Empires of Knowledge: Animal Experiments and Enlightenment Science at Versailles
The Palace of Versailles is a palace embedded with power, through the scale of the chateau and gardens, the luxurious decorations, the refined furnishings, the abundant fountains, the profusion of artwork, but also in the flourishing of science. Science supported the national ambitions of the Kings of France. Louis XIV, XV, and XVI were interested in technologies which benefited the health, economy and administration of the realm. This furthered the power and influence of France’s colonial empire on the rest of the world by strengthening France’s capacity to conquer, exploit, and maintain colonial holdings. This aspect is less obvious to visitors to the palace today because many of the scientific objects housed at Versailles were scattered during and after the French Revolution, so this aspect of Versailles’ past is often forgotten, particularly in the case of Versailles’ collection and study of animals.
France’s colonial reach enabled the court to become a hub for receiving animals and plants from the four corners of the world to be studied by French naturalists. This reach helped Claude Perrault with his Natural History, as well as serving the Royal Académie des sciences as subjects for dissections and the Kings’ naturalism pursuits. With the exotic menagerie and dissections of animals, and later, the development of domestic breeds, Versailles offered resources for research and ushered in the birth of veterinary sciences. This furthered France’s national and colonial prestige but also demonstrated France as a nation quickly and scientifically advancing.
Tucked behind the gardens of the Palace of Versailles, at the edge of the Grand Canal, stood one of the most ambitious architectural and zoological projects of the early modern world: the Ménagerie royale. Established in the 1660s under Louis XIV and adapted throughout the reigns of Louis XV and Louis XVI, Versailles’ menagerie was far more than a collection of exotic animals. It was a curated spectacle through which royal authority, colonial ambition, and scientific inquiry were simultaneously displayed.
Early in his reign, Louis XIV shared his ancestor’s enthusiasm for bloodsports. Yet by the age of 24, he had embraced a new pro-animal sentiment described by historian Peter Sahlins as “Renaissance Humanimalism”: the idea that animals were companions living in “proximity and kinship” with humans. The menagerie at Versailles reflected this, as they were not kept solely for sport, but for wonder, and became emblematic of civility and control. This necessitated an architectural space that reflected the grandeur of both Versailles and its exotic inhabitants. Their enclosures became part of a civilising mission, mirroring Versailles itself, as a place of order, refinement, and control.
The menagerie was designed by architect Louis Le Vau, working alongside head gardener André Le Nôtre. Le Nôtre selected a five-acre plot in Versailles’ southwest corner, about a twenty-minute walk from the palace. In 1663, Le Vau began constructing a small chateau-like observatory at the centre of the space - an octagonal pavilion from which visitors could observe seven surrounding animal courtyards from iron balconies on the upper level. As documented in the Histoire des menagerie de l’antiquite a nos jour, it was completed within a year at a cost of 500,000 livres. This was, as historian Masumi Iriye argues, the first zoo structure to categorise animals by species, rather than by country of origin. The aim of this was to reinstate the civilising process and avoid the violent tendencies the animals would have in the wild. This classification, though not yet formalised, reflected contemporary Enlightenment thinking and laid the groundwork for later taxonomical work of Swedish biologist, Carl Linnaeus.
Noted by Perrault in his Natural History, the animals in the menagerie were divided into two categories: those “for the court” and those “for the courtyard.” Animals for the court were housed in the Basse Cour, reserved for livestock intended for the royal kitchen and dining table. This included chickens, ducks, turkeys, goats, deer, and wild boars, alongside more unusual edible creatures such as antelopes, magpies, and camels. However, animals for the courtyard were meant for admiration. Most were birds (particularly aquatic species and songbirds such as peacocks, flamingos, and herons) though birds of prey, including eagles and owls, also featured. Mammals grew more prevalent in the menagerie toward the late seventeenth century. The seven courtyards within which the animals were housed, formed enclosures which were designed to reflect their natural habitats. Ostriches lived in sandy enclosures; aquatic birds were kept in ponds; and Asian species were surrounded by green, aromatic plants. Animals were also grouped according to ecological relationships: hornbills shared space with porcupines and foxes; elephants and camels with lions and a rhinoceros - creating a living diorama of exotic landscapes.
