ENGRAVED FANS OF THE SEVENTEENTH AND EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES. PART I
[Illustration]
The practice of engraving fans, begun tentatively in Italy by Agostino
Carracci in the latter half of the sixteenth century, and in France by
Callot somewhat later, did not become general until the close of the
century that followed, although two names—those of Abraham Bosse and
Nicholas Loire—stand out prominently during this interval.
The engraving of Carracci referred to in an early chapter of this work,
and illustrated opposite, must be regarded as merely a design for a
fan, serving no other purpose apparently, in its engraved form, than
as a record of a type of fan now practically obsolete, and of which no
examples in their complete or original state remain to us.
The earliest engraved fans take the form of the hand-screens in general
use in Italy and elsewhere at this period. Of these, the engraving
known as ‘l’éventail de Callot,’ much sought after by iconophilists,
was produced in the year 1619, and is one of the most esteemed plates
of the master. The subject is a fête or carnival on the Arno, given
at Florence on the 25th of July of that year by the Corporations of
Weavers and Dyers, the whole subject being enclosed in a characteristic
cartouche, on the lower portion of which the name ‘Jacomo Callot fec.’
appears.
[Illustration: Engraved design for Feather Fan, by Agostino Caracci.
Hand Screen, by C.F. Hörman.]
[Illustration: Schreiber Coll^n. British Museum.]
Two states of this engraving are known. The first, before the
inscription on the ribbon and the name on the cartouche, being
extremely rare.[131]
Callot has been credited with a second fan, which also takes the form
of a cartouche of similar shape to the first mentioned. The subject is
a dance in a garden—six persons are seen dancing a minuet before an
assembled company. This engraving, however, is rightly ascribed by the
best authorities to Stefano della Bella.
This subject was imitated and amplified by Nicolas Cochin the elder,
the composition rearranged, a larger number of figures introduced, with
a different and more elaborate background, the cartouche being similar.
Cochin also produced a subject of the Triumph of David, who is
represented on horseback, sword in hand, with the head of Goliath, the
cartouche copied from Callot, inscribed ‘Balthasar Montcornet, ex Cum
privilegio a paris.’
Another of these engraved hand-screens consists of a frame composed of
two large eagles, with the arms of Austria and Medicis, enclosing a
view of the Villa Reale near Florence, freely etched in the manner of
Israel Silvestre.
A set of four hand-screens was engraved by Christopher Fredr. Hörman;
prints of Nos. 3 and 4 appear in the British Museum collection. No. 3
is included in Lady Charlotte Schreiber’s book, No. 4 being reproduced
here. The subjects are ballet dancers in fantastic costume, accompanied
by, in each instance, a figure playing a musical instrument.
The distinguished French engraver, Abraham Bosse (born 1602, died
1676), engraved three fans during the years 1637-38, much valued by
collectors. The ornament of these, designed in a florid Renaissance
style, consists of amorini, masks, festoons, etc., enclosing medallions
of mythological subjects—the first being the birth of Adonis, Venus
and Adonis, and the death of Adonis; the second—the Judgment of Paris,
a Cupid drawing his bow, and a Cupid with a crown; the third—the four
ages: of gold, silver, bronze, and iron.
No examples of these engravings appear in the British Museum
collection. A print of the Judgment of Paris is in the Bibliothèque
Nationale, but permission to reproduce it could not be obtained.
The title-page of Nicholas Loire’s work, _Desseins de grands
Éventails_, appears in the Schreiber collection, together with
six engravings from the work. This title-page, by far the most
characteristic design of the series, takes the form of a folding-fan,
full size. Its subject is an arabesque, composed of a droll with cap
and bells playing a guitar, and two fantastic dancing figures on
an ornamental festooned platform supported by the wings of female
terminals; cornucopia, amorini, vases and flowers serve to complete the
composition. It is inscribed: ‘Divers Desseins de grands Eventails,
Ecrans, et autres Ornamens, Inventés et Gravés par Nicholas Loire, A
Paris chez Jombert rue Dauphin, No. 56,’ and signed ‘Loire fecit.’
The designs, which measure eight inches, are evidently intended to form
the central subjects of fans, to be completed and coloured by hand.
They include ‘The Judgment of Paris,’ enclosed in a cartouche with
Cupids, fruit, etc.; an eastern goddess, seated under a canopy, the
drapery of which is sustained by two serving-men; Isaac and Rebekah;
The finding of Moses; Venus; and Europa.
[Illustration: A Fête on the Arno. (Éventail de Callot.) British Museum]
The topical fan, having reference to royal and distinguished
personages, or recording public events, was entirely the product
of the eighteenth century. It was, broadly speaking, born with the
century, and died with it. During this period, the engraved fan became
a purveyor of history, a kind of running commentary on the affairs of
the hour. It was the fan of the people—the poor relation of the more
aristocratic painted fan. ‘Ill drawn, roughly modelled, and often
vilely bedaubed,’ says Henri Bouchot in his entertaining ‘History on
Fans,’[132] ‘its genesis is not hard to determine; its fathers were
Callot and Abraham Bosse, and its mothers the coquettes of the _grand
siècle_.’ We shall, therefore, lightly, though perhaps somewhat too
swiftly, traverse the fascinating period above indicated, with this
sprightly annotator for guide, which finds amusement in ‘Malbrouk’
and his mock burial, follows Stanislaus into his enforced retirement
in Alsace, alternately sympathises with and mocks at the woes of the
unfortunate Louis and his family, with apparent careless nonchalance
records the chief scenes of the reign of terror, celebrates the amazing
triumphs, and witnesses the ultimate defeat of Napoleon.
Naval and military events, for reasons which will be sufficiently
obvious, play a comparatively unimportant part in French fan
decoration. ‘Malbrouk’ (Marlborough) is, however, lampooned in three
scenes from the popular song of ‘Malbrouk,’ said to have been composed
on the night after the battle of Malplaquet, September 11, 1709, and a
plagiarism of a Huguenot song on the death of the Duc de Guise,[133]
written by Théodore de Bèze and published by the Abbé de la Place in
his collection of fragments, the first verse of which runs as follows:
‘Qui veut ouïr chanson? (bis)
C’est du Grand Duc de Guise;
Et bon bon bon bon,
Di dan di dan don.
