An Afternoon with Alma Tadema.

Waikato Times, Volume XXVI, Issue 2107, 9 January 1886, Page 4

An Afternoon with Alma Tadema.

Some people, like somn houses, impress you at once with an indi\ iditility winch is m itself a charm. We grow so accufe-touu-d to hearing our own ideas echoed by those at omul us, and seeing our own tiste (probably the prescribed com rational ta^te of the time) reflected in oui fnenda' houses, that whon.we encounter .1 person and a homo bearing unmistakable m.irksof originality and refined taste we arc doubly charmed. Of course one expects much of an artist so fairous as Mr Tailema ; and rumour naturally delights to him darkly of weiid effects and strange costumes in this artist's home, and, as in most eases, quite ovei shoots the mark The great charm to us of Mr fadema's home was its simplicity and refinement, thore being no straining after unnatural effects and modern (so called) ajtheticNm. Mr Tadcma is too great an artist and too unaffected and earuebt a man to care for accessories which have no meaning. As a consequence, his house is full of rich and beautiful things which have a • history. In responao to a most kind invitation, we presented ourselves at the well-known corner house on Regent's Park one foggy afternoon in the early fall. We had time, while waiting for the tiim little English maid, to take note of a curious brass knocker in the shape of a Greek comic rnatk ; but, in passing through the lower rooms to the studio, we rould give ![but a hurried glance at tho walla lined with paintings and the floois covered with matting and Indian raps. A mandolin tied with blue ribbnn lay on a tniall table, and in perspective we saw a conservatory opening into a garden, whose door tantalised us with a motto we had nc time to read. We followed the maid up a short flight of stairs through a suite of charmingly- coloured rooms to the studio, where Mr Tadema came forth to greet us. Such is the genial tunnine-s of the man that his pre-ence teemed to lend a distinot brightness to the dreary day. In the largi room which is URed as the studio, and where wo were at once seated, thero were many things to attract the eye. There were two paintings of Mr Tadtiraa's on an easel, the ceiling was very beautiful iind striking, and there were some charming bits of plaster in the room. Most confusing of oil, perhaps, wan a distant view through a transparent portion of another room beyond, where therewas dainty china on a email table, and ■where women in se«thetic costumes were moving noiselessly to and fro. " Shall we begin with tho pictures ?" saW Mr Tadema, smilincr. IC lam very sorry there aro no more to show.'' We turned to the ea&el, where tlmrc n ere two small Italian n cones full of the life and colour so distinctive of tho artist. The upper one represented a charming girl in Greek costume, bitting on a low marble seat and gazing intently out at eea. Nothing could exceed the softnessand brightness of this Italian scen^. The intense blueness of the sea was in marked contrast to the whiteness of the marble, and a tree lnden with pinkest blossoms offered another contrast of colour. 1 This other picture.' said Mr Tadema, 'I told my dear 11 lend Mr Ho wells, I should name after oue of his novels'Which novel?' wo asked with interest. 1 Well, I called it ' A Foregone Conclufion,'" said Mr Tademn. Tlte painting represented .1 flight of marble stepa leading down to tho sea, on the highest steps of which were two pretty girlish figures m unaffected attitudes of eager expectancy. A young man enveloped in a mantle, and thoughtfull gazing at a ring which he held in one hand, was coming up from below. "We regretted that the dramatis persona of ' A Foregone Conclusion " were not better held in our memory, that we might better make the application. There was but one other painting in the studio — another Italiin scene with a fine marble staircase, on which were richlydraped figures in the foieground, and an effective processional in perspective. ' A Scene from the Trmmph of Tiberius,' said Mr T.ulomii, ' not yet quite finished, and which m to be sent to America.' 1 Were these puinted in Italy ?' we asked. "No ; they are souvenirs of Italy, but were painted here in ray London studio. I cannot paint tho*e vivid impressions on the spot," continued Mr Tadema energetically , " there is too much light, the.re are too many confused images ; but later, in mv studio, it is all clear." "Isn't art, then, a close copying of nature ? " we asked with interest. " Yes and no," said Mr Tadema. "Of coiiMO, art is never false to nature ; but nature h painted as the artist feels her to bo. If he passes a field every day of his life, ho may probsbly see that field but once— when ho paints the field he feels it, and there is a great picture. That ■was Greek art," continued Mr Tudema fervently. "Greek art wisnot a machine that turned out so many pictures and statues a day." "We smiled, remembering our late volume of TrollopeV autobiography, where the machine-like methods of the woithy novcli-t were Bhown to be slightly at variauce with this artist's views. " I paint these southern scenes better," said Mr Tadema, "here in this dull climate in my London studio. The very contrast helps me, I long so for this light and all this brilliant colour." We gazed at the work, which had all the poetic charm of Mr Tadema's larger pieces. Clearly this artist was born to interpret the poetry of life, as others are born to reveal its prose. Our gaze wandered to the ceiling, curiously covered with allegorical designs. "Those designs are taken from the Baths of Titus," said Mr Tadema carelessly ; but I altered aud adapted them somewhat for this room." Directly over the window, on the ceiling, was a motto which we read: "As the sun colours flowers, so art colours life." " Given me by a Scotch friend," said Mr Tadema. We sat some moments looking at the paintings above and around us. " I would like to show you my other rooms," said our kind host ; &yd we followed him under a hanging lamp through a narrow passage into a room lighted by an extraordinary window. The central panes were oval, and of Mexican onyx, cut very thin. The smaller panes were of marble of different colours, and as the light Btreaked through them the effect was odd and chnrming. This window was Mr Tadema'a own idea, nnd, by having the stones cut very thin, it proved most effective. We glanced at the rich Turkish hangings, the inlaid tables and luxurious divans, as we passed iuto a smaller room. " I must show you my piano," said Mr Tadema, and it was well worth the look of affection he gave it. Of oak, inlaid, carved, and with curious designs in ivory and silver, it seemed so covered with symbols aud hieroglyphics that we despaired of getting a clue. "This was mule from the designs of Mr Fox," said Mr Tadema, pointing to the inscription on one side. "It was made after drawings by Mr Charles Fox." AH the curious designs had a meaning. Mr Tadema's monogram was combined in every conceivable way, but co cunningly you did not realise the Eastern-looking device on the brass rack was an "L. A. T." skilfully put together. Even the screws were made in the form of a "T." Three lovely and unique designs were on the long side of the piano, facing the room. Two small larks, in relief, had between them a bar of music, giviug, as Mr Tadema said, " tho note of the lark." Farther on were two owls with their rote, and lastly came the cuckoo with her note. At the end farthest from the keyboard was a beautiful relief in silver of Orpheus, done by a personal friend of Mr Tadema's and of great merit. "l usually ask distinguished mmicians Vrhon they play for me," said Mr Tadenia,

