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Updated: June 25, 2025
"Ye vood, ye liar, presshus shoon if ye 'ad arf a shance, I bet, s'help me!" shouted out the other man, who, from his speech, was evidently a Hebrew and a creditor. "Ye're von tarn sheet, dat's vot ye vas, a bloomin' corpse swindler, vot sheets de living, s'help me, and rops ze dead! I shpit upon ye, I does!"
At the close of a conscientious and highly critical round of the galleries they had at length reached the Rops room, and they were discussing every aspect of Rops except his lubricity, when Lady Queenie Paulle approached them from behind. Molder was the first to notice her and turn. He blushed.
From this point of view Rops himself, in spite of his symbolist tendencies, could not be classed with any other group if it were not that any kind of classification in art is useless and inaccurate. However that may be, Louis Legrand has signed some volumes with the most seductive qualities."
He has irony and wit and humour the two we seldom bracket and he has pity also; he loves the humble and despised. His portraits of babies, the babies of the people, are captivating. Imagine a Rops who has some of Millet's boundless sympathy for his fellow-humans and you have approximately an understanding of Louis Legrand.
He iss the slafe of some richer man, some gompany, some gorporation, dat crindt him down to the least he can lif on, and that rops him of the marchin of his earnings that he knight pe habby on. Oh, you Amerigans, you haf cot it down goldt, as you say!
In a little room at the end of the galleries was a small but choice collection of the etchings of Félicien Rops: a collection for connoisseurs, as the critics were to point out in the newspapers the next morning.
We admire Meryon and Helleu's drypoints, Bracquemond, Jacquemart; Félix Buhot has a following; Lalanne and Daubigny too; but in comparison with the demand for Rembrandt, Whistler, Seymour Haden, or Zorn the Paris men are not in the lead. There is Rops, for example, whose etchings may be compared to Meryon's; yet who except a few amateurs seeks Rops?
The last first recognised him, though he never finished the projected study of him as man and artist. It was the author of Les Fleurs du Mal who made the clever little verse about "Ce tant bizarre Monsieur Rops... Qui n'est pas un grand prix de Rome, mais dont le talent est haut, comme la pyramide de Chéops."
And from his cynical yet truthful motto: "J'appelle un chat un chat," he never swerved. A student and follower of Jean Francois Millet, several landscapes and pastorals of Rops recall the French painter's style. In his Belgian out-of-doors scenes and interiors the Belgian heredity of Rops projects itself unmistakably. Such a picture as Scandal, for example, might have been signed by Israels.
There is a diabolic spleen more strongly developed in Rops than in any of his contemporaries, with the sole exception of Baudelaire, who inspired and spurred him on to astounding atrocities of the needle and acid. This diabolism, this worship of Satan and his works, are sincere in the etcher. A relic of rotten Romanticism, it glows like phosphorescent fire during his last period.
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