PAINTED FANS OF THE SEVENTEENTH AND EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES (FRENCH)
[Illustration: FAN OF RICE STRAW
(From a Fifteenth-Century MS. in the National Library, Paris.)]
The so-called Renaissance of the arts of France in the sixteenth
century was the outcome of an increased knowledge of, and familiarity
with, Italian ideals of life, and the splendours of a more refined
civilisation; it represented the assimilation of the national spirit,
the union of French ‘netteté d’exécution’ with the more sober learning
of Italian tradition. The beginnings of this Italian influence are
to be discovered earlier, in the visit of Jean Foucquet to Italy in
1440-1445; this event being the signal for a general migration of
Italian artists northward.
For the purposes of the fan, however, we are concerned only with the
history of French art from the period when, in 1530, at the invitation
of François I., Le Rosso and Primaticcio repaired to Paris for the
purpose of decorating the palace at Fontainebleau.
At this period architecture was creating Chenonceau and Chambord.
Sculpture, in the hands of Cellini and Jean Goujon, was providing the
decorative details for the château then being built by Philibert de
l’Orme for Diana de Poitiers.
In the sister art of Painting, Jean Cousin and François Clouet,
together with Primaticcio, who continued working until 1570, were the
dominant influences.
[Illustration: Pastorelle, style of Watteau, skin mount, stick mother
of pearl, finely pierced, carved, & embossed with a sacrificial scene
in gold. French. c. 1750.
Wyatt Coll^n. V. & A. Museum.]
Simon Vouet, recalled to Paris after a lengthy sojourn in Rome, was
painting the nobles of the French court, and decorating for Richelieu
the Palais Royal and the Château de Rueil. Poussin, French by birth,
Italian and classic in sympathy, found the artistic atmosphere of Rome
more congenial to him. In 1640, upon a pressing invitation from Louis
XIII., he migrated to Paris, but, on account of court intrigues, the
jealousies of his brother artists, and the malignity of Vouet, under
pretence of bringing his wife from Rome, he left Paris in 1642, never
to return.
The pupils of Vouet were Le Sueur and Charles le Brun. With this latter
artist French painting enters upon a new phase, and it is impossible
to overestimate the influence for good or for evil exercised by him
during the latter half of the seventeenth century; nay, it extended
practically over the whole of the century, since he began painting
almost from his infancy.
The work of Le Brun, in spite of its many affectations, possesses many
admirable qualities: such a composition, for example, as ‘The Entry of
Alexander into Babylon,’ now in the Louvre, which, by the way, appears
on an Italian fan in the Wyatt collection, at once stamps him as a
master of decorative arrangement, and is typical both of his qualities
and his limitations.
One of the most significant events in the history of French art was
the founding of the Academy in 1648: in this Le Brun naturally took a
leading part, as also in the foundation of the French School in Rome,
of which he was the first director. The establishment of the Academy
had a direct as well as an indirect bearing upon the fan, since on more
than one occasion it ‘used the power of its prestige in defence of the
just liberties of the éventaillistes.’[96]
Pierre Mignard (Le Romain), the lifelong rival of Le Brun, possessed
something of the grand manner, derived from his study of the Carracci
and Domenichino. In 1664 he was the head of the Academy of St. Luke,
and in 1690, upon the death of Le Brun, he was appointed Director of
the Academy of Painting, a post which he filled until his death in 1695.
We have said that during the sixteenth century, Italian influences on
French art were paramount—these influences being entirely healthy and
regenerative. Throughout the succeeding century the dominant influence
was still Italian, but its effect was as deleterious as it had been
formerly beneficent.
By 1700 the decorative arts were well on the downward path. Bernini
had been dead twenty years, but his influence, together with that of
Borromini, was still a living thing, and was still working irreparable
mischief. Sir M. Digby Wyatt, in a powerful article written for Owen
Jones’s _Grammar of Ornament_, referring to Borromini, says: ‘From his
fervid imagination and rare facility as a draughtsman and designer, he
soon obtained ample employment; and in his capricious vagaries, every
tendency to extravagance that Bernini’s style possessed Borromini
contrived to caricature. Until his death, in 1667, he continued
sedulously occupied in subverting all known principles of order and
symmetry, not only to his own enrichment, but to the admiration of
the leaders of the fashion of the day. The anomalies he introduced
into design, the disproportionate mouldings, broken, contrasted, and
re-entering curves, ... became the _mode_ of the day, and all Europe
was speedily busy in devising similar enormities. In France the fever
raged speedily, and the popular style, in place of the quaint but
picturesque forms to be seen in the engravings of Du Cerceau, 1576,
substituted the more elaborate but less agreeable ones to be found in
Marot, 1727, and Mariette, 1726-7.... Despite this debasing influence,’
continues our author, ‘many of the French artists of the time, both
of Louis XIV. and XV., in the midst of their extravagances, made many
beautiful ornamental designs, showing in them a sense of capricious
beauty of line rarely surpassed.’
[Illustration: La Danse, Louis XV, skin leaf, mother of pearl stick,
carved, painted, & gilt. 22” X 11-3/4”.
The Duchess of Portland.]
[Illustration: Pastorelle, Louis XV, skin leaf, tortoiseshell stick,
with gold incrustations 18-1/4” × 10”.
The Duchess of Portland.]
This, although written at the period of perhaps the very lowest ebb
of the decorative arts, the mid-Victorian era, pretty well sums up
the matter, and is a fair estimate of the decorative tendencies that
obtained at the beginning of the eighteenth century. The general
character of the fan, therefore, necessarily partook of this debasing
influence, and reflected the ornamental vulgarities and fashionable
inanities of the time. Thus we have, in moulded ornament, a profusion
of those extravagant shell-like cartouches which have become
identified with the periods of Louis XV. and XVI.; curly structures
elaborately perforated, beginning and ending at will, observing no
reasonable or well-defined law, but expressing only the caprice of
the artist. These either formed the starting-point for the lighter
ornaments, or were associated with naturalistic swags and festoons of
fruit and flowers, masks, ribbons, etc.
With the dawn of the eighteenth century, French _pictorial_ art enters
upon that era of _fêtes galantes_, _conversations galantes_, and
_amusements champêtres_, which, whatever its shortcomings, was purely
French and native to the soil. The pernicious influence of the Italian
decadence is about to be shaken off. Watteau was sixteen years old,
and just commencing those labours which resulted in the practical
regeneration of French painting. He may be said to dominate the art
of the eighteenth century as completely as Le Brun had overshadowed
the century which preceded. He sums up in himself that spirit of the
joyousness of life, that careless, impulsive frivolity which is the
note of the age.
His immediate followers, Lancret, Pater, and in some sense De Troy,
carried on the tradition, but with a more pronounced convention: the
shimmer and sheen of silk and satin draperies are painted according to
a recipe, the general treatment of the subjects reveals a less delicate
fancy, and a less tender sympathy.
Boucher, friend and servant of La Pompadour, ‘with her fan that breaks
through halberds,’[97] has been styled, with more or less semblance
to truth, the Anacreon of painters. His convention is of an entirely
different order to that of Watteau and his school; but if his method
and style is more artificial, it is because life and manners have
become less sincere, and because he is true to his belief that ‘Nature
wanted harmony and seduction’; he yields nothing to his predecessors
in artistic power, he is completely master of his technique, and
understands exactly the measure of his gifts. In his pupil Fragonard,
we have in reality the true heir and successor of Watteau—the same
supple touch, the same alluring grace, the same captivating invention
and suggestiveness which always summons us to an enchanted land of
love, and music, and dalliance.
It was an exceedingly gay, light-hearted, and pleasant time—in
painting at any rate. Strephon sat at the feet of Phyllis, warbling
soft nothings to the accompaniment of the lute. Dan Cupid, who was
everywhere in evidence, took it for granted that his presence was
always à propos, and never troubled his curly head as to whether his
decorative surroundings were in the nicest possible taste. The fan
necessarily reflected this eccentricity and extravagance—indeed it took
its natural place in the general decorative scheme; the ‘dainty rogues’
of the sideboard and mantel-shelf were in complete harmony with the
still more dainty rogues of the fan; the shepherdess in her flowered
skirt rubbed shoulders, or attempted to do so, with the fine lady in
crinoline.
