
A startling number of masterpieces now in American museums are
there because of the shrewdness of one man, Joseph Duveen, art
dealer to John D. Rockefeller, Andrew Mellon, Henry Clay Frick,
and William Randolph Hearst. In a series of articles originally
published in The New Yorker, playwright S.N. Behrman evokes
the larger-than-life Duveen and reveals the wheeling and dealing,
subterfuge, and spirited drama behind the sale of nearly—but
not quite—priceless Rembrandts, Vermeers, Turners, and Bellinis.
Bold, rapacious, visionary, and a shrewd appraiser of human psychology—in
short, a model for any businessman today—Joseph Duveen brought
to America thousands of priceless masterpieces. He acquired these
works from down-at-the-heels European nobility, then sold them
to John D. Rockefeller, William Randolph Hearst, Henry Clay Frick,
Andrew Mellon, and J. P. Morgan, self-made men who were willing
to pay almost any price to own a Raphael, Rembrandt, Titian, or
Vermeer.
In a final stroke of genius, Duveen offered his clients the ultimate
prize—immortality— by convincing them to bequeath their
collections to museums. (If this enabled them to avoid burdensome
inheritance taxes, so much the better.) The National Gallery in
Washington, the Frick Collection in New York, and significant portions
of the Metropolitan Museum of Art were all built upon collections
in large part formed by Duveen. Because of Duveen, Americans are
able to see much of the world’s most beautiful art without
having to go abroad.
He has been called “the most symbolic figure of the twenties” for
out-monopolizing the monopolizers, reveling in a good lawsuit, practicing “wondrous
financing methods,” and mastering public relations. No gesture
was too grand: once he lavishly furnished an entire apartment and
handed the key to Andrew Mellon with a flourish; if Mellon liked
it, the contents were his. Of course, Mellon did. He employed a butler
named Morgan so that he could say that Morgan jumped when he, Duveen,
clapped his hands. Fiercely competitive, and some say unprincipled,
he had been known to peer closely at a rival dealer’s masterpiece
and sniff, “I smell fresh paint.” |