Copyright by

Ingrid Grace Kottke 2020

The Thesis Committee for Ingrid Grace Kottke Certifies that this is the approved version of the following Thesis:

Games of Paint and Print: Strategies of Juxtaposition in the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême

APPROVED BY SUPERVISING COMMITTEE:

Jeffrey Chipps Smith, Supervisor

Joan Holladay

Games of Paint and Print: Strategies of Juxtaposition in the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême

by

Ingrid Grace Kottke

Thesis

Presented to the Faculty of the Graduate School of The University of Texas at Austin

in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of

Master of Arts

The University of Texas at Austin May 2020

Acknowledgements

I complete this thesis is thanks to guidance of many wonderful teachers. I am particularly grateful to my supervisor Jeffrey Chipps Smith for his sincere mentorship, generosity, and patience. I also wish to thank Joan Holladay for her attentive and constructive comments as my second reader. It was a pleasure and a privilege to work with both of them, and I appreciate their efforts throughout this process more than I could adequately express here. I would also like to thank my colleagues, particularly Claire Sumner, for their good cheer and support. Both within and beyond the art history department, I have been lucky to work with scholars whose perspectives have shaped my own and whose critiques have aided my research and writing. In this regard, I would also like to thank Alison Frazier and Christoph Brachmann for their assistance and encouragement. Lastly, many thanks to my family for their faith, formatting expertise, and kindness throughout my entire academic life. Thank you for believing in me.

v Abstract

Games of Paint and Print: Strategies of Juxtaposition in the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême

Ingrid Grace Kottke, MA The University of Texas at Austin, 2020

Supervisor: Jeffrey Chipps Smith

Dating to the early 1480s, the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (Bibliothèque

Nationale de France, Paris, ms. Latin 1173) stands as a notable venue for imaginative engagement between painter and reader. A hybrid volume, it integrates prints and print imagery into the painted world of the manuscript, often through humorous or inventive means. The book is attributed to Robinet Testard (active c. 1471-1531), court illuminator to Charles d’Angoulême (1459-96), a Valois noble of the Orléans branch, best-known as the father of François I. It contains forty-three compositions directly derived from prints, sixteen of which are actual engravings glued directly onto the vellum and overpainted. Although on certain pages, Testard’s adaptation of print is direct, the artist frequently engages in some degree of alteration –from slight embellishment to almost total reinterpretation. He employed contemporary German and Netherlandish prints, especially those by Israhel van Meckenem. The manner in which Testard’s pairing of paint and print affects viewing experience merits thorough exploration. Print-derived couplings and oppositions, cast

vi through motifs of courting and quarrel or wilderness and cultivation, recur consistently throughout the volume, often within the same miniature or figural pairing. I concentrate on these patterns of accord and discord throughout the volume as they relate to audience engagement, focusing particularly depictions of seasonality and the pastoral. In the manuscript’s calendar sequence, Testard’s inclusion and seasonalization of satirical love and battle scenes may have been intended to surprise and amuse his patron who, as scion of aristocratic bookworms, would be familiar with calendrical tropes. Elsewhere, full-page miniatures demonstrate further his strategies of creative selection and juxtaposition. I explore the extent to which the tragic wild couple of the Office of the Dead miniature and the ludic herders of the Annunciation to the Shepherds reshape northern print motifs to the nostalgic pastoral tastes of the French court.

vii Table of Contents

List of Figures ...... x-xxvi

Introduction ...... 1

The Patron, Charles d'Angoulême, and His Court ...... 3

The Artist, Robinet Testard ...... 7

The Manuscript ...... 9

Historiography: Novelty, Referentiality, and Hybridity ...... 10

Methodology: Pictorial Wit Between Paint and Print ...... 15

Chapter 1: Love Gardens, Wild Knights, and Foolish Couples: Print in the Calendar Sequence ...... 19

Cultivation and Exuberance in April and May (f.2v-3r) ...... 22

Laborious and Transactional Love in August and September (f.4v-5r) ...... 42

Conclusion ...... 52

Chapter 2: Ludic and Tragic Pastoral in the Main Frame ...... 55

Charles d'Angoulême's Cognac: Rebuilding and Retreat between City and Country ...... 58

Folly, Freedom, and Morris Dance in the Annunciation to the Shepherds (f.20v) ...68

Office of the Dead: Doomed Wild Lovers in the Shadow of the Castle...... 80

Chapter 3: Print Meets Paint in Late Medieval France: Case Studies from, and Parallels to, Testard's Career ...... 85

Early Print Collection, van Meckenem, and ms. lat. 1173 in Context ...... 85

Ms. fr. 929: The Imitation of Christ from Printed Book to Personalized Manuscript ...... 90

Ms. fr. 143: Multi-Referential Patterns of Print Inclusion ...... 97

viii Precursors and Parallels: Print-Manuscript Encounters Beyond Testard ...... 104

Figures...... 110

Bibliography ...... 157

ix List of Figures

Figure 1: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 2v, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020,

https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 110 Figure 2: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 2v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment. Bibliothèque nationale de

France, accessed April 11, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 110 Figure 3: Unknown (Rouen or Orléans), Book of Hours (ms G.4), folio 5r: detail, last

quarter of the 15th c, illuminated vellum, 187 x 125 mm/folio. New

York, Morgan Library, accessed April 11, 2020, http://ica.themorgan.org/manuscript/page/7/7680411 ...... 111 Figure 4: Unknown (Paris), Book of Hours (ms. M.73), folio 2v: detail, c. 1475,

illuminated vellum, 140 x 98 mm/folio. New York, Morgan Library, accessed April 11, 2020, http://ica.themorgan.org/manuscript/page/4/77002 ...... 111

Figure 5: Unknown (Rouen), Book of Hours (ms. M.131), folio 4r: detail, c. 1480, 180 x 120 mm/folio. New York, Morgan Library, accessed April 11, 2020, http://ica.themorgan.org/manuscript/page/7/76852 ...... 112 Figure 6: Master of the Housebook, Two Lovers, 1480-88, drypoint engraving, 167 x

107 mm. ARTstor, accessed April 11, 2020, https://library.artstor.org/asset/ARTSTOR_103_41822001140837 ...... 112

x Figure 7: Israhel van Meckenem, The Lovers, late 15th c., engraving, 162 x 106 cm.

ARTstor, accessed April 11, 2020, https://library.artstor.org/asset/BARTSCH_5610090 ...... 113

Figure 8: Master/Monogrammist bxg, The Lovers, second half of the 15th c.,

engraving, 168 x 108 cm. Vienna, Albertina, accessed April 27, 2020, http://www.kulturpool.at/plugins/kulturpool/showitem.action?itemId=42 95033936&kupoContext=default ...... 113

Figure 9: Upper Rhenish Master, The Little Garden of Paradise, oil painting, c. 1410/20, 263 x 334 cm. ARTstor, accessed April 11, 2020, https://library.artstor.org/asset/26875367 ...... 114 Figure 10: Robinet Testard, Livre des échecs amoureux moralisés (ms. fr. 143), f.

198v: detail, c. 1495-1498, illuminated parchment, 310 x 200 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale, accessed April 12, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b100255556 ...... 114

Figure 11: Master E. S., Love Garden with Chess Players,c, 1460-1467, copperplate engraving, 165 x 208 mm. Berlin, Kupferstichkabinett, accessed April 12, 2020,

https://inpress.lib.uiowa.edu/feminae/DetailsPage.aspx?Feminae_ID=30 957...... 115 Figure 12: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 3r,

c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque

nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 115

xi Figure 13: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 3r:

detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 116

Figure 14: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 3r: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm/fol. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020,

https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 116 Figure 15: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 3r: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm/fol. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020,

https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 117 Figure 16: Limbourg Brothers, Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry (Ms.65), folio 5v: detail, c. 1412-1416, illuminated vellum, 225 x 136 mm/fol.

Chantilly, Musée Condé, accessed April 12, 2020, https://bit.ly/2y5ZnAg ...... 117 Figure 17: Unknown (Paris or Northeastern France), Book of Hours (ms. M.1003),

folio 5r: detail, c. 1465, illuminated parchment, 227 x 167 mm/fol. New York, Morgan Library, accessed April 11, 2020, themorgan.org/manuscript/76920...... 118

Figure 18: Master of the Housebook, Combat of Two Wild Men, c. 1475, engraving,

125 x 192 mm. Amsterdam, Rijksprentenkabinet, in Jane Hutchison, Master of the Housebook (New York: Collectors’ Editions, 1972), 133, plate 53...... 118

xii Figure 19: Israhel van Meckenem, Combat of Two Wild Men, c. 1480, engraving, 152

x 220 mm. Chicago, The Art Institute of Chicago, in Timothy Husband, ed., with the assistance of Gloria Gilmore-House, The Wild Man: Medieval Myth and Symbolism (New York: Metropolitan Museum of

Art, 1980), 137, plate 35 ...... 119 Figure 20: Unknown (Alsace), Combat of Two Wild Men, c. 1390-1410, tapestry. Regensburg, Stadtmuseum, in Timothy Husband, ed., with the assistance

of Gloria Gilmore-House, The Wild Man: Medieval Myth and Symbolism (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1980), 133, figure 88...... 119 Figure 21: Unknown (Cologne), Love Casket, c.1350-1370, wood. Cologne, Museum

für Angewandte Kunst, in Heinrich Kohlhaussen, “Rheinische Minnekästchen des Mittelalters, Jahrbuch der Preuszischen Kunstsammlungen, 46 (1925), 215, fig. 9 ...... 120

Figure 22: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 4v, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020,

https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 120 Figure 23: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 4v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm/fol. Paris,

Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020,

https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 121

xiii Figure 24: Unknown (Ulm), Book of Hours (cod.I.175), folio 3r, 1460-70, illuminated

parchment. Stuttgart, Württembergische Landesbibliothek, in Wilhelm Hansen, Kalenderminiaturen der Stundenbücher: Mittelalterliches Leben im Jahreslauf (Munich: Verlag Georg D.W. Callwey, 1984),

116...... 121 Figure 25: Limbourg Brothers, Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry (Ms.65), folio

8v: detail, c. 1412-1416, illuminated vellum, 225 x 136 mm/fol. Chantilly, Musée Condé, accessed April 12, 2020, https://bit.ly/3aTccuW ...... 122 Figure 26: Master/Monogrammist bxg, Peasant Couple, c. 1470-1490, engraving, 95

x 155 mm. London, British Museum, accessed April 12, 2020, shorturl.at/bisuM ...... 122 Figure 27: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 4v:

detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm/fol. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 123

Figure 28: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 5r, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020,

https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 123

Figure 29: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 5r: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm/fol. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020,

https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 124 xiv Figure 30: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 5r:

detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm/fol. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 124

Figure 31: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 5r: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm/fol. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020,

https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 125 Figure 32: Master of the Housebook, Unequal Couple, engraving, 101 x 99 mm. Amsterdam, Rijksprentenkabinet, in Jane Hutchison, Master of the Housebook (New York: Collectors’ Editions, 1972), 135, plate 55 ...... 125

Figure 33: Israhel van Meckenem, Unequal Couple, 1480-1490, engraving, 138 x 94 mm. Oxford, Ashmolean, accessed April 12, 2020, http://collections.ashmolean.org/collection/search/per_page/100/offset/0/

sort_by/relevance/object/84302 ...... 126 Figure 34: Unknown (South German), Bridal Couple/Dead Couple, left panel, c. 1470, oil on panel, 623 x 365 mm. Cleveland, Cleveland Museum of

Art, accessed April 12, 2020, https://www.clevelandart.org/art/1932.179 ...... 127

Figure 35: Unknown (South German), Bridal Couple/Dead Couple, right panel, c.

1470, oil on panel, 625 x 400 mm. Strasbourg, Musée de l’Œuvre Notre- Dame, accessed April 12, 2020, https://www.musees.strasbourg.eu/oeuvre-musee-oeuvre-notre-dame/-

/entity/id/672888 ...... 127 xv Figure 36: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 7v,

c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 127

Figure 37: Israhel van Meckenem, John the Baptist with Evangelists, 1470-90, engraving, 178 x 178 mm. London, British Museum, accessed April 12, 2020, rb.gy/kzrsxs ...... 128

Figure 38: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 16v, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 128

Figure 39: Israhel van Meckenem, Ornament with parrots and other birds, last third

of 15th c, engraving, 135 x 168 mm. Vienna, Albertina, accessed April 12, 2020,

http://www.kulturpool.at/plugins/kulturpool/showitem.action?itemId=42 95440078&kupoContext=default ...... 129 Figure 40: Martin Schongauer, Ornament with parrots and other birds, last third of

15th c, engraving, 108 x 154 mm. Vienna, Albertina, accessed April 12, 2020, http://www.kulturpool.at/plugins/kulturpool/showitem.action?itemId=42

95438612&kupoContext=default ...... 129

Figure 41: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020,

https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 130 xvi Figure 42: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v:

detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 130

Figure 43: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020,

https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 131 Figure 44: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020,

https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 131 Figure 45: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris,

Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 132 Figure 46: Willem Vrelant and Master of the Llangattock Hours, Llangattock Hours

(ms. Ludwig IX 7), folio 83v: detail, 1450s, illuminated parchment, 264 x 184 mm/fol. Los Angeles, Getty, accessed April 11, 2020, http://www.getty.edu/art/collection/objects/1391/willem-vrelant-master-

of-the-llangattock-hours-master-of-the-llangattock-epiphany-et-al-

llangattock-hours-flemish-1450s/ ...... 132

xvii Figure 47: Willem Vrelant and Master of the Llangattock Hours, Llangattock Hours

(ms. Ludwig IX 7), folio 83v: detail, 1450s, illuminated parchment, 264 x 184 mm/fol. Los Angeles, Getty, accessed April 11, 2020, http://www.getty.edu/art/collection/objects/1391/willem-vrelant-master-

of-the-llangattock-hours-master-of-the-llangattock-epiphany-et-al- llangattock-hours-flemish-1450s/ ...... 133 Figure 48: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v:

detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 133 Figure 49: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v:

detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 134

Figure 50: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020,

https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 134 Figure 51: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris,

Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020,

https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 135

xviii Figure 52: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v:

detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 135

Figure 53: Claude Castillon, Château de Cognac from the west, 17th c, drawing. Archives de la Maison Otard, in Richard Cooper, “‘Era una meraviglia vederli’: Carnival in Cognac (1520) between the Bastille and the Cloth

of Gold,” Nottingham French Studies 56, no. 3 (2017), 340, figure 2 ...... 136

Figure 54: Unknown, Prospect of Cognac from the west, 17th c, drawing. Archives de la Maison Otard, in Richard Cooper, “‘Era una meraviglia vederli’: Carnival in Cognac (1520) between the Bastille and the Cloth of Gold,”

Nottingham French Studies 56, no. 3 (2017), 344, figure 3 ...... 136 Figure 55: Unknown (French), Guillaume de Machaut (ms. fr. 1586): Poésies, fol. 51 (Le reméde de Fortune): detail, c. 1350-55, illuminated parchment, 300

x 215 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 12, 2020, https://bit.ly/2KPCzaI ...... 137 Figure 56: Israhel van Meckenem, Morris Dance Tondo, c. 1475-90, engraving, 174 x

181 mm. Vienna, Albertina, accessed April 12, 2020, https://bit.ly/2Sqky6P...... 137 Figure 57: Unknown (Florentine), Morris Dance, c.1470, engraving, 245 x 197 mm.

ARTstor, accessed April 12, 2020,

https://library.artstor.org/#/asset/BARTSCH_3490037;prevRouteTS=15 86767393809...... 138

xix Figure 58: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v:

detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 138

Figure 59: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020,

https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 139 Figure 60: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 41v, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020,

https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 139 Figure 61: Master IAM of Zwolle, Battle of Two Men with the Centaur, c. 1470-90, engraving, 149 x 226 mm. Boston, MFA, accessed April 12, 2020,

https://collections.mfa.org/objects/127261/the-battle-of-two-men-with- the-centaur...... 140 Figure 62: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 41v:

detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 140

Figure 63: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 41v:

detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 141

xx Figure 64: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 41v:

detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 141

Figure 65: Master/Monogrammist bxg after the Housebook Master, Wild Family,

second half of the 15th c, engraving, 147 x 9 cm. Vienna, Albertina, accessed April 12, 2020,

http://www.kulturpool.at/plugins/kulturpool/showitem.action?itemId=42 95442257&kupoContext=default ...... 142 Figure 66: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 41v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm/fol. Paris,

Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 142 Figure 67: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 41v:

detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm/fol. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 143

Figure 68: Robinet Testard, La Ymitacion Jhesu Christ (ms. fr. 929), fol. 7r: detail, 1488-1496, illuminated on parchment, 260 x 190 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale, accessed April 12, 2020,

https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b55009293m ...... 143

Figure 69: Heinrich Mayer, La Ymitacion Jhesu Christ (frontispiece): detail, 1488, woodcut on paper, in Tibulle Desbarreux-Bernard, L’imprimerie à Toulouse aux XVe, XVIe, et XVIIe siècles (seconde edition) (Toulouse:

Imprimerie de A. Chauvin, 1868), plate 9 ...... 144 xxi Figure 70: Robinet Testard, La Ymitacion Jhesu Christ (ms. fr. 929), fol. 87v: detail,

1488-1496, illuminated on parchment, 260 x 190 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale, accessed April 12, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b55009293m ...... 144

Figure 71: Heinrich Mayer, L’Échelle de paradis, Frontispiece: detail, 1488, woodcut on paper, in Tibulle Desbarreux-Bernard, L’imprimerie à Toulouse aux XVe, XVIe, et XVIIe siècles (seconde edition) (Toulouse: Imprimerie de

A. Chauvin, 1868), plate 10 ...... 145 Figure 72: Heinrich Mayer, L’Échelle de paradis, Frontispiece: detail, 1488, woodcut on paper, in Tibulle Desbarreux-Bernard, L’imprimerie à Toulouse aux XVe, XVIe, et XVIIe siècles (seconde edition) (Toulouse: Imprimerie de

A. Chauvin, 1868), plate 10 ...... 145 Figure 73: Robinet Testard, La Ymitacion Jhesu Christ (ms. fr. 929), fol. 87v: detail, 1488-1496, illuminated on parchment, 260 x 190 mm. Paris,

Bibliothèque nationale, accessed April 12, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b55009293m ...... 146 Figure 74: Robinet Testard, La Ymitacion Jhesu Christ (ms. fr. 929), fol. 87v: detail,

1488-1496, illuminated on parchment, 260 x 190 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale, accessed April 12, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b55009293m ...... 146

Figure 75: Robinet Testard, Livre des des échecs amoureux moralisés (ms. fr. 143),

folio 12r: detail, 1488-96, illuminated parchment, 320 x 225 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale, accessed April 12, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b10515437z/f1.planchecontact ...... 147

xxii Figure 76: Unknown (Ferrara), Mantegna Tarocchi (Poesia): detail, c. 1467,

engraving. Cleveland, Cleveland Museum of Art, accessed April 12, 2020, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Mantegna_Tarocchi ...... 147

Figure 77: Unknown (Ferrara), Mantegna Tarocchi (Forteza): detail, c. 1467, engraving. Cleveland, Cleveland Museum of Art, accessed April 12, 2020,

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Mantegna_Tarocchi ...... 148 Figure 78: Robinet Testard, Livre des des échecs amoureux moralisés (ms. fr. 143), folio 65v: detail, 1495-1498, illuminated on parchment, 505 x 340 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale, accessed April 12, 2020,

https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b55009293m ...... 148 Figure 79: Unknown (Ferrara), Mantegna Tarocchi (Apollo): detail, c. 1467, engraving. Cleveland, Cleveland Museum of Art, accessed April 12,

2020, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Mantegna_Tarocchi ...... 149 Figure 80: Unknown (Ferrara), Mantegna Tarocchi (Musicha): detail, c. 1467,

engraving. Cleveland, Cleveland Museum of Art, accessed April 12, 2020, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Mantegna_Tarocchi ...... 149

Figure 81: Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio

113v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm/fol. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, accessed April 11, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b52502694t ...... 150

xxiii Figure 82: Robinet Testard, Livre des des échecs amoureux moralisés (ms. fr. 143),

folio 36v: detail, 1495-1498, illuminated on parchment, 505 x 340 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale, accessed April 12, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b55009293m ...... 150

Figure 83: Anthoine Vérard (Paris) and the Master of Jacques de Besançon, La bible des poetes (ms. rés. vél. 560): folio 18 detail, 1493-4. Woodcut on vellum with overpainting. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale, accessed April

12, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b8626780d/f1.planchecontact ...... 151 Figure 84: Robinet Testard, Livre des des échecs amoureux moralisés (ms. fr. 143), folio 36v: detail, 1495-1498, illuminated on parchment, 505 x 340 mm.

Paris, Bibliothèque nationale, accessed April 12, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b55009293m ...... 151 Figure 85: Unknown (Ferrara), Mantegna Tarocchi (Urania): detail, c. 1467,

engraving. Cleveland, Cleveland Museum of Art, accessed April 12, 2020, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Mantegna_Tarocchi ...... 152

Figure 86: Unknown (Ferrara), Mantegna Tarocchi (Erato): detail, c. 1467, engraving. Cleveland, Cleveland Museum of Art, accessed April 12, 2020,

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Mantegna_Tarocchi ...... 152

Figure 87: Unknown (Ferrara), Mantegna Tarocchi (Geometria): detail, c. 1467, engraving. Cleveland, Cleveland Museum of Art, accessed April 12, 2020,

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Mantegna_Tarocchi ...... 153 xxiv Figure 88: Robinet Testard, Roman de la Rose (Bodleian Ms. Douce. 195), folio 94v:

detail, c. 1490s, paint on parchment. London, British Library, accessed April 12, 2020, https://digital.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/inquire/Discover/Search/#/?p=c+0,t+,rsr

s+0,rsps+10,fa+,so+ox%3Asort%5Easc,scids+,pid+,vi+1a69bce6-df1d- 44af-b7ba-a973c01fb206 ...... 153 Figure 89: Robinet Testard, Roman de la Rose (Bodleian Ms. Douce. 195), f. 60v:

detail, c. 1490s, paint on parchment. London, British Library, accessed April 12, 2020, https://digital.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/inquire/Discover/Search/#/?p=c+0,t+,rsr s+0,rsps+10,fa+,so+ox%3Asort%5Easc,scids+,pid+,vi+1a69bce6-df1d-

44af-b7ba-a973c01fb206 ...... 154 Figure 90: Master of Yvon du Fou, Livre des proprietés des choses (ms. fr. 218), folio 44v: detail, illuminated parchment, 433 x 345 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque

nationale, accessed April 11, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b100225036 ...... 154 Figure 91: Matthias Huss, Le Proprietaire en francoys, Book iii frontispiece: detail,

1485, woodcut on paper. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b86054541 ...... 155 Figure 92: Anthoine Vérard and the Master of Jacques de Besançon, La Passion

Jhesuscrist (ms. fr. 1686), folio 12v: detail, c. 1503, painted engraving

on vellum, 266 x 173 mm. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale, accessed April 12, 2020, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b550093161 ...... 155

xxv Figure 93: Jean Pichore and Remy de Laistre, Book of Hours quarto pub. by Simon

Vostre (Bodleian Ms. Douce BB 189), B5, 1504, metalcut on paper. London, British Library, in Caroline Zöhl, Jean Pichore: Buchmaler, Graphiker und Verleger in Paris um 1500 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2004),

plate 105 ...... 156 Figure 94: Martin Schongauer, Nativity, c. 1435-91, engraving, 245 x 168 mm. New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art, accessed April 10, 2020,

https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/366982 ...... 15

xxvi Introduction

The period between the last quarter of the fifteenth century and the first of the sixteenth was a transitional one for European artists of the book. Both the manual processes of manuscript illumination and the reproductive capacities of print could be of use to the ambitious publisher or miniaturist willing to respect tradition and embrace innovation at once. While volumes produced in this era of technological flux vary widely in appearance and facture, many of them enact a kind of medial costuming, where one artform is ‘dressed up’ to resemble another. Across

Germany and the Netherlands, popular engravings like Schongauer’s Carrying of the Cross provided compositional models for expressive miniatures, translating printed designs into a painted idiom.1 A corresponding movement occurred in Venice, where illuminators supplied early printed books with rubrication, chapter headings, borders, and initials, adding extra gilding and more elaborate marginal embellishment to especially prestigious volumes.2 Printers like the

Rhenish “Master with the Floral Frames” crafted engravings whose foliate borders and historiated initials mimic standard illuminated décor.3 Dynamic and varied, these patterns of

1 Jeffrey Hamburger, “Old Wine in New Bottles? The Illumination of Religious Manuscripts,” in Painting the Page in the Age of Print: Central European Manuscript Illumination of the Fifteenth Century, ed. Jeffrey Hamburger, Robert Suckale, and Gude Suckale-Redlefsen, trans. David Sánchez (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediæval Studies, 2018), 170-173. The examples of these Schongauer-borrowings that Hamburger gives are London, British Library Harley ms. 1662; Karlsruhe, Badische Landesbibliothek cod. St. Georgen 41; and Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin-Preußicher Kulturbesitz ms. theol. quart. 9. 2 Lilian Armstrong, “The Impact of Printing on Miniaturists in Venice after 1469,” in Printing the Written Word: The Social History of Books, circa 1450-1500, ed. Sandra Hindman (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1991), 174-202, especially 180-192. 3 James Marrow, “A Book of Hours from the Circle of the Master of the Berlin Passion: Notes on the Relationship between Fifteenth-Century Manuscript Illumination and Printmaking in the Rhenish Lowlands,” Art Bulletin 60 (1978): 609-611. 1 exchange between print and parchment reveal close webs of relation between late medieval and early modern artists working in both media, as well as their freedom to select and adapt at will.

The question of what Sandra Hindman has deemed the “cross-fertilization” between printed and hand-made books is particularly urgent in late medieval France,4 a culture in which the commission and collection of luxury books was ideologically crucial.5 How did the nascent printing industry affect the careers of French artisans trained in manuscript-making, from scribes to bookbinders? While it easy to assume that these individuals’ livelihood was immediately threatened by print, the technology’s impact was neither abrupt nor total. From the 1480s onwards, Parisian publishers like Anthoine Vérard and Guy de Marchant sold works printed on vellum, with comprehensive programs of illumination that would have required the employment of manuscript artists.6 For at least one illuminator, moreover, skills in the older medium were translatable to the new. Simon Vostre and Gillet Hardouyn, also based in Paris, engaged the services of former miniaturist Jean Pichore to design metalcuts accompanying their publication of printed books of hours.7

4 Hindman, “Cross-Fertilization: Experiments in Mixing the Media,” in Pen to Press: Illustrated Manuscripts and Printed Books in the First Century of Printing, ed. Sandra Hindman and James Douglas Farquhar (College Park: University of Maryland, 1977), 101-156. 5 See Brigitte Buettner, “Profane Illuminations, Secular Illusions: Manuscripts in Late Medieval Courtly Society,” Art Bulletin 74, no. 1 (March 1992): 75–90, and Erik Inglis, Jean Fouquet and the Invention of France: Art and Nation After the Hundred Years War (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2011). 6 See Mary Beth Winn, Anthoine Vérard: Parisian Publisher 1485-1512: Prologues, Poems, and Presentations. (Geneva: Librairie Droz, 1997), 35, and Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant (1483-1504): High Culture and Low Culture in Paris,” in Printing the Written Word: The Social History of Books, circa 1450-1500, ed. Sandra Hindman (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1991), 87. 7 For Pichore’s role in Vostre’s Hours, see Sarah Cameron-Pesant, “Les “Horae” à l’usage d’Autun imprimées pour Simon Vostre (v. 1507): examen de l’exemplaire conservé à McGill,” Renaissance and Reformation (Fall 2016): 215-252. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/26398548, and Caroline Zöhl, Jean Pichore: Buchmaler, Graphiker und Verleger in Paris um 1500, (Turnhout: Brepols, 2004), 132-136, 142-143, 173, and 175. For Hardouyn’s Hours, see Mary Beth Winn, “Gathering the Borders in Hardouyn’s Hours: From ‘Accidents de l’homme’ to the ‘Dis des Estas,’” The Papers of the Bibliographical Society of America 3, no. 2 (June 2009): 141-197, JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/24293986, and Zöhl, Jean Pichore, 138-141, 144-145, 174, and 176. 2 If these examples indicate, albeit briefly, the reliance of French printers on illuminators, they do not address the use that French miniaturists had for print. One avenue towards understanding this aspect of the paint-print interface is the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (BNF ms. lat. 1173). This manuscript, while adhering more or less to the book of hours type that was well-established by the late fifteenth century, is filled with curiosities. Bawdy couples and jousting vegetable men crowd its calendrical sequence, while its full-page illuminations propose iconographical mysteries, such as the pairing of centaur and wild woman on the folio introducing the Office of the Dead. Throughout, it is riddled with illustrations that shift, reinterpret, or gently subvert the expected narratives, subjects, and experiential opportunities of the book of hours genre. More pertinently here, it is studded with references to German and Netherlandish prints – some directly pasted onto the vellum and overpainted, others discernible from a few distinctive motifs folded into an otherwise entirely new composition.8 The extensiveness and creativity of the use of print in this volume render it a fascinating and revealing case study of what the media of illumination and print, in their period of overlap, made possible together.