C’est du Grand due de Guise!
_Qui est mort et enterré.’_
‘Malbrouk’ provided the subject of several fans, the most popular
versions giving three vignettes. In the centre his tomb inscribed ‘Ci
Git Malbrouk,’ guarded by four soldiers. Below are portions of the
thirteenth and fourteenth verses:
‘A l’entour de sa tombe
Romarin l’on planta.’
‘Sur la plus haute branche
Le rossignol chanta.’
On the left, his departure, Madame taking an affectionate leave; below:
‘Malbrouk s’en va-t-en guerre.’
On the right, the tower, Madame with telescope, page bringing news of
Malbrouk’s death; below, a portion of fourth verse:
‘Madame à sa tour monte
Si haut qu’elle peut monter.’
On the back of the fan are nineteen verses of the song with music, and
the refrain: ‘Miron, ton-ton-ton-miron.’
An example appears in Miss Moss’s collection, with the reverse only
engraved, the obverse painted in gouache on skin, the stick ivory,
pierced and carved.
Several versions of the engraved fan are extant—one with similar
arrangements to that above described, and the Histoire de Malbrouk in
thirty-one verses on the back. A second has, for centre, Malbrouk’s
body carried by soldiers; on the left, Madame on tower, page bringing
news, both in tears; on the right the tomb, ten verses from the second
part of the song, filling the field of the fan. On a third, in the
centre, Malbrouk taking leave; on the left, page bringing news of his
death; on the right, the tomb; on the reverse, the verses of the song,
with music, and the refrain:
‘Miron ton-ton-ton-mirontaine.’
The fan of ‘La Coquette,’ with those of ‘la Belle Chanteuse’ and ‘le
Galant,’ and portraits of Babet the flower-girl (a popular character of
the period), were issued by the dealer Crépy and sold by the score to
the frequenters of the theatre.
[Illustration: Grotesque Fan, in imitation of Callot, French or Dutch,
17th Cent. Bibliothèque Nationale.]
La Coquette herself, with her _paniers_ occupying nearly a third of
the fan, demurely takes her tea. She is, doubtless, the sister of
Mademoiselle Alluré, who dances to the music of a viola, while the
small half-opened fan, the fan within the fan, sings:
‘Voilà un éventaille mon cousin,
De plaisante figure.
Admiré son dessin, mon cousin,
Mais non pas la peinture,
Elle est à l’allure, mon cousin,
Mon cousin à l’allure!’
The half-opened fan of ‘La Coquette’ is also provided with a subject of
which, perhaps, the less said the better:
‘Cette Evantail est magnifique
Mais defectueux en cela.
Que pour la mettre en musique
Il faut dire un sol, la, mi, la. (Un sot l’a mis là!)’
The peasant girl, with her panier on hip and panier on arm, is also a
coquette; ‘Je vais en Vendange remplir mon Panier,’ says she, the sort
of vintage the cunning Margot hopes for being sufficiently obvious,
even without the love-knot that loops the frame of the miniature with
its accompanying legend, ‘J’ay bien des camarades sur la place,’ and
the knave of diamonds standing hard by.
The ‘little air’ with its explanatory picture says:
‘Je voudrois bien Liset-te
Au son de ma musett-te
Je voudrois bien Liset-te
Charmer vôtre langueur;
Que faittes vous seulette
Assis dessus l’herbette
Vôtre ame est inquiette.
Qui peut Causer vôtre langueur
Au son de ma muset-te
Je voudrois bien Liset-te.’
A pictorial rebus (referring to ‘l’éventail magnifique’), a game board,
a harlequin, and a billet-doux (N’oubliez pas le porteur) complete the
composition; the whole being an instance of the Parisian’s insatiable
love of badinage. Printed in Paris in 1734.
In _Le bal des Nations_, the several countries are figured as pretty
women at a costume ball; this representing the fan’s comment on the
declaration of war with the Emperor Charles VI. Each of the actors of
the piece delivers a song, the words of which are printed round the top
of the fan. La France sings:
‘Je suis certaine
De bien cabrioler,
Rien ne me gêne,
Je veux me signaler.
Je connais mes appas;
Sur tout j’aurai le pas,
D’un beau boquet parée,
Que Charles detacha
De sa livrée.’
La France is followed by L’Espagne, La Sardaigne, L’Italie,
L’Allemagne, La Saxe, La Russie, La Pologne, La Turquie, La Hollande
and L’Angleterre. The air, (le Bel Age), printed on the fan.
Events failed to bear out the fan’s predictions. The news of the defeat
of Stanislaus was carefully concealed from Queen Marie, the king
causing a special copy of the _Gazette_ to be printed announcing her
father’s successes.
The queen, however, remained in ignorance but a short while; the fan,
the popular newspaper of the period, very speedily announced—‘Capture
of Dantzic by the Russians, unconditional surrender.’ The
picture—Stanislaus escaping through a gateway with his band of mounted
followers.
[Illustration: The Four Ages. Abraham Bosse]
‘Malbrouk’ crops up again towards the middle of the century; the
folly of ‘Pantins’[134] and Bilboquets had been superseded by le
‘fureur de cabriolets,’ to be in turn driven away by ‘Malbrouk.’ ‘Une
Folie chasse l’autre’ exhibits ‘Malbrouk’ fully equipped with sword and
buckler, issuing from a tent held open by a fool in cap and motley,
driving away figures of a woman playing bilboquet, a dancing abbé with
Pantin, a cabaret-keeper, and a man with flag and lantern.
To the air of ‘Chacun à son Tour,’ the fan sings:
‘Un rien suffit pour nous séduire
La nouvauté par son attrait
Nous enflame jusqu’au delire
Nous fait en rire on à tout fait
Et chez notre nation volage
Malbrouk est le Héros du jour.
