History of the Fan

By G. Woolliscroft Rhead

"History of the Fan" by G. Woolliscroft Rhead. Published by Good Press. Good Press publishes a wide range of titles that encompasses every genre. From well-known classics & literary fiction and non-fiction to forgotten−or yet undiscovered gems−of world literature, we issue the books that need to be read. Each Good Press edition has been meticulously edited and formatted to boost readability for all e-readers and devices. Our goal is to produce eBooks that are user-friendly and accessible to everyone in a high-quality digital format.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Good Press
• Release date: Nov 27, 2019
• ISBN: 4057664607324

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G. Woolliscroft Rhead

History of the Fan

Published by Good Press, 2019

[e-mail]

EAN 4057664607324

Table of Contents

ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR

ILLUSTRATIONS IN HALF-TONE

ILLUSTRATIONS IN LINE

CHAPTER I

THE ORIGIN AND USES OF THE FAN

CHAPTER II

FANS OF THE ANCIENTS

FANS OF THE ANCIENTS— Continued

FANS OF THE ANCIENTS— Continued

CHAPTER III

FANS OF THE FAR EAST

FANS OF THE FAR EAST— Continued

FANS OF THE FAR EAST— Continued

CHAPTER IV

FANS OF PRIMITIVE PEOPLES

CHAPTER V

THE FLABELLUM AND EARLY FEATHER-FAN

CHAPTER VI

PAINTED FANS OF THE SEVENTEENTH AND EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES (ITALIAN AND SPANISH)

PAINTED FANS OF THE SEVENTEENTH AND EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES— Continued

CHAPTER VII

PAINTED FANS OF THE SEVENTEENTH AND EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES (FRENCH)

CHAPTER VIII

PAINTED FANS OF THE SEVENTEENTH AND EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES. ENGLISH, DUTCH, FLEMISH, AND GERMAN.

CHAPTER IX

ENGRAVED FANS OF THE SEVENTEENTH AND EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES. PART I

CHAPTER X

ENGRAVED FANS OF THE SEVENTEENTH AND EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES. PART II.

CHAPTER XI

MODERN AND PRESENT-DAY FANS

INDEX

ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR

Table of Contents

ILLUSTRATIONS IN HALF-TONE

Table of Contents

ILLUSTRATIONS IN LINE

Table of Contents

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CHAPTER I

Table of Contents

THE ORIGIN AND USES OF THE FAN

Table of Contents

N the beginning, before the human advent, when the earth was peopled only by the Immortals, a bright son was born to Aurora, whose soft and agreeable breath was as honey in the mouth of the gods, and the beating of whose gossamer wings imparted a delicious coolness to the air, moderating the heat of summer, and providing the first suggestion of, and occasion for, the dainty little plaything we have under consideration, somewhat waggishly described as a kind of wind instrument, not, perhaps, so much to be played upon as to be played with , and invaluable as assisting to follow out the wisest of the Sage’s maxims when he bids us keep cool.

This delicate toy, this airy creation of gauze, ivory, and paint, frail and fragile almost as the flowers kissed by Aurora’s son, endowed apparently with the gift of perpetual youth, may claim a lineage older than the Pyramids; having its origin and being in the infancy of the world, before the birth of history, in that golden age when life was a perpetual summer, and care was not, when all was concord and harmony, and old age, long protracted, was dissolved in a serene slumber, and wafted to the mansions of the gods, the regions of eternal love and enjoyment.

It was in these halcyon days that the human family sat in its palm groves, which afforded not only refreshing shade, during the hours when the sun is at its height, but also provided the precursor of this ‘Servant of Zephyrus’—serving further to temper those beams which are the source of all life, and light, and music, for are not all the learned agreed with the late Mr. George Augustus Sala, that if a thorn was the first needle, doubtless a palm leaf was the first fan?

‘Beneath this shade the weary peasant lies,

Plucks the broad leaf, and bids the breezes rise.’¹

The poets, however, who lay claim rather to inspiration than to the dry bones of mere learning, supply us with many fanciful suggestions as to the fan’s origin—a Spanish story (duly told on a printed fan) has it that the first fan was a wing which Cupid tore from the back of Zephyrus for the purpose of fanning Psyche as she lay a-sleeping on her bed of roses.