Stocking the menagerie was a complex and costly undertaking. Animals needed to be acquired, transported, housed, and fed: challenges that increased the further they came. Louis XIV funded numerous expeditions and exploited France’s growing colonial reach to source rare species. The procurement of rare species to Versailles is documented in Lettres, instructions et mémoires de Colbert, which provides insight into the types of animals sought after, the locations travelled and even money spent. Colonial governors in French colonies were instructed to procure animals from abroad: cassowaries arrived from Madagascar, while the French East India Company returned with specimens from Asia, Africa, and the Americas. Between 1671 and 1694, one royal animal wrangler, Jean-Baptiste Chabert, completed 40 trips to North Africa, returning with 800 birds, gazelles, and exotic goats. Some animals were diplomatic gifts: the King of Siam sent three crocodiles, while the King of Portugal offered an elephant. These animals were not just curiosities, they were also studied by Enlightenment naturalists, linking the menagerie to scientific advancement. However, this pursuit of knowledge was inextricably bound to empire, a connection often under-studied in historical accounts.
Following Louis XIV’s death in 1715, his great-grandson Louis XV inherited the throne at the age of five. Until his majority in 1723, France was governed by Philippe II, Duke of Orléans. During the regency, the menagerie fell into disrepair: buildings decayed, and the surrounding land was repurposed for agriculture. Though Louis XV requested the reconstruction of a farm to supply the royal kitchen, the rest of the menagerie was neglected. His scientific interests centred on astronomy and botany, leading him to support the Jardin des Plantes in Paris for medical and botanical study. His taste in animals also shifted toward the domestic: he introduced Angora cats to Versailles and, unlike Louis XIV, showed a greater enthusiasm for hunting. The palace housed 2,000 horses and 300 hunting dogs, and he took pride in assembling hunting trophies for a cabinet of curiosities curated by Georges-Louis Buffon. This collection eventually included insects, birds, mammals, reptiles, fish, and amphibians for naturalist study.
Despite his limited engagement with the menagerie, Louis XV did accept impressive animals as gifts and sponsored expeditions to collect them. However, unlike earlier kings who displayed them outdoors, Louis preferred to receive such specimens inside the château, in the Salon de Mercure. This presented logistical challenges for larger animals, such as the Indian rhinoceros, which arrived at Versailles in 1770 after a voyage from Calcutta. Too large for indoor presentation, the rhinoceros was installed in a custom-built enclosure at the menagerie and attracted considerable attention from both courtiers and naturalists. This suggests that while royal preferences shifted, the menagerie continued to serve both personal and colonial agendas and remained a site of scientific inquiry.
By the time of Louis XVI, the menagerie had entered its final decline, partially due to lack of royal interest and financial hardships but also due to the shift in political priorities with the mounting revolution. Only a few animals remained: a lion from Senegal, a quagga, a hartebeest, and the Indian rhinoceros and the structures were neglected and in ruins. Louis XVI’s interests diverged from natural history; his scientific curiosity centred on craftsmanship, particularly lock making. Marie Antoinette, however, developed her own small menagerie of domestic animals at the Trianon, which became a focus of court sociability.
As political tensions rose, the symbolism of caged animals shifted. Increasingly, the menagerie came to represent the oppression of the French people under absolutist rule. As revolutionary pressures mounted and funds dwindled, the menagerie fell into further disrepair. Louis-Charles Couturier, supervisor of Versailles, invited the director of the Jardin des Plantes to rescue the remaining animals. He proposed to the National Assembly the creation of a public menagerie in Paris. The motion passed, although Louis XV’s rhinoceros died before it could be relocated.
While many animals were lost or relocated during the Revolution and the menagerie fell into disuse, its legacy remains crucial for understanding how the French monarchy used animals to exert power, and how early modern scientific knowledge was inseparable from empire, extraction, and display. The presence of animals at Versailles was central to establishing royal patronage in Enlightenment natural sciences, giving rise to two forms of scientific practice: one based in spectacle and another geared toward practical application. Spectacular science was often performed in front of audiences - whether large crowds or smaller aristocratic gatherings in salons. This performative science appealed to Kings Louis XV and XVI, resulting in a surge of scientific demonstrations at the Court of Versailles. Spectacles such as the burning mirror, early balloon flights, and astronomical instruments were popular, but some of the most memorable involved animals, particularly those kept at Versailles, further positioning the court as a hub for Enlightenment inquiry.
Anatomy emerged as a key area of Enlightenment science due to its role in transforming understandings of the body. Moving away from Galenic theory and toward observation and dissection, anatomy contributed to advances in medicine and surgery. Animal dissections, especially of pigs and apes, became central to medical training, as human cadavers were limited due to religious objections, social stigma and legal restrictions. This concept of comparative anatomy (comparing animal anatomy to human anatomy) was to have great repercussions on the ways humans perceived animals. Though Galen’s analogies between human and animal anatomy led to inaccuracies, the practice also prompted a re-evaluation of the human-animal relationship. This outlook was echoed by Louis XIV’s vision of coexistence with animals. Animal dissections proved valuable not only to medics and anatomists but also to naturalists and zoologists, particularly when conducted on exotic specimens. These dissections challenged assumptions, expanded scientific knowledge, and revealed the symbolic power of animals within Enlightenment science.