[Illustration: Momens Musicals, ‘Vernis Martin.’
Mr Leopold de Rothschild.]
The fun waxed faster and more furious; the times grew madder and still
more mad; the exuberance of the rococo became more and more pronounced,
until no inanity remained untried, no extravagant banality overlooked.
Then came the inevitable reaction. The latter half of the century
witnessed the sowing of the seed, and, indeed, the full fruition, of
that neo-classicism, which, although a relief from the _barocco_ of
the preceding period, was the outcome of no settled conviction except
the desirability of entering any port in a storm; it had its origin in
the interest which was then being taken in archæology and classical
research.
With the Revolution came artistic chaos, and—the nineteenth century.
The cold, correct classicalities of the ‘style de l’Empire’ were due,
in great part, to the influence of the painter David, although the
inauguration of this new epoch was claimed by Vien. The work of David
and that of his immediate followers, Girodet, Gros, Gérard, and Ingres,
represented perhaps the natural antidote to the decorative debauch
which is here passed rapidly in review; its final overthrow was brought
about by that riot of academic tradition in which it subsequently
indulged, rather than by the labours of Delacroix and the school of
Romanticists which followed.
This, in the briefest possible terms, is an account of the general
and more obvious tendencies of French art during the two centuries we
have under consideration. How far, then, and to what extent may we
trace the direct handiwork of these artists upon the fan? What of the
authors of these dainty creations, that fluttered and shimmered like so
many butterflies through the summer sunshine—what do we know of their
personality?
Several references are made in this work to the similarity which
exists between the éventaillistes and the ceramists. The conditions of
production were precisely the same, the workers in the two arts were,
broadly speaking, of the same artistic calibre; indeed, it is on record
that, upon a shortage of painters at the royal factory of Sèvres, the
éventaillistes were called in to fill the breach. At the close of the
reign of Louis XV., says Paul Mantz, the most prominent éventaillistes
were Chevalier, Josse, Boguet, Hébert, Race, and Mme. Vérité. Amongst
the painters, almost in every instance obscure, were doubtless some
young artists who had still their position to make, and the signature
of Cahaigue is recorded with the date 1766. In the Louvre are two fan
leaves signed by Raymond La Farge, _c._ 1680. An ivory brisé fan, with
the subject of Blindman’s Buff, signed ‘Tiquet Fecit, 1720,’ appeared
in the Walker sale in 1882. Le Sieur Pichard, also, is mentioned in
an almanac of 1773, as being very well known as a fan painter; Mme.
Doré, at the same date, painted on silk and gauze: both the last-named
worked for the éventaillistes.—But the greater names, which have become
illustrious in the annals of French art, Watteau, Boucher, Fragonard;
is it possible to claim these also for the fan?—A fan bearing the
ineffably gracious touch of a Fragonard, what a possession! Lancret
painted a picture in the _form_ of a fan, representing two figures in a
wooded landscape. M. Paul Mantz, referring to the fan in the collection
of Dr. Poigey of Paris, decorated with light simple ornament and
medallion heads of a youth and two young girls, says: ‘The delicacy of
refined rose tint, the sureness of touch, the free manipulation of the
gouache, show a master-hand; of a certainty, if Boucher ever painted a
fan, it is this one.’
Balzac (_Cousin Pons_) refers to a ‘gem of a fan’ found at a
second-hand dealer’s, enclosed in a little box of West India wood,
_signed by Watteau_(?), and formerly the property of La Pompadour. The
old musician turns towards his cousin with a courtly bow, offers her
the fan of the favourite, saying: ‘It is time for that which has served
Vice to be in the hands of Virtue; a hundred years will be required
to work such a miracle. Be sure that no princess can have anything
comparable with this _chef d’œuvre_, for it is unhappily in human
nature to do more for a Pompadour than for a virtuous Queen.’
[Illustration: Pastorelle after Lancret, stick mother of pearl, richly
carved, pierced & gilt belonged to an Aunt of Queen Victoria, French.
c. 1750.
H. R. H. Princess Louise, Duchess of Argyll.]
We learn from Brantôme that Catherine de’ Medicis, who made her first
public entry into Paris as queen in 1549, introduced into the French
court the Italian feather-fans, in general use in Italy at that
period; these being made and sold by the perfumers who came in the
queen’s retinue. In a half-length engraved portrait in the British
Museum, the queen bears a plumed fan with an elaborately ornamented
handle garnished with pearls; in another portrait, a plumed fan with a
mirror in the centre. Brantôme records that, upon the untimely death of
the king, her husband, Catherine caused to be put round her device[98]
broken fans, with the feathers falling to pieces and the mirror
cracked;[99] this in token of having abandoned worldly frivolities. In
a small oval engraved portrait in the British Museum collection, this
broken fan motif is introduced as forming a diapered border; the fans
alternated with twisted cords and scythes.
It is not until the reign of Henry III., that we find the first
authentic evidence of the use of l’éventail plissé; fans were then much
in fashion, and, says Henri Estienne, ‘were held so much in esteem,
that, now the winter is come, the ladies cannot give them up, but
having used them in summer to cool themselves against the heat of the
sun, they make them serve in winter against the heat of the fire.’[100]
Pierre de l’Estoile, in his _Isle des Hermaphrodites_, 1588, gives us a
detailed account of the fan used by this effeminate monarch, evidently
some form of cockade, ‘expanding and folding merely by a turn of the
fingers.’ It was sufficiently large to be used also as a parasol, and
served therefore the double purpose of cooling the air, and preserving
the delicate complexion of the king.
The material was vellum, cut as delicately as possible, with lace
around of similar stuff.[101] ‘I could see in the other chambers,’
continues this author, ‘fans of the same material, or of taffetas,
with borders of gold and silver lace.’
This art of elaborate cutting, in vellum, paper, and other material,
was, as a matter of fact, a favourite pastime of the period; it is said
to have been indulged in by the king himself, and it may be taken that
this method of _découpé_, or _découpé_ in association with other forms
of ornamentation, was employed in a large number of the fans of this
epoch, both of the cockade and semicircular form.
Of this latter type, now beginning to be the vogue, the Actæon fan in
the Musée de Cluny is one of the earliest known examples. The leaf is
of parchment, cut in a series of slits through which the ten sticks,
shaped to an ornamental profile, are inserted. The vellum around the
sticks is painted to the shape of arrows; the spaces between are cut
away, to allow of the insertion of strips of mica, upon which are
painted devices representing Actæon, his hounds, a stag, a swan, etc.
The general character of the ornamentation is that of the earlier
French Renaissance; the date, _c._ 1580.
The fan industry in France had become of such importance under
Henry IV., that it was necessary to regulate it by statute; certain
concessions were therefore granted in December 1594 to the several
bodies of craftsmen engaged in the art of fan-making. These were
confirmed, and fresh regulations added, towards 1664.
On a petition presented to Louis XIV. in 1673 by the master fan-makers
to the number of sixty, they were constituted a corporate body by
the edict of March 23rd of that year, and their privileges further
strengthened by edicts of December 1676 and January and February 1678.
These ordained that the company should be ruled by four jurors, two of
whom were re-nominated every year in September in an assembly at which
every master could assist irrespectively. No one could be a master
without having served four years’ apprenticeship and having produced
a _chef-d’œuvre_. Nevertheless, the sons of a master were exempt
from the _chef-d’œuvre_ as well as the members who married the widows
or daughters of masters. The widows enjoyed the privileges of their
departed husbands so long as they remained single. They could not,
however, engage new apprentices. The entrance fee was fixed at four
hundred livres.
[Illustration: Photo by J. Leroy
Cut Vellum Fan with insertions of mica, painted with subjects of
Actæon, &.c. ivory stick, French, end of XVI. century.
Musée de Cluny.]
In 1753, the period of the highest development of the industry, there
were no less than one hundred and fifty master fan-makers in Paris,
and from a rare book (_Journal du Citoyen_), published at the Hague in
1754, we learn the prices usually obtained: Wooden fans (les éventails
de bois de palissandre), 6 to 18 livres a dozen; fans in gilt wood
(bois d’or), 9 to 36 livres a dozen; those partly of wood and partly of
ivory (les maistres brins en yvoire et la gorge en os), 24 to 72 livres
a dozen. Ivory fans, 48 to 60 livres a dozen; others more elaborate
sold for 30 or 40 pistoles apiece.
