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Legendary Beasts of the West Originating in the History of Latin Culture

by Anne-Marie Turcan-Verkerk

Did you happen to miss out on the “Legendary Beasts” exhibition at the Louvre-Lens, which ended on 22 January 2024? As a consolation, here are some specimens originating in Mediaeval Latin.

Camelopard and anabullus

On the Internet, you can find some modern portrayals of the camelopard or cameleopard, regarded as a mythical creature, depicted as a rather unattractive monster, reminiscent of the finest fantasy.

This hybrid creature, known as the camel-leopard or camel-panther, emerged from a misunderstanding during the Middle Ages of a term used in the Hellenistic era (legend has it that it occurred in Alexandria in the third century BC, at the request of Ptolemy II) by the 72 scholars tasked with translating the Pentateuch into Greek, which later formed the basis of the Greek Bible known as the Septuagint. Thierry Buquet, now a member of CRAHAM at the University of Caen, has published intriguing articles that delve into this process in great detail (see especially Buquet 2008 and Buquet 2012, as well as other works, all available online at https://cv.hal.science/thierry-buquet). The kamelopardalis in the Septuagint was an attempt to translate the already ambiguous Hebrew term zemer. It appeared in Deuteronomy 14:5 on a list of animals suitable for consumption (Buquet, 2006). The translators interpreted it as a giraffe, a tall animal with a long neck and spotted coat. Jerome, in his retranslation of Deuteronomy from Hebrew in the early fifth century, simply adopted the Latinized version of the Greek term, which he knew from Latin literature and unequivocally referred to as the giraffe: camelopardalum, in the accusative case, leaving its gender ambiguous. When Varro, Pliny the Elder, or Solinus, during the Roman period, mentioned camelopardalis or camelopardalus, they understood it as referring to the giraffe, as they had seen one and attempted to describe its main characteristics. Pliny’s text, later echoed by Solinus (Polyhistor, XXX, 19), has had the most lasting influence :

Harum aliqua similitudo in duo transfertur animalia. Nabun Aethiopes uocant, collo similem equo, pedibus et cruribus boui, camelo capite, albis maculis rutilum colorem distinguentibus, unde appellata camelopardalis ; dictatoris Caesaris circensibus ludis primum uisa Romae. Ex eo subinde cernitur, aspectu magis quam feritate conspicua, quare etiam ouiferae nomen inuenit.

Naturalis Historia, VIII, xxvii, § 69

Some resemblance to these is passed on to two animals. The Ethiopians give the name of nabun to one that has a neck like a horse, feet and legs like an ox, and a head like a camel, and is of a ruddy colour picked out with white spots, owing to which it is called a cameloparda; it was first seen at Rome at the games in the Circus given by Caesar when dictator. From this it has subsequently been recognized to be more remarkable for appearance than for ferocity, and consequently it has also got the name of “wild sheep”.

trans. by Harris Rackham. Loeb Classical Library 353. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1940, p. 53

Pliny’s text was later referenced in the seventh century in Book XII:2 of Isidore of Seville<s Etymologies, an extensive and widely circulated encyclopaedia that passed this knowledge down to the Latin Middle Ages; Isidore employs the masculine noun camelopardus. However, Isidore’s Western readers had never encountered a giraffe and could no longer link the word to the real animal. Bible commentators, encyclopaedists and scholars in general could only rely on the word itself, its etymology and the descriptions provided by Pliny and Isidore in an attempt to reconstruct, define and possibly depict the animal. The result is a species of spotted monster, which carried negative connotations in the mediaeval system of values. Despite knowing from Pliny that the creature was no more malevolent than a wild sheep, they became increasingly wary of it and predominantly used it as a masculine noun. What Thierry Buquet refers to as a “philological animal” or a “paper animal” came thus into existence.