The Patron, Charles d’Angoulême, and His Court

The appearance of the Angoulême arms on folios 9v, 10r, and 24v, along with an acrostic poem on folio 53r spelling out “CHARLES DE VALLOYS,” render the ownership, if not the patronage, of this unusual book of hours relatively certain: it belonged to Valois noble Charles

8 For a breakdown of the many ways the works’ artist uses print therein, see Anne Matthews, “The Use of Prints in the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême,” Print Quarterly 3, no. 1 (March 1986): 4-18. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/41823707. 3 d’Orléans, count of Angoulême.9 Offspring of Jean d’Orléans and Marguerite de Rohan, Charles was born in 1459, into an environment where intellectual and cultural pursuits were highly valued.10 Jean d’Orléans, returning to his comital seat of Cognac after a thirty-year English captivity during the Hundred Years War, proceeding to amass a considerable and varied library of over one hundred and sixty volumes, including eleven he hand-copied himself.11 The count’s reading tastes were far-ranging, showing a familiarity with Latin, an interest in history and scientific instruments, and in authors ranging from Aristotle to Christine de Pisan.12 As for

Marguerite, Valérie Guéant holds that those manuscripts that can be ascribed to her collection, such as a poetry compilation that doubled as a liber amicorum (BNF ms. fr. 2330), reveal the countess’s key role in shaping the court culture of Cognac.13 There, she likely acted as patron of poets Jean Vaillant de Tours and Imbert Chandelier, also maintaining close connections to the court of Blois and a friendship with her sister-in-law, fellow bibliophile Marie de Clèves.14

While Charles’s upbringing was one of intellectual flourishing at Cognac, during which book collection and patronage were priorities, it was also marked by political tension and lasting

9 As noted by Victor Léroquais, Les Livres d’heures manuscrits de la Bibliothèque Nationale, vol. 1 (Paris, n.p.: 1927), 108. 10 He was one of the couple’s three children, also including Louis, who died at the age of three, and Jeanne, who would marry Charles de Coétivy. François Marvaud, Études historiques sur la ville de Cognac et de l’arrondissement (Niort, L. Clouzot: 1870), 119. 11 Jean Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême, centres intellectuels à l'aube de la Renaissance,” in Francois Ier, du château de Cognac au trône de France: actes du colloque du 500e anniversaire de la naissance de François Ier, Cognac, septembre et novembre 1994 (Cognac, Annales du Groupe de recherches et d’études historiques de la Charente saintongenaise, 1995) 113-142. See also Gilbert Ouy, La libraire des frères captifs: les manuscrits de Charles d’Orléans et Jean d’Angoulême (Turnhout: Brepols, 2007), and Gustave Dupont-Ferrier, “Jean d’Orléans, comte d’Angoulême: d’après sa bibliothèque (1467),” Mélanges d’histoire du moyen âge, vol. 3, ed. Achille Luchaire (Paris: Félix Alcan, 1897), 31-92. 12 Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” 119-124. 13 Guéant, “Marguerite de Rohan à la cour d’Angoulême: culture littéraire et arts du livre,” in Les femmes, la culture et les arts en Europe entre moyen âge et Renaissance, ed. Cynthia J. Brown and Anne-Marie Legaré (Turnhout: Brepols, 2016), 33-54. 14 Ibid., 39-47. 4 ramifications from the Hundred Years War. Though Jean had enjoyed favor at Charles’s VII court, Louis XI looked upon him with apparent suspicion from his 1461 coronation on. Despite this, Jean did not take part in the Ligue du Bien public, a coalition of feudal lords who felt themselves excluded by the new king, and would take up arms against him.15 Instead, the count favored retreat, assembling, along with Marguerite, a coterie of nobles, knights, and intellectuals around himself in the countryside.16 To this end, the couple also engaged in the rebuilding of

Cognac itself. They sponsored extensive restorations to the area –decimated after repeatedly changing hands between Capetian and Plantagenet forces during the war –beginning with its crumbling castle and local market before moving to the priory of Saint-Léger at the heart of town.17

A love of art and letters, tension with Louis XI, and investment in the cultural and physical revivification of Cognac: these threads, evident in the lives of Charles’s parents, would continue into their son’s. Well under the age of majority at the 1467 passing of his father, he would grow under the tutelage of Yvon du Fou, who kept an eye on him on behalf of Louis XI,18 and was later called to the king’s court himself.19 This time in Louis XI’s circle garnered young

Charles little more than disappointment. The king, perhaps fearing the union of this prince of the blood and the sole heir to an influential house, blocked the count’s attempt to marry Marie de

15 Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” 117, and Jean du Port, La vie de Jean d’Orléans, dit le Bon, comte d’Angoulême, aïeul de François Ier (1598), ed. J.-F. Eusèbe Castagne (Angoulême: Imprimerie de J. Lefraise et Compagnie, 1852), 54-60. 16 Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” 124-126. 17 Robert Favreau, “Cognac au moyen âge: Naissance et développement d’une ville,” in Cognac, cité marchande: Urbanisme et architecture, ed. Yves-Jean Riou (Poitiers: Inventaire Général, 1990), 24, and Marvaud, Études historiques, 184. 18 Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” 127-8. 19 Marvaud, Études historiques, 205. 5 Bourgogne, pledging him in 1478 to Louise de Savoie, then a toddler.20 Returning subsequently to his mother in Cognac, Charles extended the projects that she and his father had begun, bolstering the château library, renovating further the market square, and establishing an enclosed hunting park along the river.21 By the 1480s, the economic situation in Cognac was vastly improved.22

This decade was a particularly active one for Charles, encompassing war, marriage, and artistic patronage in rapid succession. After the 1483 death of Louis XI, the political situation in

France remained unstable. Since his son, Charles VIII, was too young to rule, the king had left his daughter Anne de Beaujeu to serve as queen regent, in a decision that displeased many nobles.23 Charles joined other malcontents in a revolt known as la guerre folle, whose aim was to wrest the crown into the control of his cousin, Louis II d’Orléans.24 Whether due to a disinclination to war or mere incompetence, Charles’s role in this rebellion was fleeting; he took up arms in 1485 and surrendered shortly thereafter.25 In February of 1488, he wed Louise de

Savoie.26 It is during this marriage that many of Charles’s most memorable actions, such as his

20 Ibid., 205; Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” 128; du Port, La vie de Jean d’Orléans, 45. The actual details of Charles’s unfulfilled engagement prior to his marriage to Louise de Savoie remain muddled. See Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” 141, n. 75, and Edmond Sénemaud, La bibliothèque de Charles d’Orléans, comte d’Angoulême au château de Cognac en 1496 (Paris: A. Claudin, 1861), 10. 21 Favreau, “Cognac au moyen âge,” 24-26. 22 Ibid., 26. 23 Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” 128. 24 Ibid., 128. See also Belkin, “‘La Morte du Centaure.’ A propos de la miniature 41v du Livre d’Heures de Charles d’Angoulême,” Artibus et Historiae 11, no. 21 (1990): 37. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/1483382. For more on this conflict according to chroniclers of the era, see Charles VII: La guerre folle –le marriage breton (1485- 1491): Extraits des mémoires de Guillaume de Jaligny, du Panégyrique du chevalier sans reproce par Jean Bouchet, etc., ed. B. Zeller (Paris: Libraire Hachette, 1888). HathiTrust: http://hdl.handle.net/2027/msu.31293108152384. 25 Senémaud, La bibliothèque, 12. 26 Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” 128. 6 acquisition of printed books, his appointment of poet Octovien de Saint-Gelais as bishop of

Angoulême, and his fathering of Marguerite de Navarre and François I, would take place.27

The Artist, Robinet Testard

One of Charles’s most crucial decisions, however –at least from an art historical point of view –predates his marriage to Louise de Savoie: his employment of Robinet Testard, listed amongst the count’s domestic officers as “varlet de chambre” in 1484, and illuminator in 1487.28

The young miniaturist, initially working out of Poitiers alongside and in collaboration with the

Master of Yvon du Fou, had accomplished a number of illuminations throughout the 1470s.29 His known works before his arrival at Cognac include the illustration of an edition of the Grandes

Chroniques de France (BNF ms. fr. 2609), a missal (Poitiers, cathedral treasury), and several books of hours (New York, Morgan Library M. 1001; Brussels, Bibl. Royale, ms. 15077;

Besançon, Bibl. munic., ms. 150).30 While it is unclear precisely how he and Charles d’Angoulême encountered one another, their relationship was a lasting one. At Cognac,

Testard’s responsibilities ranged from updating older manuscripts owned by Jean d’Angoulême

27 Ibid., 129-135. 28 See Léopold Victor Delisle, Le cabinet des manuscrits de la Bibliothèque impériale (Paris: Imprimerie nationale, 1868), 1:184, n. 5. Delisle quotes from BNF ms. fr.7856, p. 843. Léon de Laborde describes this document as “L’état des officiers domestiques de l’hostel de Ms. Charles d’Orléans, comte d’Angoulesme, en 1473-1487” [”Record of domestic officers, residence of Sir Charles d’Orléans, Count of Angoulême, 1473-1487” (translation mine)]. See de Laborde, La Renaissance des arts à la cour de France, études sur le seizième siècle: additions au tome premier: peinture (Paris: Librairie de L. Potier, 1855), 170. 29 Véronique Peyrat-Day, “Manuscript Production in Fifteenth-Century Poitiers,” PhD. diss. (Northwestern University, 1993). 30 François Avril, “Le centre-ouest,” in Les manuscrits à peintures en France, 1440-1520, ed. François Avril and Nicole Reynaud (Paris: Bibliothèque nationale, 1993), 404. Avril also notes the impact of René d’Anjou’s patronage in the region. For more on Réne’s manuscripts, see see Splendeur de l’enluminure : le roi René et les livres. ed. Marc-Edouard Gautier and François Avril (Angers: Ville d’Angers, 2009). 7 to providing newly commissioned works with comprehensive illumination programs.31 After

Charles’s death at the age of 39 in 1496, Testard continued on at Cognac, receiving mention in

Louise’s 1497 expense book,32 and completing for her a number of manuscripts.33 References to the painter continue into the reign of the couple’s son, King François I, as late as 1531.34

Altogether, he appears to have had a career of some fifty to sixty years, rivalling even Jean

Bourdichon in terms of time spent as court illuminator.35

Testard’s most-studied work, ms. lat. 1173, the Hours under investigation here, falls relatively early within the artist’s long term in aristocratic service. Based on the absence of

Louise de Savoie’s arms, which the painter would adjoin to Charles d’Angoulême’s in subsequent works, François Avril suggests it would have been completed before their marriage in 1488.36 Since Testard had joined the count’s household by 1484, if not before, this places the manuscript’s date of completion somewhere in the early to mid 1480s--the same time which its patron warred and prepared to wed. As a portable and personal object of devotion to be privately contemplated,37 this book of hours could see the count through these rapid changes, and those that would come later. For Testard, it would have been likewise important as a prestigious

31 Kathrin Giogoli and John Block Friedman, “Robinet Testard, Court Illuminator: His Manuscripts and His Debt to the Graphic Arts,” Journal of the Early Book Society 8 (2005), 144-147. 32 Reprinted as an appendix in Sénemaud, “La bibliothèque,” 58-61. Relevant entry on page 61. 33 Maxence Hermant and Marie-Pierre Lafitte, “L’héritage Angoulême,” in Trésors royaux: La bibliothèque de François Ier, ed. Maxence Hermant with the assistance of Marie-Pierre Lafitte (Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2015), 50. 34 Giogoli and Friedman, “Robinet Testard,” 144. 35 Nicholas Herman notes Bourdichon’s forty years of service to the Valois line, which lasted from the age of twenty-four until his death. See Herman, “Jean Bourdichon (1457-1521): Tradition, Transition, Renewal,” (PhD. diss., New York University, 2014), 4. 36 Avril, “229: Heures de Charles d’Angoulême,” in Les manuscrits à peintures en France, 1440-1520, 405. 37 For more on the relationship between oral and silent prayer in late medieval books of hours, and how it can be determined, see Paul Saenger, “Books of Hours and the Reading Habits of the Later Middle Ages,” in The Culture of Print: Power and the Uses of Print in Early Modern Europe, ed. Roger Chartier (Princeton: Princeton University Press), 141-173. 8 commission that, accomplished towards the beginning of his relationship with Charles, provided the chance to leave a lasting impression on his new patron. That he chose to do so by incorporating print so heavily, and that his strategy evidently appealed to the count and others in the decades to come, is telling.

The Manuscript

Modest in size at 215 by 155 millimeters, ms. lat. 1173 is textually unusual as well as pictorially, with prayers mainly in Latin transitioning abruptly into the French Passion meditation, possibly by Jean Gerson, that dominates the book’s second half.38 Its decoration was evidently executed in stages, with small decorated letters and end-of-line flourishes possibly completed in Tours before Testard’s intervention.39 Beyond this, two miniatures in the book are attributed to Jean Bourdichon or his workshop –folios 9v and 22v, which show the Annunciation and the Adoration of the Magi, respectively.40 The Annunciation, according to Nicholas Herman, is better termed a collaboration than an addition, featuring Bourdichon’s elegant figures painted atop a distinctly Testardian architectural frame.41

As a whole, therefore, the manuscript is largely Testard’s creation. His work also involved processes of selection, since as Anne Matthews demonstrates, he incorporated at least forty-three distinct borrowings from print.42 Appearing early in Testard’s service to Charles, it can be understood as an emerging artist’s endeavor to prove himself useful to the nobility and

38 Léroquais, Les livres d’heures manuscrits 106, and Avril, Les manuscrits à peintures, 404. 39 Avril, “No. 229,” 404. 40 Herman, “Jean Bourdichon,” 148-153. 41 Ibid., 151-152. 42 Matthews, “The Use of Prints,” 6. 9 thereby secure a long-lasting post. Since I do not have space in this thesis to address Testard’s every illumination, I will argue that six miniatures in particular –his bas de page for April, May,

August, and September and his full page illuminations of the Annunciation to the Shepherds and the Office of the Dead –are particularly indicative of his self-promotional strategy. These imaginative constructions, transforming printed motifs and tropes through color and context, constitute a means by which to surprise, amuse, and otherwise intrigue his learned patron. As I will discuss in this study’s concluding chapter, this approach had ample dividends, helping to guarantee his sustained employment.

Historiography: Novelty, Referentiality, and Hybridity

More so than any of Testard’s other works, BNF ms. lat. 1173 has long attracted scholarly attention. For art historians, it has been used to evince the spread of German and

Netherlandish prints into neighboring countries, the interactive possibilities between old and new media, and a late medieval elite desire for novelty. Writing in the early twentieth century, André

Blum notes its frequent citation in earlier studies of both illumination and print as proof of

“collaboration between engravers and miniaturists.”43 Blum, whose treatment of the manuscript’s print inclusions was the most comprehensive until Anne Matthews’s 1986 article on “The Use of

Prints in the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême,” takes a circumspect approach to his material.44

Above all, he emphasizes the hybridity of the volume, with its almost imperceptibly smooth

43 André Blum, “Des rapports des miniaturistes français du XVe siècle avec les premiers artistes graveurs,” Revue de l’art chrétien 22 (1911): 360, translation mine. Scholars whose theories of collaboration that Blum mentions include John William Bradley, A Dictionary of Miniatures, Illuminators, Calligraphers and Copyists (London: Bernard Quaritch, 1887) and Georg Duplessis, Essais sur la gravure dans les livres (Paris: 1879). 44 Matthews, “The Use of Prints,” 4-18. Matthews herself describes the volume as “much-reproduced but little- analysed” on page 6 of her article. 10 integration of printed motifs into painted scenes, its blending of Flemish costumes with French insignia, and its varied strategies of print incorporation.45

Matthews, adding to and substantially revising Blum’s print attributions, resumes this emphasis on variety. As mentioned earlier, she identifies a staggering forty-three print-derived motifs, sixteen of which are engravings directly pasted onto the vellum, and the remainder of which involve varying degrees of modification.46 Even the collaged material, Matthews shows, sometimes underwent such elaboration that it retains little of its original appearance, transforming both print and miniature into a unique multimedia composition.47 In other, seemingly rarer cases, the artist’s style of print adaptation is more literal, perhaps suggesting that the engravings sometimes served as a practical means of shirking groundwork.48 Since

Matthews’s main focus is on the identification of print sources and the method of their adaptation, she does not speculate as to how these inclusions may have impacted viewer experience, beyond noting a possible connection to Charles’s enthusiasm for Vérard’s luxury printed manuscripts.49

Other scholars have honed in on the apparent unconventionality of Testard’s facility with print, as well as his graphic, linear style of illumination, both of which set him apart from other

French miniaturists of his day. Comparing Testard rather unfavorably to his sometime collaborator and fellow court favorite Jean Bourdichon, famed for his naturalism and lifelike portraiture, Thomas Tolley attributes his lengthy career to “a sense of humour and the eye of the

45 Blum, “Des rapports des miniaturistes français,” 363-366. 46 Matthews, “The Use of Prints,” 6. 47 Ibid., 18. 48 Ibid., 17-18. 49 Ibid., 18. 11 collector,” in keeping with the “quest for novelty” amongst French nobility about 1500.50

Contending that Testard made no use of prints beyond the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême, he suggests that Charles would have been the driving force behind their ubiquity in this volume.51

In their article “Robinet Testard, Court Illuminator: His Manuscripts and His Debt to the

Graphic Arts,” Kathrin Giogoli and John Block Friedman describe an entirely different situation.52 Arguing that, on the contrary, the artist’s employment of print-gleaned motifs is a pervasive characteristic of his oeuvre, they even point to graphic sources south of the Alps, namely the so-called Mantegna Tarocchi, as having contributed discernibly to Testard’s illuminative choices, including those long post-dating Charles’s death.53 According to Giogoli and Friedman, Testard’s print borrowing is a fundamental identifying characteristic of his body of work as a whole. For these scholars, his tendency to mine printed models for expressive and unusual sartorial detail constitutes primary facet of his known oeuvre’s remarkable stylistic consistency.

Giogoli and Friedman identify Testard’s physiognomic style, involving high-foreheaded women and cartoonish men, a penchant for meticulous depictions of men’s footwear and elaborate turbans, and a tendency to rely on proportional contrast, rather than illusionistic perspective, to organize space and narrative relationships.54 The artist’s “pictorial quotations,” in the context of his characteristic manner as a whole, serve to heighten the originality of his compositions and create opportunities for visual wit and even self-parody.55 François Avril,

50 Tolley, “Monarchy and Prestige in France,” in Viewing Renaissance Art, ed. Carol M. Richardson, Kim Woods, and Angeliki Lymberopoulou (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2007), 142-143. 51 Ibid., 143. 52 Giogoli and Friedman, “Robinet Testard,” 143-88. 53 Ibid., 155-160. 54 Ibid., 147-150. 55 Ibid., 160. 12 discussing several manuscripts attributed to Testard in Les manuscrits à peintures en France,

1440-1520, comes to similar conclusions, observing the artist’s emphasis on legibility and contour –a graphic quality permitting him to fold in printed types without disruption. Of the

Angoulême Hours’ relationship to his other works, Avril speculates that Testard’s “encounter with the world of German-Netherlandish engraving must have had a determinative influence on the artist, confirming him in his aesthetic choices, where priority is given to pure design.”56

While Giogoli, Friedman, Avril, and Matthews each contribute impactfully to an understanding of Testard’s various modes of adapting print-derived designs, they offer little analysis on how these choices may have affected the Angoulême Hours’ viewing experience.

Each acknowledges the originality of his reinterpretations of print sources without offering theories as to how these choices shift contextual meaning or might have been interpreted by the work’s original viewer, Charles d’Angoulême. The most thorough iconographic exploration of any illumination in the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême is Ahuva Belkin’s 1990 article on folio

41v, the Office of the Dead miniature. In this striking full-page painting, Testard transforms

Master IAM of Zwolle’s print of a doomed centaur into a scene of a wild couple besieged by warriors and Death, set against a background where château, forest, and riverbank vie for attention (figs. 60-61).

Noting that, as personal prayer objects not subject to strict ecclesiastical supervision, elite books of hours often mingle profane and devotional subjects freely, Belkin develops an

56 Avril, “No. 229,” and related discussions in cat. No. 230-233 in Les manuscrits à peintures, 404-409. Quoted text on page 406: “cette recontre avec le monde de la gravure germane-néederlandaise dut avoir une influence déterminante sur l’artiste, le confirmant dans ses options esthéthiques où la priorité est donnée au pur dessin.” Translation mine. 13 allegorical reading of the image as a struggle between vice and virtue.57 Where earlier scholars sought a mythological basis for Testard’s pitting of warriors and personified death against femme sauvage and centaur couple, such as the combat of the Centaurs and the Lapiths, Belkin argues instead for its highly individual significance.58 She relates the print to Charles’s thwarted marital plans and political frustration towards Louis XI and Anne de Beaujeu, suggesting that the vanquished couple may be intended to remind the count of his enemies.59 Whether or not one accepts Belkin’s judgement of the miniature as caricature, her endeavor to engage with how and why Testard’s illumination strategies appealed to his intended viewer is compelling.

Beyond documents that deal specifically with the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême and its significance to artist and patron, a number of scholarly works provide valuable context about

French print and paint exchange in the era between hand-produced manuscripts and the printed book. At the time of Matthews’s article, the most comprehensive work to deal with the subject of print inclusions in illuminated manuscripts was Sandra Hindman and James Douglas Farquhar’s

Pen to Press: Illustrated Manuscripts and Printed Books in the First Century of Printing.60 This book serves to highlight the diversity of fifteenth-century illustration techniques and the manner in which new printing technologies shaped, and were shaped, by shifting patronage trends and reader expectations. Though Hindman and Farquhar’s essays raise important questions to this end, their arguments are sweeping enough to have been criticized for a degree of vagueness.61

57 Belkin, “‘La Morte du Centaure,” 31–38. 58 Ibid., 31 and 36. 59 Ibid., 37. 60 Matthews, “The Use of Prints,” 6. Hindman and Farquhar, Pen to Press (College Park: University of Maryland, 1977). 61 See W. H. Bond, “Reviewed Work: Pen to Press: Illustrated Manuscripts and Printed Books in the First Century of Printing by Sandra Hindman, James Douglas Farquhar,” Speculum 54, no. 2 (April, 1979): 386-388. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/2855003. 14 Monographic volumes on figures like Anthoine Vérard, Parisian publisher of the luxury printed volumes popular at Cognac,62 and Jean Pichore, illuminator turned printmaker whose clients included Louise de Savoie,63 provide case studies of the print-manuscript interface. Most recently, Kathryn M. Rudy’s Image, Knife, and Gluepot: Early Assemblage in Manuscript and

Print explores inter-mediality by tracing how Maastricht beghards made practical use of printed clippings in their manuscripts, even inventing new organizational models to accommodate engravings.64 While Rudy’s focus is on lay brothers’ print experiments, she mentions the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême as a comparable “virtuoso performance,” setting imagery with “roots in a mechanically reproduced genre associated with low-skilled practitioners” into a new luxurious armature.65 Taken together, these contemporary examples of hybrid book illustration make clear that although Testard’s approach was his own, his multi-media experiments relate to shifts in the late medieval book market more broadly.

Methodology: Pictorial Wit Between Paint and Print

Michael Camille’s groundbreaking Image on the Edge: The Margins of Medieval Art, an interrogation of both the physical boundaries of the manuscript page and the iconography of the metaphorically peripheral across medieval visual media more broadly, ends with a dirge.66

62 Mary Beth Winn, Anthoine Vérard: Parisian Publisher 1485-1512: Prologues, Poems, and Presentations (Geneva: Librairie Droz, 1997). 63 Caroline Zöhl, Jean Pichore: Buchmaler, Graphiker und Verleger in Paris um 1500 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2004). For Louise’s patronage of Pichore, see especially pages 27-27, 39, 43, 48, 55, 57, 106, and 156. See also König, Das Brevier des Dichters Octavien de Saint-Gelais.(Ramsen: Antiquariat Bibermühle A.G., 2014). 64 Rudy, Image, Knife, and Gluepot: Early Assemblage in Manuscript and Print (Cambridge: Open Book Publishers, 2019), DOI: 10.11647/OBP.0145. 65 Ibid., 299-300. 66 Camille, Image on the Edge: The Margins of Medieval Art (London: Reaktion Books, 1992). For a discussion of this text in context with the notion of medieval marginality, see Kathryn A. Smith, “Margin,” Studies in Iconography 33 (2012): 29-44. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/23924268, and Lucy Freeman Sadler, “The 15 Throughout most of the book, he argues that the opportunity for play afforded by the illuminated text’s marginal space is illusory, serving ultimately to reaffirm the rigorous social hegemonies it might seem, at first glance, poised to disrupt. Nevertheless, a decidedly elegiac tone creeps into his summation of the trompe de l’oeil tendencies of post-Gothic marginal design:

“Once thin vine scrolls and bar-borders become self-sustaining illusions, the fictions that once danced among them are deemed inappropriate and not ‘real’ enough. It is the eye as a reflecting surface, a vacuous mirror, not a beacon of the imagination, that is being played upon in fifteenth-century manuscripts.”67

Thus deeming illusionistic borders controlling and deceptive, Camille is even bleaker when addressing the printed book. By enabling sharply delineated blocks of text and smaller margins, the printing press harkened “the demise of the marginal tradition.”68 As Jeffrey Hamburger notes, Camille’s concluding lament for what he calls the end of the marginal is at odds with his insistence, throughout most his text, that marginalia’s capacity for true subversion, or even artistic agency, is almost non-existent.69 His absolute language suggests the fifteenth century harkened the sudden and total disappearance of all that is liminal, imaginative, and playful in art.

Especially given that Image on the Edge is closer to an explorative essai than a formal academic treatise,70 Camille’s failure to acknowledge the possible modes of marginal imagery in print, or the long stretch of multi-media book experimentation that preceded the assertion of the printed book as norm, is understandable. He was certainly correct that the replicative nature of

Study of Marginal Imagery: Past, Present, and Future,” Studies in Iconography 18 (1997): 1-49. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/23924068. For more on this book as it relates to Camille’s body of scholarly work, see Matthew M. Reeve, “Michael Camille’s Queer Middle Ages,” in The Routledge Companion to Medieval Iconography, ed. Colum Hourihane, (Abingdon and New York: Routledge, 2017), 154-72. 67 Camille, Image on the Edge, 247. 68 Ibid., 251. 69 Hamburger, “Image on the Edge: The Margins of Medieval Art (Review),” Art Bulletin 75, no. 2 (June, 1993): 319-327. 70 Reeve, “Camille’s Queer Middle Ages,” 166. 16 print production, which requires stages of planning, cannot accommodate doodles of a purely spontaneous nature, nor a smooth intermingling of text and image. Nevertheless, scholars such as

Shira Brisman and Madeleine Viljoen have recently argued for of engravings belonging to that troublesome category of ‘ornament print’ as sites of whimsical expression and creative exchange.71 Beyond the ornamental, the popularity of bawdy and satirical subjects as mainstays of print leads one to wonder whether it is not a matter of the marginal image’s vanishing, but rather its transition to a new medium and, with it, a new prominence.72

In addition to Camille’s swift dismissal of print as vehicle for play, his choice of the fifteenth century as a ‘cut-off point’ for marginalia is curious when one considers the physical hybridity of bookmaking in the early years of print. Paul Needham considers the fifteenth- century book “a peculiarly rich and diverse concept, significantly more so than either the fourteenth-century book –essentially… scribal… or the sixteenth-century book –essentially typographical.”73 Burgeoning print technology did not instantly eradicate the manuscript tradition. Instead, the two engaged in a long period of overlap and fusion, resulting in the production of new, mixed-media books. As mentioned earlier, Rudy’s Image, Knife, and Gluepot explores the practical and fungible approach to print deployment by beghard bookmakers.

Scholarship on luxury publishers such as Anthoine Vérard reveals that this process of adaptation

71 To borrow a botanical metaphor from Brisman, “A Matter of Choice: Printed Design Proposals and the Nature of Selection, 1470-1610,” Renaissance Quarterly 71 (2018): 114-64, DOI: 10.1086/696887. See also idem, “Symmetry’s Generative Side,” Res: Journal of Anthropology and Aesthetics 67/68 (2016-2017): 127-145, DOI: 10.1086/696887, and Viljoen, “The Airs of Early Modern Ornament Prints,” Oxford Art Journal 37, no. 2 (2014): 117-133. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/43825828. 72 On the appeal of so-called ‘profane prints’ as successors to manuscript marginalia, see Christa Grössinger, Humor and Folly in Secular and Profane Prints of Northern Europe, 1430-1540 (London: Harvey Miller, 2002). 73 Needham, “Prints in the Early Printing Shops,” Studies in the History of Art 75 (2009): 38-91. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/42622514. 17 went both ways; just as engravings could be folded into vellum, so too could printed art be hand- painted to meet the sumptuous, colorful aesthetic to which elite patrons were accustomed.74

In the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême, Testard’s application of printed motifs to topoi of quarrel, love, wildness, and artifice results in a set of images that are both literally and metaphorically hybrid. In the first chapter of this study, I will turn my attention BNF ms. lat.

1173’s calendrical bas de page miniatures. Two pairs of facing pages –April/May and

August/September –demonstrate the artist’s use of northern printed scenes of flirtation, fantasy, and quarrel to establish patterns of contrast that encourage imaginative readings. The second chapter extends this exploration of Testard’s juxtapositional strategies into a detailed analysis of two full-page miniatures that evoke the pastoral imaginary: the Annunciation to the Shepherds illumination in the Hours of the Virgin, where the formerly marginal festive peasant dance becomes main-frame fodder; and the Office of the Dead’s besieged wild couple, who embody the tragic flipside of the Shepherds folio’s ludic rusticity. In my final chapter, I will address ms. lat. 1173 in the context of encounters between manuscript and print both within and beyond

Testard’s oeuvre. It is my hope to demonstrate that the ludicrous, liminal figures and motifs that populated the edges of manuscripts and the corners of buildings in an earlier era did not vanish into the twilight of the fifteenth century. Like inter-medial book artists themselves, marginal subjects adapted to the demands and possibilities of emerging media.

74 See Winn, Anthoine Vérard, especially 34-37, for Vérard’s illumination of his print editions. 18 Chapter 1 –Love Gardens, Wild Knights, and Foolish Couples: Print in the Calendar

Sequence

What can a book of hours tell us about its moment of origin –its maker, owners, and points of encounter with the world beyond its pages, along with the cultural forces, be they contextually specific or sweeping, that shaped its creation and reception? Between the thirteenth and sixteenth centuries, books of hours were commissioned, constructed, and handed down in remarkable number, their production surpassing even that of the Bible.75 Much of this abundance still populates libraries, museums, and private collections the world over. Yet despite their prevalence, the richness of these text and of the image cycles that accompany them, as well as the particulars of each one’s conditions of facture, render the question of what they might be said to reveal –and how –a contextually contingent matter.

The issue is further obscured by the book of hours’ versatility and structural complexity.

By the High Middle Ages, they tended to include a fundamental set of common elements, themselves derived from monastic and clerical breviaries: a liturgical calendar, the eight Hours of the Virgin, penitential psalms, litanies and suffrages of the saints, and the Office of the

Dead.76 Additional sequences, such as saints’ offices, the Hours of the Holy Cross, gradual psalms, and meditative prayers sometimes joined these contents, according to requirements and preferences of region, patron, or religious advisor.77 Dependent on the authority of the liturgy but subject to little official oversight until the late 1500s, book of hours’ conventional armature made

75 Roger S. Wieck, Painted Prayers: The Book of Hours in Medieval and Renaissance Art (New York: George Braziller, Inc., in association with the Piermont Morgan Library, 1997), 9. 76 Virginia Reinburg, French Books of Hours: Making an Archive of Prayer, c. 1400-1600 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 16-17. 77 Ibid., 17. 19 room for a variety of textual and visual inclusions.78 This semantic flexibility rendered available a broad range of functional and devotional possibilities for the owner and user of one such personal prayer book.

The Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (BNF ms. lat. 1173) is a testament to the genre’s versatility. Before turning to a discussion of certain of its bas de page miniatures and the patterns they establish, it is worthwhile to provide a short overview of the volume’s contents in their current state. Many of its features are common enough in books of hours. A Franciscan calendar, along with gospel extracts and matins through vespers of the Hours of the Virgin, the Holy

Cross, and the Holy Spirit, appears in Latin in the volume’s first thirty folios. Subsequently, the

Marian “Obsecro te,” penitential psalms, litanies, suffrages, and an Office of the Dead in the use of Paris provide no real surprises.79 Yet sprinkled throughout these familiar passages are inclusions of an obscurer kind, such as folio 28v’s “Oraison à Nostre-Dame rétrogradée en touz sens,” a table of invocations in French arranged to rhyme two-by-two, no matter from which direction one reads.80 Also notable are folio 52v’s circular diagram, which permits one to calculate the date of Easter 1466, and the original Latin poem on the next page, spelling out

‘CHARLES DE VALLOYS’ in acrostic.81 This is to say nothing of the lengthy, French Passion

78 Ibid., 18. 79 Ibid., 17-18. For the “Obsecro te” (I beseech you), see Ibid., 96 and 218-224. 80 Victor Léroquais, Les livres d’heures manuscrits de la Biblothèque Nationale, vol. 1 (Paris, n.p.: 1927), 105. Starting from the upper left corner, for example, the top row’s first four cells read “Ampière. Très notable. Trésorière. Chéritable.” The first four cells vertically down from the same point read “Ampière. Precieuse. Singulière. Glorieuse.” I wonder whether this might have held a potential mnemonic function. See Peter Parshall, “The Art and Memory of the Passion,” Art Bulletin 81, no. 3 (Sept., 1999): 456-472, and Mary Carruthers, The Book of Memory: A Study of Memory in Medieval Culture (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1990). 81 Leroquais, Les livres d’heures manuscrits, 108. 20 poem, sometimes thought to be by Jean Gerson, that takes up most of the manuscript’s final half.82

All of which is to say that this particular volume, with its pervasive eclecticism and novelty, successive stages of embellishment, and variable gatherings,83 cannot be viewed otherwise than as a bespoke artifact, with accruals resulting from at least two rounds of decoration.84 The conventional book of hours format functions here as a sort of loom upon which a collection of written, printed, and painted materials that were of interest to the book’s patron – or assumed to be so –interweave themselves. The contents of the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême, which François Avril describes as “bizarre, indeed aberrant,”85 pair standard and obscure textual contents with a distinctive visual program. In Testard’s hands, the occupations of the months become the point of departure for an experimentation with print-derived compositions that couple motifs of civilization and wilderness, as well as harmony and disjunction.

It is my contention that for bibliophilic Charles d’Angoulême, Testard’s blending of familiar seasonal iconography and court-cultural archetypes with new pictorial and narrative conceits from the world of early northern print would have fostered enduring imaginative engagement. In this chapter, I will explore Testard’s hybrid bas de page scenes, which wed the visual strategies of engraved compositions and calendrical conventions, focusing on four

82 François Avril, “229: Heures de Charles d’Angoulême,” in Les manuscrits à peintures en France, 1440-1520, ed. François Avril and Nicole Reynaud (Paris: Bibliothèque nationale, 1993), 404. This poem is followed by a devotional dialogue on the final page, which also appears in a confessional manuscript made for Marguerite de Navarre circa 1530, and has its origin in René d’Anjou’s court. See Myra Orth, “Radical Beauty: Marguerite de Navarre’s Illuminated Protestant Catechism and Confession,” Sixteenth Century Journal 24, no. 2 (Summer, 1993): 417. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/2541955. 83 Noting this feature of the manuscript, along with is mixture of scripts and media, Orth views BNF ms. lat. 1173 as something of a “codicological nightmare.” Ibid., 417, n. 54. 84 It probably had its first round of decoration in Tours before falling into Testard’s hands. Avril, “Heures de Charles d’Angoulême,” 404. 85 Avril, “Heures de Charles d’Angoulême,” 404. Translation mine. 21 miniatures with discernible indebtedness to print: the April and May illustrations, which add new dimensions to the familiar vernal topos of love and rebirth, and the illuminations for August and

September, which tailor printed unequal couples to the agricultural milieu of harvesttime.