The fan-makers were united with the wood-polishers and lute-makers by
the edict of August 11th, 1776, as was also the painting, carving, and
varnishing relative to these crafts.
The proportions of the folded fan have varied considerably at different
periods, in obedience to the caprices of fashion, and this, together
with other features, is a general indication as to date. An attempt
is here made, by means of a series of diagrams, to formulate, from
well-authenticated examples, a system of development; but this can only
be accepted in a general way, since during most periods, and especially
during the eighteenth century, many exceptions to this rule might be
cited.
During the last half of the sixteenth century, doubtless, the general
proportion of the fan was that of a fourth of a circle. Alex. Fabri,
1593, gives the costume of the French ladies of his time and of older
date, and observes that these ladies held fans of a quarter circle
plissés. Vecellio, 1600, gives fans of a similar proportion. These
were both brisé and leaf; the fans of Ferrara, decorated with mica
insertion, were also of this shape. At this same period, fans were also
made of a slightly extended width, the Actæon fan of Cluny being an
example.
[Illustration: 1550]
[Illustration: 1550-1620]
[Illustration: 1620-1650]
[Illustration: 1660-1700]
[Illustration: 1680-1740]
[Illustration: 1720-1760]
[Illustration: 1780]
The width was gradually extended during the first half of the
seventeenth century, until, at the close of the reign of Louis XIII.,
it had attained almost a full semicircle, the engraved fans of Abraham
Bosse being authentic instances.
During the reign of the Grand Monarque the mount is deep, the shoulder,
as a consequence, low; the fan, after a slight reduction, again opening
out to a full semicircle. The blades, which in the first half of
the seventeenth century varied in France from four to eighteen, had
increased by the end of the century to twenty-four or twenty-six,
the number again falling to between eighteen to twenty-one by the
middle of the succeeding century. During the reign of Louis XV. the
width of the fan was lessened, being reduced to one-third of a circle,
the shoulder being raised about 1720, thus leaving less space for the
mount, the blades numbering eighteen to twenty-two.
[Illustration: Cephalus & Aurora, French.
Mrs Bischoffsheim.]
[Illustration: ‘Vernis Martin.’
Mrs F. R. Palmer.]
In the succeeding reign (Louis XVI.) the fan once again unfolded itself
to a full semicircle; the blades were either straight and narrow, the
incrustations of a correspondingly reticent character, or very broad,
showing no space between, the decorations extremely ornate; their
number in either instance varying from twelve to sixteen or eighteen.
The above scale of proportion is, however, by no means absolute; we
have fans with high shoulders, and correspondingly shallow mounts
during the period of Louis XIV.; we also have, during the same period,
fans which open out only to the third of a circle.
The _size_ of the folding-fan has also been subject to many variations.
From the period of its introduction it increased under Louis XIV.,
fluctuated to the middle of the eighteenth century, and gradually
lessened its proportions to the period of the Revolution and First
Empire.
In 1729 the Duc de Richelieu writes: ‘Small fans have quite gone out,
and the newest are bigger than ever. Ladies are now never without them,
summer or winter.’ From the _Mercure de France_, October 1730, we learn
that ‘Many fans are of a very considerable price and excessively large,
so that some little folks are not quite twice the height of their own
fans, a circumstance which ought to fill with a due sense of respect
the light and playful cavaliers.’ This continued during the hoop period
or second blossoming of the whalebone petticoat, when the fan, not to
be outdone, assumed similar vast proportions, and again dwindled to
such an extent that it acquired the name of ‘imperceptible.’
Another important consideration in determining the date of a fan is in
the fact that the sticks, being of a more enduring substance than the
mount, have often been remounted with paintings of a later date;[102]
the careful collector will, therefore, in selecting a specimen,
consider the fan in all its various characteristics—the style of the
painting, and the general character of its ornamentation.
Mr. S. Redgrave, in his catalogue of the fans exhibited at South
Kensington in 1870, refers to the difficulty in assigning fans to the
country to which their manufacture might be most correctly attributed:
‘Workmen of one country have been tempted to another; Chinese carvers
brought to Europe; parts of fans in which a particular country has
excelled have been imported to another, and used with its native
manufacture. In all cases, novel taste, approved by fashion, has never
failed to become the object of universal imitation.’
The art of painting during the reign of Louis XIII. began to play a
more important part in the decoration of fans; the subject, in the few
examples existing of this epoch, being usually enclosed in a florid
cartouche with festoons of fruit, flowers, amorini, etc., as in the
three engraved examples by Abraham Bosse, who was working in Paris at
this period. Indeed it is extremely probable that the publication of
these fans strongly influenced the character of the decoration of fan
mounts; it is more than possible that Bosse himself painted fans, since
he was painter as well as engraver, although his pictures are extremely
rare. The label, ‘Éventails de Bosse,’ appearing on the box handed by
the merchant to the lady in the engraving ‘La Galerie du Palais,’ may
quite conceivably refer to painted as well as engraved fans.
[Illustration: Pastorelle, with two portrait medallions, mount paper,
stick mother of pearl, finely carved with medallions &c. gilt. French.
c. 1780.
Wyatt Coll^n. V. & A. Museum.]
La Galerie du Palais, besides forming the subject of Bosse’s engraving,
supplied Corneille with the _motif_ of one of his comedies produced in
1634. ‘La Galerie’ was situated in the midst of the city, beside the
Palais de Justice, between the two branches of the Seine, and had
become, at the close of the reign of Henry IV., a ‘lively and animated
centre.’
In the latter years of the reign of Louis XIII. it was, as we learn
from the explanatory verses at the foot of Bosse’s engraving, as also
from Corneille’s comedy, a place of rendezvous for, and assignations
with, the beau-monde.
‘Icy faisant semblant d’acheter devant tous
Des gands, des Éventails, du ruban, des danteles;
Les adroits Courtisans se donnent rendez-vous,
Et pour se faire aimer, gallantisent les Belles.’
It was furnished with wooden shops in which were arranged _objets de
luxe_, new fashions, _chefs-d’œuvres_ of industry, laces, and jewellery.
The engraving shows a mercer’s shop with a cavalier and lady examining
fans, these objects being also exposed to view in the window. We have
here a genuine bit of old Paris of the time of Louis XIII., and thus
obtain a clear idea of what the Paris fan shops were like at this epoch.
Fans had, indeed, at this period obtained a firm hold upon the
affections of the fair, though not so firm as to preclude the
possibility of a powerful rival. The witty author of the lines appended
to Bosse’s engraving of Summer, in the circular composition of the four
seasons, a lady with a fan, accompanied by a Cupid bearing a parasol,
suggests that the love-god himself would be a better substitute for the
fan, not only for cooling the heated cheek, but also to assuage the
fire that burns within.
‘Qu’n éventail dans la chaleur
Semble oster de cette couleur
Dont vôtre teint rougit encore;
Vous ressemblez presque a l’aurore
A cause de cette rougeur
Mais dans cette simple douleur
Qui semble afliger vôtre cœur
Est-ce tout ce qui vous honore
Qu’n éventail?
Changez viste vôtre maleur
Et sans me crére caioleur
Aimable Phylis que j’adore
Croiez, qu’au feu qui vous deuore
Un hom̃e vous servit meilleur
Qu’n éventail.’
Authenticated examples of Louis XIII. fans are exceedingly rare. In
the Jubinal collection at Paris is a superb fan painted on skin,
representing the king playing blind-man’s buff with the four quarters
of the globe. This is designed upon the same principle as the three
engraved fans of Bosse above referred to, _i.e._ the subject enclosed
in a large and elaborate cartouche, filling the whole field of the fan,
a system of decoration which lasted well into the reign of Louis XIV.
The Countess de Beaussier exhibited at South Kensington, in 1870, a
mount of vellum painted with a large medallion or cartouche in the
centre, of lords and ladies of the court of France joining in a dance
in a park, the border enriched with coloured ornament in the style of
the period.
During the earlier part of the reign of Louis XIII., Anne of Austria,
his queen, introduced many Spanish fashions into France, amongst them
being fans.
