Snail Homes, Bog Bodies, and Mechanical Flies: Robert Testard’s Illustrations for Les secretz de l’histoire naturelle (ca. 1485)

Sitting in her doorway, spinning wool as her child plays beside her, exchanging a few words with her neighbor leaning out the window across the way… The principal figure of the painting is in some ways an entirely conventional late medieval European woman — down to her headdress and veil — except for the fact that she lives on Traponee, an island somewhere near India, and makes her home inside of a giant snail shell.

This miniature painting, along with fifty-five others, illustrates the Secretz de l’histoire naturelle (Secrets of natural history), a Middle French translation of the Benedictine scholar Pierre Bersuire’s encyclopedic Reductium morale (ca. 1340). Held by the Bibliothèque nationale de France, Français 22971, as it is known, was created by the illuminator Robert Testard, a favorite of the southwestern French count Charles d’Angoulême (1459–96). Under Charles’ patronage, Testard produced some of the most richly decorated manuscripts of the fifteenth century — including a famous book of hours (ca. 1480), which brought a cheeky, classicizing sensibility to the medieval manuscript tradition.

The Secretz collects a wide swathe of information about the marvels of the world. As in many late medieval texts of this kind, here time and space collapse — Alexander the Great, as fictionalized in the Roman d’Alexandre, is as reliable a source on India as the contemporary missionary Odoric of Pordenone (1286–1331). Fantasy and fact swirl together, so that Terrestrial Paradise (46r) and China (58v) are each as real as they are remote. The former may even be easier to reach than the latter.

Out in the world grow the things that cost money here in France: the jewels that must be extracted from dragons’ stomachs in Ethiopia; the cinnamon trees of Arabia (6r); the mountains of gold on Ophir (45r) and pearls on Trapo (57r). And from Egypt, “celle confiture que on appelle momia, cest a dire char domme confite dont usent les medicins et les apoticayres” (the preserved material that we call mummy, that is to say, that preserved flesh that doctors and apothecaries use). As the products of these far-flung lands make their way to Europe, so too does information: there is the usual palaver about Blemmyes (20r) and centaurs (16v), but the manuscript’s reader also discovers Hindu vegetarianism, Irish bog bodies, and Chinese footbinding. Bersuire is a proto-anthropologist, reporting back about the supposed mores and lifeworlds of faraway lands — in Ethiopia, we learn, the women of the Auriges have group sex on their wedding nights. (He is also a proto-geologist, reporting that the presence of seashells in mountain caves in Macedonia proves that it was once a seashore.)

Illustration of people gathering fruit and pearls from a fieldScroll through the whole page to download all images before printing.

Ophir

Illustration of man conversing with centaurScroll through the whole page to download all images before printing.

Upper Egypt

Contemporary texts like The Travels of Sir John Mandeville (ca. 1357–1371) tended to focus on the mysteries of the Orient, but Bersuire pays as close attention to Europe itself as to the wonders of the East. For the most part, the good people of Europe are simply stout and hale: the Frisians of northern Germany, for instance, love freedom and hate lustfulness (24r). Luckily, the past is a foreign country too. Naples, we are told, was once protected by some magical mathematical automata created by Virgil (11r): when not writing the Aeneid, the great poet invented a bronze fly who kept all the other flies out of the city.

Texts like these were meant to entertain as well as educate, but Bersuire’s mixing of the bizarre and the banal raises questions about what, in fact, their readers would have thought of as strange. The scholar John Block Friedman notes that Français 22971 — the youngest of the Secretz (the BNF also holds the oldest) — is notably feminine: extra women have been added to the paintings, and particular attention given to their clothing. In the picture accompanying the short entry for Media (43v), a seventh-century kingdom in western Asia, the women (unmentioned in the text) wear sumptuous gowns whose velvet texture is palpably invoked by the tiny white dots on their bodices.

Were these illuminations intended for Charles? Or were they for the women he lived with? Charles’ wife, Louise of Savoy (1476–1531), only joined his household when she was fifteen, some six years after the manuscript was produced. However, she entered a house already presided over by his mistress Antoinette de Polignac (1470–1537) and another woman named Jeanne Comte. Louise and Antoinette seem to have become friends. When Charles died only a few years later, the whole family, including both women’s children, moved to Louis XII’s court, where Louise was able to negotiate herself into power, placing her son, the future Francis I, on the throne.

How would these women have read the accounts of the upside down worlds of India and Scythia, where men performed women’s tasks and women men’s? In particular, how would they have looked at the manuscript’s second miniature, showing the female knights and female trumpeters and female queen of the Amazons (2r)?

Illustration of AmazonsScroll through the whole page to download all images before printing.

Amazonia

Did Louise see herself on that throne? It would not have been impossible. After her mother’s death, she had been raised by her cousin, Anne de Beaujeu (1461–1522), the “Madame la Grande” who ruled France as regent from 1483 to 1491. In 1405, Christine de Pizan (1364–ca. 1430) had published The Book of the City of Ladies, making an argument for the political and intellectual importance of women; the following century proved her right, particularly in France. When Louise eventually became regent herself during her son’s reign, it was with another woman, Margaret of Austria, that she signed the Treaty of Cambrai. Marvels like these were no longer the preserve of far-off lands: the Amazons had come home.

Below you can explore a selection of illustrations from this manuscript. The quotations in the captions are taken from Kristen Figg and John Friedman’s translated transcription of the manuscript.

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