Chacun à son Tour
C’est notre usage
Chacun à son tour.
Au Bilboquet Pantin succede
Pantin fuit devant Ramponeau
l’Elégant Ramponeau ne cede
Que pour faire place à Janot
La Folie qui nous guide à tout âge
Amene Malbourg en ce jour.
Chacun à son tour, etc.’
We have also a satire on the separation of America from England, who
is represented as a cow, with America in the act of sawing off its
horns; Holland milking it; Spain waiting to receive the milk. A lion
representing England has lost its right paw. To the left ‘Jacques
Rosbif’ and a companion in despairing attitudes, with the deed of
separation and a bale of goods labelled ‘TEE.’ The whole scene is being
witnessed by a group of figures representing the Powers of Europe,
with a paper inscribed ‘Époque fatale. 4 Juillet, 1776, & le 13 Mar.
1778.’ On the reverse the ‘Explication de l’emblème’ as—
1. ‘La Vache & le Lion sont le symbole de l’Angleterre.’
2. ‘La Corne qu’on a sciée à la Vache, la Patte qu’on a coupée au
Lion, & la tranquillité de ces Animaux désignent la foiblesse &
l’épuisement actuels de la Nation,’ etc.[135]
The capture of Granada by the French fleet under the Comte d’Estaing,
in 1799, is commemorated, the fan illustrating the sea-fight between
French and English ships.
The fortunes of the ill-fated Louis Seize and his beautiful consort are
followed to the final tragedy of 1793 with its momentous consequences.
We have seen how the good citizens of Dieppe celebrated the joyful
occasion of the birth of the dauphin by the gift to the queen-mother
of a precious fan of carved ivory. On the more humble printed fan,
Immortality, amid a great concourse of people, with fireworks and
illuminations in the background, presents the royal infant on a
cushion, to kneeling, admiring, and devoted France, who offers a basket
of hearts. The inscription, ‘Le Dauphin présenté par l’immortalité, la
France saisie d’admiration offre pour hommage à son Prince chéri les
cœurs unis et respectueux de ses fidèles sujets.’
Again the fan sings the birth of the dauphin; in this the royal infant,
in leading-strings, advances to meet the king, his father, who is
standing near. Above, a genius floats in the air, with a wreath and two
shields of arms bearing fleurs-de-lys and two dolphins. On either side
are verses entitled ‘Chanson sur la Naissance du Dauphin. Air, de la
Pantoufle.’
[Illustration: Title Page of Nicolas Loire’s ‘Desseins des grands
Eventails.’
Schreiber Coll^n. British Museum.]
[Illustration: La Coquette. Bibliothèque Nationale.]
‘Vénus, en ce jour,
Comble nos cœurs d’allégresse
Vénus en ce jour
Donne naissance à l’amour,
François chérissons,
Et donnons notre tendresse
François chérissons
Cet auguste rejetton,’ etc.
The song of ‘Malbrouk’ came once again into fashion in 1782. It was
sung by the nurse to the infant dauphin, and hence became one of
the favourite tunes of Marie-Antoinette. Beaumarchais introduced it
into _Le Mariage de Figaro_ in 1784, the piece having been privately
performed before the king at Versailles, the queen taking the part
of Suzanne. ‘Malbrouk,’ say the authors of the _Mémoires Secrets de
Bachaumont_, ‘has become the hero of every fashion—to-day everything
is “à la Malbrouk”—ribbons, head-dresses, waistcoats, above all,
_hats_ “à la Malbrouk,” and one sees all the ladies, either walking in
the streets, on the promenade, or at the play, “rigged out” in this
grotesque couvre-chef.’
Most things mundane, however, come to an end sooner or later—even the
star of Malbrouk, in its turn, is eclipsed:
‘Malbrouck n’a plus d’empire,
Les beaux jours sont passés,
Ce guerrier a fait rire
Les gens les plus sensés,
Mais changeant de méthode
Au gré de nos sçavans,
Chacun se prend de mode
Pour les globes mouvants!’
On a fine evening at the end of August 1783, the peasants of Gonesse
were astonished by a ‘bolt from the blue’ in the shape of Professor
Charles’s balloon. ‘What is it?’ they exclaim—‘some strange demon,
or a visitant from Mars.’ The machine, which had no occupant, King
Louis having objected to a man risking his neck, only escaped
destruction by the interference of the parish priest. Here, surely,
was an opportunity for the fan, by which, as a matter of fact, it was
not slow in profiting. Balloon-fans became at once the mode, and ‘La
Mode’ appropriated the balloon; hats ‘au ballon,’ everything—dresses,
ribbons, even hair, ‘au ballon.’
On December 1st of the same year, MM. Charles and Robert made their
ascent in the gardens of the Tuileries. We therefore have a fan
representing the departure of ‘les deux intrépides,’ with a group
of spectators, among whom are two members of the Royal House, ‘des
seigneurs _quantité_.’ On the reverse, two lines of music and five
stanzas of verse, of which the first runs as follows:
‘De l’aerostatique sphère
françois admirez la splandeur
voyez sa forme circulaire
coup seé par un Equateur
ensélevant elle présente
le sigue qui nous attendrit
c’est la maison interessante (bis)
des gemeaux quelle nous ravit.’
There was an echo in England. An illustration of the event forms the
centre subject of a fan in the Schreiber collection. On the left,
Biaggini’s Air Balloon is about to ascend; and on the right, The Fall
of ye Balloon, the confused mass being viewed with curiosity by three
rustics.
In the following March, M. Blanchard made his ascent in his balloon
with four rudders; the event duly recorded on a fan inscribed ‘La
Phisico Mécanique Ou le Vaisseau Volant de Mr. Blanchard.’ The song of
four stanzas, ‘Oh parbleu voici du plaisant. Vive la Phisique,’ etc.
[Illustration: Taking of the Bastille, 1789.
Schreiber Coll^n British Museum.]
