New-York tribune., 1918-02-17

about him, and the legend that has attained
the greatest currency is that Degas was
Old curmudgeon who hated his kind and kept
his studio door locked. As early as '16-
it was about that time made his acquaint-
ance in the NouveIlc Athcnes-I heard him
described as harsh and intractable, but
could not see that he either, and Won
dered why people should speak of him with
bated breath. as if i'll terror, for, indeed he
seemed the type and eptomc of French
gentleman, as | conceived it to be. He was
courteous to all who knew him. entered into
conversation with all who asked to be intro
duced to him, and invited those who seemed
interested III his painting to his studio. Why,
then. the legend? Dcgas put himself for
ward old curmudgeon, and RS it is
always easier to believe than to observe he
became one in popular imagination; and by
degrees this very courteous and kind gentle
man, loving his kindred and finding happi-
ness in society, became moulded and fash
ioned by the words he had uttered casually.
without foreseeing that sooner or later he
would have to live up to them. He said that
he would never speak to II man who wrote
about him in the newspapers He described
journalists as pests. The artist" he said,
must live apart. and his private life remain
unknown The power of speech is greater
within than without and in the end every
man falls Z. victim to his words. Said | to
him once: "Ilow are your works to become
lnown?' He answered: 1--WE never heard of
any one buying picture because it was
spoken about in a newspaper a man buys
picture because he likes it, or because some
body told him to buy it,
MIR. Moore has number of personal
anecdotes to tell, one of them the de-
lectable reply made by Degas to the
titled dandy who wanted to exploit him
in the fashionable world. "Monsieur
10 comte de -" he said, "leave me
upon nv dunghill." There are similar
piouant fragments in the famous old
article of "lmpressions and Opinions.
But the best passages are those when
bring out the spirit of the artist, the
intimate SAVIOR of his genius. From
among them we cite the following:
One morning in May a friend tried the
door of Degass studio. 1t is always strictly
fastened and when shaken vigorously voice
calls from some loopholc; If the visitor be an
intimate friend. string is pulled and he Is
allowed to stumble his way up the cork
screw staircase into the studio There are
neither Turkey carpets nor japanese screens.
nor indeed any of those signs whereby
know the dwelling of the modern artist
Only at the further end. where the artist
works. is there daylight. In perennial gloom
and dust the vast canvases of his youth are
piled up in formidable barricades. Great
wheels belonging to photographic presses
TYPOGRAPHY was for time one OF Degas -
avocations suggest printing office. There
Is much decaying sculpture-dancing girls
modelled in red wax. some dressed in muslin
skirts, strange dols-dolls if you will, but
dolls modelled by man of genius.
On that day in May Degas was especially
anxious for breakfast. and he only permitted
his visitor to glance at the work in progress
and hurried him away to meal with him
but not in the cafe: Degas has lately re-
linquished his cafe. and breakfasts at home
in an apartment in the Rue Pigalle, over
looking courtyard full of towering chest
the eye OF the visitor was caught by faint
drawing in red chalk. placed upon a side
board he went straight to it, Degas said
All! look at it. I bought it only few
DAYS ago 1t is q drawing OF a female hand