DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.69400#0081
OUR ILLUSTRATIONS
57
Paradise (see frontispiece^ the sense of atmo-
sphere and space is not absent. The tale is here
told with direct simplicity, a young mother ador-
ing her firstborn as mothers have done since
time began. The dress, the furniture, the sur-
roundings are classic, the sentiment is of all times
and all ages.
A Reading from Homer (see illustration, p. 16)
reproduces some of Tadema’s favourite devices,
—a marble semicircular bench, a distant glimpse
of tranquil sapphire seas, lustrous garments,
and flower-wreathed characters. With eager en-
thusiasm the reader seated on his chair recites
from a roll of papyrus that rests upon his
knees. Of his four auditors only the woman,
daffodil-wreathed, sits upon the marble exedra.
One hand rests upon a tambourine, beside which
is flung a bunch of flowers. The other holds
that of a youth who sits upon the ground beside
her. His other hand touches a lyre idly, but
without sound, his entire interest is centred
upon the reciter, whose words he follows with
the eyes of his soul and of his intellect. Yet
another youth lies prone upon the marble floor,
his chin resting upon his hand. He, too, gazes
in entranced wonder as he listens to the im-
57
Paradise (see frontispiece^ the sense of atmo-
sphere and space is not absent. The tale is here
told with direct simplicity, a young mother ador-
ing her firstborn as mothers have done since
time began. The dress, the furniture, the sur-
roundings are classic, the sentiment is of all times
and all ages.
A Reading from Homer (see illustration, p. 16)
reproduces some of Tadema’s favourite devices,
—a marble semicircular bench, a distant glimpse
of tranquil sapphire seas, lustrous garments,
and flower-wreathed characters. With eager en-
thusiasm the reader seated on his chair recites
from a roll of papyrus that rests upon his
knees. Of his four auditors only the woman,
daffodil-wreathed, sits upon the marble exedra.
One hand rests upon a tambourine, beside which
is flung a bunch of flowers. The other holds
that of a youth who sits upon the ground beside
her. His other hand touches a lyre idly, but
without sound, his entire interest is centred
upon the reciter, whose words he follows with
the eyes of his soul and of his intellect. Yet
another youth lies prone upon the marble floor,
his chin resting upon his hand. He, too, gazes
in entranced wonder as he listens to the im-