[Illustration: Duc d’Orléans.
Miss Moss.]
There were painted as well as engraved balloon-fans—with a centre
medallion of two fair damsels viewing ‘sa forme circulaire,’ a smaller
medallion of a balloon on either side, the field of the fan in the
glitter of stars, spangles, and dotted ornaments.
Thus Carlyle, with his characteristic _double entente_, philosophising
on these events: ‘Beautiful invention; mounting heavenward, so
beautifully,—so unguidably! Emblem of much, and of our Age of Hope
itself; which shall mount, specifically-light, majestically in this
same manner; and hover,—tumbling whither Fate will. Well if it do not,
Pilâtre-like, explode; and _de_mount all the more tragically!—So,
riding on windbags, will men scale the Empyrean.’
The comments of the Parisian wits were of a different order to the
caustic satire of Carlyle: in the engraving by Sargent, which appeared
in all the glory of printed colour, a learned but absent-minded
physicist, instead of inflating his silken globes, inflates himself
with the result that he disappeared through the window. ‘Mon pauvre
oncle,’ exclaims a young man who exhibits the extreme of grief and
despair. A fan leaf ‘à l’oncle’ appears in the Bibliothèque Nationale,
having been removed from a mount. Wright, _Caricature History of the
Georges_, note, p. 545, says: ‘The ascents in France during the year
1784 were very numerous, and excited interest even in England.’
Horace Walpole, writing from London on May 7 of the following year,
says: ‘Of conversation, the chief topic is air-balloons; a French
girl, daughter of a dancer, has made a voyage into the clouds, and was
in danger of falling to earth, and being _ship wrecked_. Three more
balloons sail to-day; in short, we shall have a prodigious navy in the
air, and then what signifies having lost the empire of the ocean?’
Beaumarchais’ comedy, _Le Mariage de Figaro_, upon its production in
Paris in 1784, immediately became the rage, and enjoyed its successful
run of a ‘hundred nights.’ Its story supplied the ‘book’ for Mozart’s
opera, which had been ‘commanded’ by the Emperor (Joseph II.) of
Germany. This work, first produced in Vienna at the time when Italian
opposition to German opera as represented by Gluck and Mozart waxed
fiercest, failed, being so indifferently performed under the direction
of Salieri, the head of the opposing faction. At Prague, however, where
it was subsequently given, and which was outside the influence of
Salieri, it was completely successful, a circumstance which afforded
Mozart so much satisfaction that he declared that he would write an
opera for the good people of Prague, and thereupon produced _Don
Giovanni_!
While the Italian opposition to Mozart’s music was so pronounced,
the feeling of antagonism was by no means reciprocated by the great
Salzburg composer, who wrote a number of variations to airs by Sarti,
Paisiello, and Salieri. The beautiful series of variations on the air
‘Mio Caro Adone’ from Salieri’s opera, _La fiera ai Venezia_, was
composed in 1773, the opera appearing in Vienna a year previously.
Two Figaro fans appear in the Schreiber collection, British Museum, the
one with a single medallion in the centre, with scene from the play,
and four stanzas of verse commencing ‘Jadis on voioit Thalie,’ etc.;
the other with a centre medallion and two smaller ones, and thirteen
stanzas of verse commencing ‘Cœurs sensibles, cœurs fidelles,’ etc.,
with music. Inscribed at the top—‘Vaudeville du Mariage de Figaro.’
Beaumarchais collaborated with Salieri in the opera of _Tarare_, first
produced in Paris in 1787. He claimed to have led the way to the
Revolution by this piece, which formed the subject of several fans.
Three scenes from Grétry’s opera of _Richard, Cœur de Lion_, first
produced in 1784, and performed the following year before the king and
queen at Fontainebleau, appear on a fan, the costumes being of the
period of the production of the opera, the ladies wearing the hooped
petticoat, with long streamers from their heads. On the reverse, two
songs commencing ‘Que le Sultan Saladin,’ and ‘La Danse n’est pas ce
que j’aime.’ The song ‘O Richard, O mon Roi, l’univers t’abandonne,’
which, however, does not appear on the fan, became of historic
importance at Versailles, October 1, 1789.
Other operatic fans commemorate ‘_Nina ou la Folle par Amour_’
and ‘_Raoul de Créqui_’ by Dalayrac, produced in 1786 and 1789
respectively. The first named has a single scene with four figures in
the centre of the fan, and verses headed ‘Romance de Nina, Chantée par
Mme. Dugazon.’ The second much more elaborate, with one large and two
smaller panels, verses and music from the opera on the back of the fan.
Three scenes from Dezède’s _Alcidor_, produced 1787, commemorate
an opera of which both composer and music are now forgotten. The
decorations are etched and rudely coloured by hand; the sticks walnut,
inlaid with ivory.
Three hand-screens appeared with a scene from the first, second, and
third acts respectively of _Fanchon La Vielleuse_, a French version of
Himmel and Kotzebue’s operetta, _Fanchon, das Leyermädchen_, produced
at Berlin in 1805. These testify to the transient popularity of a now
almost forgotten composer. The screens are of cardboard, coloured
grey-brown, shield-shaped, having an oval medallion engraved in line
and coloured by hand. On the reverse, extracts from the libretto.
Of plays we have an illustration of a scene from Voltaire’s tragedy of
_Brutus_, first produced in Paris in 1730, and revived in 1790, the
names of the several characters inscribed below the figures.
On another fan, three scenes from Chénier’s play of _Charles IX. ou
l’École des Rois_, which appeared in Paris in 1789. On the reverse, a
long quotation from the second scene of the third act.
An adventure of Philippe-Égalité, Duc d’Orléans, provided the subject
of several fans. The story is related at length upon a fan which shows
the interior of a cottage where the Duke, during a walk near Bency, in
January 1786, had stopped to ask for a breakfast. The peasant’s wife
was at the point of childbirth, and was actually delivered whilst the
unknown prince ‘que la France admire’ ate his frugal meal of bread and
cheese. With his natural bonhomie he proposed himself as godfather,
and only at the signing of the register he disclosed his identity by
exhibiting his ‘cordon-bleu.’
