fail to interest the reader:—

The Long Gallery is ornamented with portraits of the Lenox, Digby, and Fox families; Dryden and Addison; Sir C. H. Williams; Admiral Lestock; Sir Robert Walpole; the Right Honourable Thomas Winnington; Cardinal Fleury, by Rigaud; and Van Lintz, by himself. Scattered throughout the apartments are King Charles II. and the Duchess of Portsmouth; Sir Stephen Fox, by Sir Peter Lely; Henry, Lord Holland; Stephen, Lord Holland, by Zoffany; the late Right Honourable C. J. Fox, when an infant;—when a boy, in a group with Lady Susan Strangeways and Lady Mary Lenox (by Sir Joshua Reynolds); and a fine picture of him in more advanced life by the same artist. There are two busts, also, of him, by Nollekens, one of which was taken not long before his death; and a statue, seated in the entrance-hall.

We may not take leave of this fine old mansion without expressing a fervent hope that the interesting work of two centuries may endure for many centuries to come; that modern improvements—although they may place the suburb of which it is the crowning gem in the centre of the Metropolis—will not displace it to make room for petty structures of a day, but that the tale of the Olden Time may be there told to our descendants as it has been there told to our ancestors.