A « chameleopart » from the Livre des proprietés des choses by Barthélemy l’Anglais, translated from Latin by Jean Corbechon: Paris, BnF, Fr. 22532, f. 294, 15th c., Paris (BnF snapshot)

The giraffe has not simply turned into a “chameleopard”. As Thierry Buquet (Buquet 2019) has shown, the term nabun (in the accusative) mentioned by Pliny was later associated with the name anabula or anabulla (initially appearing to be a plant name), under which Thomas de Cantimpré, between 1230 and 1245, described the giraffe, drawing inspiration from Pliny. Albert the Great, aware that Emperor Frederick II owned a giraffe, later managed to compare anabula to the Arabic term adopted in Italy: anabulla (…) quam Arabum quidam et Ythalicorum seraph appellantanabulla which some Arabs and Italians call seraph’. However, an illuminator of Thomas de Cantimpré’s Liber de natura rerum, who had no encounter with a real giraffe, would go on to describe a new creature, as evidenced by Thierry Buquet. In manuscript 320 of the municipal library of Valenciennes, dating from the late thirteenth century, marginal notes detail how to depict the animals described in the text: yet the note seems to attribute the characteristics of the anabula to the aloy, an animal mentioned immediately prior: “A beast which has a horse’s neck, feet and legs of a bull /// of resplendent olifant color.” Consequently, the illuminator depicts a grey-pink elephant with a mane and hooves. This depiction gives rise to an iconographic tradition that transforms the giraffe into a species of elephant, i.e. another non-existing anabulla.

An anabula by Thomas de Cantimpré: Valenciennes, BM 320, f. 51v, late 13th c. (per Buquet 2019)

Clear as day?

To veer from the realm of mammals, I encourage ILARA readers to delve into recent research by Hana Šedinová of the Prague Academy of Sciences (Šedinová 2019), a frequent contributor of works on the identification of animal species described by mediaeval authors. This process mirrors our earlier exploration with the giraffe: mediaeval authors grapple with unraveling the meaning behind words and explanations that, to them, evoke something entirely different from the original intentions of ancient authors. For instance, Thomas de Cantimpré, a familiar name in scholarly circles, mentions an animal he labels dies, a term in Latin that denotes ‘day’. What could it be?

Dies piscis est marinus, ut dicit Aristotiles, qui post perfectionem suam non vivit nisi per unum diem. (…) Et in hoc natura valde mirabilis, que ad vitam tantum creatum animal vitam tam subito exire cogit. Notatur autem hic diligentia Creatoris: hoc enim animal duas alas et duos pedes habet et caret sanguine. Sed ut quid ei pedes vel ale in subitum ministerium? Vere sufficiens ratio est, ut in creaturis suis Deus mirabilis predicetur.

Liber de natura rerum, VII, 30 according to the digital version found here.

Dies is a marine creature, as Aristotle suggests, which, once fully developed, lives but a single day. (…) And in this, nature is truly remarkable, compelling a creature scarcely brought to life to depart so swiftly. Yet, we still observe the diligence of the Creator: indeed, this animal possesses two wings and two legs, yet lacks blood. But what purpose do its legs and wings serve for such a brief existence? In truth, the sufficient reason lies in the proclamation of God’s marvels through His creations.

Where does this common yet curious term for describing an animal come from? During Thomas’s time, Aristotle’s works were finally translated into Latin. Thomas encounters the description of the dies in the translation of the Historia animalium, compiled by Michael Scot around 1220 in Toledo from an Arabic rendition. Michael is credited with inventing the word dies. Indeed, what Michael Scot translates as dies, according to Šedinová, is not Greek ἐφήμερον, but Arabic yaumī:

Animalia vero carentia sanguine, sive sint de genere volatilis sive sint de genere ambulabilis, moventur multis pedibus, sicut animal, quod dicitur ‘dies’. Nam ipse movetur duabus alis et quattuor pedibus, et sortitum est hoc nomen quoniam non vivit nisi per unum diem.

Animals that lack blood, whether they belong to a species that flies or to a species that walks, move with many legs, like the creature we refer to as dies. Indeed, it moves using two wings and four legs, and it has been given this name as it only lives for a single day.