It is recorded of this princess that, during a conference with
Richelieu, some kittens amused themselves with the ribbons of her
fan which had been left on a table in the antechamber; from this
circumstance the ribbons acquired the name of Badins (playful).[103]
It was from a similar light incident that, later, at the time of the
unpopularity of Mazarin, the fan became a means of expressing political
intrigue. Straw was adopted as the rallying sign of the Frondeurs, who,
after the victory in Paris, wore it in their hats and button-holes.
[Illustration: Hector & Andromache, after Coypel, French, gouache on
skin stick ivory finely carved with an eastern subject, guards set with
plaques of agate, & paste jewels; a watch at rivet.
The Dowager Marchioness of Bristol.]
‘If without straw a man was seen,
Strike him down! was the general scream,
For ‘tis but a dog of a Mazarine.’
A great crowd was applauding the king and princess in the great allée,
and crying out against Mazarin. Mademoiselle had appeared holding a fan
as she walked, to which was attached a bouquet of straw bound with blue
ribbon.
Straw also formed part of the decoration of fans, both at this period
and later. The pattern of leaves, flowers, fruits, or conventional
ornament, was cut in various coloured straws and _applied_. The
handsome fan in the possession of Lady Bristol, with the subject of
Hector and Andromache, after Antoine Coypel, belonging, however, to
a later period, is decorated at the sides with coloured straw-work.
This material was even employed in the decoration of the stick in the
form of inlay upon ivory and other substance; an example occurs in the
collection of Mr. L. C. R. Messel. This also of a much later period.
D’Alembert, in his _Réflexions et Anecdotes sur la Reine de Suède_,
recounts how the irascible, fierce, and railing daughter of Gustavus
Adolphus found herself at the court of Louis XIV., when the fashion
of fans was general (1656-1657). Consulted by a fair Frenchwoman as
to whether she should ply her fan even during the winds of winter,
Christina replied that the lady might fan herself or not, as she
pleased; either way she would be a straw blown about by the wind.
Upon this, the court dames, nettled at the rude reply of the haughty
mistress of Monaldeschi, one and all armed themselves with fans,
and waved them furiously whenever the queen was present, by way of
exhibiting a wholesome French contempt for northern barbarism.[104]
This circumstance led to the adoption of fans of a richer and more
ornate description. Fashion hastened to make the toy worthy of figuring
in grand adornment; the ordinary wood of the stick was replaced by
other supports of a more precious material, with incrustations of gold,
silver, enamel, and jewels. More capable artists were employed for the
execution of the mounts; the éventaillistes learnt from the Italians
to derive their inspiration from the great masters of their school.
The decoration of the fan-leaves, therefore, acquired something of the
suavity, graciousness, and courtliness associated with the work of the
painters of the Grand Siècle.
It was, doubtless, some such fan, some enchanting reminiscence of the
dainty ‘putti’ of Poussin, that Madame de Sévigné sent to her daughter,
Madame de Grignan.—‘The Chevalier de Buous brings you a fan, which I
think very pretty: they are not little loves upon it, for without doubt
they are little chimney-sweeps, the most charming little sweeps in the
world.’[105]
Two fans are known of the beginning of the reign of the Grand Monarque.
One, of which only the feuille is preserved, is in the possession
of Mr. J. G. Rosenberg, of Karlsruhe, the other in the Schreiber
collection, British Museum. The former is painted in gouache on swan
skin, and represents the signing of the marriage contract between Louis
XIV. and Maria Theresa, which event took place at St. Jean de Luz on
the Spanish frontier in 1660. The king and queen are seated before a
table in the centre, the courtiers standing in a semicircle, the men
in their fur-trimmed robes, the ladies all bearing fans; an official
in the foreground is reading aloud the marriage contract. The pattern
of the carpet is seized upon as a decorative _motif_, and forms a
diapered groundwork to the composition after the manner of the earlier
miniaturists. This truly magnificent mount betrays no evidence of the
Italian influence; no suggestion of ‘le premier peintre du Roi,’[106]
but entirely reminiscent of the great traditional French style. It
is, moreover, an original production, rather than, as is the case of
so many fan leaves, a mere transcription of the work of the greater
artists.
[Illustration: Battoir Fan, leaf paper, painted with medallions
referring to the marriage of the Dauphin with Maria Theresa of Spain,
stick & guards ivory finely carved & gilt, bearing the fleurs-de-lys of
France & arms of Navarre. 18-1/2 × 9-1/2.
The Dowager Marchioness of Bristol.]
In the Schreiber fan leaf, the king and queen are seated under
a canopy, a Cupid above bearing a rose garland and palm branch.
The ladies of the court, all holding fans, are seated around in a
semicircle, and on the right Cupids prepare the nuptial couch. This
leaf, which has been much repainted, is in gouache on paper, with
gilding in places; it has been removed from the mount and pasted on an
oak panel.
On a later fan, the king is represented as Phœbus descending from his
chariot, holding in his hand the mirror of truth to the assembled court
beauties, on whose countenances fear, alarm, and doubt appear. A figure
on the right (Louise de la Vallière) opens her arms eagerly to receive
him.
The king also appears as Endymion sleeping on Mount Latmos. La
Vallière, in the character of Diana, is alighting from her chariot
and contemplating the beautiful shepherd. A figure of Spring scatters
flowers. In the background two attendants of the goddess; _c._ 1660.
Mr. Robert Walker in his sale catalogue (1882) suggests that these two
fans, the sticks of which have perished and have been replaced by those
of old English workmanship, were painted for the Duchess de la Vallière
in the early time of her attendance at the court of Anne of Austria.
She is said to have formed a real and virtuous attachment to the king.
A fan mount in the Schreiber collection, also belonging to the earlier
years of the reign of Louis XIV., has for its subject the ‘Lovers’
Agency Bureau.’ In the midst of a semicircular temple, on an island
surrounded by a flowered border, is a golden statue of Cupid seated
upon a globe, bearing a banner inscribed, ‘L’Amour Avec ces traits Veut
blesser tout Le monde. Je Reigne dans les sieux Sur la terre et Sur
londe.’ Cupids are seated at a table covered with green cloth, serving
amorous couples with tablets inscribed, ‘Congé Pour Un Amant Constant:
Congé Pour Un Fidelle’; ‘Congé pour La Belle Iris.’ In front of the
table a Cupid is seated on a large crimson cushion, holding a scroll
inscribed, ‘Le Directeur Du Bureau D’amour.’ Two figures are kneeling
at the end of the table, the one holding a purse, the other a scroll
inscribed, ‘Contract De Constitution De Rente.’ In the foreground on
either side are couples who have married for money—a young man holding
a purse is accompanied by an elderly woman, and an old man who supports
himself on a crutch, accompanied by a young woman, is carrying a box
labelled ‘Bijouteri’; in both instances a Cupid follows them with a
rod for punishment. Around the island are moored ships with banners
inscribed, ‘Vous qui cherchez D’un Amoureux Desir,’ etc.
The fan leaf has been pasted on an oval panel and repainted to complete
the shape.
The fine varnish, celebrated in the verse of Voltaire,[107] which has
become associated with the name of Martin, was not, properly speaking,
a new invention, but rather a fresh application of an old method.
Attempts had been made during the reign of Louis XIV. to imitate the
lacquers of Japan, and the process was first applied to furniture. In
an inventory of the effects of Molière we read of a ‘small cabinet with
Chinese varnish,’ and of ‘two dice-boxes of wood, varnished after the
Chinese fashion.’ This was the period when the artistic products of
the East were so much exercising the minds of European craftsmen, as a
consequence of the opening up of China and Japan to western traders.
The four brothers Martin, William, Simon-Étienne, Julien, and Robert,
coach-painters, sons of a tailor of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, in
applying themselves to the task of imitating the processes of Oriental
lacquer, by a fortunate accident developed a method admirably suited
to the decoration of fans, which, in spite of many attempts to imitate,
has never since been rivalled.
[Illustration: Fête Champêtre, ‘Vernis Martin’ c.1730.
Wyatt Coll^n., V. & A. Museum.]
Two concessions were obtained—those of November 27, 1730, and February
18, 1744, permitting the elder Martin, for the space of twenty years,
to execute all sorts of works in relief after the manner of the Chinese
and Japanese.