Cultivation and Exuberance in April and May (f.2v-3r)

Following the usual March scene of vine pruning,86 where figures with hooks and blades set about preparing for the growing season, Testard’s April bas de page introduces a different kind of cultivated space: that of a carefully trellised garden, whose latticed walls form a partial shield for the two lovers seated on a low-slung bench in the miniature’s direct center (figs. 1-2).

Since courtship –particularly through occupations of flower picking, garland making, strolling, and hawking –is standard book of hours imagery for the spring season, the miniature’s debt to print is not intuitively obvious to the modern viewer. Nor would it have been necessarily apparent to the work’s original owner, either, unless he had particular knowledge of the engraving from which it is derived. Nevertheless, as the first and most subtle of Testard’s four print-derived calendrical illuminations in the Angoulême Hours, it constitutes a fitting entry point for an analysis of the artist’s strategies of print transformation and incorporation, and the viewing patterns they structure.

In their useful overviews of medieval calendrical cycles, Colum Hourihane and Roger

Wieck both emphasize the out-of-doors setting common to illustrations of April. Hourihane writes that the month “moves into spring with a composition that is always outdoors and focuses

86 Colum Hourihane, Time in the Medieval World: Occupations of the Months & Signs of the Zodiac in the Index of Christian Art (Princeton; University Park: Princeton University in Association with Penn State University Press, 2007), lvi; Wieck, “Calendar,” in Time Sanctified: The Book of Hours in Medieval Art and Life, ed. Roger S. Wieck (New York: George Braziller, Inc., in association with the Walters Art Gallery, 1988), 48-50. 22 on flower[s]… or courting.”87 In similar vein, Wieck describes the season as the time where

“nobles who kept warm and well fed in January and February” emerge from their privileged hibernation.88 In the volume’s April bas de page, where the focal couple embrace against the broad swathes of sky blue, earthy brown, and vibrant green that dominate the composition,

Hourihane and Wieck’s criteria are indeed borne out. By their standards, little could be more typical of calendrical convention than the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême’s vignette of al fresco wooing.

Even so, the specific nature of the setting that Testard constructs here, and of the courtship that plays out within it, bears further investigation. Though teeming with new plant life as befits the generative months, the structure the couple inhabits is not strictly outdoor. The tall trellised fence that binds the lovers and the long green ledge on which they rest foster a chamber-like zone between outside and in. While the solid portion of the lattice fence terminates shortly above the lovers’ shoulders, its trellis continues above their heads, providing, along with the vines that curl along it, a further degree of seclusion. Outfitted with a gilded table, an earthenware planter,89 and a veritable carpet of flowers, this space inhabits the liminal zone between domestic and rural spheres. As Helen Phillips points out, it bears keeping in mind that “socially, for a noble household, a garden functioned as an extra room, one which offered both pleasure and privacy.”90 Effectively managed by human engineering, nature operates in this highly cultivated

87 Hourihane, Time in the Medieval World, lvi. 88 Wieck, Time Sanctified, 50. 89 For more on vases and flowerpots in French gardens from the late medieval to early modern period, see Fabienne Ravoire, “Le mobilier archéologique en terre cuite relative aux jardins entre le XVe et le XVIIIe siècle en Île-de- France,” in Jardins de châteaux à la Renaissance, ed. Élisabeth Latrémolière and Pierre Gilles Giraut (Paris: Editions Gourcuff Gradenigo, 2014), 143-157. 90 Helen Phillips, “Gardens of Love and the Garden of the Fall,” in A Walk in the Garden: Biblical, Iconographical, and Literary Images of Eden, ed. Paul Morris and Deborah Sawyer (London: Bloomsbury Publishing, 1992), 205- 219. 23 space as another form of adornment. Under the shade of wooden screens and climbing plants,91 the couple at the painting’s heart enjoy solitude, or some facsimile of it.

The creation of a quasi-clandestine, organically decorated setting for April revels is not original to Testard. Arbors, pavilions, and walled gardens of all kinds abound in earlier and contemporaneous French manuscripts. These hortos conclusum figure with particular frequency in miniatures of maidens making garlands, as can be seen in the Morgan Library’s ms. G.4 and

M.73’s April folios (figs. 3-4). Both illuminations feature women in elegant headgear kneeling on lush grass, robes folded around their knees and heads gently inclined as they select the perfect blossoms for their circlets. The setting of ms. M.73’s garlanding miniature is particularly similar to that of the Angoulême Hours’s April bas de page, with flower-sprigged grass, a turf-topped ledge, and high trellised walls. Other, more courtship-focused spring compositions, such as that in a circa 1480 book of hours from Rouen (Morgan ms. M. 131), play out in a comparable semi- private setting (fig. 5). In the latter image, a man in legwear comparable to that worn by the youth in Testard’s April scene serenades his flower-gathering beloved under the partial cover of a grassy wall. Yet despite a similar setting, Morgan ms. M. 131’s spring scene lacks an aspect of intimacy between its figures. Where the Angoulême lovers’ hands are entwined, those of the pair in this roughly contemporary miniature are occupied with their seasonal pastimes of music and floral art. Spatially, too, they are not so intimately sequestered. Behind the fence in the Morgan bas de page, the viewer glimpses a thin path winding through rolling hills, punctuated by globular trees, that recalls the world beyond the lovers’ rendezvous.

91 Possibly fruiting ones, like those a woman attaches to an espalier in the March miniature for a Bruges Book of Hours now in Dresden’s Sächsiche Landesbibliothek (ms. A 311). See Wilhelm Hansen, Kalenderminiaturen der Stundenbücher: Mittelalterliches Leben im Jahreslauf (Munich: Verlag Georg D.W. Callwey, 1984), 106 and 203- 204. 24 Testard’s April miniature, while adhering to long-established norms of the month’s representation, thus enacts a subtle transformation of them, by means of a narrowing of focus.

Past the Angoulême sweethearts’ bower, one finds naught but blue sky; their sole action is to embrace. It is not so much that the artist is introducing a new theme to the iconography of April, but rather that he dramatizes and partially reinvigorates the amorous elements already present therein. A comparison of Testard’s composition with the print from which its focal couple and their delicate embrace is drawn further clarifies this process of selective modulation. As

Matthews demonstrates, the artist borrows here from Israhel van Meckenem’s or Master bxg’s reversed copy of a Housebook Master drypoint, depicting lovers in an identical pose and with similar details of dress, including the prim dog resting in the young woman’s lap (fig. 6-8).92

While Master bxg and van Meckenem’s renditions of the Housebook Master print flip it horizontally and add their respective monograms, they are both compositionally faithful to the original. Testard retains his own referent’s central pairing with comparable fidelity, but expands certain details of setting, dispenses with others, and adds new ones of his own devising. Where van Meckenem and Master bxg’s prints are taller than they are wide, Testard reverses these proportions to fit the space of the bas de page. Though he keeps the low bench or ledge on which the lovers are seated, he removes one of the print’s most crucial contextualizing elements –the foliage winding along this frame. In the Housebook Master, van Meckenem, and Master bxg works, the leaves of this feature, which Lottlisa Behling describes as a Rankenbogen or tendril- arch, extend beyond the print’s linear border, suggesting a bower-like space glimpsed through an

92 Anne Matthews, “The Use of Prints in the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême,” Print Quarterly 3, no. 1 (March 1986): 9. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/41823707. 25 arched door.93 Testard’s miniature, though bereft of Rankenbogen, features comparable serpentine, interlacing vines –they have simply migrated to the trellis structure on the wall behind the couple. Likewise, the print’s planted carnations move to the lovers’ left and become a golden-tufted shrub in a simpler pot, compositionally counter-balancing the bulbous-knopped table that Testard adds. The jug of wine and beaker on the ground below the printed duo’s perch, meanwhile, he removes, instead emphasizing the daring overlap of the lover’s black-tighted legs with the hem of his beloved’s skirt.

This new, de-cluttered arrangement serves to fix viewer attention even more firmly on the lovers’ moment of intimacy. The shift from the tall and narrow dimensions of the printed source to the short, wide ones of the bas de page, along with the movement of the vines into the background and of the bower furniture to the edges of the frame, centralizes and isolates the pair.

Testard thereby compositionally reinforces the sense of their “quiet absorption” in one another and apparent unawareness of their audience that Jane Hutchison views as a defining feature of the Housebook Master’s print.94 Yet is their embrace truly special? When considering how

Testard’s choices, print-related and otherwise, structure new experiential possibilities, it is important to establish the broad frame of reference that his learned viewer might have brought to this image of bower as lover’s paradise.

Walled gardens as bearers of meaning and loci of fantasy have a long history in the

Christian West. In devotional art, they are frequent sites of Marian imagery, linked

93 Lottlisa Behling, “Vergleichende morphologische und ikonographische Studien zu Stichen, Tafelbildern und Holzschnitten des Hausbuchmeisters,” in Israhel van Meckenem (um 1440/45-1503), Kupferstich – der Münchner Bestand, ed. Achim Riether (Munich: Staatliche Graphische Sammlung, 2006), 52-53. Behling sees the “Rankenbogen” as something of a Housebook Master signature that links him to Erhard Rewich. 94 Hutchison, The Master of the Housebook (New York: Collectors Editions, 1972), 64. 26 iconographically to the hortus conclusus of the Song of Songs, whose rapturous botanical setting medieval exegetes equated to the “paradisiacal innocence” maintained through the Virgin’s perpetual chastity.95 In poetry and paintings such as the Frankfurt Garden of Paradise, Marian gardens of flowers, fruit, and pleasure often typologically evoke a redeemed version of earthly paradise lost in mankind’s Fall (fig. 9).96 In literature and art devoted to so called fin’amors or refined love—generally referred to today as ‘courtly love’ –the walled garden comprises the quintessential setting for affairs of the heart and body.97 One particularly memorable and widely known fictional love garden is that of the Roman de la Rose. Owned by Déduit, guarded by

Oiseuse, and ruled over by the god of Love, the wicker-fenced paradise is easily mistaken for

Eden but plays by its own set of rules; the lover who enters there must push Raison aside.98 The

Roman de la Rose, which Jane H.M. Taylor refers to as “that best-seller of all medieval best- sellers,”99 would have been known to an educated noble such as Charles d’Angoulême; before the end of the fifteenth century, Testard himself would illustrate a luxury version of the text for

95 Reindert L. Falkenburg, The Fruit of Devotion: Mysticism and the Imagery of Love in Flemish Paintings of the Virgin and Child, 1450-1550, trans. Sammy Herman (Amsterdam, Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 1994), 9-55, quoted text on page 10. For more on the fluid relationship of divine Marian love to erotic and romantic love in medieval poetry, and the role of Solomonic imagery in this construct, see also Barbara Newman, Frauenlob’s Song of Songs: A Medieval German Poet and his Masterpiece (University Park: Penn State University Press, 2006). 96 Phillips, “Gardens of Love,” 209-210. 97 Michael Camille, The Medieval Art of Love: Objects and Subjects of Desire (New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1998), 73-74. For more on fin’amors and courtly love as terms, see Kenelm Foster, “Love and ‘Fin Amors,’” Blackfriars 42, no. 498 (December 1961): 494-502. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/43816317, and Joan M. Ferrante, “Cortes’Amor in Medieval Texts,” Speculum 55, no. 4 (Oct., 1980): 686-695. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/2847660. 98 Phillips, “Gardens of Love,” 210; Rod Barnett, “Serpent of Pleasure: Emergence and Difference in the Medieval Garden of Love,” Landscape Journal 28, no. 2 (2009): 146. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/43323842. Further discussion of love gardens can be found in Doris Kutschbach, “Das irdische Paradies: Liebesgärten im späten Mittelalter,” in Jahreszeiten der Gefühle: Das Gothaer Liebespaar und die Minne im Spätmittelalter, ed. Allmuth Schuttwolf (Ostfildern-Ruit: Verlag Ger Hatje, 1998), 82-92. Pages 94-125 in the same catalogue feature many significant examples of this trope. 99 Taylor, “Embodying The Rose: An Intertextual Reading of Alain Chartier’s La Belle Dame sans mercy,” in The Court Reconvenes: Courtly Literature Across the Disciplines, ed. Barbara K. Altmann and Carleton W. Carroll, (Cambridge: D.S. Brewer, 2003), 325. 27 Charles or his equally book-wormy wife Louise de Savoie.100 In the Roman de la Rose, Déduit’s garden is rife with beauty, danger, and moral ambivalence, as ethically thorny as it is glorious.101

To win the object of his desire –the Rose at the garden’s heart –the lover must navigate quandary after quandary, reveling in his feelings of passion while at the same time testing and curtailing them, and prolonging his own gratification.102

If love, as conceived of in late medieval literature and art, is like a garden, it is a regimented one, best enjoyed through strictly regulated play. Addressing Testard’s checkerboard-like painted paradise in a later work for Louise de Savoie, Livre des échecs amoureux moralisées (BNF ms. fr. 143), Camille argues that its “network of lines of sight and grids of desire exemplifies how much the image of the garden” was circumscribed “into a rigorous regime of servitude and domination” (fig. 10).103 This perspective is in keeping with that of French historian Georges Duby, who characterizes the game-like quality of fin’amors as essentially didactic. Chivalric rituals of courtship and the feudal society that shaped them, Duby maintains, “taught men how to serve,” shaping “male desire” to “political ends.”104 Though

Charles was not a knight himself, he was beholden to the French crown and the mores of courtly society in which he operated, and brought up under the surveillance Yves du Fou, an agent of

100 For more on this manuscript (Bodleian Library ms. Douce 195), see Marian Bleeke, “Versions of Pygmalion in the Illuminated Roman de la Rose (Oxford, Bodleian Library, Ms. Douce 195): The Artist and the Work of Art,” Art History 33 (2010): 28-53, doi:10.1111/j.1467-8365.2009.00721.x, Deborah McGrady, “Reinventing the Roman de la Rose for a Woman Reader: The Case of Ms. Douce 195,” Journal of the Early Book Society for the Study of Manuscripts and Print History 4 (2001): 202-27, and Nadia R. Altschul, “Saracens and Race in Roman de la Rose Iconography: The Case of Dancier in MS Douce 195,” Digital Philology: A Journal of Medieval Cultures 2, no. 1 (Spring 2013): 1-15, doi: https://doi.org/10.1353/dph.2013.0005. 101 The garden’s contradictions are addressed well in Barnett, “Serpent of Pleasure,” 146-147. 102 Georges Duby, Love and Marriage in the Middle Ages, trans. Jane Dunnett (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1994): 64- 94, especially 74-5. 103 Camille, The Medieval Art of Love, 81. I will discuss ms. fr. 143 in chapter 3. 104 Duby, Love and Marriage, 63. For more on the centrality of self-control to narratives of courtship in the Middle Ages, see also Tracy Adams, Violent Passions: Managing Love in the Old French Verse Romance (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005). 28 Louis XI, who looked with suspicion on the Angoumois taste for retreat.105 If fealty through self- mastery truly lay at the heart of the fin’amors ethos, its edicts were at least partially wasted on

Charles, who would join his cousin and other Orléans nobles in a doomed uprising against

Louis’s designated successors.106

While it seems unlikely that Testard himself had any instructive designs in crafting the orderly and moderate love garden of the April bas de page, his foregrounding of restraint speaks to the high valuation of this quality in fifteenth-century France. Though printed love gardens, such as those of Master E.S., are sometimes populated by fools who drink and debauch (fig.

11),107 the engraving Testard chose to adapt is far removed from such lecherous scenes. Not only does he preserve the van Meckenem engraving’s emphasis on the modesty of lovers’ intimacy, he arguably enhances it by setting their moment of bliss against an even more highly cultivated space: the firmly bounded, latticed, and trellised bower, a geometric network that coaxes love’s foliage into a neat and methodical path. In the space of the April bas de page, the intoxicating beauty and bounty of nature meets with genteel processes of refinement and control.

Testard’s allegory of passion and its moderation, where the plant world reflects human feeling, provides his viewer with a number of potential imaginative paths. The lovers’ apparent seclusion could suggest the illicit nature of their union, given the frequency with which fictional knights and their beloveds, typically involved in an adulterous or otherwise forbidden liaisons,

105 Jean Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême, centres intellectuels à l'aube de la Renaissance,” in Francois Ier, du château de Cognac au trône de France: actes du colloque du 500e anniversaire de la naissance de François Ier, Cognac, septembre et novembre 1994 (Cognac, Annales du Groupe de recherches et d’études historiques de la Charente saintongenaise, 1995) 127. 106 Ibid., 128. 107 See Keith P. F. Moxey, “Master E.S. and the Folly of Love,” Simiolus: Netherlands Quarterly for the History of Art 11, no. ¾ (1980): 125-148. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/3780567. See also Diane G. Scillia, “Looking for Fun in All the Wrong Places: Humour and Comedy in Moralizing Prints,” in Profane Images in the Marginal Arts of the Middle Ages, ed. Elaine C. Bock (Turnhout: Brepols, 2009), 199-220. 29 resort to subterfuge in order to be together.108 On the other hand, the presence of the dog in the demure maiden’s lap arguably contradicts, or at the very least complicates, the suggestion that their love is an illegitimate one. In fifteenth century art, such dainty animals appear frequently to connote romantic fidelity and the noble lover’s virtuous self-taming.109

In the original Housebook Master print, the pup’s presence, along with the wine jug

Testard forgoes and the carnations he transfigures to shrub, has been taken to indicate that “there is a formal engagement in the offing.”110 Removing the other potential marriage-signifiers,

Testard leaves the situation between the couple ambiguous, allowing plenty of margin for scandal. As viewer, Charles had to determine the relationship’s nature himself. The count was free to shape the miniature’s narrative to his own tastes, perhaps even reflecting upon his own private life; besides his arranged engagement to the much younger Louise and failed courtship of

Marie de Bourgogne or Charlotte de Brabant, he had a lasting relationship with noblewoman

Jeanne de Polignac, who bore him two children and would go on to serve as Louise’s demoiselle d’honneur.111 It is impossible to know whether Testard’s miniature actually reminded Charles of these real love affairs, or the fictional ones so popular in the era’s cultural production. Rather, it is simply worth noting that the illuminator organizes visual information in such a way as to leave space for multiple interpretations.

108 For the relationship between love and secrecy in the Tristan romances and other courtly love tales, see Peggy McCracken, “The Queen’s Secret: Adultery and Political Structure in the Feudal Courts,” Romantic Review 86 (1995): 289-306. 109 See Jane Carroll, “Die Jagd nach der Treue, or When Desire Met Devotion,” in Our Dogs, Our Selves: Dogs in Medieval and Early Modern Art, Literature, and Society, ed. Laura D. Gelfand (Leiden, Boston: Brill, 2016), 218- 240, especially 221-228. 110 Hutchison, The Master of the Housebook, 64. 111 Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” 128. 30 If the April couple, regardless of their degree of legitimacy, can be said to embody qualities of devotion and restraint, the figural pairing in the volume’s facing bas de page arguably constitutes their antithesis, nearly bounding off the parchment in a composition of striking visual exuberance (fig. 12-13). Initially catching the eye is the area of deepest color saturation: the arching forms of the fore- and hind-quarters of the black horse who dominates the left side of the painting. The rest of his body subsumed in a green caparison of improbable buoyance, he rears up on his back legs, assuming a fight-ready stance. Beneath the foliate mask he wears –a perfect match to his cape –his eyes and mouth are wide open, revealing a fierce pink tongue. This posture is recreated with fidelity by the horse’s compositional foil, a tawny steed perhaps three quarters of his size, and arrayed in the same fanciful costume. Back feet planted on apparently grassy, craggy terrain, the animal duo cast no shadows, as though suspended in midair.

While these horses, whose front hooves interlace in an M-shape along the miniature’s center, provide the scene with its sense of emphatic propulsion, it is their riders who furnish its amusement and charm. Both clad in the same armor as their horses, whose curling flounces render the forms of plant life on an impossibly grand scale, they engage one another in a peculiar joust, where slender saplings serve as lances. Only slivers of their actual bodies are visible beneath this elaborate costume –elbows, knees and calves pelted with downy gray-brown fur; blushing cheeks and round eyes peeking out from verdant helmets; bare, outsized hands and feet.

The rightmost figure, perched unsteadily on his smaller steed, has only his right eye to see out of, with his too-large leafy visor sliding down across the other. A ring of roots adorns his sapling, as though he has recently wrested it from earth, but he leaves the weapon hanging uselessly towards

31 the ground.112 The splayed roots of this wooden lance echo the form of the headdress that crowns his helmet: a bundle of garlic cloves, cinched at the stems. The leftmost knight wears an almost identical root crest, but his has thick leaves rather than wiry scapes, implying radishes or a hardier allium. Already graced with a sturdier horse, the radish/onion-knight seems poised as the clear victor; he, at least, is able to raise his lance.

The manner in which these extravagant jousters inhabit their space could not be more different than that of the April lovers. Where the amorous pair, hands clasped and gazes fixed, are wholly isolated in –and contained by –the borders of their miniature, the combative riders and their steeds threaten to burst into the viewer’s space. The tips of the left knight’s radish- plumes extend well beyond the simple rectangular frame of the bas de page, even biting into the calendar’s last line of script (fig. 14). The bottom boundary of the painting is similarly jeopardized by the tawny horse’s feet; though their coloration stops where the frame begins,

Testard allows a few loops of underdrawing to cross the line, suggesting the hooves’ continuation onto the blank parchment below (fig. 15). Even apart from these partial infringements on the page layout, the figures themselves, in their dynamic poses and scrolling garments, monopolize attention. Their surroundings are little more than a harmonious backdrop.

Two trees inhabit rocky outposts at the far right and left of the composition. A smooth gradient of blue sky hangs above them, and a few sketchy pockets of darker cerulean at the horizon’s center perhaps hint at a cityscape beyond. Besides these cursory details, Testard offers the eye nothing more to concentrate on than the battle and its outlandishness.

112 Gloria Gilmore-House, discussing the Israhel van Meckenem print on which Testard’s painting is based, suggests this detail is intended as humorous incompetence. Gilmore-House, “35: Combat of Two Wild Men,” in The Wild Man: Medieval Myth and Symbolism, ed. Timothy Husband with the assistance of Gloria Gilmore-House (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1980), 138. 32 While these dazzling foliate knights mark a further departure from standard book of hours calendrical iconography than do the April lovers who come before them, elements of their interaction and portrayal recall more conventional Maytime imagery. First and foremost of these is the emphatic verdance of their garb. As Susan Crane notes in her exploration of court ritual during the Hundred Years’ War, the color green –along with floral and foliate costuming rituals

–took on a charged symbolic function in the seasonal revels of late medieval French and English nobles.113 Both “popular and elite” celebrations of nature’s rebirth in springtime involved processing into local parks and woodlands in search of branches, blossoms, and greenery to wear as adornment.114 Given this ritual’s centrality to the month’s festivities, it is often portrayed in book of hours’ illustrations of May, most famously in the Très Riches Heures of Duke de Berry, where courtiers’ delicate leaf garlands rest against their luxurious garments like bespoke organic jewelry (fig. 16).115

While their quarry is one another, rather than a beast, the May figures’ horseback combat constitutes a symbolic hunt of sorts, further linking it to spring. To the extent that it is hunt-like, the miniature recalls the falconry images that constituted another Maytime staple in the book of hours tradition, as seen, for example in the Morgan Library’s MS. M.1003, a Northern French work dating to circa 1465 (fig. 17). Though Testard’s vegetable knights are far removed from the sophisticated seasonal guising of the Très Riches nobles or the graceful falconer of the Morgan book of hours, their leafy ensembles and evident competition may have a parodical relationship

113 Susan Crane, The Performance of Self: Ritual, Clothing, and Identity During the Hundred Years’ War (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2002), 39-72. For more on Maying, see Karen Jean Bezella-Bond, “Florescence and Defloration: Maytime in Chaucer and Malory,” PhD diss., (Columbia University, 2003). 114 Crane, “Maytime in Late Medieval Courts,” 42-43. Quoted text on page 43. 115 Ibid., 43. See also Wieck, Time Sanctified, 51. 33 to such images of sport hunting and foliate beautification. Where the greenery donned by the courtiers in the Limbourg Brothers illumination draws attention to their refined comportment and precious clothing, the armor in the Angoulême Hours, for all its scrolling finery, only highlights the clumsy vulnerability of its wearers. Whether constructed from actual leaves or some fabric made to look like them, its shape is counter-productive to the act of jousting, swallowing up both horse and rider and impairing their lines of vision. Leaving hands and feet conspicuously naked, the armor provides little protection. A visual non-sequitur that makes it difficult to interpret the battle as anything short of comical, the edible plumes that crest the pair’s helmets complete the impression of their ridiculousness.

At least such is the interpretation of the print from which Testard’s miniature is derived, another Israhel van Meckenem engraving after the Housebook Master known as Combat of Two

Wild Men, identifying the figures with the shaggy forest-dwelling folkloric beings known as wild people (fig. 18-19). Gloria Gilmore-House, noting that “the armor of the wild men, though as extensive as that of knights, is completely ineffectual,” reads van Meckenem’s print as a parody of “the code of chivalry” itself.116 As visual evidence, she cites other medieval portrayals of wild men at joust, including an Alsatian tapestry from circa 1390-1410 where a bearded wild man mounted on a lion squares off against a beardless one on a wolf, both sporting leafy circlets (fig.

20).117

116 Gilmore-House, “Combat of Two Wild Men,” 136. Richard Bernheimer also identifies the Housebook Master’s print on which van Meckenem’s is based as humorous but attaches it to myths of the Wild Horde’s Hellekins. As Gilmore-House points out, the vegetable knights do not share in the Hellekins’ famous hideousness. See Ibid., 136, and Bernheimer, Wild Men in the Middle Ages: A Study in Art, Sentiment, and Demonology (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1952), 64-65. 117 Gilmore-House, “Combat of Two Wild Men,” 138. 34 While I will return to the notion of the wild knights as parody shortly, it is worth exploring

Testard’s modification of van Meckenem’s print –and van Meckenem’s of the Housebook

Master’s –first (fig. 18-19).118 Besides its reversal, Israhel van Meckenem’s copy of the

Housebook Master’s drypoint reproduces the posture, costume, and textural details of its referent with precision, although the difference in technique lends the later version a greater smoothness of line. Notably, however, van Meckenem is less interested in the environmental details that lend the Housebook Master’s original a convincing sense of depth. The earlier print uses cross hatching to define its rocky plain and linear strokes to suggest shadows beneath the horses’ hooves and the stones and weeds that litter ground. A sprightly pup bounding along underneath the riders adds further compositional weight.119

In van Meckenem’s rendering, dog, weeds, and all but the faintest shadows vanish, leaving the plane and its attendant rocks shallow in appearance. Atop this flat backdrop, the engraver’s initials –“I.M.” –and the jousting oddities make stark claims on the viewer’s eyes. Testard’s version of the scene, in comparison to both of its predecessors, is simpler and softer in form.

Though the general shape of the knights’ garments echoes that of van Meckenem’s composition, the fabric’s frills are not quite so numerous, nor so complicated. Their headdresses, though clearly vegetal, are rendered in less precise botanical detail, so that the identity of the produce in question remains indeterminate. Their faces, likewise, are both handsomer and more generic,

118 For more on the Housebook Master’s engraving, see Hutchison, The Master of the Housebook, 50. This entry provides useful information as to the print’s dating, historiography, and potential relationship to other works in the enigmatic artist’s oeuvre. Otherwise, Hutchison’s conclusions are comparable to Gilmore-House’s, with the exception that she characterizes the knights as “gigantic.” To my mind, though slightly larger, the figures are not exceptional enough in proportion to their horses to be classified thus with confidence. 119 This dog resembles the lapdog in a later print by Dürer that Carroll identifies as a Löwchen, so named for its valorous nature and the practice of shaving its hindquarters so as to develop a “leonine ruff.” See Carroll, “Die Jagd nach der Treue,” 222-223 and note 12. 35 sapped of the hint of a sneer van Meckenem grants his garlic-knight. While Testard’s setting, like van Meckenem’s, is shallow, his use of color relieves the harshness of contrast between riders and landscape present in his printed referent. Though their costumes are a brighter hue than that of the grass below them, the same warm greens and golds animate the vegetable knights and their environs. United in harmony, the land and its inhabitants prepare fertile ground for imaginative engagement.

What variety of wild men are Testard’s, with their foppish armor and rustic home? By the late Middle Ages, wild folk were stock figures in art, literature, and performance, capable of bearing a remarkable variety of meanings. As studies by Richard Bernheimer,120 Timothy

Husband,121 and Roger Barta make clear,122 homo sylvestris stood for un-civilization in all its iterations, from the quasi-demonic aggressors of maidens lost in the woods,123 to devout saints driven into wilderness repentance.124 Between the saintly and the infernal reside a range of wild folk in various guises and moral shades, fulfilling utilitarian roles as standard bearers125 and

120 Bernheimer, Wild Men in the Middle Ages. 121 Husband, “Introduction,” The Wild Man, 1-18. Along with Gilmore-House and other contributors, Husband is also responsible for the bulk of the catalogue’s entries. 122 Barta, Wild Men in the Looking Glass: The Mythic Origins of European Otherness, trans. by Carl T. Berrisford (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1994). 123 Not always an innocent damsel –the maiden who the titular old knight rescues in the Wild Man and Enyas cycle depicted in the fourteenth century Taymouth Hours (British Library, Yates Thompson MS 13) abandons her savior for a churlish young knight. See Kathryn A. Smith, “Chivalric Narratives and Devotional Experience in the Taymouth Hours,” in Negotiating Secular and Sacred in Medieval Art: Christian, Islamic, and Buddhist, ed. Alicia Walker and Amanda Luyster (Burlington: Ashgate, 2009), 17-54, esp. 45-49. Such aggressive wild men are often read as avatars for the brute impulses that the good knight must overcome in himself. See Paula Mae Carns, “Compilatio in Ivory: The Composite Casket in the Metropolitan Museum,” Gesta 44, no. 2 (2005), 69-88, esp. 79- 80. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/25067115. 124 Key examples are fourth century ascetic Saint Onuphrius, Christ’s disciple Saint Mary Magdelene, penitent Saint Mary of Egypt (often equated with her fellow wild namesake), and hermit saint John Chrysostom. For analysis of these and related holy wild people from the late antique to early modern era, see Barta, Wild Men in the Looking Glass, 43-84. 125 Bernheimer, Wild Men in the Middle Ages, 176-185. 36 chandelier feet126 or acting more glamorously as “reluctant soothsayers”127 and lovelorn knights in popular romances.128 Though wild men were standard fixtures of seasonal village festivals, which usually involved their capture, sometimes to mark winter’s end,129 they also found their way into elite celebrations, such as the so-called Bal des Ardents in 1393. In this oft-illustrated wedding party fiasco, at which Charles’s grandfather Louis I d’Orléans was present, dancing courtiers dressed as hommes sauvages caught fire, leaving all but their ringleader, Charles VI, to burn.130

The diversity of these applications shows the associative malleability of wild folk and the physical and behavioral characteristics accorded to them. Their hairy bodies, nude or covered in leaves, could be repulsive or desirable;131 their remote domiciles, deep in nature, a prison for

126 Though the candlestick holder discussed by Gilmore-House in the Wild Man catalogue is German, French examples from the fifteenth century remain; for example see a bronze chandelier foot at the Musée de Cluny in Paris, inventory no. Cl.17086. See Gilmore-House, “49: Wild Man,” in The Wild Man, 173-5. 127 Lorraine Kochanske Stock, “Civilization and Its Discontents: Cultural Primitivism and Merlin as a Wild Man in the ‘Roman de Silence,’” Arthuriana 12, no. 1 (Spring 2002), 22-36. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/27870411. Quoted text on page 34. 128 Dorothy Yamamoto, “The Wild Man 2: The Uncourtly Other,” in The Boundaries of the Human in Medieval English Literature (Oxford University Press, 2000), 168-196. According to Yamamoto, late romance Valentine and Orson, whose wild knight Orson was reared by a bear, constitutes a rare exception to the trope of breakup as inciting event for a period of chivalric retreat into the wilderness. Ibid., 176. 129 Bernheimer, “His Theatrical Embodiment,” in Wild Men in the Middle Ages, 49-84. For spring-specific examples, see 56, 63, 74, 77-78, and 80-81. 130 For a discussion of representations of this scene in manuscripts, see Stock, “Froissart’s ‘Chroniques’ and its Illustrators: Historicity and Ficticity in the Verbal and Visual Imaging of Charles VI’s Bal des Ardents,” Studies in Iconography 21 (2000): 123-180. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/23924217. For analyses of the Bal des Ardents as ritual of courtly self-fashioning, see Crane, The Performance of Self, 155-174, and Christina Normore, A Feast for the Eyes: Art, Performance, and the Late Medieval Banquet (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 2015), 48-52. Charles d’Angoulême would have certainly been familiar with this event since Froissart named his grandfather as the torchbearer whose carelessness incited the whole incident! See Stock, “Froissart’s ‘Chroniques,’” 141. 131 Despite literary descriptions of wild women as monstrous and unkempt, by the advent of print, they were often idealized in print as embodiments of guileless, fertile femininity and motherhood. See Michelle Moseley-Christian, “From Page to Print: The Transformation of the ‘Wild Woman’ in Early Modern Northern Engravings,” Word and Image 27, no. 4 (2011): 429-442. DOI: 10.1080/02666286.2011.611381. Yamamoto also notes the desirability of Orson’s wilderness-toughened frame to Fezonne, the maiden he hopes to win through fighting the Green Knight. See Yamamoto, “The Uncourtly Other,” 193-194. 37 abducted women or a domain of naïve peace;132 their ignorance of –or at any rate separation from –the manners and mores of courtly society could skew ludicrous, laudable, or simply dangerous.133 Noting the variety of functions that the wild man held in the fifteenth century,

Husband interprets the figure as charged with a “fundamental dualism.”134 For him, “the wild man is perhaps most notable for the contradictory representations created of him throughout the late medieval period.”135 The remainder of his essay tracks the increasing idealization of wild figures as feudal society collapsed in on itself and a growing, disillusioned “urban bourgeoisie” sought fantasies of woodland freedom.136 As Lorraine Kochanske Stock notes,137 the shape of this narrative parallels the trajectory Bernheimer sets out, where “demoniac natural forces” resolve themselves into “tender and sentimental” lovers, recipients of a “permanent felicity” never to be known in real life.138

Whether or not one agrees with the evolutionary, progressive thrust of Bernheimer and

Husband’s argument –Stock contends that wild folks’ positive valuation can be witnessed far earlier than they allow139 –their insistence on unpacking the wild man’s contradictions speaks to the character’s multivalence. Following Gilmore-House’s contention that van Meckenem’s print source, and the tapestry whose subject matter it shares, constitute parodical images, Testard’s

132 Moseley-Christian discusses portrayals of peaceful wild families at harmony with nature in “From Page to Print,” 432-434. Comparably harmonious Alsatian tapestries of wild folk at work and play in their natural paradise are explored briefly by Husband, “31: Wild Folk Working the Land,” in The Wild Man, 125-127. 133 Or, as Stock argues is the case with Heldris’s Merlin in the Roman de Silence, both admirable and threatening at once. Stock, “Merlin as Wild Man,” 33. 134 Husband, “Introduction,” 12. 135 Ibid., 12. 136 Ibid., 12-17, quoted text on page 16. 137 Stock, “Merlin as Wild Man,” 24. 138 Bernheimer, Wild Men in the Middle Ages, 175. 139 Stock, “Merlin as Wild Man,” 35. Stock, exploring the concurrent idealization of and anxiety over the personal freedom espoused by literary wild men in texts such as the Roman de Silence and the Roman de la Rose, maintains that the figure’s glorification can be witnessed as early as the thirteenth century. 38 insertion of a wild play-fight into the seasonal framework of the calendrical bas de page can be read as humorously ambivalent. Though incompetent as knights, the jousting figures’ buoyancy and harmony with nature lends them an engaging quality. Neither admirable nor wholly contemptable, they encourage a nuanced reading, and might recall a myriad of amusing references for their cultured viewer. In this respect, May’s wild gallants have much in common with the garden setting of the April miniature that precede them. Just as the love bower topos was capable of stretching to accommodate a variety of courtship modes, from refined pursuit to base lechery, wild folk emerge above all as fluid signifiers, adaptable to a broad behavioral spectrum.