The creature described by Aristotle (De animalibus, I, 490a32–b2) had four wings and four legs, lacked blood and lived only for a single day. So far, no problem: even with two legs missing (given all insects have six), we easily identify it as the mayfly – an insect with four wings that dwells in damp areas and has aquatic larvae. But Thomas de Cantimpré adds his own twist: he sees this creature as a fish. If it were indeed a fish, residing in the sea, it would be an extraordinary one, having both legs and wings. Having already lost two wings, dies now loses two legs (following mediaeval logic, if it had had four legs, it would have been classified among quadrupeds). Šedinová traces the entire process of transmission, reception and alteration of the term and its description, from one encyclopaedia to another and throughout the history of illustrations: thus, dies ultimately becomes a peculiar creature – a fish with avian features, sporting wings and two legs, albeit legs that, in some depictions, resemble those of a mammal.

A dies by Thomas de Cantimpré: Prague, Národní knihovna, MS X A 4, fol. 132 (per Šedinová 2019)

In an incunable edition of the Hortus sanitatis, published in Mainz in 1491, dies is depicted with a boar’s head emerging from a shell, along with a fish tail, a semblance of a hind leg, and two species of fins at the front that could also resemble legs – but no wings (see the edition by Catherine Jacquemard et al.). In Thomas’s use of the adjective mirabilis, we sense at least astonishment and admiration at the works of God, but the term also conveys the ancient notion of wonder and the Christian notion of miracle: “day” is indeed a fantastical creature.

In the name of ana

Other creatures emerged from perplexing terms, albeit for different reasons. Some terms found in Latin medical, geographical and scientific texts were sourced from cultural traditions beyond the Latin sphere, often originating from Greek or Arabic sources, which themselves traced back to even earlier transmissions. However, words undergo distortion during their transition between languages, especially when they are rare or used in highly technical texts that copyists struggle to grasp. This leads to transmission errors: various mistakes arising from pronunciation, misinterpretation, misunderstanding, negligence… Much like proper names, less familiar words are particularly susceptible to errors, which text editors refer to as “corruption”. When compilers of encyclopaedias or mediaeval dictionaries encounter such words, which, like camelopardus or anabula, no longer align with familiar realities, they seek explanations allowing them to imbue these words with meaning, to say something about the animals they denote and to illustrate them. Šedinová provides several examples in a compelling 2013 article, notably demonstrating the consequences of Michel Scot’s inaccuracies in reading and translating his Arabic Aristotle, as well as the repercussions of Thomas de Cantimpré’s errors upon discovering Michel Scot (Šedinová 2013).

In this way, for example, an innocent fish undergoes a transformation into a ferocious mammal, ana. Aristotle, as documented in the Historia animalium (IX, 37, 621a, 16–20), describes fish which, when threatened, would form a circle and display their sharp teeth, known as ἀμίαι, and which our Greek dictionaries define as “types of tuna”. Interestingly, Michel Scot made no changes; it remains a fish, referred to as amia in his account. However, in Thomas de Cantimpré’s rendition, the entry is not classified among the fish, but instead among the quadrupeds, significantly altering its interpretation, although the description itself does not differ much:

Ana animal est Orientis, ut dicit Aristotiles, naturaliter sevum nimis. Huius generis animalia mira dilectione se invicem amant; nam si viderint alterius generis animal uni eorum appropinquare, concurrunt omnes quotquot eorum prope sunt, et omnes alterius generis animal invadunt dentibus et vulneribus inflictis vel fugere cogunt vel occidunt penitus. Habent enim huius generis animalia dentes magnos et longos; unde accidit, ut si forte impetatur hoc animal ab animali aliquo fortiori se, utique ferocitate dentium se liberat et evadit.

