| 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 secondhand 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.’
| 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.