A fan in the Schreiber collection shows the interior of a parish
church, with the prince standing as sponsor. The inscription, ‘Couplets
dédiés à S.A.S. Monseigneur le Duc d’Orléans.’
‘Admirons son noble courage,
Son Joquet se trouve en danger,
Ce Héros se jette à la nage,
Rien ne lui paroit étranger.
* * * * *
Exaltons le Prince fait homme
Célébrons ses nobles vertus
Et qu’en tous lieux on le renom̃e
Comme on a renom̃é Titus,
fin.’
The assembly of notables is duly recorded. We see majesty enthroned
with a royal prince on either side; Monsieur de Calonne reads his
speech, a clerk seated at the table. Inscribed at the top of the
fan, ‘L’Assemblée des Notables commencée le 22 Février 1787.’ On the
reverse, the king’s oration, with the extract from that of Monsieur
Calonne, together with a song entitled ‘Ronde Joieuse à l’Occasion de
l’Assemblée des Notables.’[136]
Carlyle thus refers to the popular comments upon this event:—‘The
gaping populace gapes over Wood-cuts or Copper-cuts; where, for
example, a Rustic is represented convoking the Poultry of his barnyard,
with this opening address: “Dear animals, I have assembled you
to advise me what sauce I shall dress you with”; to which a Cock
responding, “We don’t want to be eaten,” is checked by “You wander from
the point (Vous vous écartez de la question).” Laughter and logic;
ballad-singer, pamphleteer; epigram and caricature: what wind of public
opinion is this—as if the Cave of the Winds were bursting loose!’
Of the events which immediately preceded and culminated in that of
the 14th July, the fan says little, except in reference to that
dread disease ‘consumption of the purse.’ The people have their
States-General—the king is represented as leaning upon a bust of
Necker, and holding a cornucopia from which issues gold; inscribed
above, ‘L’Heureuse Union des trois États Généraux sous le bon plaisir
de Louis Auguste XVI. par les soins de Mr. Necker en 1789.’
On another fan (brisé) the three orders of clergé, noblesse, and Tiers
État appear represented by single figures in medallions.
Of two fans having reference to the enforcement of public contributions
by Necker, one figures Louis and the dauphin standing before an open
box, with a Necker, who has developed wings, opening the box and
abstracting a bag of money: other matters, less significant, appear.
On the other fan is figured a lady and gentleman in a carriage
driving through a wood, with a parcel under the carriage inscribed
Contributions; an officer with a woman riding on the opposite side of
the fan, the two meeting at the junction of the two roads.
And so we reach the lurid 14 Juillet. To describe this siege of the
Bastille passes the talent of mortals; how much more that of the frail
fan!—Of the actual storming, therefore, not a word; we are given
instead a view of the fortress with the white flag floating from the
turret. M. de Launay’s house is in flames, he himself is led between
Jamé and the clock-maker, Hemert, under arrest. Another fan gives us a
view of the Bastille with the drawbridge down, De Launay wringing his
hands, bemoaning his fate, led prisoner. On the right of the fan are
soldiers headed by Élie with the paper of capitulation on the end of
his sword, two Invalides imploring mercy.
A third fan shows, in a large medallion, a view of the battlements,
with an unfortunate soldier being flung from the height, as De Launay
himself had been threatened. In the foreground De Launay dragged in
custody. The fan (brisé) strung with a tricolour ribbon.
In a fourth fan the Bastille is relegated to the distance, a company
of soldiers drawn up at its gates. In the foreground Liberty is seated
with cap in one hand, and in the other a scroll labelled ‘Époque de la
Liberté.’ Above, a winged figure blowing a trumpet, on the drapery of
which is inscribed ‘Prise a la Bastile le 14 Juilet 1789’; in the right
hand a cockade: the subject forming a medallion mounted in the centre
of an ivory fan cut in fretwork and decorated with trophies, etc., in
gold and colour. An example of this fan was sold at the Walker sale
in 1882. ‘Souvenir de la Bastille’ gives a view of the building with
neighbouring street. ‘Imp et Fabrique d’Eventails Rabiet. J. Ganné Succ
63 Boul^d Ménilmontant, Paris. Degovrnay, Éditeur. 28 Rue Mazarine,
Paris.’ On the back—fleurs de lys and Vive le Roy, 1789.
A sixth shows the conquerors issuing from the drawbridge, De Launay
and ‘Le lieutenant’ in great distress; on the reverse the fan sings
‘L’Époque de la Liberté’:
‘Vive Vive la liberté,
C’est le cri de toute la France,
Le Parisien est en gaîté,
Il va combattre, en assurance
Le bonheur désiré longtems
Ne se voit plus en équilibre,
Tous les cœurs se trouvent contens,
Vive le roi d’un peuple libre.
* * * * *
‘A Dieu Bastille, à dieu Cachots
Séjour à jamais exécrable,
Plus de victimes ni de maux
Dans votre enceinte abominable,
Bientôt à nos yeux éblouis
Comme on en voit aux bords du Tibre
La Colonne portant Louis
Annoncera le peuple libre.’
The Bastille has vanished, the fan remaining as souvenir to be sold for
a few sous, and fluttered by the cheek of some light-hearted grisette.
‘Tiens!’ she exclaims, ‘La prise de La Bastille! c’est belle, n’est-ce
pas?’ as happily ignorant of the trend of events as majesty in its
gilded chamber. ‘Mais,’ says the poor king, ‘c’est une révolte!’ ‘Sire,
it is not a revolt,—it is a revolution.’
The era of universal liberty has indeed arrived. In ‘Les Droits de
l’Homme, 1789,’ Liberty dons her cap, seats herself upon a pedestal
to be saluted by all good citizens with song, dance, and flowers; the
former, duly inscribed on the fan, commencing ‘Veillons au Salut de
l’empire.’
