takes the form of beautiful female forms in dreamy or voluptuous attitude, sleeping amid the masses of their abundant hair, against a background of gold, or shell, or whatever the material may be. Any womanly gesture suffices; and, in truth, what more is needed to make a real work of art in the form of a brooch or a button? No conventional flowers, no complicated interlacements, nothing "decorative" in the bad sense of the word; yet his work is powerfully and delicately modern. M. Desbois' jewels are perfect pieces of sculpture.

Victor Prouvé, the painter, has been influenced in a similar way, but, not being a regular sculptor, he is more complicated without being any more original on that account. There is more "composition" in his jewels than in those of M. Desbois, more real, more visible, intention. His waistbelts, his brooches, &c., are admirably suited to the purpose for which they are intended, their modelling being full, supple, and keen. The jewels, executed with scrupulous care and irreproachable technique by M. Rivaud, are real works of art.

M. Bécker and M. Paul Richard, who are both working almost exclusively for M. Ferdinand Verger ("F. V." is the trademark of the firm), incline to that type of jewellery which might be termed "sculptured." They are very conscientious artists, but in my opinion, at any rate, the originality there may be within them has not yet made itself fully apparent.

M. Louis Bonny's jewels deserve special attention. Like M. Vever, M. Bonny shows a predilection for precious stones, which he has the art of using with rare originality. At the last salon of the Société des Artistes Français he exhibited a series of jewels which attracted much attention, among them—in addition to a beautiful necklace of wild grape in enamel, diamonds, and emerald, in addition to various floral pendants and neck ornaments in enamel and diamonds—a curious diadem, representing cocks in gold and enamel fighting for possession of a superb topaz. This was a real tour de force in the way of execution. Other beautiful things of his I know, particularly his plaque de cou of geraniums, with the leaves in diamonds, the flowers in rubies, the stems and buds in dark green enamel, the whole being at once rich and sober in colouring and most harmoniously and flexibly composed.

M. Joé Descomps is a sound artist, whose efforts, laudable as they may be, nevertheless lack boldness. He has imagination enough, but it looks as though he feared to give it rein. With a little less timidity M. Descomps would doubtless produce something more piquant and more fresh.

I greatly like the work of M. Charles Rivaud. It displays a love of simplicity too often wanting in the productions of many of his fellow artists. If his jewels recall—without imitating—the ornamental jewellery of Egypt or Greece, those of primitive civilisations or those sorts popular in Russia, I can see no harm in the fact. Better for him and for us that he should turn to these inexhaustible springs than become a mere imitator of other imitators of successful jewellers. His rings and his necklaces, in which he is always careful to leave to the materials employed all the natural charm they possess, are productions which will please the artist rather than the bourgeois and the "snob." They are discreet and honest, never loud or eccentric.

No less interesting, in another way, are the jewels by M. Mangeant and M. Jacquin. It is urged against them that they are crude, incomplete and imperfect in execution. The truth is, these two artists—whom I bring into conjunction, although their work is dissimilar, save from their common regard for freedom in the use of materials—have, above all, a love for natural forms. Out of a flower, a piece of seaweed, or any humble motif, vegetable or animal, they construct jewels in gold or oxidised silver, discreetly relieved by stones, which, if of no great intrinsic value, are nevertheless highly decorative. M. Mangeant, with mother-of-pearl and hammered repoussé silver, has created charming jewels, in which all the constructive parts have been intentionally left visible. Professional jewellers shrug their shoulders at the sight of these jewels, which bear so plainly the stamp of the hand that fashioned them. Yet, in their naïve rudeness, they appeal to me far more forcibly than does the polychromatic tin-ware of so many highly-esteemed producers.

M. Charles Boutet de Monvel, although gifted with a richer and subtler imagination, may be included in this little group. In certain of his jewels there is, as it were, a reminiscence of Byzantine art—in this owl-comb, for instance, which I regard as one of his best works. His swan hair-pin, his seaweed buttons in gold and silver on greenish enamel with a pearl in the centre, his plaque de cou in translucid enamel, are also strong and captivating. His sunshade handles too, and his scarf-pins, are full of delicate fancy.

It is impossible, within the space at my disposal, to describe in detail the productions of many other workers well worthy of extended mention. Let it suffice, therefore, to cite the names of M. Henri Nocq, that fresh and bold artist; of M. and Mme. Pierre Selmersheim; M. Feuillâtre; Mme. Annie Noufflard; MM. Haas, Cherrier, Chalon, Falguières, Dabault, G. Laffitte, Houillon, Archambault, L. H. Ruffe, Quénard, Blanchot, Muret, Desrosiers, Le Couteux, Marioton, Lucien Hirtz, and Nau—artists who work, some on their own account, some for the big jewellery firms.

Of the firms in question one must in justice name in the first place those of Boucheron and Falize frères, not forgetting L. Aucoc, Vever, Sandoz, Lucien Gaillard, Fouquet, Després, Teterger, Chaumet, Templier, Ferdinand Verger, J. Duval, Coulon, and Piel frères.

Such, briefly, is the modern art-jewellery movement in France. Its intensity, as one sees, is so great as to be almost alarming. Whither is it tending? Some of its excesses are dangerous; what will be the result? M. Emile Molinier, in a recent article on "Objects of Art in the Salons of 1901," expresses certain fears which I share. He dreads a reaction due to the eccentricities of certain artists, to their love of the outrageous and the bizarre, to their lack of proportion, both in form and in choice of material.

"It would really be a pity," he says, "if so promising a revival of the true artistic jewellery should come to a bad end. Happily we have not reached that point yet, but it is a result which may soon be reached if artists continue to foist these weird things on the public. A fashion in jewellery should last longer than a fashion in dresses or in hats; but it should not be forgotten that it must rely in the long run on its appropriateness and adaptability." My sincere hope is that these fears may prove to be groundless.

Gabriel Mourey.