The Pope's Elephant by Silvio A. Bedini (review)

book reviews305 However, it is difficult to ascertain who the audience for this book might be. For the book is too speciaUzed and at points presupposes too much art historical background to be fully accessible to the general reader. On the other hand, the book's value to the scholar of Netherlandish art is limited by the absence of sufficiently detailed analyses of individual works (many of the works are treated in just a single paragraph), and by the lack of sustained attention to key issues raised by the material (for instance, the interrelation between the various art forms, the impact of standardization on design, the nature of the different production centers, the documentary evidence about lost works, and the role of patronage). One would, of course, not expect a treatment of all of these issues within a book of this size and scope; nevertheless, because the book does not treat any of these at any length, it provides one seriously interested in this area with only a basic acquaintance with the art objects, not an interpretive structure for further study. The book's production,while generaUy good,has some minor flaws: there are some problems with the quaUty of photographs (e.g., Figs. 82, 109), a couple of inaccuracies in photo captions and numbering (in Chapter 9), and a vexing lack of consistency in the arrangement of columns, which, when interrupted by photographs, sometimes read across (as on p. 1 19), and sometimes down (as on p. 28). Lynn F.Jacobs University ofArkansas Early Modern European The Pope's Elephant. By Silvio A. Bedini. (Manchester: Carcanet in association with the Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation and the Discoveries Commission , Lisbon. 1997. Pp. x, 302. £30.) SUvio Bedini's The Pope's Elephant charmingly teUs the tale of a remarkable diplomatic gift: Hanno, an Indian elephant, who was presented in 1514 to Pope Leo X by King Manuel I of Portugal. By coincidence,Bedini's historical study followed closely on the paperback issue of a novel, Lawrence Norfolk's The Pope's Rhinoceros (New York: Henry Holt, 1997), whose protagonist was King Manuel's foUow-up gift to Pope Leo in 1515. Unfortunately, Ganda the rhinoceros was shipwrecked just off the Italian coast and made it to the Vatican only as a stuffed carcass. Hanno, on the other hand,was still very much aUve in 1515, lodged in a special stall in front of St. Peter's Square right next to the pontifical Uons. In an article of 1981, Bedini referred to Hanno and Ganda as "the papal pachyderms," already balancing the playful element in their story with the recognition that they, together with a host of other exotic presents to the Pope, expressed serious intentions on King Manuel's part. These intentions were 306book reviews both financial and poUtical. A series of campaigns against the Moors in North Africa and worldwide voyages of exploration promised Portugal new and lucrative sources of income, but in the short term Manuel needed money to raise troops and outfit ships. European states were often accustomed under such circumstances to request that the Pope waive tithes and other church taxes on a one-time basis as a way of providing a loan without incurring the charge of usury. Manual,with his gifts of pachyderms, wildcats, spices, metalwork, ivories, and brocades, hoped to charm Pope Leo into extending such a courtesy, but at the same time he also aimed to reinforce the Portuguese claim on the Spice Islands , aware that Spain had been preparing a counterclaim since 1512. Bedini deftly interweaves a fascinating description of Portugal's far-flung poUtical and economic interests in the early sixteenth century with accounts of the guttering cultural atmosphere of Leonine Rome, where the docile Hanno performed tricks amid ancient ruins and Renaissance pageantry, had his portrait done by none other than Raphael, and finally died of constipation in 1516. Meanwhile, the elephant's image, like that of the iU-fated Ganda, reverberated through contemporary European art—although the rhinoceros did not live to merit a portrait by Raphael, the creature was engraved by Albrecht Dürer—and Bedini does a careful job of tracing this curious visual legacy, as weU...