LONDON, FRIDAY.
There is one man in England to-day who when he read of the sale of M. Degas’s picture “Les Danseuses à la Barre” for £17,400 at the Rouart sale in Paris on Wednesday, had a right to say - although he was the least likely person to say it - “I told you so.” Mr George Moore for more than 20 years has preached the greatness of Degas, Manet, and Monet. He has even appealed to collectors to buy the works of these painters because they would be of great monetary value in the future. He has urged corporations and collectors to buy them for their own good.
His “Modern Painting,” published in 1893, is an eloquent statement of the claims to the future which they now possess. In a conversation with Mr. Moore to-day I asked him what was the result. He did not know of any. So far as he knew, no British corporation had purchased a Degas, and very few of his works are owned in England.
Would Degas now enjoy the prosperity which the sale of his picture at such a price must bring?
“What prosperity can a man over eighty enjoy, without kin and almost blind? He could take his cutlet and a glass of wine. What more? He could not even enjoy his own work.”
Had M. Degas many of his pictures in his possession, and was there anything in the story that he had a number of his works stored away which, according to the terms of his will, were to be destroyed after his death? Did Mr. Moore know of that romantic legend?
“I think he has a number of his works, but do not know about the romantic legend.”
Mr. Moore kindly gave me some reminiscences of Degas. He was not, as some had said, a man with a bad temper. He was a man whose work was his life, and he gave up everything, even his friend, to its claims. Once he had said to Mr. Moore: “I have achieved my loneliness by the sweat of my brow.” Mr. Moore suggested “You should say rather by the sweat of your tongue.”
Degas had indeed a sharp tongue. Once, when Manet was complaining that he had not attained the fame that was his due, Degas said, “Why, you are as well known as Garibaldi.” But Manet had quite as sharp a tongue. Degas, visiting Manet’s studio one day, complained of his eyesight and how he could not see anything. Manet said, “Then why do you come here? People should not visit studios without eyes.”
To Whistler Degas said, “My dear Whistler, you behave as though you had no talent at all.” Another anecdote, for the point of which one must know Whistler’s “Le Comte de Montesquiou,” that exquisite dandy of the Paris world of the time, was how Montesquiou once pressed Degas to leave his work and come to a ball. Degas refused. “Leave me to my dunghill,” the painter said, glancing round at his studio.
In his later life Degas collected works by Ingres, and he amassed a fine collection, having scouts and agents all on the look-out for Ingres’s works. Manet had a small picture of a pear stuck on his studio wall without stretcher or frame, but it was a masterpiece, and Degas acquired it. He placed it next to Ingres’s “Jupiter” in his collection. Mr. Moore questioned its position, surprised that M. Degas should have placed it there. “Eh, well,” said Degas, “it is there just to show you how the fall of Jupiter can be brought about by a small pear.” Ingres’s “Jupiter,” indeed, was not a very great example.
Speaking of the thoroughness of Degas in art, Mr. Moore told how one day in Degas’s studio he found that his painting “Semiramis” had been destroyed. Degas explained that he had represented “Semiramis” surrounded by women, but after thinking the conception over he saw that she should have been surrounded by men, and so the picture was hopeless. “It had been poisoned,” he said. It was of this picture, hung beside a much-praised work by Gérome, that Gérome made some disparaging remarks. “Is it not Turkish enough for you, M. Gerome?” asked Degas.
Has M. Degas many of his old friends beside him to share with him the bittersweet pleasure of seeing that the world has come up to their art?
“There is Monet, of course,” said Mr. Moore, “but I doubt if they see one another very often now. Monet is the only one of his contemporaries who still has the happiness to have his vigour and to paint well. Renoir is very feeble and suffers from paralysis. He still paints, but can only paint horizontally, as he cannot raise his hand for vertical strokes. All his best friends have gone. At the time of the Dreyfus affair Degas became deeply embroiled and quarrelled with nearly all his old friends. Now they are nearly all dead, and he is an old man without kin, and the approval of the world can mean little to him.”
One more question, Mr. Moore. Did you take your own advice and secure many Degas pictures?
“No. I have only one - a pastel. I remember once buying for seven pounds a little picture of a dancer with a bouquet. It was a present to a lady. I believe that it was also sold at the Rouart sale for a big price, but I forget the figures.”
This is an edited extract, read the interview in full
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