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?