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Authors: Antonio Tabucchi
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such a reliable gallery could make such a foolish mistake, and I set out to search further. Decidedly the gallery was not in luck. My book devoted ample space to a follower of Utamaro, a certain Torii Kiyomine (nineteenth century), rich in talent and in mellow drawing, but without the melancholy grace of the master, who had dedicated hispainting to the life of the courtesans. I understood immediately that the Swiss had made an even graver blunder, and it did not seem opportune to drop the matter.
That same evening at my desk I composed a masterpiece of a letter which the next day underwent Madame’s approval. Stating beforehand that the person for whom it was my duty to write was an international expert on Japanese painting and that the humble signer of the letter did everything possible to assist her in her research, I politely begged to observe the following: 1)I found it truly odd that Utamaro’s date of death, accepted by common consent, of the most authoritative contemporary scholars as 1797, had been arbitrarily shifted a good nine years. 2) Such an inaccuracy, which was evidently not a typographical misprint, provoked an even more lamentable error: the Maestro would have to have painted a work even though he was already deceased. 3) The female figure of No. 148/a in the catalogue, indicated as
Femme de Yedo
by Utamaro, was in reality a courtesan by Torii Kiyomine, as was attested (even for those unable to read the ideograms to the left of the figure) not only by the volute hem of the dress and the obviously nineteenth-century position of the figure, but the unequivocal high, black, wooden-soled sandals which emerged from beneath the kimono. I let it be understood rather wickedly that the clients of the gallery would certainly be alarmed about the guarantee of the works in their possession if they were by chance to become acquainted with such a deplorable blunder. I permitted myself to suggest, therefore, a prompt
errata corrigé
in the catalogue, which would reassure “all of us.” And finally I proposed the purchase, in addition to the authentic Utamaro, for which I was prepared to pay the fair price, of the courtesan by Kiyomine also, for half the requested price. I signed myself, with cordial regards, Lisabetta Rossi-Fini, secretary to Madame Huppert.
At the beginning of December, Monsieur Huppert returned from a long trip on the Ivory Coast with a precious gift forMadame. It was a stone statuette that represented a man squatting and holding a curious old-fashioned rifle. He explained that stone sculpture is extremely rare in Africa because it requires an artisan organization possible only in certain civilizations with a fairly well-developed social structure. For example, that piece came from the Mintadi people in the Upper Congo and decorated the ancient necropolis. It was a reliquary image of great antiquity, as the 1514 chronicles of Alfonso the First, King of the Congo, already attested. But the greatest value, at least for me, was the bracelet that the statue was wearing on its wrist, a very thin strip of gold with a row of tiny diamonds, simply splendid.—This, however, is a modern piece—smiled the engineer as he slipped it on Madame’s wrist. I thought it very delicate.
Monsieur Huppert was a polite man, exquisitely kind, a little shy, and looked happy that Madame had found some agreeable company “who would make her convalescence less oppressive,” as he said. Excluding the day of Monsieur Huppert’s arrival, I always had supper with the Hupperts. It was a custom begun when I had first come to the villa, and to Madame it seemed inopportune to interrupt it. Besides, I busied myself with the table, the flowers (every evening I composed a tiny Ikebana, simple and graceful), the wine. That stupid Constance had no gift of delicacy, even though she was a delight as a cook, and certainly in matters of taste one couldn’t count on her. As for Giuseppe, well, it was really a miracle to get him to work
That same evening at my desk I composed a masterpiece of a letter which the next day underwent Madame’s approval. Stating beforehand that the person for whom it was my duty to write was an international expert on Japanese painting and that the humble signer of the letter did everything possible to assist her in her research, I politely begged to observe the following: 1)I found it truly odd that Utamaro’s date of death, accepted by common consent, of the most authoritative contemporary scholars as 1797, had been arbitrarily shifted a good nine years. 2) Such an inaccuracy, which was evidently not a typographical misprint, provoked an even more lamentable error: the Maestro would have to have painted a work even though he was already deceased. 3) The female figure of No. 148/a in the catalogue, indicated as
Femme de Yedo
by Utamaro, was in reality a courtesan by Torii Kiyomine, as was attested (even for those unable to read the ideograms to the left of the figure) not only by the volute hem of the dress and the obviously nineteenth-century position of the figure, but the unequivocal high, black, wooden-soled sandals which emerged from beneath the kimono. I let it be understood rather wickedly that the clients of the gallery would certainly be alarmed about the guarantee of the works in their possession if they were by chance to become acquainted with such a deplorable blunder. I permitted myself to suggest, therefore, a prompt
errata corrigé
in the catalogue, which would reassure “all of us.” And finally I proposed the purchase, in addition to the authentic Utamaro, for which I was prepared to pay the fair price, of the courtesan by Kiyomine also, for half the requested price. I signed myself, with cordial regards, Lisabetta Rossi-Fini, secretary to Madame Huppert.
At the beginning of December, Monsieur Huppert returned from a long trip on the Ivory Coast with a precious gift forMadame. It was a stone statuette that represented a man squatting and holding a curious old-fashioned rifle. He explained that stone sculpture is extremely rare in Africa because it requires an artisan organization possible only in certain civilizations with a fairly well-developed social structure. For example, that piece came from the Mintadi people in the Upper Congo and decorated the ancient necropolis. It was a reliquary image of great antiquity, as the 1514 chronicles of Alfonso the First, King of the Congo, already attested. But the greatest value, at least for me, was the bracelet that the statue was wearing on its wrist, a very thin strip of gold with a row of tiny diamonds, simply splendid.—This, however, is a modern piece—smiled the engineer as he slipped it on Madame’s wrist. I thought it very delicate.
Monsieur Huppert was a polite man, exquisitely kind, a little shy, and looked happy that Madame had found some agreeable company “who would make her convalescence less oppressive,” as he said. Excluding the day of Monsieur Huppert’s arrival, I always had supper with the Hupperts. It was a custom begun when I had first come to the villa, and to Madame it seemed inopportune to interrupt it. Besides, I busied myself with the table, the flowers (every evening I composed a tiny Ikebana, simple and graceful), the wine. That stupid Constance had no gift of delicacy, even though she was a delight as a cook, and certainly in matters of taste one couldn’t count on her. As for Giuseppe, well, it was really a miracle to get him to work
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