The official story is simple: In September 1870, Alma Tadema moved from Brussels to London because of the Franco-Prussian War.
Belgium was neutral, but neutrality is just paper when armies are marching. So he fled to safety across the Channel, bringing his two young daughters and his sister.
That is what the biographies say.
But it is not the whole truth.
The war gave him an excuse. But the real reason he fled Brussels was older and more terrifying than any army.
He was fleeing smallpox.
The disease that had killed his infant son around 1864.
The disease that had killed his wife Pauline in 1869.
The disease that might—at any moment—kill his surviving daughters, Laurence (age 5) and Anna (age 3).
London was not just safer from war.
London was safer from death itself.
Belgium: A Smallpox Death Trap
In the 1860s and 1870s, Belgium was one of the most dangerous places in Europe for smallpox.
The statistics are horrifying:
1865: A major smallpox outbreak killed nearly 6,000 people in Belgium.
Vaccination rate: Only about 50% of children were vaccinated, compared to near-universal vaccination in England.
No compulsory vaccination: Belgium was one of the few European countries with no mandatory vaccination laws. Parents could choose not to vaccinate their children. Many did not.
1870-1875 Pandemic: The "Great Pandemic" killed over 500,000 people across Europe. Belgium's death rate was three times higher than England's.
Why? Because England had compulsory vaccination since 1853. Belgium did not.
The Deadly Mathematics of Childhood
Smallpox in the 19th century was primarily a childhood disease.
And for children, it was a death sentence.
Over 80% of infected children died from smallpox in the 1860s-70s.
Infants had case-fatality rates of 80-98% in major cities.
The younger the child, the higher the death rate.
Alma Tadema's son had been approximately six months old when he died. He had no chance.
Now, in 1870, Alma Tadema had two daughters:
- Laurence, born 1865 (age 5)
- Anna, born 1867 (age 3)
They were exactly the most vulnerable age.
They had already lost their brother and mother to smallpox.
Did he watch them every day for signs of fever? For the first spots of rash? For the symptoms that had taken half his family?
Brussels in 1870: A City of Fear
Imagine Brussels in the summer of 1870.
July 15, 1870: The Belgian Army mobilizes 55,000 troops in anticipation of war.
Soldiers flood the streets of Brussels. The National Bank moves its gold reserves to Antwerp. When this leaks, public panic ensues. Families hoard food, fearing siege. The border with France is only miles away.
July 19, 1870: France declares war on Prussia.
Belgium is officially neutral, guaranteed by the 1839 Treaty of London. But everyone remembers the Luxembourg Crisis of 1867—treaties mean nothing when armies are on the move.
August-September 1870: 35,000 French refugees pour into Brussels South Station.
The city is overwhelmed. Refugees sleep in streets, churches, public buildings. Disease spreads through the crowded masses. The smell of unwashed bodies, desperation, fear.
Many refugees settle permanently. Brussels becomes a city of displaced people.
The Daily Terror
Every day, the question: Will the Prussians come? Will the French retreat through Belgium? Will Brussels become a battlefield?
The Battle of Sedan (September 1-2, 1870) happens right on the Belgian border. You can almost hear the cannons from Brussels. Napoleon III is captured. Four thousand French soldiers flee across the border into Belgium and are interned.
For Alma Tadema, the war was terrifying.
But the refugees were more terrifying.
Because refugees bring disease.
And disease had already killed his son and his wife.
The Atmosphere of Panic
Sounds: Marching soldiers. Refugees speaking French in the streets. Church bells tolling for the dead in France. Newsboys shouting headlines about battles and defeats.
Smells: Coal smoke from trains bringing refugees. Unwashed crowds. Fear-sweat. The acrid smell of military camps on the outskirts of the city.
Sights: Belgian soldiers in uniform everywhere. French refugees with all their possessions in carts. Posters announcing mobilization. Empty shops, supplies hoarded.
And underneath it all: the fear of smallpox.
Refugees living in close quarters. Poor sanitation. No vaccination. The perfect conditions for an epidemic.
Alma Tadema had two small daughters. The exact age most vulnerable to the disease. Living in a city filling with refugees and disease.
The calculation was simple:
Stay in Brussels and risk losing them.
Or flee to London and save them.
London: The Safer Choice
England had compulsory vaccination since the Vaccination Act of 1853.
1867 Act: Added penalties for parents who did not vaccinate their children.
1871 Act: (Right when Alma Tadema arrived) Tightened enforcement further, with local authorities empowered to prosecute non-compliant parents.
The result was dramatic:
- England's smallpox death rate was three times lower than Belgium's during the 1870-75 pandemic.
- Deaths in children under 5 dropped from 1,514 per million (1848-54) to just 50 per million (1885-94).
- London still had outbreaks (the 1871-72 epidemic killed 10,618 in London alone), but vaccinated children had vastly better survival rates.
Moving to London meant his daughters would be:
- Required by law to be vaccinated.
- Living in a country with three times lower smallpox death rates.
- Protected by herd immunity from widespread vaccination.
It was not a guarantee of safety.
But it was better odds than Brussels.
The Other Reasons (The Ones He Could Say Out Loud)
Alma Tadema was not fleeing poverty. By 1870, he was already successful.
Career Milestones Before London:
- 1861: "Education of Children of Clovis" caused a sensation, bought by King Leopold of Belgium.
- 1864: Met Ernest Gambart, the most powerful art dealer in Europe. Gambart commissioned 24 paintings immediately, then another 48 in 1867.