An advertisement in _Le Mercure_, which appeared during the year 1724,
recommends to the curious the fine productions in Chinese and Japanese
varnish, of this ‘excellent and unique craftsman who imitates and often
surpasses his models.’[108] In 1732 a fresh announcement is made in
the same journal to the effect that ‘Le Sieur Martin the elder, who
may be said to have considerably enriched the beaux-arts in Europe by
imitating and even surpassing in many respects the beautiful varnishes
and reliefs of China and Japan, gives notice to the public that he
undertakes panels, friezes, ceilings, carriages, etc., in splendid
varnishings.’
This varnish, with its brilliant translucency, and its remarkable
immunity from cracking, was applied over painting done in the
ordinary oil method, the painting being necessarily thin, almost to
transparency, the material of the fan usually ivory. The decoration
consists of either a single subject covering the whole field of the
fan, or a system of one, three, or many cartouches, occasionally as
many as twenty miniatures, enclosed in an ornamental setting, made up
of a curious mixture of Chinese diapered patterns, semi-naturalistic
semi-Persian ornament, Italian arabesques, and French ornament of the
character with which we are familiar in Rouen ware.
The guards are in most instances decorated with miniatures, usually
two superior and two inferior, divided by ornamental borders or
arabesques. On the handle end of the fan, _i.e._ the smaller
semicircle, are either one, three, or more miniatures, often imitation
Chinese subjects: these, in some instances, are in self-colour, as
pink, red, or blue. The gilding is both in leaf and painted, usually
worked over with a pattern in red or brown.
The figure-painting is in no instance by a master-hand, _i.e._ by an
artist of the first calibre, but by skilled workmen, or artificers,
deriving their inspiration from outside sources.
The subjects with which these fans were decorated embrace every class.
Thus we have representations of ancient history, both sacred and
profane, subjects which recorded important current events, subjects
fanciful of almost every description.
That of the ‘Rape of Helen’ occurs often; the fine fan in the
possession of Mr. J. G. Rosenberg of Karlsruhe has this subject for its
principal medallion, the style recalling Le Brun, with sixteen smaller
subjects from classic mythology, these divided by a gold band. Also
in the beautiful example in the possession of Lady Lindsay this same
subject is treated, though in a very different manner. (Illustrated
facing p. 30.)
In the cabinet of Madame Riant is the ‘Judgment of Paris,’ the subject
_en cartouche_, with smaller cartouches in the Chinese taste.
Probably one of the earliest of these ‘Vernis Martin’ fans (ivory
brisé fans had been painted earlier, during the latter part of the
seventeenth century) is the bridal-fan of the Duchess of Burgundy,
Adelaide of Savoy, mother of Louis XV. The subject represents the fêtes
at Versailles on the occasion of the marriage of the grandson of Louis
XIV. in 1709. On the obverse the bride appears seated upon a dais with
attendants bearing floral offerings. In the centre the king dances a
minuet with Madame de Maintenon, ‘ma tante,’ as the dauphin endearingly
called her. Other dancing figures, musicians, etc., complete the
composition, which is enclosed in a large cartouche of fruits,
masks, instruments, etc.; on the field of the fan are representations
of country life.
[Illustration: The Rape of Helen, ‘Vernis Martin’, c. 1745.
Lady Northcliffe.]
On the lower semicircle, _en cartouche_, the bride again appears
playing a guitar, the remaining space being occupied by subjects of a
Chinese character. On the reverse we have a representation of the fêtes
in the palace gardens, with scenes from the life of the prince—as pupil
of Fénelon, and as lover; miniatures of the prince and princess appear
on the panaches. This important fan has been attributed to the pencil
of Watteau, but with small grounds, being quite unlike the character of
Watteau’s work except in the type of some of the figures represented.
The example which formed part of the royal collection at Windsor Castle
is so well known that it scarcely needs description here. It consists
of a large number of cartouches of classical and pastoral subjects
divided by gold borderings. It formerly belonged to Marie-Antoinette,
and was procured for Her Majesty Queen Victoria by the Queen of the
Belgians.
The fan representing the ‘Toilette of Madame la Marquise de Montespan,’
and ‘the Promenade,’ in the possession of the Countess Duchâtel, has
become historic. It was sent by Madame de Sévigné to her daughter,
Madame de Grignan, and is thus referred to in her 149th letter: ‘My fan
has then become most useful, doubtless. Do you not think it beautiful?
Alas, what a bagatelle! You would not take away from me this small
pleasure when occasion presents itself—you would thank me for that
pleasure, although it is a mere nothing.’
We are enabled, by the courtesy of Mr. Leopold de Rothschild, to
illustrate (facing p. 142) one of the best-preserved examples of
this interesting type of fan. The subject represents a company of
musicians in a garden, with trellised background and fountain; on the
lower cartouche a classical landscape; on the panaches are figures of
Harlequin, Pierrot, etc., the ornamental portions being painted with
the most minute finish.
Upon the death of the elder Martin in 1749, his widow associated
herself with her brother-in-law, Julien Martin, who was acquainted with
the secrets of this varnish and method. The studio at the entrance to
the Faubourg Saint-Denis, therefore, did not cease to prosper, and
production went on until 1758. This at least we learn of the engraver
Pasquier, and it seems to us that the most successful varnishes
are the earliest in date—those which appear to have been produced
1720-1745.[109]
The foregoing quotation refers to Martin’s productions generally, but
is equally applicable to the fan, and it is probable that although a
few isolated examples of these delicate objects may have been produced
during the latter years of the reign of Louis XIV., production did not
become very general until later in the lifetime of Martin the elder,
who subsequently received the title of ‘Vernisseur du roi.’
The question as to whether the brothers Martin themselves painted their
fans, or to what extent they were indebted to outside assistance, opens
up an interesting field of inquiry. The order of their production,
also, presents considerable difficulties. In some cases, as that of
the bridal-fan of the Duke of Burgundy, the event itself determines
the date; in the majority of instances, however, the subject affords
no clue, and any conclusions formed are necessarily more or less
speculative and problematical. The natural order of decorative
development is from simplicity to complexity in both arrangement and
detail; it is therefore reasonable to assume that the earlier examples
are those displaying a certain severity and reticence of style and
method, and a simple arrangement of either one or but few subjects, and
that the later fans are those exhibiting a profusion of medallions of
various sizes, divided by gold bands. The variety in the style, manner,
and handling, of the subjects depicted on these fans, to say nothing
of the number extant, of itself disposes of the theory that they were
all the work of the brothers, but in any case they must be credited
with the original conception of a style and method of decoration
which, although it will scarcely bear searching analysis if judged from
the standpoint of strict decorative principles, is fresh, piquant, and
unique.
[Illustration: Belshazzar’s Feast, ‘Vernis Martin.’
Metropolitan Museum, New York.]
To return to pleated fans. In the Franks collection appeared an example
with the leaf of paper finely painted in gouache, with the betrothal of
Louis XV. with Marie Leczinska, and on the reverse a pastoral scene.
The brins and panaches are of white pearl, richly ornamented with
carved medallions of figures, portraits, heraldry, and scroll-work in
different coloured gold foils. This fan belonged to Marie, queen of
Louis XV.
The bridal-fan of Marie Leczinska has a skin mount, the subject
representing the king and his bride elect, attended by Cardinal Fleury
in lay habit, bringing offerings of flowers to the altar of Hymen; a
dog (emblem of fidelity) sits beside the king. In the foreground on
either side are groups in rural character; on the reverse, which is
of paper, is a pastorelle in which the royal couple again appear. The
brins and panaches are of mother-of-pearl, richly carved with a centre
medallion representing the queen as Venus descending from her chariot,
receiving the homage of Mars. Cupids, heraldic devices, fleurs de lys,
and a small medallion of Louis XIV. complete the design, which is
enriched with variegated gilding.
The symbolical marriage of Louis XV. with Marie Leczinska on Mount
Olympus is depicted on a fine mount of vellum in the possession of M.
Voisin, with portraits of the king and princess surrounded by Genii;
figures of Jupiter, Juno, and Apollo _en cartouche_, musicians, etc.,
in rose camaïeu, surrounded by the arms of France and Poland; the
reverse, a figure subject in blue camaïeu on silver ground. Stick,
‘Vernis Martin’ on ivory; guards, incrustations of mother-of-pearl.
