‘In the course of the year 1828,’ says M. Uzanne, ‘at the time of representations of a comic opera entitled _Corisandre_, as the heat was suffocating, the youthful dandies fainting languidly in their boxes, it occurred to a Paris manufacturer to sell green paper fans to the men, and the whole theatre was therefore furnished with them. Fashion adopted this innovation of masculine fans, which received the name of _Corisandres_, but this originality endured but a short time in Paris, as also in Venice and the principal cities in Italy, where men became familiar with the play of the fan;—the beaux abdicated the sceptre of the woman, and resumed as before their Malacca canes.’ 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. [Illustration: Fan of Asses Skin, perforated & painted, silver paillettes. Miss Moss.] [Illustration: 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.