Also like walled gardens, hommes sauvages appeared frequently in allegorical images of wooing. Across tapestries and mirror backs, throngs of wild people storm the Castle of Love in hopes of conquering maidens’ hearts. On ivory and wooden coffrets that comprised popular courtship gifts in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, individual wild men compete with knights for a lady’s favor, even sometimes beating out their more sophisticated rivals.140 This more surprising outcome occurs on a painted casket made in Cologne between 1350 and 1370, where the woman in question rejects the knight’s proffered wedding ring in favor of the rough embrace of her woodland suitor, whose love for her renders him gentle (fig. 21).141 Camille attributes a didactic function to this coffret, claiming that “the woman’s role is not only to be an object of desire, but to exercise civilizing influence” over her uncouth paramour, thus reinforcing

140 For more on these Minnekästchen, see Heinrich Kohlhaussen, “Rheinische Minnekästchen des Mittelalters,” Jahrbuch der Preussischen Kunstsammlungen 46 (1925): 203-247 and Jürgen Wurst, “Reliquiare der Liebe: Das Münchner Minnekästchen und andere mittelalterliche Minnekästchen aus dem deutschsprachigen Raum,” (PhD diss., Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität München, 2005). 141 In other scenes, she apparently settles down to play chess with her hirsute admirer. See Camille, The Medieval Art of Love, 67. 39 the ennobling dimension fin’amors was held to have.142 In other portrayals, wild men appear more forcibly tamed, often shown literally shackled to a damsel in scenes adorning Northern

European luxury furnishings of the late Middle Ages.143 A wooden dagger handle from fifteenth- century Germany offers an example of this motif, depicting wild men in chains and an enthroned

Frau Minne.144

Encumbered only by their own massive garments and posing greater threat to themselves than to each other, Testard’s wild men seem, at first glance, out of place amongst these amorous hommes sauvages. Yet the very activity in which they engage links them further to the fin’amors topos present in the April bas de page. According to Duby, at its core, “courtly love was a joust,” and one that “set two unequal partners against one another, one of whom was, by nature, doomed to fail.”145 Like the related activities of hunting and sieging,146 tournaments figure heavily in medieval romance and visual love allegories, where knights compete under the watchful gaze of woman spectators.147 So eroticized was the joust as metaphor that some church authorities looked down on its actual practice, disparaging it as both idle and emasculating in its packaging of male prowess for women’s delectation.148 Jousting also posed dangers of a more concrete

142 Ibid., 52. 143 Chiefly coffrets and tapestries. See Husband, “17: Lady leading wild man on a rope,” in The Wild Man, 89-91, and Markus Müller, “20: Dolchgriff mit Frau Minne und Wildem Mann,” in Jahreszeiten der Gefühle, 65-66. 144 Kohlhaussen, “Rheinische Minnekästchen,” 240-241, and Müller, “Dolchgriff mit Frau Minne,” 65-66. 145 Duby, Love and Marriage, 58. 146 For hunting as medieval love metaphor, see Marcelle Thiébaux, The Stag of Love: The Chase in Medieval Literature (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1974). For love sieges, see Carns, “Compilatio in Ivory,” 81-84, and Roger Sherman Loomis, “The Allegorical Siege in the Art of the Middle Ages,” American Journal of Archaeology 23, no. 3 (Jul. – Sep., 1919): 255-269. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/497460. 147 Carns, “Compilatio in Ivory,” 83; Paula Nuttall, “Dancing, Love and the ‘Beautiful Game’: A New Interpretation of a Group of Fifteenth-Century ‘Gaming’ Boxes,” Renaissance Studies 24, no. 1 (February 2010): 133-135. For an overview of jousting as cultural phenomenon in medieval Europe, see Richard Barber and Juliet Barker, Tournaments: Jousts, Chivalry and Pageants in the Middle Ages (New York: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1989). 148 Camille, The Medieval Art of Love, 35-36. For more on the perceived moral and civic dangers of jousting and attempts by both religious and secular rulers to forbid or curtail its practice, see Barber and Barker, Tournaments, 139-149. For analysis of jousting and masculinity, in conjunction with other forms of medieval play-fighting, see 40 nature, as its participants risked injury and even death in its practice –although by the fifteenth century, as Sean McGlynn observes, tourneys were “more of an aristocratic, formalized sport and less of a training for real warfare.”149

With their sapling-lances thereby evoking on yet another level the allegories commonly used to explore romantic pursuits in late medieval society, the vegetable knights of May serve as both inversions of, and satirical counterparts to, the April assignation that precedes them. Where the mood of April’s bas de page is both intimate and slightly somber, May brings preposterous ebullience. In the former image, the courtiers’ awareness of how to love well –that is, with appropriate restraint –allows for the cultivation and curtailment of nature. The wild men of the latter miniature burst forth with raw energy operating outside the bounds of civilization’s edicts, while at the same time participating in ritual mock-courtliness. So festooned with foliation that their play-fight seems poised to end in misadventure, the jousters glean their charm from the same qualities that code them as foolish. The lovers, in turn, share in a stoic intimacy tinged with the possibility of scandal.

Despite their disparity, both of Testard’s hybrid spring scenes participate in the rich lexicon of vernal and botanical love-related imagery common to the elite cultural production of the later

Middle Ages. Moreover, though pulled to opposite behavioral extremes, both the wild knights and the covert lovers resist straightforward interpretation. Charles d’Angoulême would have been greeted with a powerful juxtaposition when opening to the juncture of April and May, side-

Sean McGlynn, “Pueri Sunt Pueri: Machismo, Chivalry, and the Aggressive Pastimes of Medieval Male Youth,” Historical Reflections/Réflexions Historiques 4, no. 1 (Spring 2016): 88-100. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/24720618. 149 McGlynn, “Pueri Sunt Pueri,” 92-94, Quoted text on page 93. For more on jousting deaths and injuries, see Barber and Barker, Tournaments, 6-7, 15-19, 24, 29-35, 39-41, 45, 54, 57-61, 84, 97-98, 101, 122-124, 134, 142- 148, 160, 164, 172-173, 190-191, and 206. 41 by-side visions of spring that are at once reciprocal and antithetical. Through their patterns of contrast between nature and artifice, as well as courtship and quarrel, they invite the viewer to look closer.

Laborious and Transactional Love in August and September (f.4v-5r)

While Testard’s spring miniatures reflect opposing aspects of the vernal months, his print- derived duos on the bas de page for the harvest season operate on a basis that is more continuous than contrastive. Following the conventional portrayal of threshing that adorns July’s calendar,150 the August miniature presents a couple quite distinct from both the demure April lovers and the

Maying enemies that come before them (fig. 22-23). Stoop-shouldered and furrow-browed, a middle-aged man in tattered clothing drags a wheelbarrow across a threshing room floor. His cargo is a straw-hatted woman, her face also marked with age, who crouches in the barrow’s basin, gripping pitchfork and flail in one hand and a flagon in the other. The graphic quality of both party’s visages provides pockets of depth from which their expressive eyes emerge: the male figure’s hooded and cast downwards; the woman’s trained on her partner’s progress. In conjunction with her drinking hand, raised as if to request further refreshment, her overall demeanor is as demanding as her mate’s is downtrodden. Through these gestures, the dynamic between the couple is intuitively grasped. The woman holds the power, and the man must toe the line.

Where the April and May print-adaptive miniatures, though offering fresh revisions to standard iconographical tropes, recall associations of spring, love, and folly that have a

150 Although it is perhaps worth mentioning that the labor of reaping is usually shown in July, and threshing in August. See Hourihane, Time in the Medieval World, lvii-lviii and Wieck, Time Sanctified, 51-52. 42 longstanding basis,151 August’s illustration is, to my knowledge, an unprecedented pairing of subject and month. Themes of romance and sexuality, when they occur in book of hours calendrical sequences, are relegated to the vernal season, wherein motifs of flirtation, serenade, and even engagement can be found.152 For this reason, the centralization of any type of love scene in the bas de page for a month whose typical illustrations are focused on preparation for the cold season to come is, on the surface, highly unusual. Portrayals of peasant labor, distinct from noble leisure scenes of spring, typically accompany August and September. Nevertheless, representations of that same social group not working sometimes occur in place of or accompaniment to the standard industrious scenes.

For example, in a January miniature from a circa 1470 book of hours for Louis de Savoie, father of Charles’s spouse Louise, a trio of figures share food from a large cauldron (fig. 24).

Two of the three –a woman with a distaff tucked into her belt who feeds her husband with a spoon, and a shepherd with a stave under his arm –bear emblems of their trade.153 Attempting to gauge the ideological bent of depictions of peasants at rest, Jonathan Alexander observes one such scene in the Très Riches Heures’ full-page illumination for August (fig. 25).154 While the foreground is taken up by a noble falconing party, laborers in the background reap and gather corn –except for a few who have split from the group to cool off in the river below. According to

Alexander, the figure’s nudity “represents nature as opposed to culture” and reads thereby as

151 For a discussion of spring as temporal setting for meditations on sex and love, see James J. Wilhelm, The Cruelest Month: Spring, Nature, and Love in Classical and Medieval Lyrics (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1965). 152 For examples of betrothal scenes in the calendars of book of hours, see Hansen, Kalenderminiaturen, 86-87. 153 Hansen, Kalenderminiaturen, 116 and 227. 154 Jonathan Alexander, “Labeur and Paresse: Ideological Representations of Medieval Peasant Labor,” Art Bulletin 72, no. 3 (Sept., 1990): 447-449. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/3045750. 43 undignified, just as their pastime of swimming is uncouth compared to the courtly pursuit of hunting it abuts.155

Whether or not one follows Alexander’s assertion of the Très Riches Heures peasant leisure as wholly unsympathetic, an awareness that motifs of relaxation and industriousness sometimes coincide in cycles of monthly occupations supplies helpful context for Testard’s choice here. In the Angoulême August miniature, after all, the man who pulls the wheelbarrow is as hard at work as are the reaping peasants in the Très Riches Heures’ illustration of the same month. His partner, resting while he toils, is likewise just as much at ease as that image’s swimmers. The difference here is that Testard’s peasant labors not in the service of his seigneurial lord,156 but for an implicitly drunken woman, unable or unwilling to get around on her own.

Testard’s adaptation of his printed source material –in this case an engraving by Master bxg, potentially after a lost Housebook Master original157 –follows a similar formula to his other translations of graphic sources into the bas de page format (fig. 26). The Master bxg version, an especially popular work of the engraver’s that also formed the basis for sculptural decoration on the south façade of Breslau’s town hall,158 sets the figures atop a nondescript, vaguely jagged plain, with slightly more depth than that of van Meckenem’s wild knight print. Testard’s reinterpretation retains the general shape and configuration of the print’s man, woman, and barrow, while crafting for them a new setting and injecting seasonal signifiers where appropriate.

155 Ibid., 447. 156 For more on depictions of peasant labor and class relations in medieval manuscripts, see Camille, “Labouring for the Lord: The Ploughman and the Social Order in the Luttrell Psalter,” Art History 10 (1987): 423-454, and Paul Freedman, Images of the Medieval Peasant (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1999), 15-58. 157 Matthews, “The Use of Prints,” 9. 158 This decoration was completed sometime between 1471 and 1504, making it unclear whether the sculptor’s adaptation pre- or postdates Testard’s own. In any case, it seems unlikely Testard would have seen it. See Hans- Joachim Raupp, Bauernsatiren: Entstehung und Entwicklung des bäuerlichen Genres in der deutschen und niederländischen Kunst ca. 1470-1570, (Niederzier: Luca-Verlag, 1986), 95-96. 44 Their new space is a threshing room interior, with bundles of grain stacked in the right corner.

The one closest to the edge lies toppled, spilling gilt-kissed kernels. With drab stone walls and a pale floor of what Matthews calls “red crazy-paving,” the threshing room is an emphatically functional space, rather than a decorative and recreational one like April’s walled garden.159

To suit the harvesttime temporal setting of his miniature, Testard replaces the seated woman’s hooked branch in the original with a pitchfork and flail. Characteristically playful, he uses this object to blur the distinction between bas de page and main frame space. The tines of the fork poke into the zone of the calendar list, penning in a red-inked lowercase “d” like pinched fingers (fig. 27). Testard’s other changes to the couple are mainly cosmetic. As Matthews observes, his finished product is less bitterly satirical than its printed referent, softening the original’s intense “facial caricature.”160 The peasant woman, in particular, wears a wizened grimace in the Master bxg print, with firmly downturned lips, eyes narrowed in displeasure, and bulging yet wrinkled cleavage. Testard takes a far less explicit approach, deemphasizing the character’s breasts and softening her expression.

What associations might the couple have held for Charles d’Angoulême? Even if Testard moderates the worst of their original grotesquerie, they are far from idealized. As Paul Freedman notes, where earlier depictions of female rustics in popular literary forms like the pastourelle are comelier than their typically brutish husbands, this situation shifted in the later Middle Ages. At this point, “for the first time, peasant women were portrayed in shapes as unflattering and grotesque as were their male counterparts,” described as stupid, greedy, or sexually aggressive as

159 Matthews, “The Use of Prints,” 9. 160 Ibid., 9. 45 well as bad looking.161 Malcolm Jones notes the contemporaneous popularity of another stereotype of working-class women –the “dishonest ale-wife.”162 A determined short-changer who brandishes her “cheating measuring tankard” remorselessly, she can be related more broadly to portrayals of belligerent, indecorous, or otherwise domineering women that abound in late medieval and early Renaissance visual culture.163

In medieval art objects adorned with courtship scenes, the attitude of a chivalric lover towards his chatelaine is often exaggeratedly submissive, as the representations of tamed wild men discussed earlier in this chapter also make clear. On an ivory hair-parting handle from the early fourteenth century, for example, a kneeling suiter proffers his literal heart, while on another face, a man hauls his beloved on his back.164 As different as these gallant Minnesklaven might appear from the browbeaten husbands of humorous print, Susan L. Smith argues that they are best viewed as participating in the same spectrum of motifs. The tropes share a thematization of the power of women to “seize the upper hand,” from the “conniving women of the fabliaux” to the courtesan who subjugates Aristotle.165 Despite differing contexts and audiences, these fictive gender dynamics recur in rougher representations of forceful women and their henpecked beaux like Testard’s. While the idealized beloveds of romantic chevaliers might seem to stand as positive examples of this trope, Duby scoffs at the notion of their actual agency, insisting that the

161 Freedman, Images of the Medieval Peasant, 157-173. Quoted text on page 169. 162 Jones, “Folklore Motifs in Late Medieval Art II: Sexist Satire and Popular Punishments,” Folklore 101, no. 1 (1990): 70. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/1259885. 163 Ibid., 70. 164 See Susan L. Smith, The Power of Women: A “Topos” in Medieval Art and Literature (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1995), 170, and Raymond Koechlin, Les ivoires gothiques français, vol. 2 (Paris: A. Picard, 1924), 409. 165 Smith, The Power of Women, 2. See chapters 3 and 4 in the same volume for the development of the “Aristotle and Phyllis” motif. See also Jane Hutchison, “The Housebook Master and the Folly of the Wise Man,” Art Bulletin 48, no. 1 (March, 1966): 73-78. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/3048336. 46 lover’s subjection is always feigned; in the game of love, “the woman is a lure.”166 The maiden who leads her wild man on a chain and the peasant woman whose man must wheel her around are only differently packaged variations on a theme.

Within the vast repertoire of medieval European motifs that refer, with various levels of irony and moralization, to the power of women over men, Testard’s wheelbarrow couple occupies an intriguing position. As Jones notes, the process of barrowing held various symbolic connotations in the late Middle Ages. Sinners could be carted into hell, invalids wheeled around out of necessity.167 Like wild men, wheelbarrows sometimes figured in modes of elite self- fashioning. For example, in a penitential act of self-debasement, Olivier de la Marche entered a town via wheelbarrow around 1440, drawing a deliberate visual allusion between himself and the waste products commonly conveyed by the vehicle.168 Barrows and carts were also features of riotous festival practices like charivari and the Feast of Fools.169 When not explicitly negative, depictions of barrowing often occur as opportunities for the rich to prove their charity, as in a marginal painting from the Luttrell Psalter, where a man donates to a barrow-ridden child.170

Though Testard’s attribution of the wheelbarrow to a lazy scold and her valor-deficient companion may suggest peasants’ general moral inferiority,171 his choice to maintain the signs of age observable in the Master bxg print indicates a specific failing: licentiousness. Just as notions of men’s amorous subjugation to women have their roots earlier in the Middle Ages, the

166 Duby, Love and Marriage, 58. 167 Jones, “Sexist Satire and Popular Punishments,” 73. 168 Ibid., 73. 169 Ibid., 73; Camille, Images on the Edge, 149-150. For more on charivari, and its potential celebration by nobles as well as commoners, see Crane, The Performance of Self, 143-159. 170 Camille, Mirror in Parchment: The Luttrell Psalter and the Making of Medieval England (London: Reaktion Books, 1998), 156-158. 171 As Alexander, who views portrayals of peasant idleness as fundamentally negative, might argue. 47 characterization of the aged as unfit for love can be seen long before the date of BNF ms. lat.

1173. In the Roman de la Rose, for example, the ancient Vieillesse appears as one of the uncourtly vices exiled from the garden of Déduit, receiving a lengthy “ekphrastic portrait” of her decrepitude.172 In Guillaume de Deguilleville’s Pèlerinage de la vie humaine, which also numbered among the volumes in Charles’ library,173 the allegorical embodiments of sins are women whose withered physiques reflect internal disfigurement.174 Though Western understandings of the “particular susceptibility of the old” to the follies of lust are likely traceable to antiquity, according to Alison G. Stewart this theme was not “explicitly depicted” until the sixteenth century.175 Master bxg’s engravings of old peasant couples, though often involving bells, eggs, bread, and other possible symbols of lust and folly, merely hint at it.176

Testard’s barrow couple, likewise, embody a power imbalance that, while only implicitly sexually coded, might call to mind, for an educated observer with endless opportunities for reviewing and reappraisal, a number of entertaining, possibly bawdy, scenarios. The same can be said of the miniature that directly faces it –the bas de page for September, featuring a pairing whose inequality goes beyond the merely behavioral (fig. 28-29). Here, in a brick-lined courtyard with an inward-facing window, from which a collared white hound surveys the scene with lordly self-possession, stand an embracing pair radically mismatched in both age and beauty. A richly-clad fellow with a halo of flies, whose creased face and blue-gray locks betray

172 See Melinda Marsh Heywood, “The Withered Rose: Seduction and the Poetics of Old Age in the Roman de la Rose of Guillaume de Lorris,” French Forum 25, no. 1 (January 2000): 5-22. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/40552066. Quoted text on page 6. 173 Edmond Sénemaud, La bibliothèque de Charles d’Orléans au chateau de Cognac, en 1496 (Paris: A. Claudin, 1861), 50. 174 Heywood, “The Withered Rose,” 20, n. 9. 175 Stewart, Unequal Lovers: A Study of Unequal Couples in Northern Art (New York: Abaris Books, 1977), 50. 176 Ibid., 50-54. 48 his advancing years, gazes steadily at his much younger female companion. His right hand encircles a brimming sack of apples while also reaching out to caress her pale hand. This lecher’s left fingers grasp a mostly full glass of wine –Testard’s nod to the vineyard tasks that make up the month’s standard iconography.177 Peering up at him from a round face as unlined and pallid as his is weathered and flushed, his partner holds a plume-like vine branch in one hand. Her other creeps towards the apples.

The only criterion by which this couple match is their sartorial choices. Unlike the barrowing couple of the August bas de page, whose clothes are well-worn, these September figures sport vivid ensembles. The older man’s silvery-green doublet is trimmed fur-trimmed and gold-buttoned (fig. 29-30).178 Outdoing him in luxury, his paramour wears a vibrant crimson dress with gilded epaulets, decorative lacing, and slashed sleeves, along with a jeweled diadem and a second crown of foliate sprigs atop her elaborately coiffed hair (fig. 31). The duo’s lavish dress, in context with their significant age gap and evident opportunism, may serve to reinforce the implication of their foolishness. According to Alexander, related scenes show peasants

“wearing…cast-off[s] and thus ridiculously aping [their] betters” –a practice that medieval sermons commonly warn against.179

Even more ostentatious than her suitor’s, the maiden’s finery might summon to mind for

Charles the crimson shades favored in portrayals of female embodiments of desire, such as

Venus and Frau Minne.180 The green and gold fronds that add natural augmentation to her man-

177 Wieck, Time Sanctified, 52. 178 Buttons being something generally worn by higher classes. See Alexander, “Peasant Labor,” 445. 179 Ibid., 445 and note 35. See also John Block Friedman, Bruegel’s Heavy Dancers: Transgressive Clothing, Class, and Culture in the Late Middle Ages (Syracuse: Syracuse University, 2010). 180 Carroll, “Die Jagd nach der Treue,” 224. 49 made gown and jewels only highlight the opulence of her dress. Such blending of nature and artifice is typical of descriptions of courtly elegance in romances and accounts of elite celebration.181 As Crane puts it, “to wear a chaplet above velvet is a gesture of power: one deliberately puts off the headdress and values the materially valueless in its place.”182 Yet for

Testard’s harvesttime damsel, it is not a matter of swapping headdress for garland; the two are layered atop one another in an arrangement of curated excess.

The miniature’s printed source, another van Meckenem engraving after the Housebook

Master,183 suggests this tension between nature and contrivance without dramatizing it as fully as does Testard (fig. 32-33). The original, now existing only in a weak and drastically trimmed- down impression,184 provides the intriguing diadem-garland combination reproduced in subsequent renditions, as well as all other details of dress. Van Meckenem’s copy adds little but a monogram.185 The waist-length figures occupy an empty background, rather than the courtyard space of Testard’s design. As with his incorporation of the Master bxg print into the August miniature, the illuminator tempers some of the exaggerated facial proportions of his reference material, resulting in a couple not quite as ill-assorted as in the earlier compositions. In both printed versions, the maiden has no vine branch, and her admirer holds a bag of coins rather than fruit. While seasonally appropriate, Testard’s apples arguably recall the fruit of the tree of knowledge, and thus temptation and mortality.186

181 See E. Jane Burns, Courtly Love Undressed: Reading Through Clothes in Medieval French Culture, (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2002), 149-178 and Crane, The Performance of Self, 55-58. 182 Crane, The Performance of Self, 56. 183 Matthews, “The Use of Prints,” 13. 184 Hutchison, The Master of the Housebook, 52. 185 Although it gives us an idea of the banderoles that would have been present in the original. 186 This time, however, the man rather than the woman possesses the forbidden fruit. I am grateful to Dr. Jeffrey Chipps Smith for this observation. It is also worth noting, however, that the fruit in the Garden is never biblically specified as an apple, although it is often portrayed as such in medieval and Renaissance art from Christian Europe. 50 Also missing in the graphic sources is the minor colony of flies circling the man’s lank coif, which solicit a variety of compelling readings. Do they function to animate the composition, to imply poor hygiene, or to bear symbolic meaning? In medieval exempla and sermons, flies often figure as allegories for corruption and the infectiousness of sin.187 Like other insects, they could also indicate death, and can be found in images belonging to the memento mori tradition.188 A striking diptych completed in Ulm circa 1470 unites themes of worldly sin and mortality.189 In its left panel, a young couple nestle in a verdant bower, while the right shows the same couple emaciated and decrepit (figs. 34-35). Snakes slither around and through their torsos, worms poke at their parchment-like skin, and flies attack their wounds. A toad attached to the woman’s genitals suggests both sin and its punishment, as toads figure prevalently in late medieval images of hellish torture.190 Although Testard would not have seen this particular image, he may have been familiar with others like it, or at least the role of flies in memento mori.

In the September miniature, the insects may imply that the man is in the ‘autumn of his life.’191

Although Testard vests his September bas de page with emblems of seasonality, the lewdness of unequal couples and their newness as artistic subjects render this image especially jarring. According to Paul Saenger, sexually charged illuminations “consciously intended to excite the voyeur” occur frequently in personalized books of hours from the late fifteenth century

For a discussion of this tradition and an interesting exception to it, see James Snyder, “Jan van Eyck and Adam’s Apple,” Art Bulletin 58, no. 4 (Dec., 1976): 511-515. 187 For examples, see Victor I. Sherb, “Conception, Flies, and Heresy in Skelton’s ‘Replycacion,’” Medium Ævum 62, no. 1 (1993): 55. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/43629496. 188 Thanks again to Dr. Smith for his insight. 189 Berthold Hinz, “Kat. 83: Brautpaar im Garten/Totenpaar,” in Jahreszeiten der Gefühle, 168. 190 Mary E. Robbins, “The Truculent Toad in the Middle Ages,” in Animals in the Middle Ages, ed. Nona C. Flores (London and New York: Routledge, 2016), 25-47. 191 For more on medieval notions of the life cycle, see Elizabeth Sears, The Ages of Man: Medieval Interpretations of the Life Cycle (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1986). 51 but tended to have at least a theoretical spiritual justification. Many show vices to avoid.192

Testard’s miniature lacks this veneer of didacticism, and centers on a topic whose representational tradition was just beginning. While texts from the classical era to Bocaccio’s

Decameron feature narratives of unequal love, typically comical or moralizing in tone,193 such pairings are scarcely depicted in art before the sixteenth century. According to Larry Silver, the

Housebook Master’s rendition is “the earliest visual depiction of the subject,”194 making van

Meckenem’s a probable second-earliest. Hence it is unlikely that Charles d’Angoulême would have seen an unequal couple in art, unless he curated an extremely up-to-date print collection of his own, as Thomas Tolley would have it.195 With this in mind, it is likely that Testard’s transactional love scene would have held his patron’s attention. It also stands as a witty rejoinder to the August couple, whose mismatch stems from behavior rather than appearance.

Conclusion

Raised in an environment where letters and fine arts were of the utmost importance to one’s self-image as noble, Charles d’Angoulême had reason to expect a book of hours that could engage his faculties from beginning to end.196 In service of this anticipation, Testard treats the

192 Saenger, “Books of Hours and the Reading Habits of the Later Middle Ages,” in The Culture of Print: Power and the Uses of Print in Early Modern Europe, ed. by Roger Chartier (Princeton: Princeton University Press), 156. 193 See Stewart, Unequal Lovers, 13-26. 194 Silver, “’The Ill-Matched Pair’ by Quinten Massys,” Studies in the History of Art 6 (1974): 107. 195 Tolley, “Monarchy and Prestige in France,” in Viewing Renaissance Art, ed. Carol M. Richardson, Kim Woods, and Angeliki Lymberopoulou (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2007), 142-143. Tolley’s notion seems dubious given the ample evidence contradicting his claims that BNF ms. lat. 1173 is Testard’s only manuscript to include print references. See Kathrin Giogoli and John Block Friedman. “Robinet Testard, Court Illuminator: His Manuscripts and His Debt to the Graphic Arts,” ed. Martha W. Driver. Journal of the Early Book Society 8 (2005): 143-88. 196 For the importance of culture to Charles’s forebears, see Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” and Valérie Guéant, “Marguerite de Rohan à la cour d’Angoulême: culture littéraire et arts du livre,” in Les femmes, la culture et les arts en Europe entre moyen âge et Renaissance, ed. Cynthia J. Brown and Anne-Marie Legaré, (Turnhout: Brepols, 2016), 33-54. For the importance of a luxury book collection to any self-respecting Valois noble, see Brigitte 52 bas de page calendrical cycle as a site for experimentation, juxtaposing seasonal tropes, fin’amors conventions, and new print topoi for maximum impact. A brief look at Charles’s library offers clues to how the count received these images. Of particular note are volumes involving wildness, courtliness, and both good and bad courtship practices, since these themes dominate Testard’s calendar. By the end of his short life, the count had access to plenty of such books, including the Decameron, the Roman de la Rose,197 and both printed editions and scribal copies of various Arthurian tales.198

His wide reading and courtly upbringing would have helped Charles recognized the tropes at play in the Angoulême Hours’ calendar miniatures, if not the specific prints they quote. As marginal images whose hybridity is both iconographic and medial, wedding new print tropes to the seasonal iconography traditional to the book of hours, the calendrical bas de page demonstrate one miniaturist’s ability to mobilize the resources made available by the printing press in service of pictorial wit and artistic expression. Testard’s borrowings from print and strategies of juxtaposition extend beyond the spatially marginal, characterizing miniatures that span entire pages, like ms. lat. 1173’s Annunciation to the Shepherds and Office of the Dead folios. In my next chapter, I explore how Testard furthers the patterns of tension between courtship and quarrel, as well as between wilderness and artifice, established in the calendrical

Buettner, “Profane Illuminations, Secular Illusions: Manuscripts in Late Medieval Courtly Society,” Art Bulletin 74, no. 1 (March 1992): 75–90. 197 Both works are listed in the library inventory taken upon the death of his father, Jean d’Orléans, in 1467. See Gustave Dupont-Ferrier, “Jean d’Orléans, Comte d’Angoulême: d’après sa bibliothèque (1467),” Mélanges d’histoire du Moyen Age, ed. Achille Luchaire, vol. 3, (Paris: Félix Alcan, 1897), 59. 198 Multiple printed volumes of Lancelot du Lac and Tristan, along with a “grand libvre de Lancellot du Lac, ancient et caduc en plusieurs lieus, historié, escript à la main en parchemin [a large book of Lancelot du Lac, ancient and outmoded in several places, illustrated and hand-written on parchment],” are listed in Charles’s own posthumous book inventory. See Sénemaud, La bibliothèque, 29-30 and 56. Text quoted in this note, translation mine, is from page 56. 53 miniature sequence. By bringing the marginal into the main frame of full-page illumination while evoking the symbolic environment of Charles d’Angoulême’s court at Cognac, he creates opportunities for his viewer to immerse himself in imaginative play.