In a variation of this subject La Liberté holds a plummet and triangle
in her right hand, in the other a staff surmounted by a cap of Liberty;
the pedestal inscribed, ‘Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité, Unité.’
In a third fan La Liberté becomes ‘Patrone des Français,’ and is still
provided with plummet and cap.
In ‘Le Serment Civique, 1789,’ the attributes only of Liberty appear,
in the shape of three flaming hearts and cap on a flaming altar. Mayor
Bailly and Lafayette take the oath, to the accompaniment of a song
commencing ‘Français, quand je pense à nos maux.’
The Revolution is therefore sanctioned—one of its earliest results
being Le Déménagement du Clergé. On the fan we see a group of bishops,
monks, nuns, a number of servants carrying furniture and other effects.
A bishop, with pipe and bottle, is seated on the top of a baggagewagon
on which is inscribed, ‘J’ai perdu mes bénéfices, Rien n’égale ma
douleur.’ A monk, also smoking, is riding on the horse and flourishing
a flag inscribed, ‘Guidon.’ ‘Messieurs of the Clergy, you _have_ to be
shaved; if you wriggle too much, you will get cut.’[137]
In the ‘Désespoir des Pensionnaires,’ we are introduced to a group of
figures who are bewailing their loss; a messenger in cockaded hat is
delivering the notices.
Cockades, indeed, were at this period ‘de rigueur’—the ladies wore them
in front of their head-dresses—wore gauze bonnets trimmed on either
side with them, a great bow of tricoloured streamers at the back.
Stripes everywhere—stripes and cockades, cockades and stripes—stripes
on the dresses, slippers, and even the huge muffs of the women; stripes
on the waistcoats, stockings, and gloves of the men. The patriotic
Frenchmen and Frenchwomen of 1789 were the very incarnation of the
tricolour; it was the symbol of the gospel of the Revolution, Blue of
Liberty, White of Equality, Red of Fraternity.[138]
The Fête de la Fédération, 1790, is commemorated on a fan giving in
the centre a view of the altar in the Champ de Mars, with Lafayette
waving the tricolour, the fan incribed ‘Le Serment fait sur l’Autel de
la Patrie le 14 Juillet 1790, la voix de Mr. la Fayette, Major de la
Confédération s’est fait entendre au Champ de Mars.’ On either side
are busts of King Louis and Lafayette, inscribed ‘Louis XVI., Roi des
Français né à Versailles le 23 Aoust 1754.’ ‘M. De La Fayette Com.
Géné. de la Garde Nat. Parisienne.’
On another fan the altar, with surrounding booths, arches, etc., and
groups of soldiers dancing. On either side eight verses of a poem,
commencing, ‘Voilà la Fête de la Fédération,’ etc., to the air ‘Vive
Henri IV.’[139]
[Illustration: The Abolition of the Slave Trade.
Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris.]
[Illustration: ‘Cabriolet’ Fan.
Schreiber Coll^n. British Museum.]
The ‘Day of Poignards’ (February 28, 1791) approaches, and friends
of Royalty (les chevaliers de poignard) rally round the son of sixty
kings. We all know the issue: chevaliers retreated with greater
expedition than they came—flung ignominiously downstairs into the
darkness of the Tuileries garden, accelerated by ignominious shovings
from the sentries—‘spurnings _a posteriori_, not to be named.’[140] Our
veracious chronicler the fan provides us with a representation of the
scene. The inscription, ‘Arestation e Désarmement de gens au suspects
Ch^{au} des thuileries le 28 F^{er} 1791 à 10^h du soir,’ with six
verses of a revolutionary song, entitled, ‘La Soirée des Poignards,’
the refrain:
‘Quoi l’habit bleu vous fait peur
Valeureux Aristocrates,
Quoi l’habit bleu vous fait peur
Brave ci-devant Seigneur.’
The event of the 2nd of April could not pass without the fan’s comment;
we therefore have a medallion profile portrait of Mirabeau, inscribed,
‘Honoré Gabriel Riquetti, C^{te} de Mirabeau. Mort le 2 Avril 1791.’
A second Mirabeau fan, in the possession of M. Philippe de Saint-Albin,
has in the centre a portrait bust, above which is inscribed, ‘Honoré
Gabriel Riquetti Mirabeau,’ and ‘Je combattrai les factieux de tous les
partis’; on either side of the portrait two medallions, the subjects
including Mirabeau as tribune, and the great orator on his deathbed.
Assignat-fans, 1791, refer to the difficulties with respect to
paper-money, the woes of the holders of _rentes_, when paper-money was
not worth one-tenth of its face value, and draw a contrast between the
Dives of the past and the financier of the present. On the obverse, a
medley of assignats of 1791-2; on the reverse, the two Jeans, the one
in ragged clothing and poor surroundings, weeping over his assignats,
crying, ‘Ils sont tombés’ and
‘Vous êtes Etonnés, je m’en apperçois Bien:
Qu’avec du papier je ne possède Rien’;
the other, ‘Jean qui Rit,’ the speculator, who exchanges one louis
d’or for 10,000 livres in assignats, is seated at a table with a large
coffer and numerous bags filled with gold. He points to his brother
‘Jean qui Pleure’ and says, ‘Il se désole,’ and ‘A de certaines gens,
je ne me suis point fié. Ce Résultat pour moi, vaut mieux que du
papier.’
On several assignat-fans the money card, the seven of diamonds, is
introduced, its significance being sufficiently obvious.
And royalty in its gilded saloon, what has become of it? How fares it
with the poor Louis and his devoted family? That flight from the Rue
de l’Échelle in the darkness of the night of the 20th June 1791, when
the lady shaded in broad gypsy-hat, tapped, from sheer playfulness,
with her badine—‘light little magic rod such as the Beautiful then
wore—the wheel of Lafayette’s carriage as it rolled past’; this goes
unrecorded, as also the incident in the village of Sainte-Menehould,
when Post-master Drouet recognises a familiar face in the lady with
the slouched gypsy-hat and the ‘Grosse-Tête’ in round hat and peruke.
