Evening Star Newspaper, February 9, 1930, Page 86

4 | S— e THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, FEBRUARY 9, 1930. S Why the Baron Buys Rare Paintings “Industrial Companics Rise and Fall, Nations Rise and Fall, but Fine Paintings Never Lose Their Value,” Says Baron Roths- child, as He Tells of Foriunes Being Amassed by Modern Collectors. BY R. S. FENDRICK. N INTIMATE friend dropped in to see Baron deo Rothschild the other day. “What are you buying now, Baron?” he inquired, and casually rattled off the name=s of several high-grade American and foreign stocks. “Corots, Millets, Cezannes, Monets and the work of two or three young geniuses I have discovered in the Latin Quarter,” the head of this great financial dynasty replied with a smile. no Shell?” the friend demanded incredulously. “I pr:fer my oil mixed with paint,” Baron A Paris and New York art dealer paid 1,800,- 000 francs, plus 350,000 francs taxes, at the Paris public auction rooms this wezk for a Na- tivity, attributed to Botticelli or Filippo Lippi, that was bought in 1878 for 4,000 francs. “But you are going into the art business?” the incredulous friend inquired. *“I thought you were running a bank, an investment house, and not an art galiery, although I see you have every inch of .your walls covered with paintings.” . “I am in the banking business” Baron de Rothschild protested earnestly, “and I don't way to make big profits than to buy fine pic- tures. It is true that there are no annual divi- dends, but why complain if a work increases 100 or 1,000 times in value within a compara- tively short time? Industrial companies rise and fall, nations rise and fall, but fine paint- ings never lose their value. Do you want to borrow money? I much prefer a Botticelli or a Gainsborough for security than . any other property.” “And you don’t keep most of your fortune in stocks and bonds?” the astonished friend wanted to know. “Indeed I do,’ the Baron explained. “I am like the Americans—I believe in diversification —but I rarely make the profits out of them. that I do from paintings. For a nice, easy life, with no worries about companies falling on hard times and no fear of a falling stock market, give me a few well chosen master- pieces. And, by the way, here are several other items about sales in the Paris auction rooms last week:” A Pisarro, bought in 1875 for 20 francs ($4), was sold for 65000 francs ($2,600). A Pisarro, bought in 1896 for 1,000 francs ($200). was sold for 142800 francs ($5.680). A Cilaude Monef, bought in 1872 for 30 francs ($6), was sold for 136,000 francs ($5,200). A Claude Monet, bought in 1891 for 1,000 francs ($200), was sold for 250,000 francs ($10,000). A Sisley, bought about 30 years ago for 39 francs ($6), was sold for 210,000 francs ($38.400). A Rengir, bought about 40 years ago for 40 francs ($8), was sold for 330,000 francs ($13,200). i “Just stady these figures a little,” the Baron smiled softly as he walksd to the door with his friend. “You'll see what I mean.” ANY persons who thought that the stock exchanges were the easiest plac>s to make At the present time this fact stands out like & house afire. Stock markets are fickle, but Paris, London, Rome, Berlin and Amster- picture markets are booming, although this is not unusual for them. As an example of the rise in value of a mod- ern painting—an example not artificially pushed up by the dizzy bidding of American millionaires during the last two or thre: dec- ades—take the history of Millet's “Angelus,” The famous “Red Boy” by Lawrence, which the Earl of Durham recenddy ' offered for sale at a price of $1,000,000. & Raphael's “Madonne and Child,” painted on a 30x22-inch panel, exchanged hands a short time ago at the reported price of $875.000. which the French government purchased in 1883 for the Louvre Museum. Millet painted this charming work in 1866, but, being unknown at the time, was unabile to sell it “I remember that my father was unable to sell it for several years,” Francois Millet, the painter’'s son, explained In a recent interview. “One day my father returned home very happy becai s¢ an American collector had agreed to buy it for a few dollars. But, unfortunately, the American wrote the next day to say that he had changed his mind, as he found the work too small Finally, M. Alfred Fey- deau bought the ‘Angelus’ for 1,800 francs ($360), which was a very big price at the time. All his friends declared that he was mad.” M. Feydeau sold it in 1870 for 3,000 francs ($600); several years later it was sold for 38,000 francs ($7,600), and in 1881 for 160,000 francs ($32,000). The last sale of “The Angelus,” in 1883, was one of the most exciting auctions ever held in Paris. Among the bidders were the American Art Association, the Corcoran Gallery of Art in Washington, the French government and one of the great Rotterdam galleries. Starting at 100,000° francs, the bids jumped up by leaps and bounds until the masterpiece was finally knocked down to the French state for 553,000 francs ($110,600), which was a staggering amount at that time. Incidentally, Millet was literally starving when he painted this work. He was only start- ing to become famous when h- diad in 1875, If it is true that: there are vast profits to be made in investing or speculating in paint- ings, nevertheless there are many strings at- tached to this glittering prospect. One must be an art expert, or have expert advice, and must buy the works at a low price’ while the painter is still obscure. The American million- aires who pay $500,000 or more for an old masterpiece do it largely for their own pleasure. ‘Thesz high-priced masterpicces will surely ap- preciate in value, but not at a rapid rate. But there is very little risk involved in buying a lot of hopeful works at a low price; if the artist falls to becom= famous, the stuff can still be disposed of without much loss. But it is a hard game lcoking for geniuses. , Mont- parpasse and the Latin Quarter, which are hung with works for sale; visiting studios and y fine little pieces have even the Sunday street sales, when hang their work on the trees often sell it for encugh money to buy a unch, It actually takes a genius, though, to pick out the future Rembrandts and Romneys from all this horde of paint splashers, most of whom should be working on the outside of houses. TH‘IRE are many pitfalls for the amateur investor in art. A clever dealer—and Paris is packed with them—will find a promising man who is starting to attract attention, corner him in his studio and hatch a little plot with him. “You are @ fool,” the dealer tells the asion- ished artist. “You have probably turned out a thousand paintings in the last 15 or 20 years, but what good did it do you? Granting your work is good, you cheapen it by fiooding the market. Do you think Botticelli would be fa- -mous today if every rich man could have one of his paintings? If you want to make a repu- tation and e decent Nving, your masterpieces must be more rare. They must also get a lot of publicity. “Now, I'Tl tell you what I'll do. If you will agree to give me all your output as long as you live, I shall buy up all of your old stuff I can find. We shall corner the market. Then 1 Baron de Rothschild, famous French banker, declares that painted master- pieces yield larger and safer returns than almost any other form of invest- ment. shall start a quiet campaign, paying for it out of my own pocket, to the effect that you are & genius. “I beg your pardon. You probably are a genlus, but it doesn’t do you any good if the world never heard of you. We shall put up the prices of your work and make it appear to be scarce, even though my cellar is packed full of it “I shall give you half of all the sales as long as you live, and the same to your heirs after you die. There's a fair deal for you.” A lot of art collectors are paying from $500 to $5,000 aplece today for paintings that would Continued on Seventh Page