"to wiite tlieii names on tlio instiumcnt;" and he raised the heavy cover, where we saw the names of Hersthel, Kichter, Joichim, Mehlitf, anil a acoie of oth^is. " I did not like to trouVilc Rnbenstf in to write when he was heie," said Mr Tndeun, "to his name it. not there." We looked a moment from the piano at a gieat p'astt.r head of the Hermes fiom 01} inpn whit.li stood oil a p?de*tal near us Mi Tddema's eye* followed oms. "Ah, that Heimes!" ho said. "The grcntc&t tind of this century!" He touched it quickly on cheek and neck and brow. " See," he cried, " that ia not nature, and that's not nature, an<l that's not nature; but the whole tojethpr is natme." A3 we looked at the Hermes, a v ision came to us of this art:st in his London home, seiited on a dhan near this magnificent (iieek head, listening to Joachim's divine attains. The picture was so alluring that we started when a voice said, " Will you not now take a cup of tea with Mrs Tadema ? ' and we weie ushered into the room of the dainty china and graceful women. Thcfhe o'clock tea in this charming home was a fitting end to our afternoon. Before leaving, one oi Mr Tadema's daughters took us downstairs to show us "almost the only one of papa's paintings which belongs to us." It was the " Death of the First- born," and oue of Mr Tadema's carliei paintings. It was full of suggestivfness, and had a sombre richness oi coloiu ing. We looked long at the impassive Egyptian faces, and then stumbled dreamily into a London fog.— Frances Stiilman, in the Christian Register.