‘Quick, Sieur Guillaume, Clerk of the Directoire, bring me a new
Assignat! Drouet compares the Paper-money Picture with the Gross Head
in round hat there: by Day and Night! you might say this one was an
attempted engraving of the other.’[141]
And so event succeeds event—over the final tragedy of the 21st January
1793, no less than over the more piteous scene of October 16, the fan
discreetly draws a veil.
[Illustration: Napoleon shows his troops the channel, 1803.
Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris.]
Several fans have for their subject the Testament du Louis XVI., and
give medallion portraits of the king and various members of his family,
with the symbol of immortality; the inscription, ‘Testament De Louis
Seize, Né Le 23 Aoust 1754. Mort le Lundi 21 Janvier 1793.’ On the
sides or reverse of the fans, the will written out at length.
In ‘Le Songe,’ a female figure is represented asleep; on a tomb in the
centre of the fan, a figure of Louis appears when the fan is placed
against the light; the representation being veiled or concealed by
means of a thin piece of paper pasted over it.
Mourning-fans were common with the more loyal portion of the community;
these also consisted of concealed portraits of Louis and his family,
and are usually decorated with black gauze and spangles; the
inscription, ‘Vive le Roi!’
A favourite device was a pansy or heart’s-ease (‘that’s for thoughts’),
with the portraits appearing on the principal petal, upon the fan being
held against the light. These obtained later, when popular opinion,
becoming tired of the Revolution and its consequences, was again
veering round in the direction of Royalty.
But who is this pale-faced citoyenne of aristocratic mien, in high
‘constitutional’ hat, with black cockade, fan in hand, asking leave
to speak with citizen Marat?... Charlotte’s fan is mentioned in the
deposition of Laurent Bas, who was working in the house at the time;
certain it is that the fan was not relinquished when the blow was
struck. The ‘trade,’ fearful lest the event should cast discredit
on their goods, immediately brought out fans ‘à la Marat.’ The most
popular of these reproduce the tribune with Lepelletier, Charlier, and
Barras. This, with its burden of pikes and caps of Liberty, was bought
by the Jacobin customers at forty-eight livres a gross. An example
occurs in the Bibliothèque Nationale, where, singularly enough, it
is pasted in an album bearing the arms of Marie-Antoinette, and is
believed to have been arranged by the queen herself.[142]
On another fan, ‘Liberty’ is seated between medallion portraits of
Marat and Lepelletier; the inscription, ‘Marat,’ ‘Liberté Unité,’
‘Peletier.’ Ultimately the event itself figured as the principal
subject of a fan, Charlotte being represented as carrying a dagger in
one hand and a fan in the other.
The debate on the 4th February 1794 on the abolition of the slave-trade
forms the subject of a fan (illustrated). Three years previously,
Grégoire and Robespierre had passed an act whereby coloured persons
born of free parents were placed on an equality with whites. The
fan-makers, ever ready to seize upon a popular incident, promptly
issued a fan with five figures, representing ‘France,’ ‘Mercury,’ ‘The
Colonies,’ ‘England,’ and the ‘United States,’ holding scrolls with
inscriptions in English, heraldic devices on either side. La France,
with shield bearing staff of Unity and cap of Liberty, is saying, ‘We
find true happiness but by making others happy.’ Mercury, holding
fetters, says, ‘Don’t go to deceive me nor believe you will escape. I
extend my power over Sea and Land, and my vengeance will find you even
at the end of the World.’ ‘The Colonies,’ dressed after the fashion
of Marmontel’s Incas, exclaims, ‘Charming hope of Liberty, come and
comfort my agitated heart.’ England, crowned, with a leopard crouching
at her feet, and holding ‘The Colonies’ by the hand, says, ‘She offers
me Guineas.’ The United States is represented by a black woman,
plumed, with a sheath of arrows over her shoulder; the inscription,
‘Independence and trade all over the globe.’ The etching is signed
‘Martin.’
[Illustration: The projected invasion of England by Napoleon, 1803.
Bibliothèque Nationale.]
Cabriolets had appeared much earlier, and had continued in favour.
These formed the subject of printed as well as painted fans.[143] From
Cabriolets it is but a step to Incroyables, who had their incredible
cabriolets as well as their racehorses with slim legs and tails
cropped almost to the root, the fan-makers indulging the public in
their new-found Anglomania. In these curious prints, a number of
which were produced by Carl Vernet, everything is incredible—the
wheels of the ‘cabs’ incredibly thin, the seats incredibly high, the
figures of both sexes incredibly tall and attenuated. ‘Cabriolets,’
says Mercier, ‘are made lighter every day to give increased speed in
the race for wealth.... There are now three things to admire in a
fashionable “cab”—the silver body, the wheels, and the horse; the whole
thing, including the owner and his groom, ought not to weigh more than
a good-sized portmanteau.’
Incredibility became the order of the day. The fashionables, who
abhorred the Revolution, adopted an incredible method of demonstrating
their sentiments; hair was cut incredibly short behind, as it had been
cut for the victims of the scaffold during the reign of terror. Further
to recall the scene, they let it fall as at the moment of execution
over their eyes, this being the style _à la victime_. A _balle des
victimes_ was given by its votaries, to which no woman was admitted who
had not had a relative guillotined.[144]
Once again assignat-fans made their appearance: upon the death of the
Republic and the birth of the Directoire, when the pendulum of public
opinion was once more swinging in the direction of Royalism, the
assignats being arranged so that the king’s head appeared in the centre
of the fan. These, with defiant glances, were fluttered under the noses
of the police by the fair aristocrats of the Palais Égalité.[145]
Then came the period of the worship of Nature and the triumph of
Rousseau, with the cry of ‘Long live the author of _Émile, Le Contrat
Social, La Nouvelle Héloïse_!’, Jean-Jacques being glorified in a
triumphal car drawn by two bullocks garlanded with roses.[146]
During the temporary lull by which every storm is followed, the
preternaturally high-waisted ladies banished ennui by devotion to
the Love-God; and we have many ‘_Ruses de l’Amour_’, ‘_Triomphes de
l’Amour_, etc. Cagliostro had some years previously departed _pour
‘l’Isle de Malthe.’_ Marat, Danton, Robespierre, had been severally
removed from the scene of their activities: the fan-makers were at the
point of despair at the absence of a new sensation, when—enter _le
petit Caporal!!!_
Among the myriad fans recording the multifarious activities of
this amazing personality,[147] we have a representation of Wurmser
surrendering his sword to the young general, a small medallion on
either side of the battle, and a view of the city: the inscription,
‘A Buonaparte Vienen.’ The border, formed of the word ‘Buonaparte’ in
large capitals surrounded by rays of light, these alternated by laurel
wreaths; the fan excellently engraved by Bertaux.
