THE LANGUAGE OF FANS ... by Susan Stokes-Chapman

It exercises the office of the zephyrs, and cools the glowing breast. It saves the blush of modesty by showing all we wish to see, yet hiding all that we desire to conceal. It serves the purpose of a mask, covering the face that would remain unknown. It keeps off the rude beams of the uncourtly sun ... or from the fiercest ravage saves the brilliant eye and blooming cheek. It hides bad teeth, malicious smiles and frowns of discontent; stands as a screen before the secret whisper of malicious scandal; expresses the caprices of the heart, nay sometimes even speaks; in a word it has a thousand admirable qualities, and may justly be entitled one of the nobelest inventions of the human mind. 

Extract from: The Grand Magazine, London, November 1760

A fan is a delightful companion in warm weather or when confined to a stuffy room, but according to The Grand Magazine, its purpose extended far beyond mere cooling. It served as the perfect shield for a woman wishing to conceal herself — whether out of shyness, to mask less-than-perfect breath or teeth, or simply to avoid unwanted attention. Beyond this, the fan was a powerful instrument of silent communication, allowing a lady to convey her thoughts without uttering a single word.

In the Spectator of 27 June 1711, Joseph Addison remarked that “women are armed with fans, as men are with swords,” a sharp observation hinting at the fan’s potential as a weapon against unwanted suitors. For example, placing the fan against the left ear signaled a desire to be rid of a persistent admirer; carrying it in the right hand suggested the suitor was overly eager; and drawing the fan briskly through her hand delivered the unequivocal message, “I hate you.”

Yet, the fan was also a tool of flirtation and affection. Making eye contact while holding the fan in the left hand in front of the face expressed interest in an acquaintance, while pressing the fan’s handle to the lips conveyed a bold invitation: “kiss me.”

These discreet gestures collectively became known as The Language of Fans — a fascinating, silent code that added an intriguing dimension to social interaction in the Georgian era.

Lady Holding a Fan by Francesco Bartolozzi

Yet, the likelihood of a gentleman truly mastering this intricate vocabulary of fan gestures was slim. After all, there were over two dozen distinct motions and signals to learn. It was the Parisian fan maker Jean-Pierre Duvelleroy who took it upon himself to unveil this secret language. In 1827, he published a detailed leaflet outlining the etiquette of fan use, which quickly gained widespread popularity.

The idea is undeniably romantic, the notion of The Language of Fans. However, the less glamorous reality was that Duvelleroy’s true aim was to revive flagging fan sales following their decline after the French Revolution. Evidently, his clever marketing gambit succeeded, as he later became a supplier of fans to Queen Victoria herself.

  

Artists Unknown

Still, it might be a delightful challenge to master this secret code should you ever find yourself wielding a fan at a formal gathering, be it a Jane Austen re-enactment or a Bridgerton-themed ball. Just be careful not to accidentally call someone cruel or proclaim an engagement that doesn’t exist!

If you have a fascination with 18th and 19th-century fans, The Fan Museum is an absolute must-visit. There, you can explore an exquisite collection showcasing fans of every shape and style, delicately carved from ivory and tortoiseshell, with leaves crafted from silk and gauze, and adorned with intricate embroidery or hand-painted designs.

The museum also offers insights into the traditional methods of fan-making — knowledge that proved invaluable when I wrote the short story The Winter Spirits. Below are just a few of my favourite fans, which I photographed during my visit in August 2023:

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My short story 'Widow's Walk' (set in the Georgian period) featuring a troubled fan maker, can be found within The Winter Spirits, published in hardback October 2023, and out later this year in paperback. You can order a copy by clicking the image below:

www.susanstokeschapman.com

Instagram: @SStokesChapman

HAMILTON'S TREASURES ... by Susan Stokes-Chapman

Thankfully the ship rests in the shallows. He has not used this apparatus before and will not venture any deeper than he must. Twenty feet below the surface. No danger there, he tells himself. And he knows exactly where to look. Under careful instruction the object he seeks was safely hidden within the starboard bow, away from the other shipments tightly packed in the hold, but the ship broke apart in the storm; he hopes his luck stays true, that the crate has not strayed too far along the seabed, that no one else has managed to retrieve it ... ~ Extract from: Pandora

In the harsh winter of 1798, the Royal Navy’s formidable warship, HMS Colossus, met a tragic fate off the treacherous coast of the Scilly Isles, succumbing to a fierce and unforgiving storm. Hidden deep within its hull was the prized collection of Greek antiquities belonging to the British diplomat William Hamilton. With Napoleon’s forces poised to invade Naples, Hamilton had wisely chosen to send his treasured artifacts back to England for safekeeping. Yet, in a cruel twist of fate, these invaluable relics were lost beneath the waves, swallowed by the very sea meant to protect them.