54 Chapter 2: Ludic and Tragic Pastoral in the Main Frame

In his adaptation of printed works to the book of hours format, Testard enjoys the full extent of his artistic liberty, carefully choosing which details of each engraving to emphasize, elide, and rework. Print-drawn and otherwise, the juxtapositions of refinement and uncourtliness that he brings to the fore in the earliest pages of the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême extend well beyond the volume’s calendrical cycle. On folio 7v, for instance, one finds van Meckenem’s copy of a Communion Tondo by Master E.S. glued directly on the vellum and drastically reworked through overpainting (fig. 36-37). In Testard’s rendering, the print’s focal medallion features Christ in majesty, rather than John the Baptist.199 To the eight roundels surrounding this centerpiece, the illuminator adjoins four of his own device in the outer corners, depicting prophets.200 Significantly, these additions and substitutions are woven together by a tracery of winding leaves and blossoms. In this network of vegetation, a host of owls, peacocks, and other birds peck, strut, and nestle. With its dazzling coloration and extravagant details set against a black background for maximum impact, Testard’s foliate framework stretches its tendrils to the very edges of the folio, allowing no marginal space for the eye to rest.

Other hybrid illuminations featuring floral and faunal forms are less dizzying, intervening only lightly with their printed prototypes. Folio 16v, for example, adapts a van Meckenem ornament engraving after Martin Schongauer in a much more straightforward manner (fig. 38-

40).201 While this horizontal print is also pasted onto the folio and overpainted, Testard rotates it

199 Anne Matthews, “The Use of Prints in the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême,” Print Quarterly 3, no. 1 (March 1986): 15. 200 Ibid., 15-18. 201 Ibid., 18. 55 90 degrees to fit the narrower vertical of the folio. Otherwise, he maintains every formal detail of its original composition. The engraving’s tangling vines and fantastical flowers, significantly outsizing the dainty parrots and other birds that populate them, take on new dimensions through delicate coloration. The foliate sprig is a warm, mellow green, its flowers ranging from buttery gold to raw scarlet. Under Testard’s brush, the birds who seek nectar in these blossoms acquire a rainbow of color and extensive additional patterning, including stripes, spots, and detailed feather patters. He also adds a system of shading to the gilded ground, using mainly horizontal hatching to create a three-dimensional effect, as though viewer might reach down and pluck this strange plant. Testard does not make a real effort to disguise the second-hand nature of the composition. Though muted by a layer of gold leaf, van Meckenem’s monogram remains plainly visible along the composition’s right edge, as though daring the viewer to recognize it (fig. 38).

Folios 7v and 16v, with their contrasting styles of overpainting and their reshaping of the organic into ornament, speak to the experimentality and variety of Testard’s strategies of print incorporation. Shira Brisman holds that the foliate forms of Schongauer’s and van Meckenem’s engraved ornament proposals serve as tacit invitations to other craftsmen.202 Comparing the same van Meckenem print of folio 16v to the Schongauer engraving on which it is based, she spots an intriguing difference between the two (fig. 39-40). In Schongauer’s original, the vine’s stem continues into the lower right corner of the frame, suggesting its rootedness, while the “pollen- filled anthers” at bottom left connote generative capacity.203 In van Meckenem’s reversed version, however, the plant’s stem is clipped, a detail that Brisman suggests bears symbolic

202 Shira Brisman, “A Matter of Choice: Printed Design Proposals and the Nature of Selection, 1470-1610,” Renaissance Quarterly 71 (2018): 114-164, especially 126-135. DOI: DOI: 10.1086/696887. 203 Ibid., 131. 56 weight: “This is a sample that has been taken.”204 The media of print, with its inherent replicability, makes room for exchange between artists, who, like bees carrying pollen, are free to engage in processes of “selection, movement, [and] recombination.”205

Testard’s varied interpretations of van Meckenem’s engravings demonstrate the centrality of creative selection to his work. Moreover, while folios 7v and 16v differ significantly from one another in subject and technique, both aestheticize nature, bending botanical and aviary imagery into adornment. In this respect, they continue the pattern of tension between wildness and artifice that the vegetable knights and odd lovers establish in the Angoulême Hours’ calendrical sequence. Just as the printed proposals from which they stem pictorialize what Brisman deems the “call to cull,” Testard’s ornate and colorful plant and animal actors translate organic structures into the language of embellishment.206 Soliciting visual play with their expressive coloration and complexly coiling shapes, they embody a mode of tamed wildness that can only exist in the fantasy space of the picture frame. This juxtaposition of refinement and rusticity is even more apparent in the full-page Annunciation to the Shepherds and Office of the Dead miniatures (figs. 40 and 59). Dramatizing courtliness and wildness, these painting’s hybrid settings may have put Charles in mind of Cognac, where he built his library and legacy.

204 Ibid., 131. Whether one follows the suggestion that van Meckenem’s alteration holds symbolic dimensions, it is interesting to note that Master FVB’s copy of the same Schongauer print (Albertina, DG1928/456) keeps the stem intact. 205 Ibid., 131. 206 Ibid., 126. 57 Charles d’Angoulême’s Cognac: Rebuilding and Retreat between City and Country

Before delving into the miniatures themselves, it is important to reconsider the situation in which they would have been read. Establishing, to whatever extent possible, the contours of

Charles d’Angoulême’s short life will help clarify the nature of the imaginary worlds Testard created for his consumption. As discussed in the introduction, the site of the volume’s main production and use was the court of Cognac in the central west of France.207 Born to famously pious and intellectual couple of Jean d’Orléans, who spent three wartime decades captive in

England, and Marguerite de Rohan, 208 the count received a rigorous education under the tutelage of Parisian gentil’homme Arnault de Refuge at the local village school.209 In these early years,

Charles was free to mingle with fellow pupils from other walks of life, and he received religious education at home with his father, who attended mass twice-daily.210 After Jean’s 1467 passing, however, Marguerite signed her son’s education over to Yves du Fou, knight and royal councilor.211 Du Fou was likely a surveillance agent of Louis XI, who had resented Jean le Bon’s

207 For more on what is known of Testard’s career and activities at Cognac, see Kathrin Giogoli and John Block Friedman. “Robinet Testard, Court Illuminator: His Manuscripts and His Debt to the Graphic Arts,” Journal of the Early Book Society 8 (2005): 143-88, especially 143-144. For the court of Cognac as a center of cultural production, see Jean Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême, centres intellectuels à l'aube de la Renaissance,” in Francois Ier, du château de Cognac au trône de France: Actes du colloque du 500e anniversaire de la naissance de François Ier, Cognac, septembre et novembre 1994 (Cognac, Annales du Groupe de recherches et d’études historiques de la Charente saintongenaise, 1995), 113-142. 208 For more on the so-called Jean le Bon’s intellectual efforts, see Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” 113-126, Gustave Dupont-Ferrier, “Jean d’Orléans, comte d’Angoulême: d’après sa bibliothèque (1467),” Mélanges d’histoire du moyen âge, vol. 3, ed. Achille Luchaire (Paris: Félix Alcan, 1897), 39-92, and Gilbert Ouy, La libraire des frères captifs: les manuscrits de Charles d’Orléans et Jean d’Angoulême (Turnhout: Brepols, 2007). For Marguerite de Rohan’s cultural pursuits, see Valérie Guéant, “Marguerite de Rohan à la cour d’Angoulême: culture littéraire et arts du livre,” in Les femmes, la culture et les arts en Europe entre moyen âge et Renaissance, ed. Cynthia J. Brown and Anne-Marie Legaré, (Turnhout: Brepols, 2016), 33-54. 209 Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” 127; see also Jean du Port, La vie de Jean d’Orléans, dit le Bon, comte d’Angoulême, aïeul de François Ier (1598), ed. J.-F. Eusèbe Castagne (Angoulême: Imprimerie de J. Lefraise et compagnie, 1852), 44. 210 Du Port, La vie de Jean d’Orléans, 44-45 and 66. 211 Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” 127-128. As well as captain of Angoulême, where his brother Raoul was bishop, Yves was Louis XI’s grand-veneur, charged with supervising the royal hunt. See Véronique Peyrat Day, “Manuscript Production in Fifteenth-Century Poitiers,” PhD diss., (Northwestern University, 1993), 132-133 and 58 taste for retreat.212 When Charles grew older, he was called to the royal court himself and became the king’s lieutenant, but never his favorite;213 Louis XI forbade his hoped-for marriage with either Marie de Bourgogne or Charlotte de Brabant.214 Instead, he arranged for Charles’s engagement to Louise de Savoie –only two years old in 1478, the time of the contract.215

While the exact date of Charles’s return to Cognac is difficult to pinpoint, a document listing Testard amongst his “varlets du chambre” in 1484 suggests the count’s desire to establish his home as a cultural center by the mid-1480s.216 Concurrent with Charles’s early interest in art patronage were his political woes after the death of Louis XI in 1483.217 Since his heir, Charles

VIII, was too young to rule, the king had appointed his daughter Anne de Beaujeu as queen regent before his death. This spurred the discontent of Charles d’Angoulême’s cousin Louis, duke d’Orléans, who, as first prince of the blood, felt the regency should be his own.218 Charles

147-148. Intriguingly, as Day notes, the so-called Master of Yvon du Fou, who illustrated works for the du Fou family and a variety of other prestigious clients, and worked in Poitiers just as Robinet Testard did prior to coming to Cognac, appears to have occasionally made compositions derived from German and Flemish printed prototypes and even French printed books. See Day, “Manuscript Production,” 168-173. She directly compares Testard and the Master of Yvon du Fou, along with other Poitevin illuminators, with whom she suggests he probably collaborated, on 181-185 and 195. I will return to a discussion of Testard’s relationship with what Day dubs the “Poitiers style” in my final chapter. 212 Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” 127-128. 213 Du Port, La vie de Jean d’Orléans, 45. 214 Or, as a third possibility, both. The actuality of Charles’s failed marriage(s) is unclear. Du Port, like historians writing before him, repeats the Marie de Bourgogne story, noting that Marie’s status as inheritor of Bourgogne explains why Louis XI would forbid such an engagement. See du Port, La vie de Jean d’Orléans, 45. This seems to have been the accepted narrative until the nineteenth century, when Edmond Sénemaud pointed out the existence of an unfulfilled marriage contract between Charles and Charlotte de Brabant in the Imperial Archives. See Sénemaud, La bibliothèque de Charles d’Orléans au chateau de Cognac, en 1496 (Paris: A. Claudin, 1861), 10-11. Sénemaud notes that the reasons that this marriage did not come to pass are unclear. 215 Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” 128. 216 Why else would he employ a court illuminator? The account in question is BNF ms. fr. 7856, page 843, according to Léopold Victor Delisle, Le cabinet des manuscrits de la Bibliothèque impériale (Paris: Imprimèrie nationale, 1868), 1:184, n. 5. Léon de Laborde gives the title of this document as “L’état des officiers domestiques de l’hostel de Ms. Charles d’Orléans, comte d’Angoulesme, en 1473-1487” [“Record of domestic officers, residence of Sir Charles d’Orléans, Count of Angoulême, 1473-1487” (translation mine)]. See de Laborde, La Renaissance des arts à la cour de France, études sur le seizième siècle: Additions au tome premier; Peinture (Paris: Librairie de L. Potier, 1855), 170. 217 Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” 128. 218 Ibid., 128. 59 joined Louis’s rebellion in 1485, fortifying his territories of Cognac and Angoulême and leading troops on foot.219 Though he had the help of fellow dissenters, Charles’s submitted to Anne de

Beaujeu in early 1486.220 The failed movement against Louis XI’s successors is known today as la guerre folle.221

This defeat has contributed to Charles d’Angoulême’s somewhat lackluster historiographical standing, an attitude aptly demonstrated by Pierre Martin-Civat’s description of the count: “[he had] neither the honorable reputation of count Jean, his father, nor the royal glory of his son [François I].”222 More recently, Christine Scollen-Jimack characterizes biographers of

Louise de Savoie, whose cultural and political activities eventually far surpassed her husband’s, as “rather dismissive [of Charles], portraying him as a dilettante only interested in books and women.”223 This latter point refers to the count’s considerable extramarital activities, notably with Jeanne de Polignac, a lady in waiting of his mother’s, who would later fulfill the same role for Louise. By Jeanne and another woman, the count had three illegitimate daughters, all welcome at Cognac.224 It is true enough that, besides his love affairs, military floundering, and

219 Sénemaud, La bibliothèque, 12. 220 Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” 128; Sénemaud, La bibliothèque, 12. 221 Referred to as such, for example, by Pierre Martin-Civat, “Le château royal de Cognac: Ses origins, ses seigneurs, ses princes et ses gouverneurs,” Mémoires de l’Institut d’Histoire et d’Archéologie de Cognac et du Cognaçais, 2 (1972): 14. Explorations of how this tense political situation may have effected cultural production at Cognac can be found in in Frédéric Duval, “L’estrif de Science, Nature et Fortune de Jacques et Octovien de Saint- Gelais.” Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes,” 160, no. 1 (2002): 195-228. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/42957991. 222 Civat, “Le château royal,” 14. “[il] n’eut ni l’honorable reputation du comte Jean, son père, ni la gloire royale de son fils.” Translation mine. 223 Christine Scollen-Jimack, “Funereal Poetry in France: From Octovien de Saint-Gelais to Clément Marot,” in Vernacular Literature and Current Affairs in the Early Sixteenth Century: France, England, and Scotland, ed. Jennifer Britnell and Richard Britnell (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000): 154. 224 With Jeanne de Polignac, Charles had two illegitimate children –Jeanne and Madeleine. His third, Souveraine, was born to Jeanne le Comte. Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” 128. According to Sénemaud, Jeanne d’Angoulême became countess of Bar-sur-Seine, while Souveraine married Michel Gaillard, lord of Chilly and Lonjumeau. Madeleine, the middle daughter, had a long career as abbess, with a particular interest in reform. See Sénemaud, 13-16. 60 bibliophilia, little is known about Charles’s personal habits and ambitions. Had the count not died of pulmonary congestion at thirty-six,225 perhaps we would know more.

One of the most intriguing questions left behind by Charles’s early passing, especially as regards Testard’s book of hours, is that of his relationship to his comital seat. According to

François Marvaud, whose nineteenth-century history of Cognac remains a fundamental work on the region, the town’s condition throughout Charles’s life was one of intense redevelopment and political reversion to an outdated mode of feudalism.226 Since the early twelfth century, the area’s citizens had repeatedly sought a degree of independence from local noble and ecclesiastical authorities.227 Beginning with a 1215 charter by King John of England, the townsfolk theoretically enjoyed –with fluctuating levels of executional success –the status of a commune.228 Over the centuries, this designation grew to allow the following rights: the power to elect four mayoral candidates, from which their overlord would make the final choice; safeguards against lordly attempts to monopolize local resources and incarcerate spuriously; and the ability to establish their own taxes and fines with which to defend and repair the town.229

Though these freedoms reached their clearest form in a 1352 charter by Charles II of Navarre,230 the territory’s contestation and environmental destruction during the remainder of the Hundred

Years’ War effectively rendered them null.231

225 Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” 131. 226 Marvaud, Études historiques sur la ville de Cognac et de l’arrondissement (Niort: L. Clouzet, 1870), 195. 227 Ibid., 97. 228 Robert Favreau, “Cognac au moyen âge: Naissance et développement d’une ville,” in Cognac, Cité marchande: Urbanisme et architecture, ed. Yves-Jean Riou (Poitiers: Inventaire Général, 1990), 19. 229 Marvaud, Études historiques, 95-110 and 140-147. 230 Who Marvaud refers to as Charles of Spain. Marvaud, Études historiques, 144-149. 231 Ibid., 151, 163, 169, and 178. 61 By the time of Charles’s father’s reign, Cognac’s need for both physical and economic reconstruction was so pressing that the communal structure of prior decades was but a memory.232 Charles’s father was renowned for his charity, donating extensively to local orphans, lepers, and impoverished families, as well as the religious who cared for them.233 Nonetheless,

Jean and Marguerite oversaw an essentially feudal operation, without apparent input from the elected mayors, aldermen, and other local officers who had held at least a measure of authority in years past.234 Throughout Charles’s reign, the pressure to rebuild seems to have held continued precedence over municipal independence; while titles of “mayor” appears fleetingly in

Cognaçais documents from the late fifteenth century, it is not clear whether this individual was even nominated by the citizens themselves.235 It was not until the early sixteenth century that the inhabitants of Cognac requested a renewal of their rights, which Louise de Savoie granted in

1507, at which time repairs to the city’s infrastructure and ramparts were still ongoing.236

Charles, like his parents, busied himself with the renovation of Cognac’s market, which had lain in ruins after the war.237 Whether thanks to these efforts or merely due to the era’s relative peace, Cognac, which had long been one of the region’s principal salt ports,238 reprised its economic activity, and the halles bustled once more.239 Yet the need for reconstruction remained dire. In the early 1490s, Charles appealed to Charles VIII for an additional sum with

232 Ibid., 195-196. 233 Ibid., 190-193. 234 Ibid., 195 and 198. 235 Ibid., 209-211 and 225-228. 236 Ibid., 228-233. Louise’s ordinance echoed that of 1352 in most respects. 237 Favreau, “Cognac au moyen âge,” 24. 238 For more on Cognac’s salt market and the product’s complex taxation system, see Favreau, “Le port saunier de Cognac au moyen âge,” Comptes rendus du 99e Congrès national des sociétés savantes: Section des sciences 99, no. 5 (1976): 69-81. 239 Favreau, “Cognac au moyen âge,” 26. 62 which to repair his town’s walls, bridges, and towers.240 Other changes to Cognac, such as his establishment of a hunting park to the castle’s north, on the Charente’s left bank, worked mainly to the count’s own benefit.241 The reconstruction of the château itself began under Charles’s father Jean as part of his many modifications of Cognac’s topography, a process that also involved damming a local stream to form a fishing lake.242 As far as can be ascertained, most of

Charles’s own additions to the castle came after his marriage to Louise de Savoie243 and thus postdate the completion of BNF ms. lat. 1173.244 Nevertheless, that Charles inhabited Cognac at a particularly charged era of rebuilding and social reorganization should not be overlooked. He grew up as witness to his parents’ cultural pursuits and their immense changes to the château, its surrounding areas, and the lives of their subjects.245 Under these circumstances, Charles may have developed an awareness of not only Cognac’s library, but also its land and citizens, as his birthright.

Casting deliberate contrasts between wildness and cultivation, folios 20v and 41v in the

Hours of Charles d’Angoulême have the potential to further understanding of the count’s relationship to Cognac (fig. 41 and 60). Though only one of them can be definitively attached to print, these full-page paintings carry Testard’s oppositional pairing of nature and artifice to rich,

240 Charles VIII met this request with a 1491 ordinance, so it is unclear when it was first brought to his attention; at any rate, it would likely have been after the count’s 1486 submission! Marvaud, Études historiques, 210-211. 241 Favreau, “Cognac au moyen âge,” 26. 242 Ibid., 24; see also Marvaud, Études historiques, 182. A visitor to Cognac in 1520 wrote that ‘Étang du Solençon’ was still swarming with various fishes. See Richard Cooper, “‘Era una meraviglia vederli’: Carnival in Cognac (1520) between the Bastille and the Cloth of Gold,” Nottingham French Studies 56, no. 3 (2017): 344. DOI: 10.3366/nfs.2017/0195. 243 One detail that places Charle’s redesign during the pair’s marriage, and not before, is the presence of both the Orléans and the Savoie insignias on a pair of the château’s chimneys. See Marvaud, Études historiques, 207, and Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” 129. 244 Since no allusion to Louise occurs within the volume’s pages. François Avril, “229. Heures of Charles d’Angoulême,” in Les manuscrits à peintures en France, 1440-1520, ed. François Avril and Nicole Reynaud, 404. 245 For more detail on changes to Cognac in Jean’s epoch, see Marvaud, Études historiques, 182-188. 63 narratively provocative heights while potentially constructing an idealized version of Cognac.

Folio 20v depicts the Annunciation to the Shepherds, the standard illustration for the Terce in the

Hours of the Virgin.246 Testard sets the peaceful landscape in which the bergers celebrate in implicit conversation with the walled city directly across the river from it, punctuated by castle at left and church spires at right (fig. 45). A sprawl of roofs in navy and burnt sienna, this strip of urbanity in the midst of the countryside exerts a silent pull. Placed at the composition’s focal point, it provides an immediate, non-figural evocation of courtly, clerical, and metropolitan lifestyles beyond the foreground’s rustic festivity.

Folio 41v, introducing the Office of the Dead, pictures wildness through the conflict between a figural grouping of centaur, femme sauvage, warriors and living corpse (fig. 60). This motley cast inhabits a charged setting comparable to yet fiercer than that of folio 20v, exchanging soft hills for rocky outcroppings. The largest, at left, hosts a dense forest, from which a lion peers, as well as a warlike cadaver (fig. 62). In the foreground, atop a bed of weeds and flowers, a centaur and wild woman and do battle with shirtless, axe-wielding men (fig. 63). To their right, a cliff in the background presents the outskirts of a castle with round towers and blue roofs, topped with decorative finials (fig. 64). Standing in contrast to its untamed surroundings, this building recalls the castle of folio 20v. Beyond this, past the banks of a river and what appears to be a fluvial island, three monoliths stand out in the blue haze of a distant horizon.

Regular, slim rectangles, they suggest far-off towers –ambassadors of civilization that cannot be wholly escaped, even in the magical seclusion of the foreground’s rugged clearing (fig. 64).

246 See Roger Wieck, “Hours of the Virgin,” in Time Sanctified: The Book of Hours in Medieval Art and Life, ed. Roger S. Wieck (New York: George Braziller, Inc., in association with the Walters Art Gallery, 1988), 60-61. 64 As a bespoke manuscript, the Hours responded to the desire of its patron, or at least fulfilled his standards. As a possession to be consulted regularly, it also held the power to shape its beholders’ perspective, or at least allow him the space to meditate upon it. A closer examination of these folios, in concert with one another and with the unusual decorative and textual program of the volume as a whole, offers hints as to how this process of reflection and engagement may have played out. Testard’s careful intertwining of landscape, townscape, river, and château in folios 20 and 41v may have reminded the count of his own abode, culturally rich yet set apart in the midst of the countryside.

Although one can attempt to explore this possibility from an architectural perspective, additions to Cognac after Charles’s marriage and during the subsequent reigns of Louise de

Savoie and François I render determining its appearance circa 1485 a difficult enterprise.247

Richard Cooper, unpacking accounts of the city’s lavish 1520 Carnival celebration, uses a pair of seventeenth-century drawings to approximate the town’s layout in that year (fig. 53-54).248

Though the drawings’ château façade, side chapel,249 and open terrace were not present before

Charles’s marriage,250 features like the castle’s rectilinear frame, its round towers and gates, and the fluvial wall surrounding the entire city match up more or less with Testard’s illustration on folio 20v. If one reads folio 41v’s castle as the same space shown from the opposite angle, the parallel holds insofar as both the painting and the later drawings feature round towers with

247 Although there exists an excellent monograph on this subject, it concentrates on the period just after BNF ms. lat. 1173’s completion. See Jacques Gaillard, Bâtir à Cognac à la Renaissance: d’après les comptes de reconstruction des chantiers publics (1491-1559) (Chauvigny: Association des Publications Chauvinoises, 2016). 248 Cooper, “Carnival in Cognac,” 336-350. 249 Marvaud, Études historiques, 207-8. 250 The terrace was one of François I’s many additions to the structure. Cooper, “Carnival in Cognac,” 338. 65 conical roofs –hardly a distinguishing feature. Overall, to my mind, these similarities are far too general to be particularly instructive.

More telling than the extent of the miniatures’ literal resemblance to Cognac is the nature of the paradise they present: a space where the bucolic pleasures of the countryside encounter the amenities of court and market. Around 1492, poet Octovien Saint-Gelais wrote these verses in praise of the town he had long called home:

“Farewell, Cognac, the second paradise Château founded on the river Charente… Full of good cheer and fine food Where, erstwhile, I found myself so oft…”251

Penned as part of the Séjour d’Honneur, an ambitious allegorical work in the tradition of

Alain Chartier, these lines postdate the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême.252 Nevertheless, they speak to the festive atmosphere that would come to categorize Cognac during the count’s reign, and that of his wife, Louise de Savoie.253 Under their rule, the court became something of an intellectual playground, as it had been in Jean le Bon’s time. In possession of an expansive library, eventually modernized by Anthoine Vérard’s luxurious, hand-delivered printed books,254 along with ample gardens, fishing ponds, and hunting grounds, the château welcomed a

251 Octavien de Saint-Gelais, Le séjour d’honneur, ed. Joseph Alston James (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1977), 28. Translation mine –please forgive its roughness, as this is my first attempt to translate poetry. For dating, see Ibid., 14. 252 For more on Le Séjour d’Honneur and its position within the Grande Rhétorique tradition, see François Cornilliat, Sujet caduc, noble sujet: La poésie de la Renaissance et le choix de ses arguments,” (Geneva: Libraire Droz, 2009), 255-269, and Virginie Minet-Mahy, “Pouvoir et critique de la rhétorique d’Alain Chartier au Séjour d’Honneur,” Medium Ævum 76, no. 2 (2007): 285-304. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/43633175. 253 Marvaud, Études historiques, 206-207. Marvaud shivers at the “moeurs corrumpues” expressed by the frivolous entertainment of Charles and Louise’s court. Mesnard, for his part, blames Marguerite de Rohan for Charles’s sumptuous tastes, ascribing the count’s predilection for diverting (rather than edifying) literature and beautiful (rather than soberly pious) books on his mother’s influence. See Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” 129. 254 For more on this important publisher and his frequent trips to Cognac, see Mary Beth Winn, Anthoine Vérard: Parisian Publisher 1485-1512: Prologues, Poems, and Presentations (Geneva: Librairie Droz, 1997). I will also discuss his career briefly in my final chapter. Several of his works for Charles can be found listed in Sénemaud, “La bibliothèque.” 66 revolving cast of aristocrats, artists, musicians, writers, and other notables.255 Particularly eminent in this milieu was the Saint-Gelais family, who claimed to descend from the fabled fairy-royal Melusine.256 During their time at Cognac, three Saint-Gelais brothers –Charles,

Jacques, and the previously mentioned Octovien –acted as poets, religious advisors, and translators to Charles and Louise.257 This last function was especially valued, since the count could not read Latin.258 As relative peace continued, the town around the castle, perhaps benefiting from the rebuilding efforts of Charles and his forebearers, gradually recovered. The residential areas of Cognac, fed by the Charente and bounded by meadows and fields, came back to life.259 By 1550, the region’s population swelled to around 9,000.260 Although this process of regrowth was only nascent in the 1480s, Charles’s employment of Testard and the Saint-Gelais brothers show that the count’s investment in his capital had already begun prior to his marriage.261 That Testard’s depictions of a fluvial court surrounded by lush countryside may have put the count in mind of his home, where the naïve pleasure of retreat met with cultural

255 Ibid., 206-208; Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême,” 129. 256 H.-J. Molinier, Biographique et littéraire sur Octovien de Saint-Gelais, évêque d’Angoulême (1468-1502) (Paris: Libraire Alphonse Picard & Fils, 1910), 4. 257 More information on the Saint-Gelais brothers’ activities at Cognac can be found in Duval, “L’estrif de Science,” 195-228. 258 Duval, “L’estrif de Science,” 199. Brigitte Buettner points out, few nobles could by the late medieval period. See Buettner, “Profane Illuminations, Secular Illusions: Manuscripts in Late Medieval Courtly Society,” The Art Bulletin 74, no. 1 (Mar., 1992): 75-76. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/3045851. The relationship of Latin to the French vernacular at the height of the book of hours’s popularity is discussed at length in Virginia Reinburg, French Books of Hours: Making an Archive of Prayer, c. 1400-1600 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012), especially on pages 84-112. 259 For more on the Charente and its importance to the region’s commerce, see Alain Braastad et al., Charente: fleuve et symbole (Paris: Le Croît vif, 1992). 260 Geneviève Renaud-Romieux et al., Cognac et ses environs, Charente (Poitiers: Connaissance et promotion du patrimoine de Poitou-Charentes, 1995), 9. 261 Duval places the date of a major Saint-Gelais work, L’estrif de Science, Nature et de Fortune, around 1487-88, and a translation of Thomas Aquinas’s De regimine principum in 1487, as well –theoretically within the same time frame the Hours were completed. See Duval, “L’estrif de Science,” 197-98. 67 sophistication, is a strong possibility. Of course, such an image would evoke a certain fantasy of

Cognac, rather than documenting its reality.262

Folly, Freedom, and Morris Dance in the Annunciation to the Shepherds (f.20v)

If folios 20v and 41v in ms. lat. 1173 present an idealized Cognac, what kind of relationship do they construct between the courtly, the urban, and the rural? Folio 20v, falling within the Hours of the Virgin, whose importance Roger Wieck likens to a cathedral’s “high altar,”263 is particularly intriguing to this end. As Leslie C. Jones and Jonathan J. G. Alexander point out, the shepherds in the foreground dance so raptly that it is unclear whether they are celebrating the savior’s birth or wholly unaware of it (fig. 41).264 Only the three figures perched on the midground hill acknowledge the angel in the sky (fig. 42-43). Emerging in a fluttering of

“Gloria” banderoles, this holy messenger occupies a magisterial position at the top and center of the picture frame. The tree directly below it, arrow-like thanks to the inverted V of a couples’ clasped hands behind it, calls attention to both the beatific presence and the celebrants’ apparent obliviousness to it (fig. 44). Just beneath the umbrella of this curiously groomed tree, which

Alexander and Jones identify as a maypole,265 sits the horizontal line of the riverbank, and the walled city running along it (fig. 45).

262 On the dangers of interpreting miniatures as documentary records of past experience rather than images with an ideological heft of their own, see Michael Camille, “Labouring for the Lord: The Ploughman and the Social Order in the Luttrell Psalter,” Art History 10 (1987): 423-454. 263 Wieck, “Hours of the Virgin,” 60. 264 Jones and Alexander, “The Annunciation to the Shepherdess,” Studies in Iconography 24 (2003): 183. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/23923678. 265 Ibid., 180. It is not clear to me whether dancing around a maypole or May tree was an actual custom in France at this time, so I can neither support or contradict Jones and Alexander’s assertion, for which they supply no evidence. Seeking visual evidence of the practice, Caroline Balderston Parry reads a charming spring scene in Jean Bourdichon’s early sixteenth-century Hours of Anne of Brittany (BNF ms. lat. 9474, f.8r) as confirming its existence by the late Middle Ages; while said miniature does feature an elaborately decorated tree, since no one is dancing 68 This fluvial townscape takes compositional pride of place, nestled between angel and shepherds in the intersection between two hills. One dense with plants, the other nude save herders and sheep, these hills form diagonals that, along with the vertical line of the tree trunk and the horizontal of its canopy, converge on this constellation of buildings; an oasis of metropolitanism amidst an otherwise rural setting. At the left of the city view stands a tall, rectangular building whose high fortifications, crenellated towers, and finial-crowned roofs read as palatial. To the right of this, a long wall punctuated by rounded towers, perhaps acting as gates or defensive points, circumscribes a veritable sea of buildings. Testard illustrates the roofs of these structures with rapid strokes of dark blue and orangey red, so that the overall impression is of multitude, rather than individuality. As is the artist’s wont, he builds emphasis through contrast, pairing the dancing shepherds’ animation with the townscape’s stillness. Though the castle and town must be full of people, the illuminator offers no sign of life therein. Instead, the two realms and the possibilities they afford remain circumscribed, yet linked through lines of sight. The château and its urban surroundings are as static, orderly, and unknowable as the shepherds are antic, chaotic, and expressive.

