Gibecière Vol. 2 No. 1

Contents Pocket Notes—Stephen Minch 7 The Educated Swan—Volker Huber 11 An Investigation into Magic in Japan After the Opening of the Country, Part II—Mitsunobu Matsuyama 45 Notes on Pietro Aretino’s Le Carte Parlanti— Aurelio Paviato 85 Abraham Bamberg: The Augmentation of a Dynasty— Peter Bräuning 119 Contributors 159

Winter 2007 \ Gibecière

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“The Fortunetelling Ships,” or “The Oracle,” oil on canvas, 37 × 52 cm., ascribed to Johann Eleazar Zeissig (“Schenau”)

THE EDUCATED SWAN

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Volker Huber An elegantly dressed young lady sits at a table and gazes intently at a basin filled with water, in which float three nutshells, each adorned with a burning candle. Leaning against the table is a young man, whose intent gaze is reserved exclusively for the young lady. The third person in the group, a little girl, dreamily observes the miniature floating ships.

This oil painting was done in the second half of the eighteenth century by Johann Eleazar Zeissig, called Schenau (1737–1806). In the 1949 exhibition “Goethe and His Time,” held in Berlin’s Schloss Charlottenburg, this picture was interpreted as “Lotte with Werther, as they both try the fortunetelling game with candles on floating walnut-shells, in a desire for prophetical revelation of the future.”

Is everything as straightforward as it seems here? Or was some kind of a trick used? The young man obviously already knew the results of the oracle and could therefore concentrate eagerly on the reaction of his adored one. What if he had secretly made use of a technique that was hundreds of years old to cause his little ship, which was heading for the young lady, to draw near and finally float alongside her? Did he, without being noticed, contrive the seeming oracle out of a magic trick?

Many magic tricks are older than we imagine today. One of these, the Educated Swan, is described in detail in magic literature of the second half of the eighteenth century, but its roots go further back. For, two hundred years earlier, Cardanus and Winter 2007 \ Gibecière

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T h e E d u c at e d S wa n

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The frontispiece to the 1762 first edition of Emile, ou de l’éducation shows Rousseau’s Emile at a fair. The magician pictured causes a wax duck in a tank to swim toward a proffered piece of bread.

Winter 2007 \ Gibecière

The third Itchosai, whose real name was Jisaburo Aoki (the crest on his haori shows a stylized butterfly attached)

AN INVESTIGATION INTO MAGIC IN JAPAN AFTER THE OPENING OF THE COUNTRY Part II: Magicians in the Yanagawa Family: Forerunners of Internationalization

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Mitsunobu Matsuyama Historians of the theatrical arts have been able to clarify many important facts about early Japanese traveling troupes and the magicians who were part of them. Nevertheless, Itchosai ­Yanagawa, one of the most important figures in the history of Japanese magic, has also proven the most difficult to investigate. As was explained in Part I of this series, Itchosai elevated the traditional Japanese Butterfly Trick to a high level of artistry and was often asked to entertain foreign plenipotentiaries at diplomatic functions during the transition of Japanese foreign policy; and it is said that his successors brought examples of western magic to Japan. It is also reported that there were three Itchosai Yanagawas, representing successive generations; but difficulties arise here, due to various theories proposed in articles on the Itchosais and where they may have traveled.

Clarifying this mystery is considered one of the most challenging tasks in the history of Japanese magic.

For this reason, I have thoroughly investigated all the records, including all the Who’s Who compilations on the history of the performing arts that mention the Itchosais, and the original sources cited by each author or compiler. Through this research I have been able to solve most of the mystery, with my a­ nalysis Winter 2007 \ Gibecière

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M ag i c

in

J a pa n A f t e r

the

Opening

of the

C o u n t ry

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Chonosuke (Jisaburo) at age twenty-one, in Australia no-Daijo, Buncho may have felt it awkward to complain to his peers, Choshichiro and Chojuro, for appropriating the Itchosai name, since they had triumphantly returned to Japan from Winter 2007 \ Gibecière

Pietro Aretino, at approximately twenty years of age, by Titian (c. 1512)

NOTES ON PIETRO ARETINO’S LE CARTE PARLANTI

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Aurelio Paviato

In the premier issue of Gibecière, Vanni Bossi commented on an extract from Dialogo di Pietro Aretino nel qvale si parla del gioco con moralità piacevole (later called Le carte parlanti) by Pietro Aretino.1 In this book, published in Venice in 1543, the author imagines a dialogue between a character called Il Padovano (The Paduan) and a deck of cards.

As Francesco De Sanctis 2 makes clear in his Storia della letteratura italiana, Aretino is an important figure, and studying him brings us deep inside the mysteries of his society, because he himself mirrors it with “his mixture of moral depravation, intellectual strength and artistic feeling.” He is a sure presence in the minor Italian literature of the sixteenth century. His character, as portrayed by historians, is peculiar and ambiguous.

Ambitious, cynical and a social climber, he made use of satire as a lever to heighten his power in an era when, as De Sanctis writes, “printed slanders were worse than daggers; a printed thing meant a true thing; and he put a price on slander, silence and praise. He did not dislike acquiring fame as a gossipmonger; on the contrary it was part of his strength.” 3 Mario Pazzaglia, in his work Antologia della letteratura Italiana,4 writes that ­Aretino was a man possessing a wide sense of culture, though not a deep one. He exhibited a vivid intelligence and sharp ­sensitivity, Winter 2007 \ Gibecière

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Detail from Petrus Van Schendel’s The Night Fair (1852)

ABRAHAM BAMBERG The Augmentation of a Dynasty

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Peter Bräuning

The name Bamberg conjures a smile onto the face of many historians of magic. Okito, as one of its twentieth-century representatives, has long been a beloved figure within the craft, and has received a great deal of appreciation in its literature.

And we know of no more enduring “dynasty” among magicians, for through many generations, the Bamberg family was true to this calling.1 Due to all this attention, we might say that we know a great deal about the family. Yet, on careful inspection, we learn that we know only a fragment of their history.

As a historian of the circus, I have been long interested in the allied arts, and I quickly became aware that, before 1900 in Europe, it was, above all, the yearly fairgrounds and fairs that offered showmen the best opportunity for their performances.

The fairground was a meeting place for artists and their trades in great variety; it was a “marriage market,” and was also a place to receive news of its practitioners. By no means did the leading magicians of the nineteenth century stay clear of the fairs.

At the Leipzig fair, Döbler, Bosco, Philippe, Frikell and many others erected wooden booths, which were elegantly outfitted.

In other cities, such well-known magicians rented local theater buildings or elegant halls. They also were in no way fearful of being connected with fairs, but profited from the huge crowds Winter 2007 \ Gibecière

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