William Hamilton harboured a profound passion for Greek vases, amassing an impressive collection during his 35 years residing in Naples. Serving as British Ambassador to King Ferdinand from 1764 to 1799, Hamilton’s official duties provided the perfect backdrop for his intellectual and cultural pursuits to flourish. He became deeply engrossed in antiquities, acquiring Greek vases from private collectors, sponsoring archaeological excavations, and even opening ancient tombs. What began as a scholarly interest quickly blossomed into a full-fledged obsession; by 1766, he had amassed a remarkable collection of over two hundred individual pieces.

For his own scholarly satisfaction — and perhaps to share his passion with the wider world — in 1766–67 Hamilton published a lavish four-volume set of engravings showcasing his treasures, entitled Collection of Etruscan, Greek, and Roman Antiquities from the Cabinet of the Honble. Wm. Hamilton, His Britannick Maiesty's Envoy Extraordinary at the Court of Naples.

Hamilton’s first collection of antiquities was sold to the British Museum in 1772 for the substantial sum of £8,410, where many of the pieces remain on display today. Among them is the celebrated red-figure volute crater famously known as the 'Hamilton Vase'. Yet, scarcely had he parted with this treasured assemblage — perhaps with some seller’s remorse — before Hamilton resumed his collecting with renewed zeal. He went on to publish a second catalogue, titled Collection of Engravings from Ancient Vases Mostly of Pure Greek Workmanship Discovered in Sepulchres in the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies but Chiefly in the Neighbourhood of Naples During the Course of the Years MDCCLXXXIX and MDCCLXXXX.

What makes this particular collection especially poignant is that it was among these very vases, immortalised in the engravings, that were tragically lost aboard HMS Colossus.

He was, understandably, devastated. In a letter he wrote to his nephew Charles Greville in 1799, he said of his vases 

“they had better be in Paris than at the bottom of the sea; have you no good news of them? they were excellently packed up, & the cases will not easily go to pieces, & the sea water will not hurt the vases. All the cream of my collection were in those eight cases on board the Colossus, & I can't bear to look at some remaining cases here in which I know there are only black vases without figures.”

Regrettably, only a handful of items from Hamilton’s lost collection were recovered during his lifetime. It was not until 1974 that a dedicated recovery team succeeded in raising some of the salvaged fragments from the depths. These damaged yet invaluable pieces now reside within the British Museum’s esteemed collection.

Despite this tragic loss, William Hamilton’s legacy endures. His meticulously published volumes became essential references for artists and craftsmen, notably influencing figures like Josiah Wedgwood. One of Wedgwood’s most celebrated creations is his exquisite reproduction of the famed ‘Portland Vase,’ pictured below—a testament to the lasting impact of Hamilton’s passion for antiquity.

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My debut novel Pandora opens with the recovery of an ancient vase from the shipwreck of HMS Colossus, and features William Hamilton quite prominently as a key character. To read all about it you can order by clicking the image below:

www.susanstokeschapman.com

Instagram: @SStokesChapman

AGE OF ELEGANCE ... by Susan Stokes-Chapman

In my previous blog post, I explored the world of Georgian jewellery, the crowning glory of any ensemble. But while those glittering finishing touches were undoubtedly important, they were only one part of the story. To truly appreciate the splendour of the era, we must also turn our attention to the fashions these jewels were meant to enhance, and the way dressmakers and tailors drew inspiration from the elegance and grandeur of the ancient world.

It was the Enlightenment that sparked this cultural shift. The Age of Enlightenment — a sweeping intellectual and philosophical movement that flourished across Europe during the 17th and 18th centuries — championed ideals such as human happiness, reason, empirical knowledge, liberty, and social progress. These Enlightenment values led to a renewed fascination with the classical civilisations of Greece and Rome, a reverence that inevitably found its way into the world of fashion, especially in what we now associate with the Regency period.

Women’s clothing, in particular, began to cast off the stiff structure of corsetry in favour of a more fluid and graceful silhouette. Inspired by ancient statuary and drapery, dresses adopted the flowing lines and high waistlines of classical antiquity — what we now call the Empire Line — designed to flatter the figure with a soft, slender elegance. Men’s fashion, too, echoed this classical ideal, embracing a leaner, more statuesque form reminiscent of the heroic figures of Grecian myth.

 

It is little wonder that the ancient world held such allure. With the rise of archaeology and the increasing accessibility of classical artefacts, many brought to wider attention through the aristocratic tradition of the Grand Tour, the beauty and refinement of classical imagery captivated the European imagination. The aesthetics of antiquity were irresistible: men were depicted as clean-shaven, with artfully curled hair and sculpted, athletic physiques that embodied virile strength and nobility. Women, by contrast, were portrayed with flawless skin, elegant hairstyles, and an air of serene grace, together forming the classical ideal of human perfection that so enchanted the Georgian mind.

