figures: in this respect his pictures resemble no one else's. The same
qualities will be found in his series of women bathing. These interiors,
where the actions of the bathers are caught amidst the stuffs, flowered
cushions, linen, sponges and tubs, are sharp visions of modernity. Degas
observes here, with the tenacious perfection of his talent, the
slightest shiver of the flesh refreshed by cold water. His masterly
drawing follows the most delicate inflexion of the muscles and suggests
the nervous system under the skin. He observes with extraordinary
subtlety the awkwardness of the nude being at a time when nudity is no
longer accustomed to show itself, and this true nudity is in strong
contrast to that of the academicians. One might say of Degas that he has
the disease of truth, if the necessity of truth were not health itself!
These bodies are still marked with the impressions of the garments; the
movements remain those of a clothed being which is only nude as an
exception. The painter notices beauty, but he looks for it particularly
in the profound characterisation of the types which he studies, and his
pastels have the massiveness and the sombre style of bronze. He has also
painted café-scenes, prostitutes and supers, with a mocking and sad
energy; he has even amused himself with painting washerwomen, to
translate the movements of the women of the people. And his colour with
its pearly whites, subdued blues and delicate greys, always elevates
everything he does, and confers upon him a distinctive style.

Finally, about 1896, Degas has revealed himself as a dreamy landscapist.
His recent landscapes are symphonies in colours of strange harmony and
hallucinations of rare tones, resembling music rather than painting. It
is perhaps in these pictures that he has revealed certain dreams
hitherto jealously hidden.

And now I must speak of his technique. It is very singular and varied,