At the psychological moment of Bonaparte’s appearance at the banquet
given in his honour at the ‘Salle d’audience, 10 Dec. 1797.’ his
‘star,’ in the shape of the planet Venus, appeared in the heavens at
midday. Here indeed was an opportunity for the fan-makers, who promptly
produced a fan of an astrologer with telescope, surrounded by an
excited crowd, who declared the appearance to be a comet. This, says
Henri Bouchot, gave the signal to the Agréables who dressed themselves
and their hair _à la comète, à l’étoile_, and showered stars in all
directions.
We also have a reference to the proposals of peace to the allied powers
by Napoleon on his elevation as First Consul in 1799. Bonaparte is
here crowned by Fame and Peace; points to a map of Europe held by a
figure of the French Republic, who also bears the tricolour inscribed,
‘Nouvelles Républiques, Règne des Arts, Alliance avec les Français.’
From a pedestal the French cock utters its clarion note. To the left,
Victory inscribes on a monument the names of Napoleon’s generals. Above
in a glory the legend, ‘Paix Glorieuse An VI.’
[Illustration: Adventure in Russia.
Schreiber Collection British Museum.]
[Illustration: Marriage of Napoleon with Marie Louise.
Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris.]
On another fan referring to the same event, Napoleon is discovered
standing by a figure of Peace who bears the olive branch; the
inscription, ‘Bonaparte et La Paix.’ Right and left are figures of
Commerce and Agriculture, and in the background a group of peasants
express their joy.
In the really handsome fan engraved in stipple by Godefroy we have an
apotheosis of Bonaparte. A bust of the Emperor within an oak wreath
occupies the centre, with the genii of Immortality and Plenty bearing
their attributes; on either side, allegories of Peace and War in
medallions associated with arabesque. The inscription, ‘Dessiné Par
Chaudet, Fontaine et Persier; Gravé Par Godefroy.’[148]
The great ‘Descente en Angleterre, 1803,’ forms the subject of a number
of fans. Napoleon, to the accompaniment of Fame’s trumpet and the
rataplan of the drum-major, shows his troops the Channel, and points to
St. Paul’s(!) and the Tower (French version), on an island.
The Channel is tunnelled (in imagination), troops pour through with
ammunition, cannon, and other paraphernalia of war. Above, a fleet of
vessels on the sea, and an army of balloons in the air, invade the
devoted island, which defends itself by means of captive kites, sky
rockets, and the guns booming from the fortifications at Dover. This in
several versions.[149]
The crowning of Napoleon as King of Italy at Milan, on May 23, 1805,
is recorded, as also the Peace of Tilsit, 1807, by which Prussia was
stripped of almost half of its territory. On this latter fan, Napoleon,
the Emperor Alexander, and the King of Prussia appear on a raft.
In 1810 the Emperor, in all the bravery of feathers, leads the
Archduchess Marie-Louise to the altar of Hymen; La France offering a
diadem of stars.
Of fans referring to the Russian campaign of 1812 two appear in the
Schreiber collection. In the one, Napoleon is seen on horseback,
attended by a general, surveying his army, the troops saluting; in the
other, the journey to Paris in a sledge drawn by three horses at full
gallop, Napoleon, wrapped up in furs, looking back on the wounded and
dead lying in the snow. Both fans inscribed, ‘Aventuras de Bonaparte en
Rusia en 1812.’
In the subject of the Nicaragua Canal the fan assumes the role of
prophet, and with this we must bring to a close this brief carnival
of a century. On the 12 Vendémiaire of the year XII., one Martin la
Bastide deposited in the Bibliothèque Nationale two prints of a fan
setting forth his scheme for uniting two oceans through the lake of
Nicaragua. He had already made the suggestion twelve years previously
in Laborde’s _Histoire abrégée de la mer du Sud_.
He was not, however, the first to demonstrate the feasibility of
cutting a canal at Nicaragua; a similar proposal had been made by the
Portuguese navigator, Antonio Galvão, as early as 1550, and in the
following year the Spanish historian, Gómara, submitted a memorial
to Philip II., urging in forcible terms that the work be undertaken
forthwith. ‘The project was, nevertheless, opposed by the Spanish
Government, who concluded that a monopoly of communication with their
possessions in the New World was of greater importance than a passage
by sea to Cathay.’[150]
Two fans referring to this subject appear in the Schreiber collection;
in the one, the map of Central America on the front, and of North
America on the reverse, a portion missing: and in the other, the
composition complete. The fan is adorned with, on the left, a group
of allegorical figures of the four Regions of the world listening to
Mercury, the god of commerce, who points out the course of the proposed
canal; on the right, a reference to La Bastide’s appeal to the King
of Spain, who is here listening to the voice of France urging him to
complete the canal; and an elaborate border of ships, tritons, etc.,
with a summary of La Bastide’s investigations. Alas for vain hopes, and
the futility of human endeavour, the best laid schemes are often doomed
to disappointment, and it was not until nearly a century had elapsed
that the canal, which La Bastide foresaw, though as through a glass
darkly, had any prospect of realisation.[151]
[Illustration: IVORY FAN. (Madras. Nineteenth Century.)]