Liber de natura rerum, IV,9, ed. Mattia Cipriani

An ana is a creature native to the East, as described by Aristotle, naturally endowed with great ferocity. Animals of this species exhibit astonishing affection among themselves. Should they witness an outsider approaching one of their own, all nearby individuals swiftly gather, and all launch attack the animal of the other species with their teeth, and, through the force of inflicted injuries, they compel the intruder to flee or kill it mercilessly. Indeed, animal of this species possess robust, elongated teeth; thus, when this animal happens to be attacked by any animal stronger than itself, it often breaks free using the ferocious strength of its teeth and escapes.

Along the way, the name changed and morphed into the mysterious ana. What was Thomas’s direct source? We do not know, but in mediaeval manuscripts, nothing is more common than confusing the four strokes of -mi- with the four strokes of -nn-, and nothing is more ordinary than condensing two letters n into one… As for the illuminators, they knew nothing of the ana, and understandably so. They must have envisioned an exotic creature, armed with sharp fangs, which they attempted to depict by drawing parallels with the dangerous felines of Africa and the East, never suspecting for a moment that it was, in fact, a large, highly social and very common fish.

An ana by Thomas de Cantimpré: Valenciennes, BM 320, f. 52, late 13th c. (IRHT snapshot)

References:

Buquet 2006: Thierry Buquet. “Pourquoi la Bible des Septante a-t-elle traduit le zemer du Deutéronome en kamelopardalis? Réflexions sur le statut symbolique et alimentaire de la girafe”. Anthropozoologica, 41/1, 2006, pp. 7–25 (halshs-00089601)

Buquet 2008: Thierry Buquet. “La girafe, belle inconnue des bibles médiévales. Camelopardalis: un animal philologique”. Anthropozoologica, 43/2, 2008, pp. 47–68 (halshs-00352040)

Buquet 2012: Thierry Buquet. “La belle captive. La girafe dans les ménageries princières au Moyen Âge”. In: Corinne Beck & Fabrice Guizard-Duchamp, eds. La bête captive au Moyen Âge et à l’époque moderne. Actes des deuxièmes rencontres internationales « Des bêtes et des hommes » (Valenciennes, 8–9 November 2007), Amiens, Encrage, 2012, pp. 65-90 (halshs-00664537v2)

Buquet 2019: Thierry Buquet. “‘Bieste à chief d’oliphant’. L’anabulla dans la Chevalerie Judas Maccabée (Paris, BnF, Fr. 15104) inspirée du Liber de natura rerum de Thomas de Cantimpré”. Reinardus, 30, 2019, pp. 24–46. 10.1075/rein.00013.buq (halshs-02106597)

Šedinová 2013: Hana Šedinová. “Per errorem ad novum terminum. Alcuni termini di animali creati per incomprensione delle fonti”. Archivum Latinitatis Medii Aevi, 71, 2013. pp. 223–235. DOI : https://doi.org/10.3406/alma.2013.1267 

Šedinová 2019: Hana Šedinová. “Non vivens nisi per unum diem. A Winged Aquatic Animal on Its Way from Aristotle to Thomas of Cantimpré”. Archivum Latinitatis Medii Aevi, 77, 2019. pp. 207–234. DOI : https://doi.org/10.3406/alma.2019.2575

Anne-Marie Turcan-Verkerk, Director of Studies (EPHE–PSL)

Anne-Marie Turcan-Verkerk is a Director of Studies at EPHE–PSL, specialising in Mediaeval Latin Language and Literature. Since 2010, she has led the Biblissima project, now known as Biblissima project, now known as Biblissima+, dedicated to the transmission of ancient written cultures. In 2020, she founded ILARA, where as of 2023–2024, she teaches an course in Mediaeval Latin, based on the reading of mediaeval sources. She is the editor of ALMA, a journal focussing on the history of Mediaeval Latin language and culture.


OpenEdition suggests that you cite this post as follows:
ILARA (January 25, 2024). Legendary Beasts of the West Originating in the History of Latin Culture. ILARA, the Institute for Linguistic Heritage and Diversity. Retrieved January 18, 2026 from https://doi.org/10.58079/1236w


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