© Victoria and Albert Museum

 
© Victoria and Albert Museum

The earliest Grecian-inspired gowns were simple, column-like shifts, most commonly made from muslin. Though other fabrics were occasionally used, muslin dominated the fashion plates of the day, prized for its soft drape and airy lightness. These gowns were intentionally unstructured, with shape achieved not through stiff corsetry, but by a ribbon or tie just beneath the bust, creating the now-iconic Empire Line silhouette.

This style offered women a remarkable sense of freedom and comfort. The dresses were lightweight, required minimal underpinning, and were paired with flat shoes, liberating wearers from the discomfort of high heels. White, in all its subtle variations, was the prevailing colour, evoking the purity and simplicity of classical antiquity. During the day, women often wore soft pastel shades, while deeper tones appeared in shawls, trims, or decorative tunics — many of which were edged in gold. These elegant overlays enhanced the Greco-Roman aesthetic, echoing the timeless beauty of ancient dress.

These ensembles were often complemented by delicate reticules (small handbags that sometimes echoed the elegant contours of a Grecian urn) and by hoods inspired by the Grecian caul, a fine cloth or netting designed to cover the hair and extend gracefully down the back in an elongated shape:

Returning briefly to jewellery, one accessory in particular captured the imagination of the era: the tiara. Frequently seen in contemporary portraits, these elegant headpieces also drew inspiration from the mosaics and pottery uncovered in archaeological excavations across Greece and Rome. As the examples illustrated below reveal, the classical heritage made tiaras a natural and highly fashionable adornment:

© The British Museum

Moreover, cameos were perhaps the most overt homage to the ancient world in Georgian jewellery. As early as 1805, the Journal des Dames observed that “a fashionable lady wears cameos at her girdle, cameos in her necklace, cameos on each of her bracelets, and a cameo on her tiara.” Below is a striking portrait of Queen Louise Augusta of Prussia, painted by the French artist Madame Le Brun, which beautifully showcases a cameo adorning her tiara, an elegant testament to this enduring classical influence.

The English potter Josiah Wedgwood found great success with his jasperware, renowned for its exquisite classical scenes. Featured below is a belt clasp framed in cut steel and adorned with Matthew Boulton’s faceted steel studs, depicting a priestess performing a sacrifice. Such cameos were a popular accessory among Georgian women (and even some men) who embraced these classical motifs as a mark of style and sophistication.

© The Walters Art Museum

And speaking of priestesses, the painting below by Madame Le Brun portrays Lady Hamilton — Lord Nelson’s famed mistress — as a graceful dancing priestess. Her layered garment and intricately patterned underdress blur the line between Regency fashion and ancient Grecian robes, so striking is the resemblance. In the background, the eruption of Mount Vesuvius serves as a vivid reminder of the recent excavations at Pompeii, an archaeological discovery that further fuelled the Georgian era’s fascination with the classical world.

For men, the approach to fashion was notably more restrained. Gentlemen wore breeches crafted from fabrics that stretched comfortably across the legs, subtly accentuating their form, while skin-tight pantaloons evoked the virile grace of classical statues much admired during the period. The dandy Beau Brummell — depicted below — famously asserted that the purpose of men's fashion was to “clothe the body so that its fineness may be revealed,” emphasising understated elegance over ostentation.

Of course, not all bodies conformed to the idealised shapes of the era. For women of fuller figure, the Empire Line dresses remained remarkably flattering, gracefully skimming the silhouette. Men, however, who lacked the muscular contours celebrated in Grecian heroes, often did not hesitate to enhance their form with padded garments to create the desired curves. This humorous caricature below playfully captures that very practice. Beside it is a surviving example of a padded stocking, a testament to the lengths men would go to achieve the perfect classical profile.

There is much more to be said about Georgian fashion, but for the purposes of this blog, I wanted to focus on the striking visual parallels between Regency styles and the ancient world. Personally, I believe they were truly onto something remarkable. It feels high time these fashions made a comeback. They were elegant and regal, wonderfully cool in the summer months, and flattering to every shape and size. What more could one possibly ask for?

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My Georgian-set debut novel Pandora acknowledges this obsession with the ancient world, and you can order by clicking the image below:

www.susanstokeschapman.com
Instagram: @SStokesChapman

ALL THAT GLITTERS … by Susan Stokes-Chapman

Anyone familiar with the Georgian era will likely conjure one of two contrasting images: the gritty underworld of 18th-century London, or — more romantically — the opulent ballrooms of the Regency ton. With the soaring popularity of Netflix’s Bridgerton, the period has captivated a whole new generation, drawing fresh attention to its sumptuous aesthetics and social intricacies. Naturally, this fascination extends to one of the era’s most dazzling hallmarks: fashion — and, in particular, jewellery.