The fan in the collection of the Dowager-Marchioness of Bristol
refers to the improvements made in Paris during the reign of Louis
XV.; it shows in the distance the fine square (Place de Louis XV.)
which adjoined the Palace of the Tuileries, with the bronze equestrian
statue of the king on a pedestal supported by four statues representing
Strength, Peace, Prudence, and Justice. The group, destroyed during the
Revolution, gave occasion to the following epigram:
‘O la belle Statue! O le beau piédestal!
Les vertus sont à pied, le vice est à cheval!’
The king, attended by Minerva, who holds her ægis over his head, is
giving directions as to the building to a kneeling figure whose cloak
and shield are ornamented with the fleurs de lys of France. A seated
winged genius is holding a large open book, Cupids are playing musical
instruments and supporting a trophy of arms and a medallion portrait of
Louis XIV. The square will remain for ever memorable as the scene of
the execution of Louis XVI. It was renamed Place de la Révolution.
The stick is of ivory, carved with allegorical subjects, variegated
gold enrichments, the imbricated ornament painted blue, the guards
inlaid with mother-of-pearl; on the reverse a tent, with soldiers
drinking and smoking at a table. Jewelled pin.
Of the fans referring to the courtship and marriage of the dauphin (son
of Louis XV.) we have the royal courtships in two medallions on either
side of the sun in full splendour (emblem of the king), decorated with
spangles; the mount of skin, the stick ivory, carved in open work with
appropriate figures.
In the centre cartouche of another fan, similar in treatment and
evidently by the same hand, the dauphin and dauphine bring floral
offerings to Hymen, the field of the fan being occupied by two smaller
medallions of Cupids, miniatures of the royal pair, and marriage
emblems at intervals, the cartouches connected by spangles; the stick
ivory, carved in open work with figures emblematic of the marriage.
[Illustration: Building of the Place Louis XV.
The Dowager Marchioness of Bristol.]
[Illustration: Dido & Æneas, Louis XV, gouache on skin, stick mother of
pearl carved à jour, painted & gilt, 22-1/2 x 11-1/2.
Mrs Bischoffsheim.]
[Illustration: Dido & Æneas. (reverse)
Mrs Bischoffsheim.]
The marriage of the dauphin with Maria Theresa of Spain (1745), or his
second wife, Princess Maria Josephe de Saxe, is recorded on a
magnificent mount representing the interior of a chapel, with the bride
and bridegroom on a raised dais, a cardinal performing the ceremony.
These three fans appeared in the Walker sale of 1882.
The Battoir fan (illustrated facing p. 154) would appear to refer to
this Spanish marriage; it is certainly a marriage fan. The feuille
of paper is decorated with eight variously shaped medallions. In the
centre the bride, who bears a sufficient resemblance to the engraved
portraits of Maria Theresa, is taking tea; also a heart-shaped
composition with two figures kneeling at the altar of Love, Father
Time in the distance; a lover offering a bouquet to a lady, etc. The
admirably designed stick and guards are of ivory, carved and gilt,
decorated with emblematic figures, amorini, trophies of musical
instruments, etc., bearing the fleurs de lys of France and the arms of
Spain.
The magnificent fan in the possession of Mrs. Bischoffsheim reflects
the general interest taken in the classics during the earlier part of
the eighteenth century. Dryden’s English translation of Virgil was
given to the world in 1697, and the Latin edition of P. Masvicius,
Leovardiae, 1717, contained the commentaries of Servius, Philargyrius,
and Pierius. The fan belongs to the earlier years of the reign of
Louis XV., and illustrates the story unfolded in the first book of the
_Æneid_. On the reverse the storm raised by Æolus at the bidding of
Juno, a rock in the foreground being inscribed ‘Naufrage d’Énée’: and
the meeting of Venus and Æneas. On the obverse the banquet:
‘Embroidered coverlets
Are laid, and gorgeous purple; and the boards
Groan with the massive silver.’
The love-god, in the guise of the boy Ascanius, is presented to Dido:
He—after he has clasped Æneas’ neck
In fond embrace, and so has satisfied
The doating love of his pretended sire—
Turns to the Queen. Her eyes and all her soul
She fixes on him; yea, and in her lap
At times she fondles him—unhappy Dido—
Not knowing how great a god is nestling there!’[110]
The so-called ‘Cabriolet’ fan, introduced during the reign of Louis
XV., represents a new and interesting development. In this the mount
is divided into two parts, superior and inferior, the latter being
half-way up the stick, the former in its usual place at the top; the
intervening space imparting a lightness and richness to the fan not
obtainable by other means, the mount still affording a sufficiency of
space for decoration on a less extended scale. This usually consists of
Parisian scenes—persons driving in cabriolets, or promenading, either
painted or engraved as the case may be, since both processes were
adopted.
The cabriolet, introduced by Josiah Child in 1755, was a light
two-wheeled carriage which obtained great popularity in Paris. Horace
Walpole, writing to his friend Mann in the same year, says:
‘All we hear from France is, that a new madcap reigns there,
as strong as that of Pantins was.[111] This is _la fureur de
cabriolets_, Anglicè one-horse chairs, a mode introduced by Mr.
Child. Everything is to be _en cabriolet_; the men paint them
on their waistcoats, have them embroidered for clocks to their
stockings, and the women, who have gone all the winter without
anything on their heads, are now muffled up in great caps, with round
sides, in the form of, and scarce less than, the wheels of chaises.’
Two varieties of these rare fans appear in different collections; a
larger and richer fan measuring some twenty inches and opening out to a
little more than a third of a circle, the sticks numbering twenty-one,
including the panaches; another about an inch smaller, with less
carving on the sticks, and made at a later date.
[Illustration: ‘Cabriolet’ Fan, stick ivory, painted, leaf paper.
Lady Northcliffe.]
[Illustration: ‘Cabriolet’ Fan, stick ivory, finely carved, painted &
gilt.
The Dowager Marchioness of Bristol.]
[Illustration: ‘Cabriolet’ Fan, stick ivory, carved and painted.
The Dowager Marchioness of Bristol.]
The fine example illustrated from the collection of Lady Bristol has
nine cabriolets, two on the larger and three on the smaller paper
mounts, two on the brins, and two on the panaches. The upper portion of
the ivory stick is carved with three series of three figures enclosed
in an ornamental setting, and one on each panache, with ‘goldfish’
inlay. The lower portion has two large cartouches of figure subjects
also with ‘goldfish’ inlay, and a smaller one painted, the whole of the
stick elaborately painted and gilt. A similar fan is in the possession
of the Comtesse de Chambrun, Paris, and was exhibited at South
Kensington in 1870.
Two examples of the smaller variety are given from the collections of
Lady Northcliffe and Lady Bristol, similar in general character, but
presenting slight differences in detail. On each of these fans only
one cabriolet appears, painted decoration taking the place of the rich
carving and gilding on the stick of the larger fan.
Towards the end of the reign of Louis XV. the fan industry suffered a
temporary relapse: the fashion for the cheaper printed fans, and also
for the importations from the East, spread even to the aristocrats. We
read of a fashionable jeweller at this period undertaking to supply to
La Pompadour a dozen fans direct from Nankin for the insignificant sum
of seventy-two livres. An interesting design for a fan in the Hennin
collection (Bibliothèque Nationale) is probably intended as an effort
to revive interest in the more expensive fans,[112] and is inscribed,
‘Combat du terrible torreau représenté par des enfants en présence
de Sa Majesté Louis XV., roi de France et de Navarre.’ This was a
spectacle devised for the king’s amusement in 1760. In an enclosure, a
bull-fight, in which the actors are children, is taking place before
a large concourse of spectators, including the king and queen; on the
left are trumpeters and other figures, on the right is a figure holding
three hounds in leash.
La Pompadour is glorified on a skin mount in the collection of Mrs.
Bruce Johnston; the subject being ‘hommages’ offered by Church, State,
Literature, Art and Music at the altar of madame, who appears as Venus
seated on a raised throne in the centre of the composition, her car and
doves in the background. A Cupid strikes at her bosom with his arrow,
others dance to the music of a mandoline, while another, crowned with a
laurel wreath, rides on the back of the French Eagle. This was probably
painted by one of the numerous artists employed by madame, and never
mounted. (Illustrated facing p. 6.)