The Académie des Sciences relied heavily on the resources of the royal menagerie. In its early records, anatomical presentations occupied a significant part of the weekly meetings. The Projet pour les expériences et observations anatomiques, cites the reasoning for this: “those truths which are sought by contemplation and by the dissection of the body of humans and other animals must be considered the foundation.” This emphasises the solid, fundamental nature of the science of anatomy, which should be respected. Anatomy thus embodied the Academy’s mission: to uncover hidden structures through observation and trained expertise.
A central figure in these efforts was Claude Perrault, physician, architect, and founding member of the Académie. Best known for designing the Louvre’s east façade, Perrault also made key contributions to comparative anatomy. He conducted and recorded dissections on animals from the Versailles menagerie, including a lion gifted to Louis XIV. Perrault documented the lion’s muscles, bones, and internal organs, noting distinctions between it, domestic cats, and humans. Beyond its anatomical findings, the dissection carried symbolic weight: the lion, an emblem of sovereignty, was opened to investigation by the tools of science.
Perrault continued to be present during dissections of a variety of animals which died in Versailles’ menagerie, including a chameleon, a camel, and an ostrich. He wrote his Natural History of Animals, which demonstrated a pioneering approach to comparative anatomy and its impact on the development of natural history as a scientific discipline. It established the importance of anatomical study within the broader field of natural history, particularly through detailed dissections and illustrations of various animal species. His most publicised dissection occurred in January 1681, when he and anatomist Joseph Du Verney dissected an elephant gifted by the King of Portugal. The event, attended by Louis XIV, was described by Perrault as follows:
“No anatomical dissection had ever been so dazzling, because of the Animal’s size, the meticulousness with which its various parts were examined or the skill and number of Assistants. The subject was stretched out on a sort of fairly high theatre stage.”
The elephant, already a popular attraction in the menagerie, was dissected not only for scientific study but also as a spectacle. Visitors were drawn to its size, intelligence, and perceived gentleness, especially toward children. The dissection was also scientifically significant, since du Verney discovered that the elephant, who had always been thought of as male, is in fact a female. The relevance of this dissection shows a supplementary benefit of the menagerie beyond the purpose of entertainment: the menagerie provided researchers with animals to study and dissect whereby they can learn and potentially make contributions to science.
Animal dissections continued into the eighteenth century, even without the monarch’s presence, including: royal horses, the court’s domestic cats and most notably Louis XV’s rhinoceros, which died in 1793. Louis XV’s rhinoceros, dissected in 1793 by Jean-Claude Mertrud and assisted by Félix Vicq d’Azyr, was taxidermied but contained anatomical inaccuracies. Its legs resemble table legs, and the rib cage is too round as it was supported by wooden hoops. Nevertheless, the event was historically significant: the rhinoceros, a symbol of royal power, became a tool for expanding zoological understanding and displayed developing preservation techniques. The legacy of the rhinoceros and the animals in the royal menagerie were central to the natural understanding of animals, their place within the French Empire and scientific inquiry.
Unlike Louis XIV, Kings Louis XV and XVI had little interest in anatomical dissection, favouring instead scientific performances that resembled theatre. At Versailles, science often blurred with entertainment, with the most striking public demonstrations involving live animals. Among the most prominent scientific performers was Jean-Antoine Nollet, a priest and physicist known for his dramatic experiments. By the 1740s, he was frequently invited to perform at court, using frogs, birds, and other animals to illustrate invisible forces like electricity, air pressure, and circulation. These animals were not mere props; they became instruments through which Enlightenment science could materialise otherwise abstract ideas.
In one of Nollet’s most famous demonstrations, involved creating a human–animal–electricity circuit. Courtiers formed a chain through which an electrical current from a Leyden jar was passed into a tethered animal, often causing a frog or bird to convulse. The display, which took place in the Hall of Mirrors, drew audiences of over a hundred participants. These demonstrations proved electricity’s transmissibility while delivering awe and amusement among the courtly spectators, including the Duke de Luynes who documented this electric “commotion” in his Mémoires du duc de Luynes sur la Cour de Louis XV (1735-1758).