A quaint, though somewhat inconsequent, conceit is that of the French eighteenth-century poet, Augustin de Piis, quoted by M. Uzanne in his work on the fan, in which Cupid, at an inopportune moment, surprises the Graces, who were as much embarrassed as the god was delighted—to hide their confusion, with the hand that was unemployed, they endeavoured to cover up both eyes by spreading the fingers.

‘And soon Dan Cupid was aware

That though they veiled their eyes, between

The fingers of that Trio fair

Himself was very clearly seen;

On which his little curly head

Deeply to meditate began,

Till from their fair hands thus outspread

He took his first hint for the Fan.’

Whether we accept this explanation or not, and whatever circumstances attended the origin of the fan, it is abundantly clear that Cupid had a hand in it. Has not Gay told how the master Cupid traced out the lines, conceived the shape, converted his arrows into sticks, and from their barbed points, softened by love’s flame, forged the pin? Is not the fan one of the chief weapons in the armoury of the Love-God? Is it not the rampart from behind which the fiercest fire of love’s artillery is directed? Nay, is it not in very truth the sceptre of the Love-God? Did not the Greeks early recognise this fact by placing the plumed fan in the hands of Eros himself? The fan is at once the creation of Amor and the chief ensign of his sovereignty!

And its uses?

Madame la Baronne de Chapt, in the first volume of her Œuvres Philosophiques, discovers a hundred such:—‘It is so charming, so convenient, so suited to give countenance to a young girl, and to extricate her from embarrassment, that it cannot be too much exalted; we see it straying over cheeks, bosoms, hands, with an elegance which everywhere provokes admiration.

‘Love uses a fan as an infant does a toy—makes it assume all sorts of shapes; breaks it even, lets it fall a thousand times to the ground. …

‘Is it a matter of indifference, this fallen fan? Such a fall is the result of reflection, of careful calculation, intended as a test of the ardour and celerity of aspiring suitors.—And the successful suitor, the favoured swain? Is it not he who discovers the greatest celerity in returning the fan to its charming owner, and, in doing so, imprints a secret but chaste kiss upon the fair hand that takes it, and is rewarded by a look ten thousand times more eloquent than speech?’

And if, peradventure, by the spell of some magician, this little instrument could itself be endowed with speech! Aha! ma chère madame, what tales could it not unfold from the recesses of its fluted leaves, what whispers! what confidences! what assignations! what intrigues!

‘Pour une Espagnole,’ writes Charles Blanc, ‘toutes les intrigues de l’amour, tous les manœuvres de la galanterie, sont cachées dans les plis de son éventail. Les audaces furtifs du regard, les aventures de la parole, les aveux risqués, les demi-mots proférés du bout des lèvres, tout cela est dissimulé par l’éventail, qui a l’air d’interdire ce qu’il permet de faire, et d’intercepter ce qu’il envoie.’

Disraeli (Contarini Fleming), in similar strain, with no less eloquence, says: ‘A Spanish lady with her fan might shame the tactics of a troop of horse. Now she unfolds it with the slow pomp and conscious elegance of the bird of Juno; now she flutters it with all the languor of a listless beauty, now with all the liveliness of a vivacious one. Now in the midst of a very tornado she closes it with a whirr, which makes you start. Magical instrument! in this land it speaks a particular language, and gallantry requires no other mode to express its most subtle conceits, or its most unreasonable demands, than this delicate machine.’

‘Women,’ says the witty Spectator, ‘are armed with Fans as men with Swords—and sometimes do more execution with them. … There is an infinite variety of motions to be made use of in the flutter of a Fan. There is the angry Flutter, the modest Flutter, the timorous Flutter, the confused Flutter, the merry Flutter, and the amorous Flutter. Not to be tedious, there is scarce any emotion in the mind which does not produce a suitable agitation in the Fan; insomuch that if I only see the Fan of a disciplined Lady I know very well whether she laughs, frowns, or blushes. I have seen a Fan so very angry, that it would have been dangerous for the absent lover who provoked it to have come within the wind of it: and at other times so very languishing, that I have been glad for the Lady’s sake the lover was at a sufficient distance from it. I need not add that a Fan is either a Prude or Coquette according to the nature of the person who bears it.’