The story of Rinaldo and Armida supplied the subject of many fans
produced during the century. Handel’s opera _Rinaldo_ was first
produced in London, February 24, 1711. It was staged in the most
sumptuous manner, the gardens of Armida being filled with live birds,
a piece of stage realism hardly to be surpassed even in these days: it
had, however, little vogue on the Continent. Gluck’s _Armide_, which
appeared in 1777, fared better, the composer being then in the height
of his popularity, and, moreover, under the powerful protection of his
former pupil, Marie-Antoinette, who, upon the success of _Orphée_,
granted him a pension of six thousand francs, and a like sum for every
fresh work he should produce on the French stage.
The charming fan, here illustrated, by the gracious permission of
H.R.H. the Princess of Wales, is anterior to the date of the production
of Gluck’s opera, and is one of the best of the numerous versions of
the subject. It was given by King William IV. to Augusta, Duchess
of Cambridge, and left by her to her grand-daughter, Victoria Mary,
Princess of Wales. (Frontispiece.)
In Miss Moss’s fan, also illustrated, the stick is of ivory carved _à
jour_, and painted with a cartouche in the centre, of Neptune, Venus,
and Cupid.
[Illustration: Wedding Fan, silk leaf, painted with medallions,
spangled ornaments. Ivory stick richly carved, with subject of the
Alter of Hymen &c.
The Countess of Bradford.]
[Illustration: Wedding Fan, satin mount, painted with medallions,
spangled, ivory stick, finely carved with marriage emblems &c., ivory
miniatures on guards, French, c. 1780.
Lady Lindsay.]
The fêtes given on the occasion of the marriage of the young dauphin,
afterwards Louis XVI., with Marie-Antoinette, are recorded on
a fan in the Wyatt collection, in the centre of which are shown the
illuminations with fireworks, a scroll inscribed, ‘Vive la France,
l’empire, et tous leurs alliés à jamais’; above is inscribed, ‘Feu
d’artifice de Mr. L’ambassadeur Exécuté le 10 Juin 1770 par le Sr.
Torre Artificier du Roi.’ On the left is a street scene with a band
of musicians and spectators; on the right, four figures viewing the
illuminations. A cartouche on the right is inscribed, ‘Fêtes Publiques
à l’occasion du mariage de Mr. le Dauphin.’ The mount is of paper, the
stick and guards ivory, pierced gilt, and inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
(Illustrated facing p. 180.)
An allegory of this marriage appears as the subject of a fan that
formed part of an important collection of a deceased Parisian lady,
Madame X., sold at the Hôtel Drouot, April 1897. In this the stick is
mother-of-pearl, carved with reliefs, gilt, and the arms of France and
Austria. The leaf is in gouache on skin, with medallions of the royal
pair, alternated with others emblematic of the Fine Arts.
Another bridal-fan of Marie-Antoinette has on the obverse an
allegorical composition, in which the dauphine, enthroned upon a cloud,
is about to sign the marriage contract which Cupid lays before her,
while Hymen hovers above: on the left, the Graces weave garlands of
roses; on the right, Midas and Discordia are banished to the regions of
obscurity.
On the reverse, Louis and his young bride appear walking in a wood,
guided by Cupid, blind, and bearing a torch. Both these subjects have
been attributed to Fragonard; they are, however, most certainly by two
different hands. The stick is mother-of-pearl, carved _à jour_, with
figures of the royal couple, cupids, and other appropriate emblems.
The custom of presenting fans on the occasion of a wedding was
universal, and surely no more acceptable offering than a fan could
be made to a bride. The fine fan, illustrated by the kindness of the
Countess of Bradford, is typical of a whole class of fans produced
during the latter years of the reign of Louis XVI., having silk
mounts, with painted medallions, usually one superior, and the other
inferior; the borders and intervening spaces decorated with spangles of
gold, silver, and colours; the sticks either broad and ornate as in the
example given, or narrow; the ornamentation being of a more reticent
character.
The principal medallion figures the prospective bride and bridegroom
nursing a figure of Love. On the extremely ornate mother-of-pearl
stick, lavishly gilt in dead and burnished gold of two colours, the
happy pair again appear clasping hands before the altar of Hymen, with
an accompaniment of Cupids; on the two inferior cartouches are dancing
figures with wreaths, spangling being applied here as on the leaf. The
fan appeared at the recent exhibition of Fair Women at the Grafton
Galleries, where it attracted much attention.
On the occasion of the birth of the dauphin, (Louis XVII.) in 1785,
eleven years after the marriage, the royal pair renew their vows at the
altar of Hymen. This on a fan from the unfortunate queen’s collection,
which, together with the last mentioned, appeared at the Walker sale in
1882; the mount skin, the stick mother-of-pearl, carved in open with
portraits of the queen and the young dauphin.
The fan (brisé) presented by the town of Dieppe to Marie-Antoinette,
in celebration of the same event,[113] is declared by Balzac to be the
handsomest of all historical fans. It is of ivory open work, carved by
the famous worker Le Flamand, eulogised by Bernardin de Saint-Pierre.
The subject, from the design for Vien, premier peintre to Louis XVI.,
is an episode in the life of Alexander the Great. Porus, an Indian
prince, on the eastern bank of the Hydaspes, refused to submit to
Alexander, but, defeated and taken prisoner, he was brought into the
presence of the conqueror. Asked how he expected to be treated, he
boldly replied, ‘As a brave man and a king.’ Alexander, subdued by his
foe’s firmness, restored to him his conquered territory.
[Illustration:
Photo by A. Girander.
Fan stick, Ivory, carved with subject of the Assembly of Notables 1787,
figures of Louis XVI & Marie Antoinette on panaches.
Musée du Louvre.]
When the queen was obliged to quit Versailles in 1789, she gave this
fan to Madame du Cray, who was keeper of her Majesty’s laces. From
Madame du Cray it passed into the possession of her daughter, Madame la
Bruyère, who, at her death, bequeathed it to Monsieur de Thiac, by whom
it was exhibited at South Kensington in 1870.
The ivory stick—the mount has long since perished, if it ever possessed
one—acquired by the Louvre, and formerly in the collection Revoil,
in 1828, is said to have been once the property of Marie-Antoinette.
The brins carved are with a subject of the king, with the two royal
princes on his right hand, receiving a deputation of ministers, the
whole enclosed within a florid and meandering cartouche, the background
and diapers _à jour_. On the panaches appear figures of Louis and
Marie-Antoinette, above their heads two genii bear the royal crown; on
the gorge are medallions of Cupids, with tragic and comic masks.
Here, then, we have two typical examples of the ivory work of the last
quarter of the eighteenth century, the best, presumably, that the epoch
could produce, since both were executed for the queen.
The last named, last also in the order of production, although it
carries picturesque richness of effect to its utmost possible limit,
nevertheless represents a worn-out tradition, an art which had become
moribund, lifeless, incapable of any fresh effort, repeating the same
tiresome platitudes with wearing and monotonous persistency; the
former, on the other hand, indicative of the commencement of that
regeneration of French art, which, inaugurated by Vien, ultimately
resulted in the creation of a school of painting and design, finding,
in the vitality of its poetic invention, no parallel in modern Europe,
and making its influence felt even to the present day.
The reign of Spartan simplicity of dress commenced early, and was
brought about by several causes, the first being the visit to Paris of
the American deputies, headed by Benjamin Franklin, 1776-78. Thus Count
de Ségur in his ‘Memoirs’: ‘It was as if the sages of Greece and Rome
had suddenly appeared; their antique simplicity of dress, their firm
and plain demeanour, their free and direct language, formed a contrast
to the frivolity, effeminacy, and servile refinements of the French.
The tide of fashion and nobility ran after these republicans, and
ladies, lords, and men of letters all worshipped them.’
Among other contributory causes was the publication of Saint-Pierre’s
novel, _Paul et Virginie_, in which the heroine is described as being
attired in a simple robe of white muslin, with plain straw hat, a
picture which instantly captivated the Parisiennes. Moreover, the
classic revival which set in about the middle of the century had
gathered force, so that by the commencement of the Revolution the time
had become ripe for a complete change. While the ladies were attired _à
la Grec_, the gentlemen cropped their hair _à la Romain_.
