Elephant Ivory

Elephant Ivory

I see “Salle Adolphe de Rothschild” on the wall, and my interest is piqued (Richelieu, room 527). Adolphe de Rothschild was the founder of the eye hospital named after him near the Buttes-Chaumont in Paris. I knew he was a collector, but I did not know he had a particular appreciation for Italian Renaissance objets d’art such as the ones gathered in this room. I peer at the display cases. For a long time, I don’t see anything that belonged to him, and this disconcerts me. Nevertheless, I make a discovery, a superb Roman crucifix, dated to around 1600, in elephant ivory. The caption reads “Bequest of Marc Fumaroli, 2014.” My dear Marc, longtime president of the Société des Amis du Louvre, and my friend of forty years. I never saw this object where he lived—it must have been in the bedroom—but I think once more of my last visit, a few days before he passed away. Our conversation turned to Counter-Reformation art, which was dear to him. Elephant ivory cannot travel anymore. A friend from New York once bought an old Pleyel piano in Paris. When it arrived at customs, the keys were removed, placed in a plastic bag, and returned to sender. The room bears the name Adolphe de Rothschild because of the objects exhibited in a single display case and also because of its superb Venetian coffered wooden ceiling.