Mr. George Meredith, too, would appear to have studied its motions: ‘Lady Denewdney’s fan took to beating time meditatively. Two or three times she kept it elevated, and in vain: the flow of their interchanging speech was uninterrupted. At last my father bowed to her from a distance. She signalled: his eyelids pleaded short sight, awakening to the apprehension of a pleasant fact; the fan tapped, and he halted his march, leaning scarce perceptibly in her direction. The fan showed distress.’²

In one of the sprightliest of Steele’s letters to the Tatler, the beauteous Delamira, upon the eve of her marriage, resigns her fan, having no further occasion for it. She is entreated by the matchless Virgulta, who had begun to despair of ever entering the matrimonial state, to confide to her the secret of her success. ‘That swimming air of your body,’ says she; ‘that jaunty bearing of your Head over your shoulder; and that inexpressible Beauty in your manner of playing your Fan, must be lower’d into a more confined Behaviour; to show, That you would rather shun than receive Addresses for the future. Therefore, dear Delamira, give me these excellencies you leave off, and acquaint me with your Manner of Charming.’ …

Delamira explained that all she had above the rest of her Sex and contemporary Beauties was wholly owing to a Fan (left to her by her Mother, and had been long in the Family), which, whoever had in Possession, and used with Skill, should command the hearts of all her Beholders; ‘and since,’ said she, smiling, ‘I have no more to do with extending my Conquests or Triumphs, I’ll make you a present of this inestimable Rarity.’ ‘You see, Madam,’ continued she, upon Virgulta’s inquiry as to the Management of that utensil, ‘Cupid is the principal Figure painted on it; and the skill in playing this Fan is, in your several Motions of it to let him appear as little as possible: for honourable Lovers fly all Endeavours to ensnare ’em; and your Cupid must hide his Bow and Arrow, or he’ll never be sure of his Game. You may observe that in all publick Assemblies, the sexes seem to separate themselves, and draw up to attack each other with Eye-shot; That is the time when the Fan, which is all the Armour of Woman, is of most use in her Defence; for our

minds are constructed by the waving of that little Instrument, and our thoughts appear in Composure or Agitation according to the Motion of it. You may observe when Will Peregrine comes into the side Box, Miss Gatty flutters her Fan as a Fly does its Wings round a Candle; while her elder Sister, who is as much in Love with him as she is, is as grave as a Vestal at his Entrance, and the consequence is accordingly. He watches half the Play for a Glance from her Sister, while Gatty is overlooked and neglected. I wish you heartily as much Success in the Management of it as I have had; … Take it, good Girl, and use it without Mercy; for the Reign of Beauty never lasted full Three Years, but it ended in Marriage, or Condemnation to Virginity.’³

If the fan is efficacious as a weapon of offence in Love’s sieges, it is no less effective as a shield against Love’s darts. On a painted Spanish fan in the Schreiber Collection in the British Museum are represented three fair nymphs in a wooded landscape, one of whom is receiving on her fan an arrow discharged by the Love-God, who is accompanied by my lady Venus in her car. On a scroll is the inscription, ‘l’utilité des éventails,’ ‘la utilidad de los abanicos.’

This use of the fan as shield, is adopted also by the shinláung, or monastic novitiate of Burma, who employs his large palm-fan, both as a shelter from the fierceness of the sun’s rays, and as a screen from the sight of womankind, moving, in the latter instance, his fan from right to left as occasion requires, i.e. whenever a woman happens to pass.

Epoch Louis XV.

Fan Mount—Unfolded.

Hommages offered at the Altar of Madame de Pompadour

by Church and State—Literature, Art, Music, Etc.

A story, the source of which is not given,⁴ is told of Goldoni, who, being one evening the guest of a Venetian lady, was complimented by her upon the productions of his genius.

‘Why, my lady,’ he replied, ‘anything provides a subject for a comedy.’

‘Anything?’ replied the lady.

‘Anything,’ emphatically replied the dramatist.

‘Even this fan?’ insisted the Beauty.

‘I shall be indebted to you for life,’ exclaimed Goldoni, struck with a happy thought. ‘You have suggested to me my best comedy; in a week you will read it.’⁵

Many and manifold are the uses of the fan. What device, for example, could better display the beauty of a rounded arm, or the ivory whiteness of tapered fingers? Such an instrument provides graceful and often much-needed employment to those same delicate fingers; it supplies that necessary sense of completeness to the tout ensemble of the picture. And the comedy actress, desiring some trifle to emphasise a movement, to give point and expression to some particular action—what more effective instrument than a fan, the use of which, on the stage, has almost been elevated into a fine art!

‘Pray, ladies, copy Abington;

Observe the breeding in her air:

There’s nothing of the actress there!

Assume her fashion if you can

And catch the graces of her fan.’