The fan followed the prevailing order of things, and affected
simplicity. During the period of the Directoire, and the Empire which
succeeded, the painted mounts gradually disappeared, their place being
taken by those of silk of various colours, ornamented with spangles and
similar devices.
The mount of Miss Ethel Birdwood’s fan, an excellent example of the
simple type, is most certainly French, obtained in France by the
grandparents of Sir George, who were expelled Huguenots, and sent out
by them to Canton to be mounted. The stick is admirably in keeping
with the reticent character of the mount, and exhibits no trace of the
characteristic Oriental vice of excess in ornamental detail.
[Illustration: Directoire Fan, green silk mount, spangled mother of
pearl stick carved à jour.
Miss Ethel Travers Birdwood.
‘Sans Gêne’ & Directoire Fans, red silk mounts, sticks ivory and ebony
respectively.
Mr L. C. R. Messel.]
[Illustration: ‘Sans Gêne’ Fan, leaf green silk with figure of an opera
dancer, stick ivory, applied leather on guards.
Empire Fan, leaf red silk with band of net & ornament in gold, silver &
spangles, stick ivory, tinted crimson.
Mr L. C. R. Messel.]
It was inevitable that a system of decoration so easy of application,
and at the same time so effective as spangling, should have an
extended vogue. The device was first introduced as a framework to
pictures or miniatures _en cartouche_, and as emphasising the leading
lines of a design. Gradually a more lavish use of these glistening
ornaments was made, until, during the Directoire and Empire periods,
spangling formed the chief decorative _motif_ of the design; figures
being treated with spangled draperies, the flesh painted. In the
Directoire fan illustrated, with Ceres in a chariot drawn by two
bullocks, spangling is carried to its utmost limit, the whole subject,
figures, animals, chariot, and accessories, being treated with these
little gold and silver discs of varying sizes.
This refers to the Fête de l’Agriculture celebrated by the
administration of the department of the Seine 10 messidor an VI. (28
June 1798). A lavishly ornamented car drawn by six bullocks, their
hoofs and horns gilded, the whole decorated with wreaths of flowers,
was accompanied by the Free Trade Society of Agriculture, and the
administrators of the Natural History Museum and Veterinary School,
carrying agricultural implements, surmounted by a sheaf of corn, over
which floated the oriflamme of France; their destination being the
Temple dedicated to Cybele in the middle of the grand square of the
Champs Élysées.
The ancient form of the chariot, says Blondel, the groups of stationary
guards with entwined arms, indicating thereby that those around
cultivate and defend the fields, serve equally to represent agriculture
to the imagination and the ancient fêtes that fertile Phrygia
celebrated in honour of the goddess of Harvests at the foot of Mount
Ida. The event was commemorated on a number of fans, both painted in
gouache and printed; Blondel figures one in the possession of the heir
of Madame Tallien, printed and coloured by hand, erroneously supposing
it to refer to this event;[114] in this instance also, as in the
example illustrated facing p. 136, two bullocks only are represented.
This glorification of Ceres and Cybele led to the general adoption
of straw for the various articles of costume, following an older
fashion. ‘There is nothing but straw in the impoverished dresses of the
ladies,’ exclaim MM. de Goncourt in their _Société Française pendant le
Directoire_, echoing a curious vaudeville of the period, ‘mob caps of
straw, bonnets of straw, fans of straw, and spangles—nothing is made
without spangles.’
‘Paillette aux bonnets,
Aux toquets,
Aux petits corsets!
Paillette
Aux fins bandeaux,
Aux grands chapeaux!
Paillette
Aux noirs colliers,
Aux blancs souliers!
Paillette
Paillette aux rubans,
Aux turbans,
On ne voit rien sans
Paillette.’
In the ‘Sans Gêne’ fan, with figure of an opera dancer, the dress of
the lady is pink gauze. The material of the leaf (green silk) is cut
away, leaving the dress semi-transparent in those parts which are not
overlaid with spangles.
During the Empire period and later, this system of the introduction
of gauze or net was carried further, fans being treated with a broad
border of net, and various applied decorations in gold, silver, and
spangles, these being the precursors of the fans made entirely of gauze
or net, decorated in a similar manner, and in vogue during the first
quarter of the nineteenth century.
[Illustration: Lorgnette Fans, ivory, in form of arrows, silvered, two
circular horn, with palliettes, semicircular horn with paillettes.
Mr L. C. R. Messel.]
Lorgnette or opera-glass fans are evidence of a fashion that obtained
during the seventeenth and again during the latter half of the
eighteenth centuries. M. Blondel quotes from _Menagiana_ as follows:—
‘The fans _à jour_ carried by the women, when they go to Porte
Saint-Bernard to take the air on the bank of the river, are called
“lorgnettes.”’
A paper called _Nécessaire_, for 1759, refers to this means of
satisfying pardonable curiosity without wounding modesty. A small
opera- or spy-glass was set in the chief sticks of the fan, either at
the top of the panache, probably the earliest form, or at the rivet.
In the former case the whole of the blades were perforated, the fan
when opened showing a series of circular perforations round its upper
border. The advantage of such an arrangement will be obvious; a fair
reveller might see without being seen, and the tell-tale blush be hid.
For more distant objects the opera-glass was called into requisition,
the fan used either open or closed.
‘Pour cacher la pudeur d’usage
Contre un beau front le papier sert
Et les brins forment un passage
Par où l’œil voyage à couvert.’[115]
The material was either ivory, horn, or occasionally, in the case
of the semicircular folding-fans, gauze, decorated with spangles or
embroidered work.
The brisés were made to the semicircular shape, and also to that of
the full circle or cockade. In the latter instance the long handle was
provided with circular loops, by which the fan might be held in the
same manner as a pair of scissors.
The blades assume various shapes, as that of Love’s arrow, the bat’s
wing, an umbrella, a snake, a violin, and, when made of horn, were
usually decorated with ‘piqué.’
A curious and uncommon lorgnette-fan of the period of Louis XIV.,
in the possession of Madame Jubinal, is entirely of ivory ‘découpé
à jour,’ with appliqués in gelatine imitating mica, forming a
transparency through which roguish eyes may see and at the same time
be protected as with a curtain. A semicircular lorgnette-fan, of fine
design, is seen in the hands of Madame Devauçay, in the portrait by
Ingres, collection of M. Frédéric Reiset, painted 1806.
These interesting fans remained in vogue during the first quarter of
the nineteenth century and later.
The last stage of the fan during this foolish, frivolous, fascinating
eighteenth century was that of a gradual dwindling into nothingness.
Madame de Genlis, in her _Dictionary of Etiquette_ (1818), remarks:
‘When women were timid and blushed, they were accustomed to carry large
fans to hide their blushes, serving at once as screen and veil: now
that they blush no longer, and are intimidated by nothing, they do not
choose to hide their faces, and therefore carry but microscopic fans
(_éventails imperceptibles_).’[116]
Blondel states that ‘this small degree of fashion continued under the
First Empire, when fans, still very small, were for the most part
brisés or garnished with taffalas; a few, however, were embellished
with steel pearls, like the jewels of Petit Dunkerque.’
[Illustration: Spangled gauze with turtle doves.
Blue & gold, spangled.
Mr L.C.R. Messel.
Mauve silk & net, spangled.
lorgnette embroidered gauze.]
We have seen how, during the period of the balloon petticoat, the fan,
like the frog in the fable, anxious to outdo his big neighbour the ox,
swelled—and swelled—and swelled. The consequences were less disastrous
in the case of the fan, which is nothing if not consistent. The small
imps of the fan tribe carried by those truly miraculous creatures the
Merveilleuses, whose costume was reduced to such exceedingly scanty
proportions that a Frenchman even was moved to inquire if nudity
would not have been a gain to modesty, were in perfect keeping with
the _tout ensemble_. The fan lessened its proportions, grew more and
more imperceptible as the rest of the costume grew scantier, until, as
in the example in the collection of Mr. L. C. R. Messel, the blades
measured but two and a half inches!
[Illustration: JAPANESE LADY’S COURT FAN, WITH STREAMERS. (Ethnological
Museum, Berlin.)]