In Bohemia with Du Maurier | Page 4

possess some work of Van-der-something's, I sincerely congratulate
them, for the little man was a genius in his way.
Of my friend the German I have only to say that, poor fellow, he spent

but a short life of pleasure and of pain. What became of his Circe I
never sought to know. It was a clear case of "Ne cherchez pas la
femme!"
The first friend I made on my arrival in Antwerp was Jean Heyermans
(detto il Pegghi), and a very useful one he proved himself, for he at
once took me in hand, helped me to find home and hearth, and
generally gave me the correct tip, so valuable to the stranger. He lost no
time in teaching me some of those full-flavoured Flemish idioms which
from the first enabled me to emphasise my meaning when I wished to
express it in unmistakable language.
He himself was a remarkable linguist, speaking English, French, and
German fluently, in addition to his native language, Dutch; so he soon
chummed with du Maurier and me in several languages, and became
one of our set. He was always ready to follow us in our digressions
from the conventional course, and we felt that many of our best
international jokes would have been lost had it not been for his
comprehension and appreciation. His father, too, was a kind friend to
us, inviting us to his house to hear Music and talk Art, to ply knives
and forks, and to empty glasses of various dimensions. That
gentleman's corpulence had reached a degree which clearly showed that
he must have "lost sight of his knees" some years back, but he was
none the less strong and active. There were two daughters, one
pathetically blind, the other sympathetically musical.
How our friend came by the name of Peggy none of us know, but he
figures as such in many of du Maurier's drawings.
"If Peggy," he says, in a letter from Malines, "doesn't come on Sunday,
may the vengeance of the gods overtake him! Tell him so. I'll meet him
at the train." And then he sketches the meeting and greeting of the two,
and the railway guard starting his train with the old-fashioned
horn-signal on the G.E.C. then in use.
My friend Jean soon started on his career as a regular exhibitor in
Belgium and Holland, besides which he developed a remarkable taste
and talent for teaching.
[Illustration: PEGGY AND DU MAURIER AT THE RAILWAY
STATION IN MALINES.]
"What would you advise about Pen's studies?" said Robert Browning
one afternoon as we sat in my little studio, talking about his son's

talents and prospects. (This was a few years after my final return to
England.) "Send him to Antwerp," I said, "to Heyermans; he is the best
man I know of to start him."
Pen went, and soon made surprising progress, painting a picture after
little more than a twelve-month that at once found an eager purchaser.
The poet took great pride in his son's success, and lost no opportunity
of speaking in the most grateful and appreciative terms of the teacher.
Millais and Tadema endorsed his praise, and Heyermans' reputation
was established. A few years ago he migrated to London, where he
continues his work, pluckily upholding the traditions of the Past, whilst
readily encouraging the wholesome aspirations of a rising generation.
Another man destined to find a permanent home in England was Alma
Tadema. He was not much in the Painting Class in my time, but had
previously been hard at work there. I mostly saw him in the room
adjoining it, and he always seemed to me exclusively interested in the
study of costume and history. The incident that led to his leaving the
academy rather abruptly is characteristic. An uncle of his having given
him a commission for a picture, Tadema applied to de Keyser for
authorisation to make the necessary break in his studies. The Director
accorded him three weeks, but, as Tadema put it when lately recalling
the circumstance, "I couldn't paint a picture in three weeks then, and I
cannot now."
I little thought that from his studies of costume and history, the
comrade of my Antwerp days would evolve a long and uninterrupted
series of masterpieces, resuscitating the Past and presenting it with the
erudition of the Student and the genius of the Artist. Nor did anything
foreshadow that my genial Dutch friend, to whom the English language
was a dead letter, was destined in a not too distant Future to become a
shining light of England's Royal Academy.
Du Maurier was soon installed in the Painting Class, and made a
vigorous start. Of the things he painted, I particularly recollect a
life-size, three-quarter group of an old woman and a boy--a pen-and-ink
drawing of which is