For this excessive scrupulousness, this difficulty to be satisfied with his own work Alma Tadema has often been criticised by critics. Quite unjustly so, surely. Without this quality half of his power would be absent. It is due to this great attention to detail, this ceaseless searching after ever greater perfection, that Alma Tadema has made for himself a style of his own. Thus, for example, when he perceived that his colouring was too sombre, he reformed it by dint of diligence and care. He has never deceived himself regarding his own limitations--for who has not limitations, even among the greatest?--nor has he ever juggled with his æsthetic conscience. An emancipation from the conventional codes that is almost Japanese is another feature of his work. Alma Tadema does not hesitate to show us some of his personages as standing half outside the canvas, or cut through mid-body, or strangely placed in corners, or at the edge of the composition. Neither does he deem it needful that the principal action, as laid down by academic canons, should be placed in the very centre of the picture. It is this that gives the unusual note to many of his compositions, that was unusual in the days when they were still unknown, for since those days his work has been subjected to that imitation which the old proverb tells us is the sincerest form of flattery. [Illustration: AN AUDIENCE AT AGRIPPA's.] Sterner and more stately than _Spring_, indeed grand in its conception and execution, is _An Audience at Agrippa's_, in which a whole historic epoch is crystallized and rendered concrete. Here fidelity to archæological truth has but enhanced the importance of the scene and helped to throw it into prominence; nor are the details unduly emphasized to the detriment of the whole. In some respects this is one of Tadema's best conceived and most satisfactorily executed pictures. From an atrium on a high level, down a broad flight of steps, majestically descends Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa, the greatest and mightiest burgher of his day. He is clad in imperial red, and stands out marvellously against the white marble of the stairs. His face is set with a look of stern determination that speaks of unbending will. He is followed by a crowd of persons, some of whom are still bowing, though Agrippa has passed by. Upon the landing at the bottom of the stairs--a marvel of blue mosaics with a tiger skin lying across it--there is a table. On this stands a silver Mars and materials for writing, for the use of two scribes standing behind it. Note the character in these heads, the close-cropped hair that denotes their servile rank, the cringing salute, each trying to outbid the other in humility of manner. Just before these figures, at the foot of the staircase, stands the world-famed Vatican statue of Augustus Imperator, the only man whose supremacy proud Agrippa would acknowledge, his device being, "To obey