Testard loads the shepherd dance itself with comic interactions and clever details that reward close examination, inviting his viewer to absorb themselves in the image and form their own interpretation of it. While comparable dances occur in contemporaneous miniatures of the

Annunciation to the Shepherds, few are as narratively charged. A comparison between the

around it, I am not sure if it can be distinguished from other types of Maying. Wilhelm Hansen, however, identifies it as a “Maibaum.” See Parry, “’The Maypole is up, now give me the cup…’,” Records of Early English Drama 11, no.1 (1986): 9. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/43505500, and Hansen, Kalenderminiaturen der Stundenbücher: Mittelalterliches Leben im Jahreslauf (Munich: Verlag Georg D.W. Callwey, 1984), 222. For more on this manuscript’s relationship to Bourdichon’s oeuvre, see Nicolas Herman, “Jean Bourdichon (1457-1521): Tradition, Transition, Renewal,” (PhD diss., New York University, 2014), 291-318. 69 Angoulême Annunciation and the same scene in the south Netherlandish Llangattock Hours

(Getty MS Ludwig IX 7) makes this clear (fig. 46-47).266 Iconographically and compositionally, the miniatures contain remarkable similarities. In both, a banderole-bearing angel inhabits blue sky stretching over a gently hilly landscape; a castle and assorted buildings make up the middle distance; in foreground and bounded by a ribbon of river, a group of shepherds, including a bagpiper poised on a ledge, dance while their hounds and sheep rest.

Despite these commonalities, however, the overall effects of the two miniatures are markedly disparate. There is no central tree to ground the Llangattock shepherds’ dance, which is less antic and potentially more pious than that of Testard’s figures; the upturned face of the blue cloaked man to the center of the composition could be read as a greeting to the angel.

Furthermore, the Llangattock castle is entirely separate from the other buildings grouped together in the distance. Whether or not these far-off structures amount to a city or town, they are not fused to the residence of the land’s ruler. By comparison, the Angoulême Annunciation’s urban assemblage is focal, distinct, and indelibly linked to its château. Both are vital actors upon the countryfied foreground space, the commanding towers of church and state casting the effortless roll of the hills into stark relief.

On the surface presenting a ribald, if not derogatory, scene of peasant celebration, the shepherds’ performance in Charles’s manuscript reveals a complex web of interaction on closer inspection. Their jig is a series of convergences and disjunctions, where behavioral, sartorial, and

266 According to Alexander and Jones, the Llangattock Hours is one of the earliest works to feature both shepherds and shepherdesses dancing in an Annunciation illustration. See “The Annunciation to the Shepherdess,” 178. For more on the Llangattock Hours and its relationship to the potentially Eyckian Turin-Milan Hours and others, see Rosy Schilling, “Das Llangattock-Stundenbuch; Sein Verhältnis zu van Eyck und dem Vollender des Turin- Mailänder Stundenbuches,” Wallraf-Richartz-Jahrbuch 23 (1961): 211-236, and Maurits Smeyers, “A Mid-Fifteenth Century Book of Hours from Bruges in the Walters Art Gallery (MS. 721) and Its Relation to the Turin-Milan Hours,” Journal of the Walters Art Gallery 46 (1988): 55-76. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/2016904. 70 physiognomic contrasts predominate. Guiding the eye into the circle is a shepherd’s staff, extended towards the bottom right corner of the composition and mounted suggestively by a standing dog.267 The other end of the stick belongs to a male shepherd, his back entirely to the viewer (fig. 48). With left knee and elbow bent, he is fixed forever in asymmetry. The raised, empty sleeve of the patterned garment tossed over shoulders enhances the asymmetry of his pose

(fig. 49). The woman to his left holds this sleeve aloft, although her eyes are trained on the next man in the circle, whose scarlet chinstrap matches her own liripipe (fig. 50). While these two mirror each other’s poses, their respective profiles –his wizened, hers moon-pale and unlined – recall the mismatched couple of the volume’s September miniature (fig. 29). Is their harmony all it seems to be?

The next duo to the left is more conspicuously ill-suited, although their contrast is more behavioral than physical. The pink-clad shepherdess stands still, regarding her dance partner without a hint of a smile (fig. 52). Her lack of mirth may be due to the man’s smirk and sidelong glance towards her chest. Though his focus is on the reluctant young woman to his right, the other half of this figure’s body remains engaged in dance. He hoists his left foot so high it that nearly disappears beneath his blue tunic, while his other hand grasps that of another pink-robed woman. Swaying forth with downcast eyes, her intentions are harder to parse. Is she looking towards the cheeky bagpipe player perched on a nearby rock ledge or feigning ignorance of the preening man behind her?268 With his open-necked blouse and ostentatious bare feet, this dandy

267 Jones and Alexander interpret this detail as one of the illumination’s several “erotic signifiers.” See “The Annunciation to the Shepherdess,” 180. 268 More information on the symbolic connotations of bagpipes and their associations with peasants in medieval European art and literature can be found in G. Fenwick Jones, “Wittenwiler's "Becki" and the Medieval Bagpipe,” The Journal of English and Germanic Philology 48, no. 2 (1949): 209-28. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/27713052. 71 extends his limbs in a pose of exaggerated elegance. The shepherds’ animal counterparts, such as the brown and white dogs at play in the foreground269 and the lone ram amongst the ewe,270 heighten the scene’s atmosphere of sexual play and competition (fig. 51-52).

Testard’s focus on worldly festivity in an Annunciation to the Shepherds miniature is not unprecedented. Once relegated to the bas de page region of works like the Hours of Jeanne de

Navarre, scenes of carousing, dancing, and music-making shepherds began creeping into the main frame by the mid fifteenth century, as Jones and Alexander discuss.271 Elizabeth Salter ties this elaboration of the Annunciation to the Shepherds theme to the “devotional realignment” of

Cistercian and Franciscan groups.272 The movements’ emphasis on Christ’s “sacred humanity,” and the shepherds as witnesses to it, gave artists, poets, and dramatists alike license to expand upon the details of these favored countryfolk’s lifestyle.273 In France, the spread of this fascination can be linked to the pastourelle, a poetic genre dating from the twelfth century in which a knight or cleric endeavors to woo a shepherdess.274 Over subsequent centuries, the pastourelle spawned a myriad of lyrical and theatrical genres that, Salter argues, established a set of pastoral stereotypes from which visual artists could freely pick and choose.275 Given its lack

269 Parry notes that a “pair of copulating dogs” are an almost ubiquitous addition to early Maypole imagery. It is not clear to me whether Testard’s dogs intend to mate or are just play-fighting. See Parry, “’The Maypole is Up,’” 9. 270 Another sexualizing detail that reveals the work’s voyeuristic bent, according to Jones and Alexander, “Annunciation to the Shepherdess,” 180. 271 BNF ms. nouv. acq. lat. 3145. Ibid., 175-178. 272 Elizabeth Salter, “The Annunciation to the Shepherds in Later Medieval Art and Drama,” in English and International: Studies in the Literature, Art and Patronage of Medieval England, ed. Derek Pearsall and Nicolette Zeeman (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 272-292. Quoted text on page 274. 273 Ibid., 281. 274 For an exploration of the pastourelle as a genre and scholarly attempts towards its definition, see Michel Zink, La pastourelle: Poèsie et folklore au moyen âge (Paris, Montreal: Bordas, 1972), especially 17-42. 275 Salter, “The Annunciation,” 285-286. For more on the pastourelle’s metamorphosis and variability, see Geri L. Smith, The Medieval French Pastourelle Tradition: Poetic Motivations and Generic Transformations (Gainesville: University of Florida Press, 2009). 72 of courtly participants, Testard’s scene is best compared to the bergerie, an offshoot of the pastourelle concerned with love affairs between shepherds and shepherdesses themselves.276

Significantly, pastoral art, literature, and drama were particularly sought after by members of the French royal family.277 In the late fourteenth century, for example, Margaret of Flanders renovated the estate of Germolles at great expense,278 filling its every surface with motifs of daisies and sheep.279 In the reception hall, a sculptural group by Claus Sluter portrayed the duchess and duke as shepherdess and shepherd, encircled by their flock beneath a golden elm.280

While this decorative program was context-specific, possibly referencing Margaret’s own interest in agriculture,281 or the emblem of her father,282 it also speaks to a broader idealization of country living amongst the aristocracy of the era. By Charles’s 1496 death at the latest, shepherding fantasies reached Cognac in the form of a seven-piece set of bergerie tapestries, listed in a posthumous inventory of the count’s possessions.283 Given the expense of tapestries in

276 Melissa Kerley, “Permutations on the Paradigm of the Pastourelle,” PhD diss., (New Orleans: Tulane University, 1998), 79. 277 Ibid., 283-285. 278 Of both time and money –more than ten years and 23,500 francs went towards this remodeling. See Christina Normore, A Feast for the Eyes: Art, Performance, and the Late Medieval Banquet (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 2015), 70. 279 Where the walls were not covered by the site’s thirty-odd sheep-themed tapestries, they were painted or tiled with pastoral themes. Patrick M. de Winter, “Castle and Town Residences of Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy,” Artibus et Historiae 4, no. 8 (1983): 108. 280 This group is sadly lost, hence the lack of visual reference. Ibid., 108. 281 Ibid., 108. 282 Normore, A Feast for the Eyes, 71. 283 Sénemaud, La bibliothèque, 80. For more on the aristocratic craze for pastoral tapestries, which would continue into subsequent centuries, see Edith A. Standen, “The Shepherd’s Sweet Lot,” The Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin 19, no. 9 (May 1959): 226-234. Richard Cooper mentions Charles’s in “Carnival in Cognac,” 336-337. Although not necessarily relevant here, it is interesting to note that upon Louise de Savoie’s death in 1531, Clément Marot composed for her the first formal eclogue in French. See Helen Cooper, Pastoral: Medieval into Renaissance (Ipswich: Brewer; Totowa: Rowman & Littlefield, 1977), 110-11, and Scollen-Jimack, “Funereal Poetry in France,” 162-170. 73 the fifteenth century, this entry suggests both the prominence of the pastoral as theme and the strength of Charles’s personal desire to bring it close to him at Cognac.284

As well as abounding in late medieval art and literature, pastoral imagery colored the era’s elite celebrations, both amongst the kings of France and the closely related dukes of Burgundy.

For example, an entremet at the 1468 wedding of Charles the Bold and Margaret of York starred court dwarf Madame de Beaugrand in full shepherdess regalia, singing the new bride’s praises as she rode in atop a lion.285 In such performances, the political mobilization of bucolic motifs hinges upon the caretaking duties of lords and ladies to their subjects: rulers as merry herders to sheepish citizens. Dedicated to Charles V, Jehan de Brie’s Le Bon Berger vaunts the honorability of the sheep-rearing profession, providing both lengthy descriptions of and philosophical glosses on shepherding chores and apparel.286 As Helen Cooper notes, the obligations between shepherd and flock comprised an ideal metaphor through which to explore the notion of “social responsibility,” and thereby to develop social commentary, be it satirical or propagandistic.287

Hence, by the late fifteenth century, the dance element in the Annunciation to the Shepherds was no longer relegated to the margins, emerging as desirable main subject and making way for the prints of peasant festivity that would grow popular in subsequent years.288

284 For a concise overview of tapestry production in France and the Southern Netherlands in the last three quarters of the fifteenth century, see Tina Kane, The Troyes Mémoire: The Making of a Medieval Tapestry (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2010), 50-52. 285 Ibid., 176-176. 286 Salter, “The Annunciation,” 283; H. Cooper, Pastoral: Medieval into Renaissance, 50. 287 Cooper, Pastoral, 47. 288 And whose implications –derogatory, liberating, or neither? –remain contested. Walter S. Gibson, “Festive Peasants before Bruegel: Three Case Studies and their Implications,” Simiolus: Netherlands Quarterly for the History of Art 31, no. 4 (2004-2005): 292-309, JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/4150595. On 296, Gibson even mentions the Angoulême shepherd dance as a potentially positive precursor to Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s. For a contrasting perspective, see Hans-Joachim Raupp, Bauernsatiren: Entstehung und Entwicklung des bäuerlichen Genres in der deutschen und niederländischen Kunst ca. 1470-1570 (Niederzier: Luca-Verlag, 1986). See also Alison G. Stewart, Before Bruegel: Sebald Beham and the Origins of Peasant Festival Imagery (Aldershot, Burlington: Ashgate, 2008). 74 No matter the format, elite appropriations of the pastoral had to do with the fantasy of peasant experience, rather than its reality. For Charles and his ilk, shepherd representations served as metaphors to exploit and aesthetics to ironically try on. A discussion of the medieval pastoral slides easily into territory of inter-class cruelty. Madame de Beaugrand’s display as pastoralized object, served up for the delectation of merry diners, arguably speaks to this. Jones and Alexander note hierarchical violence in the pastourelle, whose “fantasies of abduction,” in which the knight or cleric protagonist “reassert[s] his power and class superiority” on the peasant body, fit modern understandings of rape.289 Marginal in the literal sense that their revels figured in illuminated marginalia as well as symbolically marginal, in that they were held to represent the antithesis of courtliness, fictive shepherds functioned as pawns for the aristocracy.290

While the attitudes towards shepherds latent in late medieval pastoral media are frequently legible as either derisive and chastising or laudatory and idealistic, they just as often trend contradictory. This ambivalence is central to John Block Friedman’s analysis of food preoccupation in the bergerie.291 According to Friedman, poetic and artistic fixation on shepherds’ allegedly boundless appetite for food, drink, and dance reveals a tension between

“romantic primitivism” that idealizes peasants’ alleged simplicity, and scorn for their perceived lack of self-control.292 Given the degree to which French courtly society prized the ability to

289 Jones and Alexander, “Annunciation to the Shepherdess,” 186-7. Further discussions of sexual violence in the pastourelle and related genres can be found in Jennifer Saltzstein, “Rape and Repentance in Two Medieval Motets,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 7, no. 3 (Fall 2017): 583-616; Carissa M. Harris, “Rape Narratives, Courtly Critique, and the Pedagogy of Sexual Negotiation in the Middle English Pastourelle,” Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 46, no. 2 (2016): 263-87; and William D. Paden, “Rape in the Pastourelle,” Romantic Review 80, no. 3 (1989): 331-349. 290 For more on marginal shepherd depictions, see Jones and Alexander, “Annunciation to the Shepherdess,” 166- 168, 175-178 and Raupp, Bauernsatiren, 167-176. 291 John Block Friedman, Bruegel’s Heavy Dancers: Transgressive Clothing, Class, and Culture in the Late Middle Ages (Syracuse: Syracuse University, 2010), 46-54. 292 Ibid., 51-54. Quoted text on page 51. 75 regulate and restrain one’s impulses,293 this mixed response to the abandon with which peasants were thought to conduct themselves is perhaps understandable. Dancing, the Angoulême shepherds’ main activity, was comparably fraught. Along with jousting, singing, and eloquent speech, dancing was a fundamental social grace for nobles like Charles.294 Depictions of upper- class dance, however, tend to be relatively static, like the stately carole in an illustration of

Machaut’s Le remède de Fortune ((BNF ms. fr. 1586), fig. 55).295 Exceptions to this rule occur when nobles try on wild guises, like the hommes sauvage at the ill-fated Bal des Ardents discussed in chapter 1.296

The circular form and remarkably animated quality of Testard’s shepherd dance is the opposite of stoic, indicating the shepherd group’s inversion of courtly norms. It is frenzied in comparison to that of the Llangattock shepherds, whose restraint is such that, were it not for the bagpiper’s presence, their movements would not be intuitively legible as a dance. By contrast, the motions of the Angoulême jig are propulsive and unbalanced. According to Alexander, the exaggerated poses of shepherds in comparable scenes would have been understandable to cultured viewers as the antithesis of good form.297 For Charles, they may have also recalled the jubilant musical finales with which fifteenth-century Nativity plays usually concluded.298 In

293 See, for example, Tracy Adams, Violent Passions: Managing Love in the Old French Verse Romance (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005). 294 Brian Joseph Levy, The Comic Text: Patterns and Images in the Old French Fabliaux (Amsterdam, Atlanta: Rodophi, 2000), 108. Levy quotes from fifteenth-century chevalier Geoffri de Charny. 295 Jonathan Alexander, “Dancing in the Streets,” The Journal of the Walters Art Gallery: Essays in Honor of Lilian M. C. Randall 54, (1996): 151–53. 296 For representations of this event, see Lorraine Kochanske Stock, “Froissart’s ‘Chroniques’ and its Illustrators: Historicity and Ficticity in the Verbal and Visual Imaging of Charles VI’s Bal des Ardents,” Studies in Iconography 21 (2000): 123-180. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/23924217. 297 Alexander, “Dancing in the Streets,” 153. 298 Vincent Chacón Carmona, “Singing Shepherds and Discordant Devils: Music and Song in Medieval Pastoral Plays,” Medieval English Theatre 32 (2010): 64–66. For more on shepherds’ role in the era’s Nativity plays, see Alma de L. Le Duc, “The Pastoral Theme in French Literature during the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Century,” The Modern Language Review 14, no. 4 (October 1919): 398–412. 76 bergeries, too, dance figures often an arena for male competition. As Melissa Kerley observes, bergeries’ “[d]ance contests…are at times blatant metaphors for demonstrations of virility.”299

To my mind, the ring shape of Testard’s dancers and their revolution around a central point recall a specific dance form: the so-called Morris.300 Representations of this dance feature outlandishly-dressed men whirling in leaps and bounds around a focal woman, sometimes identified as Frau Venus or Frau Minne.301 Like faux shepherds, the Morris was a fixture of courtly festivity,302 performed at both the wedding of Charles the Bold and Margaret of York and the Bal des Ardents. While artistic portrayals of the Morris exist across a variety of media, from

Erasmus Grasser’s statues for the Rathaus in Munich to ivory Minnekästchen,303 Testard’s proclivity for print invites a comparison of folio 20v to engraved sources. Not incidentally, one of the most striking Morris prints available before or around 1480 belongs to Israhel van

Meckenem, the printmaker on whom Testard often relied.304

299 Kerley, “Permutations,” 21. 300 For more on this dance’s characteristics and contested origins, see Ingrid Brainard, “An Exotic Court Dance and Dance Spectacle of the Renaissance: ‘La moresca’,” in The Report of the Twelfth Congress of the International Musicological Society, Berkeley 1977, ed. Daniel Heartz and Bonnie Wade (Basel, Kassel, London: Bärenreiter/The American Musicological Society, 1981), 715-29; Philip Maria Halm, Erasmus Grasser (Augsburg: Filser, 1928), 131-47; John Forrest, The History of Morris Dancing, 1458-1750 (Toronto, Buffalo: University of Toronto Press, 1999); and P. P. Domokos, “Der Moriskentanz in Europa und in der ungarischen Tradition,” Studia Musicologica Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae 10, no. 3/4 (1968): 229-311. 301 See Heinrich Kohlhaussen, “Die Minne in der deutschen Kunst des Mittelaltars,” Zeitschrift des deutschen Vereins für Kunstwissenschaft 9 (1942): 145-172, and Dietrich Huschenbett, “Die Frau mit dem Apfel und Frau Venus in Moriskentanz und Fastnachtspiel,” in Volkskultur und Geschichte: Festgabe für Joseph Dünninger zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. Dieter Harmening (Berlin: E. Schmidt, 1970), 585-603. 302 Although as Paula Nuttall notes, it was also common in non-elite celebrations, especially seasonal festivals and guild processions. See Nuttall, “Dancing, Love, and the ‘Beautiful Game’: A New Interpretation of a Group of Fifteenth-Century ‘Gaming’ Boxes,” Renaissance Studies 24, no. 1 (Feb., 2011): 124-125. 303 See Halm, Erasmus Grasser, and Nuttall, “Dancing, Love, and the ‘Beautiful Game.’” 304 Of course, it is impossible to know whether Testard’s frequent borrowings from van Meckenem indicate a personal preference, or simply reflect the kind of printed materials available to him. I will address this issue further in chapter 3. 77 Since broadly appealing themes of frolic and flirtation were van Meckenem’s stock-in- trade,305 his Morris tondo of about 1475 is a natural addition to his oeuvre and grounds for a study in physiognomic play (fig. 56). With knobby knees bent or hyperextended at improbable angles, van Meckenem’s fops, farmers, and fools prance manically around the aloof maiden at the composition’s center. She pinches a ring between her fingers: the prize to be won.306 A jumble of oversized hands, strained drapery, and pointed shoes, the dancers’ amorous athleticism contorts their bodies into grotesque novelties. Though less exaggerated, an anonymous

Florentine engraving features a comparably showy demonstration, with scantily clad male figures attempting daring acrobatics for their lady’s pleasure (fig. 57).307 Since, according to

Giogoli and Friedman, Testard’s oeuvre shows awareness of Northern and Southern European prints, he may have been familiar with both Morris dance engravings, or neither.308

Though Testard’s dancers are mixed gender and orbit a tree rather than a woman, their circular arrangement, turned-out limbs, and animated drapery resemble van Meckenem’s Morris, and participate in the same symbolic lexicon of foolish contest. On the other hand, neither the shepherds’ motions, nor their bodies, are as cartoonish as those of the printed dancers. While some are more graceful than others, Testard’s rosy-cheeked revelers are also a far cry from the

305 David Landau and Peter Parshall, The Renaissance Print, 1470-1550 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994), 51. For an interesting discussion of van Meckenem and dance, see Jeroen Stumpel, “Dance and Distinction: Spotting a Motif in Weiditz, Dürer and van Meckenem,” Simiolus: Netherlands Quarterly for the History of Art 32, no. 1 (2006): 4-16. 306 In some theatrical and visual portrayals, the woman in the center holds an apple. See Huschenbett, “Die Frau mit dem Apfel.” In the window behind van Meckenem’s lady, a coterie of caricatured figures gawp at the scene, some attempting to climb in through the windows. Evidence of the aristocratic voyeurism Alexander and Jones wish to see in portrayals of peasant dance, or something else? 307 The figures are naked save bells and plumed headgear. For more on bells in the moresca tradition, see Domokos, “Der Moriskentanz.” It is also worth noting that the print may have inspired Dürer’s charming “monkey mass” drawing. See Colin Eisler, “Masses of Monkeys,” Source: Notes in the History of Art 3, no. 1 (Fall 1983): 4–9. For the engraving’s possible connection to Botticelli, see Michael W. Kwakkelstein, “Botticelli, Leonardo, and a Morris Dance,” Print Quarterly 15, no. 1 (March 1998): 3–14. 308 Giogoli and Friedman, “Robinet Testard, Court Illuminator,” 160. 78 aberrant mountain women of Castilian pastourelles309 or the vomiting drunkards of later peasant prints.310 The artist’s attitude towards his shepherds reads more as gently lampooning than scornful; a knowing viewer may chuckle at their antics without necessarily castigating them outright. In a noble context where self-restraint was the ultimate ideal, the figures’ un-self- consciousness and harmony with the natural world may have even provided a vicarious thrill.

The sprigs of greenery adorning several of the bergers’ headdresses, sticking upright or twined as garlands, epitomize this connection to nature (fig. 50, 58-59).311 These simple ornaments are rustic analogues to the tasteful, jewel-like greenery worn by nobles in Maying scenes like the one in Très Riches Heures (fig. 16). According to Susan Crane, aristocratic garlanding rituals served not as an “escape from courtliness,” but rather a reification of it, suggesting “a sufficiency so great that it need make no distinctions of value.”312 Though

Testard’s image was also crafted for a noble patron, it does not manifest this principle.

Enlivening rather than beautifying, the Angoulême shepherds’ garlands imply unity with the natural world rather than mastery over it. Such a state of nature comes to fruition only through imagination, a process which Testard’s foregrounding and narrative embellishment of the formerly marginal shepherd dance makes accessible. That he should position it in a setting so like Cognac might further immerse his viewer, who could fantasize about stumbling across such a gathering on the outskirts of his own court.

309 See Friedman, Bruegel’s Heavy Dancers, 77-132. 310 For more on representations of debauching peasants in sixteenth-century print culture, see Raupp, Bauernsatiren, and Stewart, Before Bruegel. 311 They can also be compared instructively to elite garlanding practices, as discussed in relation to BNF ms. lat. 1173’s springtime scenes. For more on Maying rituals, see Susan Crane, “Maytime in Late Medieval Courts,” in The Performance of Self: Ritual, Clothing, and Identity During the Hundred Years’ War (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2002), 39-72, and Karen Jean Bezella-Bond, “Florescence and Defloration: Maytime in Chaucer and Malory,” PhD diss., (Columbia University, 2003). 312 Crane, “Maytime in Late Medieval Courts,” 56-57. 79 Office of the Dead (f. 41v): Doomed Wild Lovers in the Shadow of the Castle

Ms. lat. 1173’s Office of the Dead miniature, with its suffering and death, seems far removed from the emphatic vitality of folio 20v on initial viewing. They are connected, however, in their juxtaposition of untrammeled nature with manmade architecture. Traceable to a

Netherlandish print –the Battle of Two Men with a Centaur by Master I.A.M of Zwolle –folio

41v puts its figural grouping in service of a novel composition (fig. 60-61).313 Not only do the respective dimensions of miniature and print make it virtually impossible for Testard to have traced his source, he radically transforms its iconography.314 Master IAM’s engraving features the same shirtless warriors and centaurs, but offers no setting save a line of dark, curved ground, and no hint of the wild woman and corpse who join these figures in the illumination. These figural additions, woven into another symbolically Cognac-reminiscent setting, employ motifs of love and battle, as well as rusticity and refinement, to tragic, rather than ludic, effect.

To contextualize his fantastical figures, Testard crafts a varied and visually dense environment, full of ambiguous signifiers. On the cliff where Death stands, a proportionally massive lion peers out from the thicket of trees behind him (fig. 62). Despite his stature, this beast is not explicitly ferocious, remaining separate from the conflict and gazing to his right as though lost in thought. The miniature’s other representatives of the natural world are comparably multivalent. The opaque walls of foliage enclosing the central combat stage have discernible leaf-patterns, lending them a measure of order so that they do not read as pernicious weeds. The grassy knoll upon which the wild couple and their assailants do battle is blanketed by flowers, some drooping like bluebells, others striped and upright (fig. 63).

313 Matthews, “The Use of Prints,” 10. 314 Ibid. 80 To the right of the composition, a system of rock formations roughly mimics the palatial architecture directly overhead, calling attention to the château’s surveillant position over the wilderness below. A pair of tall, slim, boulders correspond to the twin columns marking the castle gate’s entrance (fig. 64). Reading folio 41v as a moral allegory with personal implications for Charles, Ahuva Belkin puts forth the château’s potential resemblance to Amboise.315

Although Amboise, a royal residence since its 1431 seizure by Charles VII, may have been familiar to Charles from his years at the court of Louis XI,316 it strikes me as more likely that he would have chosen to memorialize his own castle, given his fraught relationship to the king. As mentioned, however, the features of folio 41v’s painted château, like those of the city on folio

20v, are not necessarily specific enough to constitute clear portrayals of Cognac in the 1480s.

Instead, I contend that the relationship of both miniatures’ settings to the real space of Cognac is symbolically, rather than literally, intended.

While Testard’s combination of wild woman, centaur, warriors, and death in the shadow of the château is unprecedented, some of its singularity can be accounted for by the Office of the

Dead’s status as the most iconographically fluid section of the books of hours in general.317 This

315 Belkin, “La Mort du Centaure. A propos de la miniature 41v du Livre d’Heures de Charles d’Angoulême.” Arbitus et Historiae 11, no. 21 (1990): 37. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/1483382. Translation mine. Belkin identifies Amboise as “having been the residence of the duke of Orléans” [“…était la residence du duc d’Orléans”] (translation mine). In the 1480s, the duke was none other than Louis d’Orléans, Charles’s cousin whom he joined in the guerre folle. As a kingly residence, Amboise would not become ‘his’ until after he succeeded Charles VII in 1498. It had been seized in 1431 from Louis d’Amboise, Viscount of Thouars rather than Orléans. See Jean-Pierre Babelon, Le château d’Amboise (Arles: Actes Sud, 2004), 34. Perhaps Belkin is referring to Ingelgarius, a late ninth- century viscount of Orléans whose union with Adelais granted him matrimonial ties to Amboise. See Bernard S. Bachrach, Fulk Nerra, the Neo-Roman Consul 987-1040: A Political Biography of the Angoulême Count (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 1993): 4-5. 316 Although Lucie Gaugain notes that after his son’s birth in 1470, Louis XI favored the châteaux in nearby Tours and Plessis-lès-Tours. See Gaugain, Amboise: Un château dans la ville, (Tours: Presses universitaires François- Rabelais, 2014), “Chapitre 4: Le château de Louis XI,” paragraph 3. DOI: 10.4000/books.pufr.8117. 317 See Wieck, “Office of the Dead,” in Time Sanctified, 124-147, and Caroline Zöhl, “A Phenomenon of Parallel Reading in the Office of the Dead,” in Mixed Metaphors: The Danse Macabre in Medieval and Early Modern 81 is not to say that no patterns exist; as Gabriele Bartz and Eberhard König relate, most early fifteenth-century French books of hours feature miniatures depicting funerary rites or cemetery burials to introduce the Office of the Dead.318 Although rare earlier in the fifteenth century, images of Job were increasingly common by 1500.319 Portrayals of other biblical figures, like

Lazarus, and the memento mori topos of the Three Living and the Three Dead, never took serious root in France.320 The Last Judgment appears seldomly in French books of hours, while lively corpses like that of folio 41v only occur with any regularity towards the end of the 1400s.321

Overall, French Office of the Dead illustrations are quite diverse.

To an extent, therefore, the originality of the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême’s folio 41v relates to the Office of the Dead’s iconographic flexibility. Yet its distinctiveness also has to do with the iconographic mystery at its heart. Long acknowledged as bizarre, the scene’s battling centaur and humans have been interpreted as representing the Battle of Centaurs and Lapiths.322

This theory does not explain Testard’s placement of a dainty wild woman, who has no place in a

Centauromachy, nor an illustration of gentle Chiron’s final moments, atop the centaur’s lap.323

Belkin favors a moral explanation for the image, reading it as an allegory of the conflict between virtue and vice that might also poke fun at Louis XI and Anne de Beaujeu.324 While it is not impossible that Charles would enjoy a veiled reference to his enemies’ downfall, a sober section

Europe, ed. Sophie Oosterwijk and Stefanie Knöll (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2011), 325-326. 318 Bartz and König, “Die Illustration des Totenoffiziums in Stundenbüchern,” in Im Angesicht des Todes: Ein interdisziplinäres Kompendium, ed. Hansjacob Becker et al. (St. Ottilien: EOS-Verlag, 1987), 523. 319 Ibid., 524. 320 Ibid., 524. 321 Ibid., 524-525. 322 Belkin, “La Mort du Centaure,” 31-33. 323 Ibid., 33. 324 Ibid., 37. 82 like the Office of the Dead seems an odd venue for such bitter satire. Furthermore, there exists little reason to assume the monstrous couple’s entirely negative figuration. Outnumbered and bloody, the centaur and wild woman can easily be construed as sympathetic.