This at once recalls the saying of Northcote, who, although reluctantly compelled to admit Queen Charlotte’s excessive plainness, an elegant and not a vulgar plainness—she had a beautifully shaped arm, and was fond of exhibiting it—exclaimed, ‘She had a fan in her hand. Lord! how she held that fan!’⁶

Madame D’Arblay, in one of her most delightful letters, records a conversation between herself and Mr. Fairly (Col. Stephen Digby), who, upon the occasion of a visit to her, ‘finding she entered into nothing,’ took up a fan which lay on the table and began playing off various imitative airs with it, exclaiming, ‘How thoroughly useless a toy!’

‘ No, I said, on the contrary, taken as an ornament, it was the most useful of any belonging to full dress; occupying the hands, giving the eyes something to look at, and taking away stiffness and formality from the figure and deportment.

‘ Men have no fans, cried he, and how do they do?

‘ Worse, quoth I plumply.

… … . …

‘ But the real use of the fan, cried he, if there is any, is it not—to hide a particular blush that ought not to appear?

‘ Oh no, it would rather make it the sooner noticed.

‘ Not at all; it may be done under pretence of absence—rubbing the cheek, or nose—putting it up accidentally to the eye—in a thousand ways. ’

The uses of the Fan? They are legion!—They record for us public events, military, political, civil; they tell us our fortunes; instruct us in Botany, in Heraldry, in tricks with cards; they propound conundrums; take us to the theatre, to bull-fights, to church, to the first balloon ascent; and to Mr. Thomas Osborne’s Duck-hunting!

In Shakespeare’s day no lady thought of stirring abroad without this accompaniment, the care of the toy devolving upon the gentleman usher—

‘Peter, take my fan and go before.’

Romeo and Juliet.

From the Aubrey MS., 1678, we learn that ‘the gentlemen (temp. Henry

VIII.

) had prodigious fans, as is to be seen in old pictures,⁷ like that instrument which is used to drive feathers, and in it a handle at least half a yard long; with these the daughters were oftentimes corrected (Sir Edward Coke, Lord Chief-Justice, rode the circuit with such a fan; Sir William Dugdale told me he was an eye-witness of it;⁸ the Earl of Manchester also used such a fan); but fathers and mothers slasht their daughters in the time of their besom discipline when they were perfect women.’⁹

Hotspur’s exclamation,

I

Henry IV.,

II.

iii., further serves to show that this instrument could, upon occasion, be used as an offensive weapon:

‘Zounds! an I were now by this rascal, I could brain him with his lady’s fan.’

The strength hidden in such an apparently harmless toy is thus recognised equally by both sterner and gentler sex: the hint contained in the quaint and charming conceit addressed to the fan of his mistress by Louis de Boissey, author of Le Babillard, will not be lost upon lovers:

‘Deviens le protecteur de ma vive tendresse,

Bel éventail! je te remets mes droits;

Et si quelque rival avait la hardiesse

D’approcher de trop près du sein de ma maîtresse,

Bel éventail: donne-lui sur les doigts!’

TEA FAN.

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CHAPTER II

Table of Contents

FANS OF THE ANCIENTS

Table of Contents

EGYPT

The word fan, or van, is derived from the Latin vannus , the Roman instrument for winnowing grain. This winnowing-fan, held sacred by all the peoples of the ancient world, together with the fire-fan (bellows), also a sacred instrument, and used by the priestesses of Isis to fan the flame of their altars—these must be accounted amongst the earliest of the ancient and prolific fan-family. To the first named are several references in Holy Writ. Isaiah, xxx. 24, speaks of the oxen and young asses that shall eat clean provender which hath been winnowed with the shovel and with the fan. Jeremiah, xv. 6–7, lamenting the backsliding of Jerusalem, exclaims, ‘I am weary with repenting; and I will fan them with a fan in the gates of the land’; and again in li. 2, ‘Send unto Babylon fanners that shall fan her, and shall empty her land.’

In Matt. iii. 12, and Luke iii. 17, John the Baptist, announcing the coming of ‘one mightier than I’—‘He shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and with fire: whose fan is in his hand, and he will throughly purge his floor, and will gather the wheat into his garner.’

Both these instruments appear on a bas-relief from a tomb at Sakkarah, of the twelfth Pharaonic dynasty, circa

B.C.

2366–2266, sixteen hundred years before Isaiah wrote. In this some shepherds are roasting