The IVater-Colours of M. Jeanes
natural way as the old work does and which is
really its greatest charm.
This remark tempts one to the digression on a
question of architectural ethics as concerning sub-
jects of this nature. The custom that obtains now
of building not merely in the local manner, but of
a slavish and thoughtless imitation of the form and
details of old work, the use of weathered stone, of
tiles, the colouring of new work in foolish imitation
of the old, cannot be too strongly condemned. It
is in reality a senseless and purposeless form of
forgery, and entirely at variance with the spirit in
which the old work was done. The old men built
their houses just as they wanted them and in their
own natural way, with the materials nearest to them
and best adapted for the purpose. The result of
the present system, followed by many who really
ought to know better, is that some of the Cotswold
villages are forfeiting their former charm for some-
thing which is unpleasantly suggestive of the stage
scenery at Drury Lane.
Sir E. Burne-Jones’s Wheel of Fortune has been
acquired for the Victorian National Gallery at
Melbourne under the Felton bequest.
T
HE WATER-COLOURS OF M.
JEANES.
The difficulty experienced by artists in
getting themselves known in such a place as Paris
has often been the subject of comment. I am
nevertheless of opinion that this is entirely a mis-
apprehension, and that in spite of the formidable
and ever - increasing number of painters, real
individual talent is never long in coming to the
fore. The case of Mons. Jeanes amply supports
my contention.
Only a very few years ago the name of this
artist was unknown to all save a very few friends.
By birth a native of Lorraine, Jeanes had been
much appreciated by certain artists at Nancy, such
as, for instance, Victor Prouve, but he left Lorraine
for some years and led a wandering life, making
long sojourns in the Dolomites, a very wild district
and one in which our Parisian painters, little liking
to brave the discomforts of the country, never set
up their easels. Later he redescended towards
Italy, crossing passes and traversing regions but
little known, and lived at Venice and in the little
towns of Tessin and Venetia, during those seasons
“rochetta di zoldo:>
BY JEAN-fcS
274
natural way as the old work does and which is
really its greatest charm.
This remark tempts one to the digression on a
question of architectural ethics as concerning sub-
jects of this nature. The custom that obtains now
of building not merely in the local manner, but of
a slavish and thoughtless imitation of the form and
details of old work, the use of weathered stone, of
tiles, the colouring of new work in foolish imitation
of the old, cannot be too strongly condemned. It
is in reality a senseless and purposeless form of
forgery, and entirely at variance with the spirit in
which the old work was done. The old men built
their houses just as they wanted them and in their
own natural way, with the materials nearest to them
and best adapted for the purpose. The result of
the present system, followed by many who really
ought to know better, is that some of the Cotswold
villages are forfeiting their former charm for some-
thing which is unpleasantly suggestive of the stage
scenery at Drury Lane.
Sir E. Burne-Jones’s Wheel of Fortune has been
acquired for the Victorian National Gallery at
Melbourne under the Felton bequest.
T
HE WATER-COLOURS OF M.
JEANES.
The difficulty experienced by artists in
getting themselves known in such a place as Paris
has often been the subject of comment. I am
nevertheless of opinion that this is entirely a mis-
apprehension, and that in spite of the formidable
and ever - increasing number of painters, real
individual talent is never long in coming to the
fore. The case of Mons. Jeanes amply supports
my contention.
Only a very few years ago the name of this
artist was unknown to all save a very few friends.
By birth a native of Lorraine, Jeanes had been
much appreciated by certain artists at Nancy, such
as, for instance, Victor Prouve, but he left Lorraine
for some years and led a wandering life, making
long sojourns in the Dolomites, a very wild district
and one in which our Parisian painters, little liking
to brave the discomforts of the country, never set
up their easels. Later he redescended towards
Italy, crossing passes and traversing regions but
little known, and lived at Venice and in the little
towns of Tessin and Venetia, during those seasons
“rochetta di zoldo:>
BY JEAN-fcS
274