Just as the wild man wore many guises throughout the Middle Ages, his female counterpart was a multivalent figure by the late fifteenth century.325 If shepherds were often the focus of culturally primitivistic fantasy, this is perhaps doubly true for the femme sauvage. In engravings like Master bxg’s Wild Family, she is uncorrupted by worldly vice, embodying what Michelle

Moseley-Christian dubs a “model of ideal domesticity,” (fig. 65).326 Ankles crossed and garland protecting her modesty, Testard’s wild woman is as demure as her printed sisters. With golden locks and a delicate frame, she is also their equal in beauty. Though the same cannot be said of her centaur partner, his dripping wounds and helplessness in the face of Death seem designed to engender pathos, a mood which the couple’s isolation enhances. They are too ensconced in nature to be seen or heard by the château’s courtiers. Arms entwined at the elbow in a protective, affectionate pose, the wild companions work futilely to ward off fate atop a flower-strewn plane that evokes a spontaneously occurring version of the April folio’s love bower (fig. 1-2). Their haunted love is as immediate and ephemeral as the art of fin’amors is prolonged and indirect. In this sense, it is truly pastoral.327

The garland of the femme sauvage and the centaur’s wounds link the wild couple further to the visual language of love allegories, and to the shepherds of folio 20v. Encircling her hips, the

325 Michelle Moseley-Christian, “From Page to Print: The Transformation of the ‘Wild Woman’ in Early Modern Northern Engravings,” Word & Image 24, no. 4 (2011): 429-442. DOI: /10.1080/02666286.2011.611381 326 Ibid., 432-435. Quoted text on page 432. For more on wild folk and cultural primitivism, see Stock, “Civilization and Its Discontents: Cultural Primitivism and Merlin as a Wild Man in the ‘Roman de Silence,’” Arthuriana 12, no. 1 (Spring 2002): 22-36. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/27870411. 327 For pastoral romance as the inverse of courtly love, see Cooper, Pastoral, 63-66, especially page 64, and Zink, La Pastourelle, 116. 83 wild woman’s leafy belt draws the eye to the throwing spears piercing the flesh just above and below it. Studded with red blossoms, it also recalls the floral chapelets worn frequently by courtly heroines in images like figure 3 and literary works like the Roman de la Rose (fig. 66).328

Though himself unadorned, the centaur sports his own wounds, more severe than those of his printed prototype (fig. 61 and 67). Most poignantly, Testard includes an additional spear poked through both of his hind legs, creating multiple puncture points from which blood gushes with special vehemence. These flowers of blood render the centaur’s body almost Christ-like, paradoxically charged with vital force and on the brink of lifelessness.329

Viewed through this lens, folio 41v is legible as the symbolic foil to the scene of the

Annunciation to the Shepherds that precedes it. While the shepherds rejoice and the wild couple despairs, they embody complementary aspects of bucolic un-courtliness, and thus occupy a space of symbolic ambiguity and marginality. Both, too, are figures that can never be glimpsed in real life; Testard’s shepherds have as much to do with real peasants as his wild folk do with actual fauna. For all their strangeness, his pastoral creations are nevertheless inescapably human, prone to urges and foibles that even nobles like Charles could not entirely avoid, and subject to the same mortality. Wedding print-derived figures of fantasy to a setting reminiscent of Cognac itself, Testard builds a dream version of his patron’s court, where those who work the land want nothing more than to frolic in peace, and where magical beings live their own epics just across the Charente.

328 E. Jane Burns, Courtly Love Undressed: Reading through Clothes in Medieval French Culture (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2002), 156-164. 329 For a discussion of blood as lifeforce in the art of the later Middle Ages, see Beate Fricke, “A Liquid History: Blood and Animation in Late Medieval Art,” RES: Anthropology and Aesthetics, no. 63/64 (Spring/Autumn 2013): 53-69. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/23647754. 84 Chapter 3 – Print Meets Paint in Late Medieval France: Case Studies from, and Parallels

to, Testard’s Oeuvre

Early Print Collection, van Meckenem, and ms. lat. 1173 in Context

With its varied strategies of print incorporation and skillful pairing of contrasting motifs, the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême raises a number of intriguing avenues for further exploration.

First of all, as a unique and personal devotional object for Charles d’Angoulême, it may imply the patron’s own interest in print; this is the argument that Thomas Tolley makes, writing that

Charles “probably owned the prints in question and encouraged Testard to do something new with them.”330 Tolley’s supporting claim that the remainder of Testard’s oeuvre is devoid of print runs contrary to current evidence, as this chapter will discuss. His notion that Charles curated an independent print collection, however, cannot be easily confirmed or denied. As Mark P.

McDonald notes in his exploration of Ferdinand Columbus’s print acquisition habits, only scant evidence remains for late fifteenth- and early sixteenth-century print collecting patterns.331 David

Landau and Peter Parshall write that while the practice must have been widespread, print’s place amongst other art media was yet uncertain in this era. This may be one reason that “whatever interests [prints]…found among collectors and patrons has gone almost entirely unrecorded.”332

Known print collectors from this period, such as Nuremberg Chronicle author Hartmann Schedel

330 Tolley, “Monarchy and Prestige in France,” in Viewing Renaissance Art, ed. Carol M. Richardson, Kim Woods, and Angeliki Lymberopoulou (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2007), 144. 331 McDonald, The Print Collection of Ferdinand Columbus (1488-1539): A Renaissance Collector in Seville (London: British Museum Press, 2004), 145. 332 Landau and Parshall, The Renaissance Print, 1470-1550 (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1994), 65. 85 and Parma notary Jacopo Rubieri, tended to use prints as illustrations, pasting them into texts that were sometimes only vaguely relevant.333

Was Charles d’Angoulême, like Schedel and Rubierei, an early print collector? His patronage of Parisian printer Anthoine Vérard demonstrates his openness to print as a technology. Yet Vérard dealt in printed books, rather than individual engravings or woodcuts.334

From circa 1491 until the early sixteenth century, Pierre Alain and André Cauvin ran a print shop in Angoulême, but the few traces that remain of their work from the count’s lifetime consist mainly of typographical book fragments.335 Thus, they are unlikely to bear any connection to ms. lat. 1173 or Charles’s possible taste for print. Even if one follows Tolley in assuming that the count desired prints of his own, it is unclear how a French noble would procure the up-to-date and extensive range of German and Netherlandish engravings present in the Angoulême Hours.

According to Landau and Parshall, the majority of prints circa 1500 were likely bought and sold locally,336 while Anne Matthews notes a dearth of documentary evidence as to how Northern

European engravings reached France in the 1480s.337

For these reasons, the extent of Charles d’Angoulême’s involvement in print collection remains uncertain. It is not impossible that Testard’s use of print was a factor that endeared him to his patron. On the other hand, it may have been that the count enjoyed the playful and inventive compositions that the illuminator, through his use of print, was able to create, without

333 Ibid., 64-5, and McDonald, Ferdinand Columbus,145. 334 For more on Vérard and Charles d’Angoulême, see Mary Beth Winn, Anthoine Vérard: Parisian Publisher 1485- 1512: Prologues, Poems, and Presentations (Geneva: Librairie Droz, 1997) 335 Paul de Fleury, Recherches sur les origines et le développement de l’imprimerie à Angoulême (Angoulême: Imprimerie G. Chasseignac, 1901), 2-19. 336 Landau and Parshall, The Renaissance Print, 64-5. 337 Anne Matthews, “The Use of Prints in the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême,” Print Quarterly 3, no. 1 (March 1986): 6, n4. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/41823707. 86 an awareness of their engraved origins. To my mind, it is far more likely that Testard, as part of a network of artists where prints could be circulated as model-sheets and thus had a pragmatic purpose,338 would have had reason to accumulate a print collection. Regardless of Charles’s influence on the print additions to ms. lat. 1173, moreover, Testard’s experimentation with print in later manuscripts shows that the illuminator made use of the medium long after his patron’s demise.

Testard’s evident reliance on the engravings of Israhel van Meckenem, whom he cites more than any other printmaker in the Angoulême Hours, constitutes a further aspect of the book’s print incorporation relevant to this study. Can this be taken as evidence that the miniaturist had some special liking for van Meckenem, or was it simply a matter of availability? The

Westphalian printmaker was dismissed by earlier generations of historians as derivative –a hard claim to argue with, given that around 90 percent of his compositions are reworkings or copies of other artists’ work.339 From a modern scholarly perspective, however, van Meckenem’s inventiveness, market knowledge, and shrewd approach to self-promotion render him a key figure in the development of European print.

338 Jonathan Alexander, “Facsimiles, Copies, and Variations: The Relationship to the Model in Renaissance European Illuminated Manuscripts,” Studies in the History of Art: Symposium Papers VII: Retaining the Original: Multiples, Originals, Copies, and Reproductions 20 (1989), 68-69. https://www.jstor.org/stable/42620156. For more on the transmission of models in Testard’s era, see Christine Seidel, “Tradition and Innovation in the Work of Jean Colombe: the Usage of Models in Late 15th Century French Manuscript Illumination,” in The Use of Models in Medieval Book Painting, ed. Monika E. Müller (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2014), 137- 166. More on the relationship between early prints and manuscript models can be found in Anne H. van Buren and Sheila Edmunds, “Playing Cards and Manuscripts: Some Widely Disseminated Fifteenth-Century Model Sheets,” Art Bulletin 56, no. 1 (March 1974): 12–30. 339 Landau and Parshall, The Renaissance Print, 56-57. 87 Active between c. 1465 and 1503,340 van Meckenem was wildly productive, leaving behind more surviving impressions than any other fifteenth century engraver.341 His works moved quickly, known from “the Baltic to Spain” by the end of the fifteenth century.342 Key to this success was van Meckenem’s strategic formatting. He published series of prints two to a sheet, so that they could be easily folded, bound, and sold in booklets; the large Passion cycle used in the latter half of the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême was one such set.343 Van Meckenem may have designed certain engravings with manuscript artists specifically in mind. According to

Kathryn M. Rudy, his historiated letter roundels, easily exported as decorative initials, constitute one such type.344 While some of van Meckenem’s prints held pragmatic appeal, others appear to have been prized for their aesthetic qualities. For example, a book of hours roughly contemporaneous with ms. lat. 1173 features van Meckenem’s large Passion as its sole decorative program (British Museum Sloane ms. 3891). The artist of this manuscript

“conceptualized the whole book as an album to showcase” van Meckenem’s series, leaving its twelve scenes uncolored and surrounding them with faux-marble borders.345

Given van Meckenem’s immense popularity, widespread accessibility, and high valuation amongst artisans of all skill levels, it is perhaps beside the point to question whether Testard’s frequent citation of him stemmed from personal preference or practical factors. It is worth noting, however, that he was far from the only printmaker Testard used in the Angoulême Hours, or beyond. In this chapter, I hope to put Testard’s print borrowings in ms. lat. 1173 in context

340 Kathryn M. Rudy, Image, Knife, and Gluepot: Early Assemblage in Manuscript and Print (Cambridge: Open Book Publishers, 2019), 226. DOI: 10.11647/OBP.0145. 341 McDonald, Ferdinand Columbus, 170. 342 Landau and Parshall, 57. 343 Ibid., 58. 344 Rudy, Image, Knife, and Gluepot, 227. 345 Ibid., 294-299. See also McDonald, Ferdinand Columbus, 145-146. 88 with the strategies of print incorporation that permeate his oeuvre more broadly. This exploration will shed light on the artists’ sustained and experimental methods of selection and recombination, if not how or with what motivation he gathered the print collection that, by the end of his career, must have been considerable.

Beyond the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême, Testard mobilized print-derived motifs in the service of creative agency and audience engagement throughout much of his oeuvre. To date, the most complete account of his use of print is Kathrin Giogoli and John Block Friedman’s 2005 article for the Journal of the Early Book Society.346 Their text builds on the work of François

Avril and John Plummer,347 as well as earlier scholars like André Blum and Paul Durrieu,348 to provide a comprehensive overview of Testard’s known works, from full-volume illumination programs to single folios and renovations of older volumes. Throughout this discussion, they pay much consideration to the miniaturist’s favored motifs and stylistic characteristics, chief among which is his sustained and creative modification of graphic designs to the hand-painted manuscript medium.

Since Giogoli and Friedman’s review is so thorough, it would be redundant to summarize their findings here. Instead, I will endeavor to highlight an instance of Testard’s print

346 Kathrin Giogoli and John Block Friedman, “Robinet Testard, Court Iluminator: His Manuscripts and His Debt to the Graphic Arts,” Journal of the Early Book Society 8 (2005): 143-88. 347 Especially Avril, “Étude codicologique,” in Platearius, Le Livre des simples médicines d’après le manuscript 12322 de la Bibliothèque Nationale de Paris, ed. Ghislaine Malandin, François Avril, and Pierre Lieuthagi (Paris: CNRS, 1986), 268-283 and Plummer, with Gregory Clark, The Last Flowering: French Painting in Manuscripts, 1420-1530, from American Collections (New York and London: Piermont Morgan Library and Oxford University Press, 1982). 348 Durrieu appears to have been the first to identify Testard as the artist formerly known as the ‘Master of Charles d’Angoulême.’ Blum, meanwhile, was one of the first scholars to explore connections between French illumination and Northern print, and in BNF ms. lat. 1173 particularly. See Durrieu and Jean-J. de Vasselot, “Les manuscrits à miniatures des Héroïdes d’Ovide, traduites par Saint’Gelais, et un grand miniaturiste français du XVIe siècle,” L’Artiste 7 (Mai-Juin, 1894): 331-347, 433-53, and Blum, “Des rapports des miniaturistes français du XVe siècle avec les premiers artistes gravures,” Revue de l’art chrétien 22 (1911): 357-359. 89 incorporation that they do not mention and expand upon others they do. At the close of this section, I explore the extent to which Testard’s strategies of viewer engagement in the Hours of

Charles d’Angoulême relate more generally to the strain of playful experimentality that typifies his body of work, before turning to a discussion of comparably print-curious French artists operating in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth century.

Ms. fr. 929: The Imitation of Christ from Printed Book to Personalized Manuscript

Although little-studied, BNF ms. fr. 929 is revealing as regards both Testard’s print collection habits and those of his patrons at Cognac, making clear reference to an entire printed book, rather than individual engravings. The volume reproduces the text of Toulouse printer

Heinrich Mayer’s 1488 French translation of Thomas à Kempis’s La Ymitacion Jhesu Christ

(The Imitation of Christ),349 a devotional handbook and early printed best-seller.350 The manuscript also presents Testard’s take on Mayer’s woodcut frontispiece, showing Christ

Carrying the Cross (fig. 68-69).351 Charles’s luxury manuscript containing the text of La

Ymitacion also includes a French version of the pseudo-Augustinian L’Échelle de paradis (The

Ladder of Paradise).352 Another illuminated ‘frontispiece’ by Testard, featuring the same

349 Maxence Hermant, “No. 9: Thomas à Kempis (attribué à), L’Imitation de Jésus Christ; Guigues II, L’Échelle de paradis,” in Trésors royaux: La bibliothèque de François Ier, ed. Maxence Hermant with the assistance of Marie- Pierre Laffitte (Paris: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2015), 65. 350 The text would continue selling heavily into the seventeenth century. See S. H. Steinburg, Five Hundred Years of Printing (1955; repr., Mineola: Dover Publications, Inc., 2017), 101. 351 Hermant, “No. 9: Thomas à Kempis,” 65. I refer to the frontispiece as ‘Mayer’s’ only insofar as it appears in Mayer’s edition of the work; the woodblock’s designer cannot be ascertained with confidence. 352 Hermant attributes it to Guigues II, 65. Guigues II was a twelfth century Carthusian whose text on the contemplative life is also known as l’Échelle des moines. See Christian Trottman, “Contemplation et vie contemplative selon trois chartreux: Guigues II, Hugues de Balma et Guigues du Pont: Quelques points de repère dans une evolution,” Revue des Sciences philosophiques et théologiques 87, no. 4 (Oct.-Dec. 2003): 633-680. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/44408783. With its meditative focus, Guigues II’s text would have paired well with Thomas à Kempis’s work. 90 kneeling, red-mantled and aged figure found in the earlier miniature, introduces this section (fig.

70). According to Maxence Hermant, it is likely that this second illustration derives from a printed original to which Testard had access.353 Furthermore, Tibulle Desbarreux-Bernard notes

Mayer’s circa 1488 publication of a L’Échelle nearly identical to his Ymitacion in format.354

Since Testard’s second miniature in ms. fr. 929 strongly resembles the frontispiece of Mayer’s printed L’Échelle (fig. 71), I contend that this Toulousain volume provided the basis for ms. fr.

929’s latter portion. Mayer’s printed frontispieces furnished Testard with compositional prototypes to use as frameworks for his own inventions.

Despite the fact that Testard’s miniatures for ms. fr. 929 paraphrase one or multiple printed frontispieces, Giogoli and Friedman mention it only as one of many volumes in which Avril had noted the artist’s interventions.355 Avril, in turn, writes merely that the manuscript corresponds to entry 30 in the posthumous inventory of Charles d’Angoulême’s library published by Edmund

Sénemaud,356 where it is described as Méditacions de l’ymage de la vie.357 Myra Orth notes the potential relationship of Testard’s miniature to another Carrying of the Cross in a manuscript owned by Charles and Louise’s daughter, intellectual Marguerite de Navarre.358 Hermant postulates that the kneeling religious in both miniatures “becomes, under the artist’s brush, count

353 Hermant, “No. 9,” 65. 354 L’imprimerie à Toulouse aux XVe, XVIe, et XVIIe siècles, 2nd ed. (Toulouse: Imprimerie de A. Chauvin, 1868), 81-90 and Plate 10. Desbarreux-Bernard expresses surprise and doubt that the artist of ms. fr. 929 would be “condemned to copy such crudely worked woodcuts as those of the Imitatio and l’Échelle.” Ibid., 88 translation mine. 355 “Robinet Testard,” 146. 356 “Étude codicologique,” 281, n. 26. 357 La bibliothèque de Charles d’Orléans, comte d’Angoulême au château de Cognac en 1496 (Paris: A. Claudin, 1861), 34. 358 “Radical Beauty: Marguerite de Navarre's Illuminated Protestant Catechism and Confession,” The Sixteenth Century Journal 24/2 (1993): 416. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/2541955. 91 Charles of Angoulême.”359 Given the aged aspect of this figure and his cardinal-like red robes, as well as the fact that Charles died at only 36, I am not convinced by this identification. More compelling is Hermant’s suggestion that Charles, though evidently interested in the popular printed texts of his day, preferred the more lavish appearance of luxury print editions like those of Anthoine Vérard to the sparer idiom of the 1488 paper books, evidently not available on vellum.360 In the absence of a Vérard option for this particular text, he may have sought a hand- produced copy. Who better to adapt its printed frontispieces than Testard, already so interested in, and facile with, the translation of graphic sources into illumination?

Testard’s miniatures in ms. fr. 929 expand upon and complicate the basic compositions laid out in its printed sources, using the possibilities of color and spatial extension afforded by the medium of manuscript painting to emotive effect. Stylistically, both employ finer lines and softer contours than the prints from which they draw. This is hardly surprising since the latter images, as woodcuts, are necessarily slighter in detail than a miniature, and composed of relatively thick lines. Instead, just as in the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême, Testard chooses carefully which elements to retain and modify, tailoring his paintings to his viewers’ expectations and injecting, wherever possible, freshness and visual wit.

For his version of Christ Carrying the Cross on folio 7r, the illuminator maintains the poses of the figures in the woodcut frontispiece but situates them in a new spatial setting and marginal armature (fig. 68-69).361 Where the printed frontispiece places the duo against an outdoor

359 Hermant, “No. 9,” 65. “[il] devint, sous le pinceau de l’artiste, le comte Charles d’Angoulême.” Perhaps I am mistaken in taking this sentence to indicate Hermant’s opinion that the red-robed figure is an actual portrait of Charles, and his aim is more metaphorical here. 360 Ibid. 361 The Office of the Dead folio in ms. lat. 1173 is surely the most striking example of this. 92 background, indicated by a series of curving horizontals that briefly imply land and sky, Testard moves the action inside. Against a dark backdrop whose barrel-vaulted ceilings and delicately crocketed archways suggest a church interior, the light-hued wood of Jesus’s cross and the pale earnestness of his follower stand out in stark relief. Testard adds further visual interest through a drastic expansion of the woodcut’s vaguely gable-like frame, circumscribing the focal scene of

Christ and follower within an ornate golden armature that spawns two side niches to the pair’s right and one directly below them. Topped by ornate pinnacles, spires, and tracery evoking

Gothic architectural forms, this framework accommodates four new figures, grey-bearded and clad in exotic, archaicizing robes whose gold tone matches the border in which they are encased.

In this sense, they are both in and of the frame. Given their antique dress and attributes such as scrolls, Véronique Peyrat-Day’s identification of them as prophets is sound.362

Though roughly alike in age and dress, each prophet is individual in his gesture and expression, which are exaggerated to comical affect. From the frown of the scroll-bearing figure to the slightly opened mouth of the prophet at the left of the bottom niche, who points up at

Christ, all of Testard’s sages border on caricature.363 As well as adding a dimension of humor and referencing the pre-New Testament past, these side figures call attention to a sign that connects manuscript and owner: Charles d’Angoulême’s arms in the bottom-most niche, perched just between the two prophets. Golden fleur-de-lis against a blue ground, this shield harmoniously reflects –and perhaps dictates –the color scheme of the painting as a whole. The presence of his arms acts as the count’s representative in the image, symbolically emplacing him

362 Véronique Peyrat-Day, “Manuscript Production in Fifteenth-Century Poitiers,” (PhD diss., Northwestern University, 1993), 182. 363 According to Giogoli and Friedman, bearded, caricature-ish faces are typical for Testard’s male figures. See “Robinet Testard,” 148. 93 within the Passion narrative. With its affective bent, the subsequent text would encourage him to internally recreate this condition.

In the manuscript’s second miniature on folio 87v, Testard employs comparable strategies

–the extension of setting and frame, and the foregrounding of blue and gold tones –to distinct yet complementary effect, while also playing with the relationship between image and text (fig. 70).

He retains and embellishes the outdoor background of Mayer’s frontispiece to the Toulousain

L’Échelle, adding grassy hills, rock formations, and a lone, crenellated tower. Testard’s Christ, elegant and elongated as in folio 7r, holds more or less the same pose as his printed counterpart: foot on the globus mundi, right hand open in blessing, left clasping the titular ladder. Yet where in Mayer’s woodcut, the ladder rests one end on the ground and presses its other into an angel- filled opening in the clouds, Testard’s ladder stretches past both top and bottom of the miniature space. An angel is present at the top of the picture frame, securing the narrow wooden ladder with both hands, but the instrument itself extends far beyond the window that Testard offers the viewer. Whether this extension implies something of the protraction of the path to heaven or merely serves to lengthen the composition remains open to interpretation.

In the printed version of this scene, each of the ladder’s rungs holds a single word, legible from bottom to top as “leçon,” “meditation,” “oraison,” and “contemplation:” the names of the offices included on subsequent pages (fig. 72). Testard complicates this configuration, threading slim white scrolls bearing these words through every other rung of his much thinner ladder and altering their order (fig. 73).364 To decipher them, the reader must look closely, perhaps even

364 The potential significance of this order change is intriguing, and I thank Dr. Holladay for pointing it out to me. Testard switches the position of “meditation” and “oraison.” This corresponds to the order of the offices themselves in ms. fr. 929: first comes “meditation,” then “oraison,” and “contemplation,” with “leçon” last. Whether this is the same order of offices in the Toulousian document –which would make its frontispiece illogical –is a research 94 turning his head. This pattern of deliberate mystification extends into the frame that bounds the miniature, a rectangular plane of gold leaf adorned by two rings of decoration. Just outside main frame image, Testard paints a thin string of green beads linked by red thread. In the larger space beyond hang a series of streaming blue banderoles, emblazoned with white Latin script (fig. 74).

Because of the artist’s careful arrangement of these scrolls, their text is difficult to read; some phrases appear upside down, while others disappear abruptly into folds of painted cloth or include variant spellings.

With effort, these words are legible as selected verses from Vexilla Regis by Venantius

Fortunatus, one of the earliest hymns to the Holy Cross.365 The hymn was composed around 569 for the procession of a True Cross relic, donated by Justinian II to St. Radegund’s monastery in

Poitiers.366 It was still sung into the medieval era,367 particularly throughout Passiontide, on

Good Friday, and during Holy Cross feasts.368 Vexilla Regis likens the cross to regal banners and the Tree of Life, figuring the instrument of the Crucifixion as locus of both triumph and sacrifice.

If Charles cared to inspect the banderoles thoroughly enough to decode this reference, Testard’s hidden message may have evoked Vexilla Regis’s tune, adding a multi-sensory aspect to the count’s experience of the image. Moreover, it reveals the illuminator’s interest in the connection

question for another time. Regardless, Testard’s correct ordering suggests his familiarity with the text itself, or a potential collaboration with its scribe. 365 See Joseph Szövérffy, “’Crux Fidelis…’ Prolegomena to a History of the Holy Cross Hymns,” Traditio 22 (1966): 6-12, especially 11. For a well-regarded English translation from the seventeenth century, see W.K. Bount’s, reproduced in The Hymns of the Breviary and Missal, ed. by Matthew Britt (New York, Cincinnati, Chicago: Benziger Brothers, 1922), 51-52. A more widely used translation follows. 366 For more on this translation and its repercussions, see Jennifer C. Edwards, “Their Cross to Bear: Controvesy and the Relic of the True Cross in Poitiers,” Essays in Medieval Studies (2007): 65-77. DOI:10.1353/ems.0.0000. 367 Barbara Baert, The Heritage of Holy Wood: The Legend of the True Cross in Text and Image (Leiden, Boston: Brill), 59. 368 M. I. J. Rousseau, "Vexilla Regis Prodeunt,” in New Catholic Encyclopedia, 2nd ed., vol 14. (Detroit: Gale, 2003), 467-468. 95 between text and image, as well as his knowledge of liturgical music, extensive enough that he could match hymn to devotional theme with specificity.369

As well as providing Testard with a compositional scheme, frontispiece woodcuts function in this manuscript as a jumping-off point for imaginative play. Taken together, Testard’s two miniatures in ms. fr. 929 demonstrate the richness and experimentality of his use of printed imagery, even when adapting from a preselected program. While keeping some aspects of the miniatures consistent between folios –such as their blue and gold Valois color scheme, red-robed penitents, and near-identical arrangements of titular captions and main texts– he allocates both setting and frame as sites for formal and iconographic experimentation. This is accomplished, as in his book of hours, through a variety of methods, from the introduction of whimsical, historicizing figures to the assemblage of illusionistic text puzzles around the main picture frame.

Rather than ignoring Mayer’s printed frontispieces or transforming them beyond recognition, he treats the woodcuts as foundations upon which to exercise his freedom of selection and interpose points of reference, like heraldry and hymns, that might deepen his patron’s viewing experience.

This approach makes clear Testard’s awareness of both the advantages of paint as medium and the possibilities of print as a platform from which to build his own designs. For his client, he offers the best of both painted and printed worlds.370

369 Perhaps as a former native of Poitiers, where Venantius Fortunatus was eventually bishop, Testard would have been especially familiar with the former’s poems. For more on Fortunatus’s life and movements, see Brian Brennan, “The Career of Venantius Fortunatus,” Traditio 41 (1985): 49-78. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/27831166. 370 A discussion of the premium that French nobles placed on novelty can be found in Thomas Tolley, “Monarchy and Prestige in France,” in Viewing Renaissance Art, ed. Carol M. Richardson, Kim Woods, and Angeliki Lymberopoulou (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2007), 133-167. 96 Ms. fr. 143: Multi-Referential Patterns of Print Inclusion

Charles’s 1488 marriage garnered Testard another powerful bibliophilic patron, Louise de

Savoie (1476-1531).371 After Charles’s death in 1496, she would be his most important client.

Testard’s manuscripts for Louise are numerous, including illustration programs for Octovien de

Saint Gelais’s French translation of Ovid’s Héroïdes (BNF ms. fr. 875),372 an edition of

Boccaccio’s Des cleres et nobles femmes (Concerning Famous Women (BNF ms. fr. 599)),373 and a luxurious Roman de la Rose (BL Bodleian ms. Douce 195).374 Although none of these volumes contain print references quite as extensive as those of ms. lat. 1173, Testard’s use of contemporary graphic media is still evident at certain junctures within the former two codices, as

Friedman and Giogoli show.375 Notably, his miniatures for both ms. fr. 599 and a circa 1495-48 edition of Évrard de Conty’s Livre des échecs amoureux moralisés or Commentary on the Book of Lover’s Chess (BNF ms. fr. 143) incorporate many motifs from the so-called Mantegna

Tarocchi.376

Long acknowledged to be neither by Mantegna, nor tarot, these engraved cards were printed in two rounds –an “E” series dating to the mid 1460s, and the reversed “S” series from

371 For an overview of Louise’s patronage activities, see Mary Beth Winn, “Louise de Savoie, ses enfants, et ses livres, du pouvoir familial au pouvoir d’état,” in Patronnes et mécènes en France à la Renaissance, ed. Kathleen Wilson-Chevalier, (Saint-Étienne: Publications de l’Université de Saint-Étienne, 2007), 251-281. 372 Durrieu and de Vasselot, “Les manuscrits à miniatures des Héroïdes,” Winn, “Chanson in Miniature: Va t’en, mon amoureux désir,” Tijdschrift van de Koninklijke Vereniging voor Nederlandse Muziekgeschiedenis 65, no. ½ (2015): 151-165, and Anneliese Pollock Renck, “Reading Medieval Manuscripts Then, Now, and Somewhere in Between: Verbal and Visual Mise en Abyme in Huntington Library MS Hm 60 and Bibliothèque nationale de France MS fr. 875,” Manuscripta 60, no 1 (2016): 30-72. DOI: 10.1484/J.MSS.5.111027. 373 Hermant, “No. 18: Boccace, Des Cleres et nobles femmes,” in Trésors royaux, 71-73. 374 For more on this manuscript, see Deborah McGrady, “Reinventing the Roman de la Rose for a Woman Reader: The Case of Ms. Douce 195,” Journal of the Early Book Society 4 (2001): 202-227 and Marian Bleeke, “Versions of Pygmalion in the Illuminated Roman de la Rose (Oxford, Bodleian Library, Ms. Douce 195): The Artist and the Work of Art,” Art History 30, no. 1 (February 2010): 28-53. DOI: 10.1111/j.1467-8365.2009.00721.x 375 “Robinet Testard,” 155-160. 376 Ibid., 157-160. 97 around ten years later, both likely originating around Ferrara.377 Their original function is far from clear. While they are not tarot cards in the traditional sense, they share remarkable similarities with them, perhaps suggesting their use in a related, possibly instructive pastime.378

On the other hand, there is ample evidence of their use by artists like Lodovico Lazzarelli as

“iconographic source[s] and modelbook[s],” as was evidently the case with card prints by the northern European Playing Card Master.379 For Giogoli and Friedman, Testard’s employment of the Mantegna Tarrochi shows his familiarity with graphic material to the south of the Alps.380

To my mind, their use by Testard is further intriguing as regards the ludic dimensions of artistic creation itself, especially when he pairs references to the cards with citations from other print sources.

In both the Livre des échecs and Des cleres et nobles femmes, Testard mines the Tarocchi for sartorial detail, heightening the vibrancy and eclecticism of the clothing and hairstyles worn by the allegorical and mythological personages he depicts. In his illustration of Bocaccio’s section on Amazons Antiope and Orithyia, for instance, the leftmost queen wears a gold chaplet of laurels, radiating laterally from a central ornament, that recalls the headgear of the Tarocchi’s

Poesia (fig. 75-76).381 Her companion’s leonine breastplate and angular fauld, meanwhile, ape the engraved Forteza’s own armor (fig. 77).382 Together, these inclusions augment the sense of

377 See Kristen Lippincott, “Mantegna’s Tarocchi,” Print Quarterly 3, no. 4 (December 1986): 357-360, and Arthur M. Hind, Catalogue of Early Italian Engravings Preserved in the Department of Prints and Drawings in the British Museum, ed. Sidney Colvin (London: William Clowes and Sons, ltd.,, 1910), 215-256. 378 Hind, Catalogue of Early Italian Engravings, 222-223. 379 Lippincott, “Mantegna’s Tarocchi,” 358; van Buren and Edmunds, “Playing Cards and Manuscripts.” Lippincott also notes the appearance of the cards in a 16th century French model book at the Bibliothèque de l’Arsenal, ms. fr. 5066. 380 “Robinet Testard,” 160. 381 Ibid., 159. 382 Ibid., 159. 98 the figures’ exoticism, antiquity, and valor all at once. From this example and others like it listed by Giogoli and Friedman, their contention that Testard approached the Tarocchi as something of a “mythographic ‘encyclopedia’” seem well borne-out.383 Nevertheless, especially in the Livre des échecs, where Tarocchi quotations mingle with allusions to other prints, their manner of application merits further investigation.

