An amusing story is told of a near-sighted French writer, who, on a sultry summer evening at the Opéra, was much incommoded by the flip-flapping of the fans of two persons who sat immediately behind him. Turning to the two delinquents, My dear ladies,’ said he, in the politest of tones, ‘if you will kindly moderate the use of your fans you will render me the happiest of men.’ Instead, however, of the dulcet tones of a lady’s voice, a deep bass smote his ear, and he found himself confronted with the black-bearded, furious, and reddened visages of two lieutenants of the Guards. The amende quickly followed.
It was the circumstance of a grand ball given at the Tuileries in 1829 that occasioned the renaissance of the fan. Madame la Duchesse de Berri was organising a Louis XV. costume quadrille—fans of the period were required to complete the tout ensemble, and none were available. At length one of the guests recollected an old parfumeur in the Rue Caumartin, named Vanier, who had collected ancient fans: these were conveyed to the palace, where, in the quadrille, they created extraordinary interest—were eagerly purchased, and from this time onward in the most exclusive circles, in spite of the fickleness of that jade, Fashion, the fan has retained its hold upon the affections of the fair.
The earliest result of this revival of taste for old fans was, perhaps naturally, a general imitation of old models, and lifeless reproductions of the fans of the Louis Quinze period were made.
| Fan of Asses Skin, perforated & painted, silver paillettes. | Miss Moss. |
| Miss Charlotte Yonge’s Fan. | Miss Moss. |
It will readily be perceived that this way did not lead to artistic salvation—that it served no good purpose to open up the graves of a dead century and to disturb its poor ghosts. It is true that things were changing for the worse, but there is a healthiness in the very act and spirit of change, even though that change should represent a temporary decline.
This is the epoch of which it will be said that men actually, by some mysterious means, were deprived of what may for present purposes be called their sixth sense, when, though their eyelids were unclosed, they saw not, or only in a perverted manner; it is, nevertheless, one of the curiosities of this most singular epoch that while the general level of artistic attainment was so low, its pictured shadows so dark, the prevailing gloom should be illuminated here and there by lights more bright and intense than in the two preceding epochs. In other words, while we fail to trace with any measure of certainty any single instance, during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, of an artist of the first calibre touching the fan, during the first half of the century that succeeded, the fan may boast of such names as Horace Vernet, Ingres, Isabey, and others only a little less distinguished. These represent the welcome oasis in the dreary desert of mediocrity—the limpid springs at which from time to time we may pause for a few moments to refresh ourselves. Of the work of these famous painters, an ‘Arab dance’ by Horace Vernet is recorded; as also ‘Diana and Endymion,’ the subject treated in the Etruscan style by Ingres, who constantly in his pictures introduced fans, as witness the portrait of Madame Devauçay, referred to in an earlier chapter, ‘The Odalisque,’ and ‘The Harem.’ We have also, later, an ‘Allegory of the Arts’ by Robert Fleury, a ‘Fête’ by Gérome, and fans by Diaz, Vibert, Lami, Glaize, and Jacquemart.