Much like today, jewellery in the Georgian period served as a powerful form of self-expression. The variety was astonishing, with styles ranging from the refined and understated to the bold and ostentatious — especially among the upper echelons of society. Jewellery choices were not only a matter of taste but also of timing. During the day, women typically adorned themselves with simpler pieces: a modest necklace, a cameo brooch, perhaps a single ring. Garnets were especially favoured for their rich, deep hue.

By evening, however, the accessories transformed along with the occasion. Out came the more elaborate ensembles: intricately set necklaces, coordinating earrings, stacks of bracelets, and rings gracing nearly every finger. Diamonds, prized for their rarity and brilliance, became the gemstone of choice after dusk. Men, too, indulged in adornment — jewelled shoe buckles and ornate buttons lending flair and personality to their attire.

For the Georgians, jewellery was far more than mere adornment — it was a bold declaration of social status. Those perched at the top of the social hierarchy flaunted their wealth through the possession of genuine gemstones, pure diamonds, and luminous freshwater pearls. The most opulent among them might even boast an entire parure — a coordinated suite comprising a necklace, bracelet, earrings, brooch, and often a decorative headpiece — each element designed to dazzle and impress. As one descended the social ladder, however, both the quality and quantity of jewellery diminished noticeably, reflecting the wearer's more modest means.

 

Throughout the long Georgian era (1714–1830), jewellery design evolved with both fashion and technology, incorporating a rich variety of materials sourced from across Europe. Pieces were often crafted in countries such as Italy, France, and Germany, where skilled artisans blended artistry with innovation. True diamonds shared space with smaller, foiled-back stones designed to enhance their sparkle, alongside a dazzling array of ‘paste’ jewels — highly polished glass imitations that offered the look of luxury without the exorbitant cost of genuine gems.

Other types of glass, such as Vauxhall and Opaline, also gained immense popularity, admired for their brilliance and versatility when paired with colourful paste stones. Meanwhile, traditional precious metals like gold and silver began to make way for alternatives including gilt metal, iron, marcasite, and cut steel. Among these, pinchbeck — a gold-like alloy that resisted tarnish — emerged as a fashionable and accessible choice in its own right, allowing style to flourish regardless of status.

 

 

Natural materials such as coral, agate, turquoise, ivory, and amber were highly prized by the Georgians, admired not only for their intrinsic beauty but also for their symbolic value. Even wood found its place in jewellery design, showcasing the period’s appreciation for craftsmanship in all forms. Cameos, often carved from shell with extraordinary precision, were especially beloved. Typically crafted in Italy, these miniature works of art frequently depicted scenes from Greek mythology — a subject that resonated deeply with Georgian tastes, particularly as the era progressed and Grecian influences began to shape both fashion and architecture.

Jewellery also served as a powerful conduit for emotion and sentiment. In Georgian society, the giving of a diamond ring took the place of a bouquet of flowers, symbolising a profound declaration of love. Heart-shaped designs were cherished gifts, seen as particularly fortunate tokens of affection. Among the most intimate expressions was the 'lover’s eye' — a finely painted miniature of a beloved's eye, set into a brooch or locket and exchanged in secret. Mourning jewellery, too, was deeply personal. The loss of a loved one might be commemorated with a ring containing a lock of their hair, worn close to the skin as a quiet, enduring tribute.

Sadly, as fashions evolved over time, much of the original Georgian jewellery was dismantled and repurposed to suit changing tastes. Stones were reset, metals were melted down, and entire pieces were reimagined to align with the styles of a new era. As a result, surviving examples of early Georgian jewellery are rare today — precious remnants of a bygone age that has, in many ways, been lost to history.

Curiously, Georgian portraiture does not always depict its sitters adorned in jewellery, yet we know such adornments were both widely available and enthusiastically worn. So the next time you find yourself wandering the halls of Chatsworth — or any grand eighteenth-century estate — imagine the women who once lived there, dressed in regal splendour, a glittering necklace at their throat and rings — perhaps several — catching the light on their fingers.

For those keen to delve deeper into this dazzling subject (pun very much intended), Georgian Jewellery: 1714–1830 by Ginny Redington and Olivia Collings is an essential read. The book offers an in-depth and richly illustrated exploration of the period’s jewellery, far beyond what we can cover here. From Berlin iron and Wedgwood pieces to cut steel, harlequin gems, and the romantic symbolism of the language of flowers, it’s a visual and historical treasure trove. All images in this post are sourced from this excellent volume, which you can find on Amazon — a true feast for the eyes and the curious mind alike. It can be viewed HERE.

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My Georgian-set debut novel Pandora is due out with Harvill Secker in January 2022. It’s main character – Dora Blake – is an aspiring jewellery designer! You can pre-order by clicking the image below:

www.susanstokeschapman.com
Instagram: @SStokesChapman