Avril was the first to notice that the often-reproduced folio 65v of ms. fr. 143, a personification of Music, pulls from the Apollo and Musica figures in the Tarocchi, both of whom, like Testard’s painted figure, perch atop swan-thrones (fig. 78-80).384 This miniature, showing Music surrounded by a coterie of musicians and singers, has been taken to reflect the nature of musical performance at Cognac itself.385 Though Louise de Savoie’s passion for music is well-documented, little is known about her musical patronage before François’s coronation.386

Louise’s account book from around the time of Charles d’Angoulême’s death records her purchase of spinets for Cognac’s château, while a small chansonnier (BNF ms. fr. 1596) owned by her daughter Marguerite de Navarre as a child allowed the young noble to follow along with the court’s performances.387 Testard’s portrayal of instruments and players recognizable from the

383 Ibid., 158. 384 Avril, “232. Évrard de Conty, Livre des échec amoureux moralisés. Jacques Legrand, Archilogesophie,” in Les manuscrits à peintures en France, 1440-1520, ed. François Avril and Nicole Reynaud (Paris: Bibliothèque nationale de France, 1993), 409. One example of this miniature’s reproduction is in an article on the court culture of Cognac by Jean Mesnard, where it is given the caption, “La musique à Cognac par Robinet Testard.” See Mesnard, “Cognac et Angoulême, centres intellectuels à l'aube de la Renaissance,” in Francois Ier, du château de Cognac au trône de France, Annales du Groupe de recherches et d’études historiques de la Charente saintongenaise, 16 (1995): 130. 385 For instance, see Richard Wexler, “Music and Poetry in Renaissance Cognac,” in Musique naturelle et musique artificielle: In memoriam Gustav Reese, ed. Mary Beth Winn (Montreal: CERES, 1979), p. 102-114. 386 See Mary-Alexis Colin, “Louise de Savoie et la musique,” in Louise de Savoie (1476-1531), ed. Pascal Brioist, Laure Fagnart and Cédric Michon (Tours: Presses universitaires François-Rabelais, 2015), 227-232. DOI: 10.4000/books.pufr.8383. 387 Wexler hypothesizes that the chansonnier was originally intended for Charles and refashioned into a plaything after his death. “Music and Poetry,” 104. For Louise’s purchase of the spinets and other items from Tours merchant Victor Cochon, see Edmond Sénemaud, La bibliothèque de Charles d’Orléans au chateau de Cognac, en 1496 (Paris: A. Claudin, 1861), 60-61. 99 Cognac milieu may indeed have granted the miniature a personal resonance for Louise. In addition to this potential allusion to the court’s lived cultural environment, Musica herself is doubly print-referential. Though her swan-throne is Tarocchi-esque, the figure’s fabric-wrapped and double-pronged headdress is highly reminiscent of that worn by a server in Israhel van

Meckenem’s portrayal of Christ at Emmaus in his arge Passion Cycle,388 overpainted by Testard in Charles’s Hours (fig. 81).389

Patterns of multi-referential juxtaposition are at play elsewhere in Louise’s chess book. An illustration of Apollo and the Graces on folio 36v, for instance, borrows the layout of a woodcut appearing in Anthoine Vérard’s parchment printed edition of Ovid moralisé, owned by Charles d’Angoulême (BNF ms. rés. vél. 560).390 To this book-derived composition, Testard adjoins

Tarocchi-style coiffures (fig. 82-84). Although softened by the Master of Jacques de Besançon’s overpainting, Vérard’s woodcut is understandably coarser than Testard’s miniature, which is also much larger than its printed referent. Compositionally, however, the similarities between the two are unmistakable. At right, both feature Apollo with harp, bow, and arrows, atop a three-headed beast.391 At right dance the three Graces, hands clasped around a slender tree where a great black bird comes to roost. According to Marie Jacob, Testard’s reliance on ms. rés. vél. 560, whose

388 Giogoli and Friedman, “Robinet Testard,” 160. 389 For Testard’s overpainting of this cycle in the Hour of Charles d’Angoulême, see Matthews, “The Use of Prints,” 15. 390 As observed by Marie Jacob, “86. Evrard de Conty, Le Livre des éches amoureux moralisés. Jacques Legrand, Archiloge Sophie,” in France 1500: Entre moyen âge et renaissance (Paris: Editions de la Réunion des Musées Nationaux, 2010), ed. Geneviève Bresc-Bautier, Thierry Crépin-Leblond, and Martha Wolff, with the assistance of Gäelle de Page, 201-202. For a discussion of BNF rès. vél. 560, the so-called Bible des poets de metamorphoze, known as La Bible des poètes and falsely attributed by Mansion to Thomas Wallis, as it relates to Vérard’s other copies of the work, see Winn, Anthoine Vérard, 269-280. For the corresponding entry in Charles’s posthumous inventory, see Sénemaud, La bibliothèque, 37-38. 391 Further study, especially of the text-image relationship, is needed to definitively identify this creature. Its three heads –two of which seem canine –recall Cerebus, while its dragon-body perhaps suggests Python instead. 100 illustrations are largely based on Colard Mansion’s earlier imprint,392 can be witnessed throughout ms. fr. 143.393 In this case, after plucking the spatial orientation of Vérard’s woodcut,

Testard set about enhancing his miniature with lively details of dress and adornment drawn from elsewhere.

With their fancifully looped hair, the Graces resemble the figures of Urania, Erato, and

Geometria from the Mantegna Tarocchi (fig. 84-87).394 The rightmost Grace’s distinctive forehead knot can be found on many of the Tarocchi’s female figures. Other ornaments, like the

Graces’ gold chains and diaphanous modesty cloths, are of Testard’s own invention; a close image of the trio reveals he had sketched in foliate sprigs like those worn by the shepherds in

Charles’s Hours but decided not to execute them in paint (fig. 84 and 50). Although Giogoli and

Friedman write of Apollo’s “similarities of hands and face” to the Tarocchi’s Apollo and

Zintilomo, the generality of this observation renders it difficult to confirm. In any case, the god’s cloth of honor and fur-trimmed robe do not appear in the card series. His pouched almond eyes and almost spherical chin are entirely typical of Testard’s style.395

In Louise’s chess book, Testard’s weaving together of motifs drawn from the Mantegna

Tarocchi, from Israhel van Meckenem, and from Anthoine Vérard’s printed volume raises compelling questions about the significance of print and book collection to both artist and patron.

To begin with, his citation of a memorable headdress from van Meckenem’s Passion series and a distinctive compositional arrangement from a woodcut in Vérard’s Ovid moralisée recall the

392 As are the other woodcuts in Vérard’s printed editions of Ovid moralisé, according to Winn, Anthoine Vérard, 272, n.6, and 36. For more on Mansion, see Paul Saenger, “Colard Mansion and the Evolution of the Printed Book,” The Library Quarterly: Information, Community, Policy 45, no. 4 (Oct., 1975): 405-418. 393 Jacob, “86. Evrard de Conty,” 202. 394 “Robinet Testard,” 159. 395 Characteristic of a facial type, in fact, that Giogoli and Friedman themselves note as characteristic of Testard outside of his work with print, although according to their analysis, of his female figures in particular. See Ibid., 148. 101 illustrative programs of specific books in Cognac’s library, to which Louise would have had access: ms. lat. 1173 and ms. fr. rés. vél. 560. Whether she would have noticed these cross-book connections, or even known to look for them, is another matter. Likewise, the countess’s understanding of the Mantegna Tarocchi is unknowable.396 Regardless, Testard’s frequent employment of the series’ motifs in both the Livre des échecs and Des cleres et nobles femmes would have given her the opportunity to recognize its visual hallmarks, even if she did not know their source. Through his works for both Cognac rulers of the late fifteenth century, the illuminator formed loops of referentiality and self-citation, accessible to the sharp-eyed observer.

It is especially tempting to see Testard’s multi-referential pattern layering as the instantiation of a game with his learned viewer in the Livre des échecs, itself defined by the theme of love-as-game.397 To unpack the meaning of de Conty’s poem, whose heavily allegorical structure encouraged active reading and necessitated collaboration with a tutor, a reader would engage both ludic and memorial faculties.398 With her skills of memory and pattern-recognition regularly sharpened, would Louise not be especially attuned to Testard’s cycling, recycling, and recontextualization of motifs in ms. fr. 143 and beyond? As Katherine Rudy details, reading itself in the Middle Ages was “fundamentally repetitive,” involving circular patterns of recitation and re-visitation.399

396 If the cards were used as a philosophical game, the festive and intellectually charged atmosphere at Cognac throughout her reign would be a fitting site for it. 397 See Evrart de Conty, Le livre des Eschez amoureux moralisés, ed. Françoise Guichard-Tesson and Bruno Roy (Montreal: Ceres, 1993). 398 Amandine Mussou, “Playing with Memory: The Chessboard as a Mnemonic Tool in Medieval Didactic Literature,” in Chess in the Middle Ages and Early Modern Age: A Fundamental Thought Paradigm of the Premodern World, ed. Daniel E. O’Sullivan (Berlin, Boston: De Gruyter, 2012), 187-197. For more on reading as communal practice, see Joyce Coleman, Public Reading and the Reading Public in Late Medieval England and France (Cambridge, New York, and Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, 1996). 399 Rudy, Piety in Pieces: How Medieval Readers Customized Their Manuscripts (Cambridge: Open Book Publishers, 2016), 327-338. Quoted text on page 336. For how the advent of print changed reading practices, see 102 Even Testard’s works for Louise that do not directly utilize print may be designed to engage his patron. According to Deborah McGrady, Testard repeatedly engages the notion of viewership, and female viewership in particular, in the Bodleian Roman de la Rose (MS Douce

195). He peppers the book’s miniatures with unprecedented, extratextual groups of observers, some of whom engage in lively debate about the plot (fig. 88).400 Elsewhere, he mitigates the vitriol of the controversial Jealous Husband sequence by concurrently emphasizing the groom’s brutishness and the virtuous industry of his beleaguered wife (fig. 89).401 Through these interventions, McGrady argues, the artist exerts his own interpretative agency upon the text, encouraging Louise as viewer to follow suit.402

The ethos guiding Testard’s multi-referential instances of print adaptation in the Livre des

échecs, and in his body of work more broadly, remains fundamentally unknowable to a modern observer. While I hypothesize that his strategies of print incorporation were at least partially intended to entertain his educated, courtly audience, no concrete evidence of this is likely to emerge. From Testard’s own perspective, the recycling and recombination of motifs and compositions derived from woodcuts and engravings may have begun as little more than a time- saving device. Regardless of his initial intent, however, the sheer diversity and multiplicity of his strategies of print incorporation show that these processes were not a matter of passive reception, but creative acts in their own right. Testard actively worked to fit the printed material from

Ibid., as well as Paul Saenger and Michael Heinlen, “Incunable Description and Its Implication for the Analysis of Fifteenth-Century Reading Habits,” in Printing the Written Word: The Social History of Books, circa 1450-1500, ed. Sandra Hindman (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1991), 225-258, and Michael Camille, “Reading the Printed Image: Illuminations and Woodcuts of the Pèlerinage de la vie humaine in the Fifteenth Century,” in Printing the Written Word, 259-291. 400 McGrady, “Reinventing the Roman de la Rose,” 204-208. 401 Ibid., 209-214. 402 Ibid., 215. 103 which he borrowed into its painted context, and to do so in a way that would accord both aesthetically and iconographically with the expectations of his viewers. He drew from loose-leaf prints and printed volumes alike, deliberately or accidentally drawing connections between printmakers and across books in Cognac’s library. While the degree to which Charles, Louise, and perhaps other clients took advantage of these pathways is also lost to history, the length of

Testard’s career shows they appreciated his technique. His last lifetime mention in a 1531 account book lists a payment from François I to “le vieil Robinet, paintre.”403 By the close of his time in aristocratic service, Testard was a Valois household name.

Precursors and Parallels: Print-Manuscript Encounters Beyond Testard

For all that Testard’s use of print was remarkable and prodigious, it can be understood not as an outlier, but instead one facet of a dynamic and far-reaching relationship between manuscript and printed book production. In the transitional period between the last quarter of the fifteenth century and the first decades of the sixteenth, the possibilities of both media were available to book artists. As publishers mined the manuscript tradition for models to translate into printed idiom, so too could illuminators and scribes exploit the possibilities of woodcuts and engravings to aid in their own labor. While witnesses to the fluid patterns of interchange between print and paint exist across Europe,404 for the purposes of this study, those found amongst French artists directly involved in Testard’s circle are particularly edifying.

403 Giogoli and Friedman, “Robinet Testard,” 144. 404 For other Northern examples, see Todor T. Petev, “A Group of Hybrid Books of Hours Illustrated with Woodcuts,” in Books of Hours Reconsidered, ed. by Sandra Hindman and James H. Marrow (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013), 391-408; Painting the Page in the Age of Print: Central European Manuscript Illumination of the Fifteenth Century, ed. Jeffrey Hamburger, Robert Suckale, and Gude Suckale-Redlefsen, trans. David Sanchez (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediæval Studies, 2018); James Marrow, “A Book of Hours from the Circle of the Master of the Berlin Passion: Notes on the Relationship between Fifteenth-Century Manuscript Illumination and Printmaking 104 One of Testard’s mentors in Poitiers, the Master of Yvon du Fou, displayed a facility with print that may have proved formative for the young artist under his tutelage. As Peyrat-Day discusses, the illuminator’s clients included Cognac-affiliated courtiers like Yvon du Fou, who supervised Charles d’Angoulême’s education on the king’s behalf, and Raoul du Fou, eventual bishop of Angoulême.405 Active between 1470 and 1490, the Master of Yvon du Fou dabbled in print incorporation himself, albeit to a lesser degree than did his apprentice. In this pursuit, he benefitted from a linear and bold formal quality comparable to Testard’s own, allowing him to synthesize engravings, woodcuts, and illustrations of incunabula into painted compositions with relative seamlessness.406

One compelling instance of the Master of Yvon du Fou’s print adaptation can be viewed in

BNF ms. fr. 218, a large and lavishly illustrated French version of the On the Properties of

Things whose text and illumination program borrow from one or more Lyonnais printed editions of the popular work.407 Folio 44v, for example, which introduces a section on humors and their properties, features a portrayal of Christ with the four elements embodied as roundels that corresponds almost exactly to a woodcut illustration in Matthias Huss’s 1485 publication of the

in the Rhenish Lowlands,” Art Bulletin 60 (1978): 590-616. For Italian illumination-print connections, see Lilian Armstrong, “The Impact of Printing on Miniaturists in Venice after 1469,” in Printing the Written Word, 174-202, and Mary A. Rouse and Richard H. Rouse, Cartolai, Illuminators, and Printers in Fifteenth-Century Italy (Los Angeles: UCLA Research Library, 1988). Italian and French examples of this phenomenon have been less studied on the whole. 405 “Manuscript Production in Fifteenth-Century Poitiers,” 131-174. 406 Ibid., 168-172. 407 Ibid., 169-172. I say one or more because, although Peyrat-Day mentions a 1482 print of the text by Lyonnais printer Johanne Syber (BNF ms. res. R-376) as the probable printed referent for this manuscript, the BNF’s edition of this era is not accessible to me. Since the only Syber edition of the Proprietés which I have been able to explore (Library of Congress Incun. X.B28) is a 1486 version that does not feature the same woodcut of Christ with the four elements discussed here, I am not sure whether it is present in BNF ms. rés. R-376 either. Certainly, other illustrations in LoC Inc. X.B28 accord with those in BNF ms. fr. 218, while as Peyrat-Day notes, a textual reference on f. 401v makes it clear that an edition of Syber’s was consulted. Since they worked in the same city, it is entirely possible that Huss and Syber shared woodblocks. 105 Properties ((BNF ms. rés. R-218), fig. 90-91). Here, the illuminator enriches the incunabula’s composition with color and a finer textural mode than is possible in woodcuts, as Testard would do later. Along with the Master of Walters 222, Testard and the Master of Yvon du Fou completed the Montierneuf Missal, where both may have pulled from print (BNF ms. lat. 873).408

Along with Jean Bourdichon,409 Testard’s arrival in Cognac brought him into the orbit of

Parisian publisher Anthoine Vérard (active 1485-1512), who made frequent trips there to deliver luxury printed books,410 and whose woodcuts the illuminator paraphrased.411 Printed on parchment and overpainted by the Master of Jacques de Besançon,412 Vérard’s deluxe volumes often resemble traditional hand-crafted works and could be highly personalized.413 Like Testard, he had to exercise versatility, engaging with both printed and manual production techniques.

Unlike Testard, however, Vérard also negotiated the textual contents of his books, penning prologues to his more prestigious patrons, writing poems, and tailoring extant sources as needed to please his audience.414

408 See Peyrat-Day, “Manuscript Production in Fifteenth-Century Poitiers,” 166-167, 169, and 195. 409 Although they could have also met at some point prior, as in 1483 when Bourdichon came to Louis XI at Thouars. Ibid., 188-192, and Nicholas Herman, “Jean Bourdichon (1457-1521): Tradition, Transition, Renewal,” (PhD diss., New York University, 2014), 150-159. 410 Winn, Anthoine Vérard,153-182, esp. 155. 411 Jacob, “Evrard de Conty,” 202. 412 If not occasionally by Vérard himself, as the painting of his name and monogram on some miniatures seems to imply. See Winn, Anthoine Vérard, 34-36. 413 Through both pictorial illustrations (particularly donor portraits) and prologues. See Ibid., 56-68, 175-182, and 239. 414 Ibid., 207-451, esp. 274-275. For a particularly compelling discussion of his role as compiler, see Susan R. Kovacs, “Staging Lyric Performances in Early Print Culture: Le Jardin de Plaisance et Fleur de Rethorique (c. 1501-02),” French Studies 55 no. 1 (2001): 1-24. In this publication intended for a far wider viewership than Vérard’s luxury books for Louise and Charles, Kovacs observes, the publisher fit close to 700 separate textual sources together through a careful contextualization process, threading them together thematically while reframing them so as to be accessible for readers unfamiliar with aristocratic literary and chivalric mores. Woodcut illustrations, left deliberately ambiguous according to Kovacs, help provide thematic through-lines and form their own paths of interpretation. 106 An early sixteenth-century work likely for Louise de Savoie, La Passion Jhesuscrist demonstrates Vérard’s powers of compilation and recontextualization (BNF ms. fr. 1686).415

Printing directly on vellum, the publisher unites the same Israhel van Meckenem Passion cycle that Testard used to illustrate ms. lat. 1173 with a pre-existing passional poem.416 To fit these disparate works together cohesively, Vérard and his unknown assistants make adjustments to both text and image cycles. For instance, his inclusion of van Meckenem’s Supper at Emmaus engraving, itself not a commonly depicted scene for its time, necessitated the interpolation of two stanzas that do not appear in the version of the poem to which the rest of his text roughly adheres.417 While the engraved folio’s overpainting leaves much of van Meckenem’s linework exposed, it also alters the printmaker’s composition –embellishing utensils, narrowing Christ’s face, and casting new shadows (fig. 92).

A last artist whose mediation of print and illumination provides an instructive parallel to the work of Testard is Jean Pichore (active c. 1490-1520). Based in Paris like Vérard, Pichore enjoyed immense success as a miniaturist, before turning his attentions to the illustration of printed books in metal-cut.418 Pichore operated in the same elite circles as did Testard, illustrating a number of manuscripts for Louise de Savoie and eventually supplanting ‘le vieil

Robinet’ in her favor.419 Though his illumination style, emphasizing drama rather than legibility

415 Sheila Edmunds and Mary Beth Winn, “Vérard, Meckenem, and BN. ms. fr. 1686,” Romania 108, no. 430/431 (1987), 290. Winn’s section on this item in Anthoine Vérard, 405-409, is an almost word-for-word, albeit abbreviated, rehashing of her earlier article with Edmunds. 416 Edmunds and Winn, “Vérard, Meckenem, and BN. ms. fr. 1686,” 295-300. The authors note the possibility of Vérard’s having seen ms. lat. 1173 but also note that this is impossible to prove. 417 Ibid., 312. 418 For a wonderfully comprehensive discussion of his career, see Caroline Zöhl, Jean Pichore: Buchmaler, Graphiker und Verleger in Paris um 1500 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2004). 419 Maxence Hermant and Marie-Pierre Laffitte, “L’héritage Angoulême,” in Trésors royaux, 53. For Pichore’s works for Louise, see Hermant’s entries in the same volume on BNF ms. fr. 421 “No. 10: Mort de saint Jérôme d’après Eusèbe. Épîtres de saint Augustin et saint Cyrille sur l’apparition et les miracles de saint Jérome,” 74; BNF 107 and often rife with decorative motifs,420 is different from Testard’s, his metal-cuts reveal a consistent and comparable engagement with the designs of leading northern printmakers. In a book of hours quarto produced with his collaborator Remy de Laistre and used by fellow

Parisian libraire Simon Vostre, Pichore reshapes Schongauer’s Nativity, among other engravings ((BL Bodleian Ms. Douce BB 189), fig. 93-94).421 Like Testard, Pichore and de

Laistre transformed elements of their source.As Caroline Zöhl observes, the duo maintained

Schongauer’s figural grouping and the archway where his Holy Family rest.422 Yet whereas in

Schongauer’s original print, this arch forms part of a crumbling structure perhaps intended as the

Old Testament temple, it becomes a site for exuberant decorative play for Pichore and de Laistre.

Bas-relief and whirling vegetal motifs that have little to do with a manger adorn the archway’s contours. Through it, the building of what Zöhl deems a “Phantasiestadt” can be glimpsed.423

These examples shed only provisional light on the richness with which late fifteenth- and early sixteenth-century book artists played upon the metaphoric margin between paint and print.

Nevertheless, it is my hope that they, along with the works of Robinet Testard analyzed here, suggest something of this quality. Though the notion that the invention of print slayed manuscript illumination in one blow is convenient, the transition’s reality was not only prolonged but artistically fertile. Among the consumers of late medieval France, this shift

ms. fr. 873, “No. 22: Ovide, Héroïdes,” 79. See also Zöhl, Jean Pichore, 25-27, and “44: Ovide, Les Héroïdes,” in France 1500, 125-126. 420 For a brief comparison of his ms. fr. 873 and Testard’s ms. fr. 875, which significantly predates it although both went to Louise de Savoie, see Zöhl, “44: Ovide, Les Héroïdes,” 125. 421 The dating of this series is tremendously problematic, and its imprints seem to exist mainly as they were republished by Vostre, Hardouyn, and others. See Zöhl, Jean Pichore, 97-101, 162-162, and Sarah Cameron-Pesant, “Les ‘Horae’ à l’usage d’Autun imprimées pour Simon Vostre (v. 1507): Examen de l’exemplaire conserve à McGill,” Renaissance and Reformation (Fall 2016): 215-252. JSTOR: https://www.jstor.org/stable/26398548. 422 Zöhl, Jean Pichore, 112. 423 Ibid., 113. 108 furnished fresh modes of engagement with treasured libraries. For book artists, the evolving technology fostered new opportunities for inter-medial collaboration and exchange.

109 Figures

Figure 1 (above): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 2v, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Figure 2 (below): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 2v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment.

110

Figure 3 (above): Unknown (Rouen or Orléans), Book of Hours (ms G.4), folio 5r: detail, last quarter of the 15th c, illuminated vellum, 187 x 125 mm/fol. Figure 4 (below): Unknown (Paris), Book of Hours (ms. M.73), folio 2v: detail, c. 1475, illuminated vellum, 140 x 98 mm/fol.

111

Figure 5 (above): Unknown (Rouen), Book of Hours (ms. M.131), folio 4r: detail, c. 1480, 180 x 120 mm/folio. Figure 6 (below): Master of the Housebook, Two Lovers, 1480-88, drypoint engraving, 167 x 107 mm.

112

Figure 7 (above left): Israhel van Meckenem, The Lovers, late 15th c., engraving, 162 x 106 cm. Figure 8 (above right): Master/Monogrammist bxg, The Lovers, second half of the 15th c., engraving, 168 x 108 cm.

113

Figure 9 (above): Upper Rhenish Master, The Little Garden of Paradise, oil painting, c. 1410/20, 263 x 334 cm. Figure 10 (below): Robinet Testard, Livre des échecs amoureux moralisés (ms. fr. 143), f. 198v: detail, c. 1495-1498, illuminated parchment, 310 x 200 mm.

114

Figure 11 (above): Master E. S., Love Garden with Chess Players,c, 1460-1467, copperplate engraving, 165 x 208 mm. Figure 12 (below): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 3r, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm.

115

Figure 13 (above): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 3r: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Figure 14 (below): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 3r: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm.

116

Figure 15 (above): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 3r: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm/fol. Figure 16 (below): Limbourg Brothers, Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry (Ms.65), folio 5v: detail, c. 1412-1416, illuminated vellum, 225 x 136 mm/fol.

117

Figure 17 (above): Unknown (Paris or Northeastern France), Book of Hours (ms. M.1003), folio 5r: detail, c. 1465, illuminated parchment, 227 x 167 mm/fol. Figure 18 (below): Master of the Housebook, Combat of Two Wild Men, c. 1475, engraving, 125 x 192 mm.

118

Figure 19 (above): Israhel van Meckenem, Combat of Two Wild Men, c. 1480, engraving, 152 x 220 mm. Figure 20 (below): Unknown (Alsace), Combat of Two Wild Men, c. 1390-1410, tapestry.

119

Figure 21 (above): Unknown (Cologne), Love Casket, c.1350-1370, wood. Figure 22 (below): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 4v, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm.

120

Figure 23 (above): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 4v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm/fol. Figure 24 (below): Unknown (Ulm), Book of Hours (cod.I.175), folio 3r, 1460-70, illuminated parchment.

121

Figure 25 (above): Limbourg Brothers, Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry (Ms.65), folio 8v: detail, c. 1412-1416, illuminated vellum, 225 x 136 mm/fol. Figure 26 (below): Master/Monogrammist bxg, Peasant Couple, c. 1470-1490, engraving, 95 x 155 mm.

122

Figure 27 (above): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 4v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm/fol. Figure 28 Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 5r, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm.

123

Figure 29 (above): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 5r: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm/fol Figure 30 (below): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 5r: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm/fol.

124

Figure 31 (above): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 5r: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm/fol. Figure 32 (below): Master of the Housebook, Unequal Couple, engraving, 101 x 99 mm.

125

Figure 33 (above left): Israhel van Meckenem, Unequal Couple, 1480-1490, engraving, 138 x 94 mm. Figure 34 (above right): Unknown (South German), Bridal Couple/Dead Couple, left panel, c. 1470, oil on panel, 623 x 365 mm.

126

Figure 35 (above left): Unknown (South German), Bridal Couple/Dead Couple, right panel, c. 1470, oil on panel, 625 x 400 mm. Figure 36 (above right): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 7v, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm.

127

Figure 37 (above): Israhel van Meckenem, John the Baptist with Evangelists, 1470-90, engraving, 178 x 178 mm. Figure 38 (below): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 16v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm.

128

Figure 39 (above): Israhel van Meckenem, Ornament with parrots and other birds, last third of 15th c, engraving, 135 x 168 mm. Figure 40 (below): Martin Schongauer, Ornament with parrots and other birds, last third of 15th c, engraving, 108 x 154 mm.

129

Figure 41 (above): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Figure 42 (below): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm.

130

Figure 43 (above): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Figure 44 (below): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm.

131

Figure 45 (above): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Figure 46 (below): Willem Vrelant and Master of the Llangattock Hours, Llangattock Hours (ms. Ludwig IX 7), folio 83v: detail, 1450s, illuminated parchment, 264 x 184 mm/fol.

132

Figure 47 (above): Willem Vrelant and Master of the Llangattock Hours, Llangattock Hours (ms. Ludwig IX 7), folio 83v: detail, 1450s, illuminated parchment, 264 x 184 mm/fol. Figure 48 (below): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm.

133

Figure 49 (above): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Figure 50 (below): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm

134

Figure 51 (above): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Figure 52 (below): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm.

135

Figure 53 (above): Claude Castillon, Château de Cognac from the west, 17th c, drawing. Figure 54 (below): Unknown, Prospect of Cognac from the west, 17th c, drawing

136

Figure 55 (above): Unknown (French), Guillaume de Machaut (ms. fr. 1586): Poésies, fol. 51 (Le reméde de Fortune): detail, c. 1350-55, illuminated parchment, 300 x 215 mm. Figure 56 (below): Israhel van Meckenem, Morris Dance Tondo, c. 1475-90, engraving, 174 x 181 mm.

137

Figure 57 (above): Unknown (Florentine), Morris Dance, c.1470, engraving, 245 x 197 mm. Figure 58 (below): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm

138

Figure 59 (above): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 20v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Figure 60 (below): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 41v, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm.

139

Figure 61 (above): Master IAM of Zwolle, Battle of Two Men with the Centaur, c. 1470-90, engraving, 149 x 226 mm. Figure 62 (below): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 41v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm.

140

Figure 63 (above): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 41v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm. Figure 64 (below): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 41v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm.

141

Figure 65 (above): Master/Monogrammist bxg after the Housebook Master, Wild Family, second half of the 15th c, engraving, 147 x 9 cm. Figure 66 (below): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 41v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm/fol.

142

Figure 67 (above): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 41v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm/fol. Figure 68 (below): Robinet Testard, La Ymitacion Jhesu Christ (ms. fr. 929), fol. 7r: detail, 1488-1496, illuminated on parchment, 260 x 190 mm.

143

Figure 69 (above left): Heinrich Mayer, La Ymitacion Jhesu Christ (frontispiece): detail, 1488, woodcut on paper. Figure 70 (above right): Robinet Testard, La Ymitacion Jhesu Christ (ms. fr. 929), fol. 87v: detail, 1488-1496, illuminated on parchment, 260 x 190 mm.

144

Figure 71 (above right): Heinrich Mayer, L’Échelle de paradis, Frontispiece: detail, 1488, woodcut on paper. Figure 72 (above left): Heinrich Mayer, L’Échelle de paradis, Frontispiece: detail, 1488, woodcut on paper.

145

Figure 73 (above): Robinet Testard, La Ymitacion Jhesu Christ (ms. fr. 929), fol. 87v: detail, 1488-1496, illuminated on parchment, 260 x 190 mm. Figure 74 (below): Robinet Testard, La Ymitacion Jhesu Christ (ms. fr. 929), fol. 87v: detail, 1488-1496, illuminated on parchment, 260 x 190 mm.

146

Figure 75 (above): Robinet Testard, Livre des des échecs amoureux moralisés (ms. fr. 143), folio 12r: detail, 1488-96, illuminated parchment, 320 x 225 mm Figure 76 (below): Unknown (Ferrara), Mantegna Tarocchi (Poesia): detail, c. 1467, engraving.

147

Figure 77 (above): Unknown (Ferrara), Mantegna Tarocchi (Forteza): detail, c. 1467, engraving. Figure 78 (below): Robinet Testard, Livre des des échecs amoureux moralisés (ms. fr. 143), folio 65v: detail, 1495-1498, illuminated on parchment, 505 x 340 mm.

148

Figure 79 (above left): Unknown (Ferrara), Mantegna Tarocchi (Apollo): detail, c. 1467, engraving. Figure 80 (above right): Unknown (Ferrara), Mantegna Tarocchi (Musicha): detail, c. 1467, engraving.

149

Figure 81 (above): Robinet Testard, Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (ms. lat. 1173), folio 113v: detail, c. 1480-88, illuminated parchment, 215 x 155 mm/fol Figure 82 (below): Robinet Testard, Livre des des échecs amoureux moralisés (ms. fr. 143), folio 36v: detail, 1495-1498, illuminated on parchment, 505 x 340 mm.

150

Figure 83 (above): Anthoine Vérard (Paris) and the Master of Jacques de Besançon, La bible des poetes (ms. rés. vél. 560): folio 18 detail, 1493-4. Woodcut on vellum with overpainting. Figure 84 (below): Robinet Testard, Livre des des échecs amoureux moralisés (ms. fr. 143), folio 36v: detail, 1495-1498, illuminated on parchment, 505 x 340 mm.

151

Figure 85 (above): Unknown (Ferrara), Mantegna Tarocchi (Urania): detail, c. 1467, engraving Figure 86 (below): Unknown (Ferrara), Mantegna Tarocchi (Erato): detail, c. 1467, engraving.

152

Figure 87 (above): Unknown (Ferrara), Mantegna Tarocchi (Geometria): detail, c. 1467, engraving. Figure 88 (below): Robinet Testard, Roman de la Rose (Bodleian Ms. Douce. 195), folio 94v: detail, c. 1490s, paint on parchment.

153

Figure 89 (above): Robinet Testard, Roman de la Rose (Bodleian Ms. Douce. 195), f. 60v: detail, c. 1490s, paint on parchment. Figure 90 (below): Master of Yvon du Fou, Livre des proprietés des choses (ms. fr. 218), folio 44v: detail, illuminated parchment, 433 x 345 mm.

154

Figure 91 (above): Matthias Huss, Le Proprietaire en francoys. Book iii frontispiece: detail, 1485, woodcut on paper. Figure 92 (below): Anthoine Vérard and the Master of Jacques de Besançon, La Passion Jhesuscrist (ms. fr. 1686), folio 12v: detail, c. 1503, painted engraving on vellum, 266 x 173 mm.

155

Figure 93 (above left): Jean Pichore and Remy de Laistre, Book of Hours quarto pub. by Simon Vostre (Bodleian Ms. Douce BB 189), B5, 1504, metalcut on paper. Figure 94 (above right): Martin Schongauer, Nativity, c. 1435-91. Engraving, 245 x 168 mm.

156 Bibliography

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