- 1865: Made Knight of the Order of Leopold (Belgian honor).
- 1867: Won second-class medal at Paris Exposition Universelle.
By 1869, he had "numerous European awards and honors."
Gambart's Role:
Gambart was Belgian-born but operated in London. He had been promoting Alma Tadema's work in England since 1864.
Alma Tadema himself said London was "the only place where, up till then, my work had met with buyers."
When Pauline died in May 1869, Gambart advised him to come to London for medical help. This was not charity—Gambart had a financial interest in keeping his star artist alive and productive.
So when the war broke out in July 1870, the decision was easy.
His market was in London. His dealer was in London. His future was in London.
And—most importantly—his daughters would be safer in London.
December 1869: The First Visit
Before the war, before the move, there was a visit.
In December 1869, seven months after Pauline's death, Alma Tadema traveled to London on Gambart's advice. He was still grieving. Still ill with the mysterious condition Brussels doctors could not diagnose. Still unable to paint consistently.
At the home of painter Ford Madox Brown, he met seventeen-year-old Laura Theresa Epps.
Contemporary accounts say it was "love at first sight."
She was young, vibrant, alive. She was an artist herself, training at the Royal Academy Schools. She was everything Brussels was not—a fresh start, a new beginning, a future without ghosts.
By the time he returned to Brussels, he knew where his future lay.
Not in the city where Pauline had died.
Not in the country that had killed his son and his wife.
But in London, where a teenage girl had smiled at him and where his daughters might survive.
September 1870: The Flight
When the Franco-Prussian War broke out in July 1870, Alma Tadema had his excuse.
In September 1870, he packed up his household:
- Laurence (5 years old)
- Anna (3 years old)
- His sister Artje (to care for the girls)
- His paintings
- His life
And he fled to London.
The official reason: the war.
The real reasons: everything.
- Escape from the city where Pauline died.
- Escape from the smallpox death trap of Belgium.
- Escape from the refugees and disease flooding Brussels.
- Escape to where his daughters could be vaccinated by law.
- Escape to where Gambart and money and safety waited.
- Escape to where Laura Epps lived.
Brussels in 1870 was a city of ghosts and fear.
London was a fresh start.
July 1871: The New Family
Less than a year after arriving in London, Alma Tadema married Laura Theresa Epps.
She was eighteen. He was thirty-five.
She became stepmother to Laurence and Anna. Artje stayed with the family until her own marriage in 1873.
A new life. A new family. A new country.
And—crucially—a country where his daughters were vaccinated.
England's 1867 Vaccination Act required all children to be vaccinated within three months of birth. The 1871 Act (passed the same year Alma Tadema married Laura) tightened enforcement, with local vaccination officers empowered to track down unvaccinated children.
Laurence and Anna would have been vaccinated shortly after arriving in London.
For the first time since his son's death in 1864, Alma Tadema could breathe.
His daughters were protected.
Not perfectly. Not guaranteed. But better than they had been in Brussels.
1872: The Memorial
In 1872, one year after marrying Laura and two years after fleeing Brussels, Alma Tadema painted "The Death of the First-Born."
It shows an Egyptian father holding his dead son. The boy lies across Pharaoh's knees, lifeless. The mother supports the body. Slaves crouch in formal attitudes of grief.
The painting "expresses silence."
It was painted in London, in his new studio, in his new life.
But it was about Brussels.
It was about the son he could not save.
It was about the wife he could not save.
It was about the terror of watching his daughters and wondering if they would be next.
And it was about the choice he made: to flee a country that had killed half his family and move to a country where vaccination might protect the other half.
The painting was not just about ancient Egypt.
It was about a father who could not save his son but could save his daughters—by fleeing to a place where the disease that had destroyed his family might be held at bay.
The Daughters Who Survived
Even in London, Alma Tadema could not escape all loss.
1909: His wife Laura dies. He is seventy-three. For the second time, he is a widower.
1912: Alma Tadema dies at age seventy-six.
But his daughters—the daughters he brought to London in 1870, vaccinated under English law, protected by the country he fled to—they survived.
Laurence lived until 1940, dying at age seventy-five.
Anna lived until 1943, dying at age seventy-six.
Both daughters outlived their father. Both lived into their seventies.
The flight to London saved them both.
Perhaps it was worth it after all.
What He Left Behind in Brussels
When Alma Tadema left Brussels in September 1870, he left behind:
- The house where Pauline died.
- The city where his son died.
- The doctors who could not save either of them.
- The country with no mandatory vaccination.
- The memories.
What He Found in London
- Compulsory vaccination for his daughters.
- A seventeen-year-old girl who would become his second wife.
- A thriving art market hungry for his work.
- A fresh start.
- Safety.
Not perfect safety. Not guaranteed safety.
But better odds.
And when you have already lost a son and a wife to the same disease, better odds are everything.
The Unspoken Truth
The biographies will tell you Alma Tadema moved to London because of the Franco-Prussian War.
And that is true.
But it is not the whole truth.
The war gave him an excuse. The market gave him a reason.
But the fear of losing his daughters to the disease that had already destroyed half his family—that was the unspoken urgency.
He was not fleeing war.
He was fleeing death.
And in "The Death of the First-Born," painted in 1872 in his London studio, he memorialized the son he could not save and the choice he made to save his daughters.
A father holding his dead child.
A painting of silence and grief.
The painting he loved most.
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