The Artist's Corner

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 109, 29 July 1927, Page 12

The Artist's Corner

I ~ ! NERLI, PAINTER OF FAMOUS PORTRAIT OF j R.L.S. MADE AUCKLAND SAVAGES A GIFT I J

ITALIAN NOBLEMAN-PAINTER A UCKLAND Savages recall with x pride that Girolamo Nerli, painter of the famous Vailima portrait of Robert Louis Stevenson, was once a member of their club. Nerli’s interest in the Auckland Savage club is represented by a gift to his brethren of a vigor-ously-painted Savage. The picture, still hanging on the walls of Scots Hall, is a cherished club possession. Nerli was presumably under the influence of his visit to the South Seas, for the figure represented, though brandishing a mere, is more Samoan than Maori. Nevertheless, it is an interesting piece of work; even if there are bettter Nerlis in other parts of the Dominion. It certainly will always recall the club’s association with a painter who was really rather a remarkable character. All lovers of R.L.S. will recall the lines: Did ever mortal man hear tell Of so singular a ferlie As the coming to Apia here of The painter, Mr. Nerlif In verse the novelist told how the Italian “painted late and early.” He even said how, perforce, he had “yawned in the beard of Mr. Nerli’” On Nerli’s return to New Zealand the Stevenson portrait remained for a considerable time in the McGregor Wright Gallery at Wellington, waiting for a purchaser. The price was 40 guineas. The merit of the -portrait, and its historical association, was eventually recognised by Mrs. Turnbull, a Scotch visitor, who paid the required sum for it. On her return to Edinburgh she generously placed it on loan. A SECOND PORTRAIT Something of a sensation was caused in art circles in Sydney last year by the discovery of a second Nerli portrait of Stevenson. The owner was Lady Anderson Stuart. It was sent to

“R.L.5.," painted at Apia by “that ferlie, Mr. Nerli,” one of the writer’s most famed portraits. Vandals at Mt. Vaea the other day removed the copper plate from Stevenson’s grave, and left it lying on the ground near the tomb. America, and in all probability has since been sold. The other portrait is now, according to Mr. William Moore, the well-known Sydney art writer, in the Stevenson Museum at Edinburgh. Girolamo Nerli, although he never paraded the fact, came of an old and distinguished Italian family. He was entitled to call himself Marchese, but never did it. He was also a nephew of the Sovereign Pontiff, and through his mother, an Englishwoman, was related to several well-known families. The painter was born at the Palazzo Nerli, Siena, and bis father was descended from the ancient Tuscan nobility. He died at Nervi, his home near Genoa, about two years ago. Nerli arrived in New Zealand, according to his friend Mr. J. Douglas Perritt, the Auckland painter, to-

, j ward the close of the last century. ’ He then wore the beard that Robert . Louis Stevenson commented upon, but it was discarded before he left New ; Zealand for Australia. The date of the Vailima portrait is September, 1892. The artist was in Dunedin in the early part of the present century, and was associated j with Mr. Li. W. Wilson and Mr. Perritt in teaching in that city. Nerli ! was also a master at the art school. A j memento of his stay in Dunedin is the j portrait of Miss Nixon in the gallery ! there. Nerli also lived in Wellington at ; one time, and was on friendly terms with the late James Nairn. It was while residing there in the McGregor Wright menage that he painted the four panels of the door of his bedroom. What has since become of the door heaven only knows. Possibly the next tenants were a little more orthodox in their tastes and painted out the work of the Italian. When Mr. Perritt came to live in Auckland about 28 years ago Nerli soon followed. It was iu this city, incidentally, that he met his wife, Miss Nellie Barron. Mr. J. E. Barron, his brot her- in-!a is Consul-General for Brazil in Sydney. During the war the artist, who was attached to the Italian Consulate-Gen-eral in London, took an active interest in the work of the Italian Red Cross. One of his most recent works was “Goldoni in Paris,” which was purchased by the Municipality of Genoa. WORK IN SYDNEY A fine example of Nerli’s earlier work, when his painting was much freer than that of the Sydney painters, of the ’eighties, is "Boheme,” a portrait of A. Dattilo-Rubbo. The little Italian, by the way, is still teaching in Sydney. Nerli’s portrait of Myra Kemble also attracted much attention when it was first exhibited. The strong colour sense of Girolamo Nerli is evident in practically all his work. It would be interesting to ascertain precisely what is still in New Zealand. One small landscape, I am told, may yet possibily come to the Auckland gallery. An Italian water-colour, “The Mount of Venus,” by this artist, will be offered, as a matter of fact, at a sale which Mr. Perritt has arranged to take place in Auckland on Agust 1. There is also a small charcoal sketch by Nerli in the catalogue. —ERIC RAMSDEN.

POETS’ CORNER. THE ROCK POOL. iWritten for The Sun. J All shallow-green and full of light I found a pool — I clapped my hands in my delight! I made a spell of yellow sand, Stood tippet-toe, And peeped into this fairyland With branches drifting high and lo\ % A forest grew, Moved by the water to and fro; And *neath its shade in countless hosts Strange creatures passed, All comical and gray like ghosts: Flat-footed crabs with daggers drawn , Anemones, And shell-fish stranded and forlorn, And O, the trinkets on the floor — Jewelled stones, Sea-beads, and shells , and many more! I think that when the moon is full A mermaiden. Who knows that she is beautiful, Sits there, and mermen follow soon To watch and woo Beneath the silence of the moon. MARNA SERVICE. Dunedin. PRELUDE. t Written for The Sun.] Through the waving forest, In the gloomy depths of The warm Caribbean, Motionless, half covered With ooze immovable Amid the pulsing plants Of the tropic sea, stands The Cathedral. Overwhelmed In all its glory; its Pointed arches, windows Gleaming like jewel chests. Sunk beneath the smooth waves Of the sapphire water. And now, from out the depths, The thin music from the Ghostly organ, from the Drowned chimes, threads through the tide To the peacock world above. J. E. H.-S. Christchurch. THE SONG OF THE DREAMPEDLAR. . . I Written for The Sun.] Fools who barter in the market Count their coins, one, two, one, two — By night, by day, I’m rich as they. My purse is filling, envy stilling. Sun’s a sovereign, moon’s a shilling. Fools who barter in the market See that every weight is true — By night, by day, I’m rich as they. I gather gold from oceans old. Stars I’ve bought for stars I’ve sold. Fools who barter in the market, Much their anguish, pleasures few! By night, by day, I’m rich as they. A silver moonbeam small may seem — I have sold it in a day-dream. MY ’ORSE. . . I Written for The Sun I My ’orse ’as eyes O’ gentle brown. No 'orse like mine Fro’ London town To far Pelsize. . . . ’E trusts me well. Old Tinker-Bell. . . And yet when I Do take ’im shoeing E’ll twist ’is neck To see what my ’And's dn'W 'PETER BROOKE.