Animals also featured in experiments on air pressure. Birds were placed in vacuum chambers, and as air was removed, they would faint or die. While these experiments illustrated scientific principles, they also raised questions about cruelty. Joseph Wright’s painting An Experiment on a Bird in the Air Pump captures the ambiguity of these performances. As David Solkin notes, sympathy for the animal is scarce; instead, emotional focus shifts to the human subjects. Only the children appear visibly distressed, hinting at the moral discomfort these experiments provoked.
The performative nature of such experiments reflected the culture of Versailles, where scientific credibility often hinged on royal protocols and aesthetics. As historian Dorinda Outram argues, Enlightenment science was as much about persuasion and display as empirical rigour. Theatrical demonstrations of animal experimentation allowed Enlightenment ideas to reach wide and influential audiences and convey complex ideas in an accessible form.
As well as being used in public scientific demonstrations, the Versailles menagerie was also employed by laboratories and medical schools for more practical scientific investigations, particularly in natural history and veterinary science. With its diverse population of exotic and domestic animals, many rare or poorly suited to the French climate, the menagerie presented significant logistical and medical challenges. Feeding, housing, and treating these animals required daily care, and it was through this work that the foundations of veterinary medicine in France began to emerge. Unlike the public dissections and performances elsewhere at Versailles, this form of inquiry took place behind the scenes, grounded in necessity rather than spectacle.
Caring for animal health was critical to sustaining the court’s broader scientific interests, though it often went unnoticed beside more theatrical experiments. The challenges were complex: tropical birds developed respiratory illnesses in winter; lions had digestive issues; elephants fared poorly altogether. Veterinarians, naturalists, and keepers responded through experimentation, not only with treatments but diagnostic techniques. Symptoms were observed, diseases tracked, and results compared, laying the groundwork for a more systematic approach to animal medicine. Dissections, initially conducted to support natural history and comparative anatomy, began to take on diagnostic value. Insights from dead animals informed the care of the living. Du Verney’s dissection of Louis XIV’s lion, for instance, contributed to a better understanding of feline digestion, informing how lions were fed and cared for at court.
By the mid-eighteenth century, veterinary knowledge was becoming vital far beyond Versailles. The health of animals underpinned France’s military campaigns, agricultural output, and colonial infrastructure. Louis XV and Louis XVI viewed science as a tool of governance and imperial expansion, with horses playing a central role in transport and warfare and disease among livestock could devastate rural economies. In this context, the lessons learned at Versailles gained national importance. Comparative anatomy became essential to treating injuries in hoofed animals, particularly horses. Dissections of camels, sheep, goats, and royal horses supported new therapeutic approaches relevant to military and agricultural needs. These studies helped bridge elite court science and broader state interests.
In 1765, the École Vétérinaire d’Alfort was established under the patronage of Louis XV and the guidance of Claude Bourgelat, a cavalry officer and veterinary scientist, four years after Bourgelat established the first veterinary school in Lyon. Bourgelat had long advocated for a scientific approach to animal health, one that treated veterinary medicine as a learned discipline, not merely a craft. The founding of the Alfort and Lyon schools marked a turning point. They were one of the first veterinary institutions in the world, and its curriculum explicitly drew upon anatomical and pathological knowledge that had been developed, in part, through earlier court-sponsored dissections. For example, the study of comparative anatomy of hoofed animals shaped approaches to mending injuries in horses, which were vital to both military and agricultural life. This can be seen in dissections and comparative studies done on animals such as camels, sheep, goats, and the royal horses.
The Versailles menagerie thus became a key site of transition between courtly spectacle and practical science. While its animals had once symbolised royal power and exotic reach, they now served a more functional role in the production of veterinary knowledge. Even as research moved beyond the palace, animals from the royal collection continued to be used, highlighting the ongoing influence of court patronage. This transition also reflected broader Enlightenment values: knowledge was to be systematised, ordered, and made useful. Veterinary medicine, once marginal, was reframed as a rational, evidence-based discipline. Over the course of a century, the animals of Versailles became central to understanding disease, improving agriculture, and supporting military strength.
The menagerie reveals how scientific inquiry could shift from performance to professionalism. The animals at Versailles were not only symbols of monarchical splendour; they were agents in the development of modern science. In both their lives and their deaths, they contributed to a new infrastructure of veterinary care shaped by Enlightenment reason and imperial ambition.Versailles itself was not just a space of leisure and governance, but also a laboratory in which new understandings of the body, life, and nature were forged. The creatures brought to Versailles, studied, and sometimes sacrificed, were vital contributors to the Enlightenment’s pursuit of knowledge. In their movement, confinement, and manipulation, they expose the complex intersections of human curiosity, scientific progress, and dominion over the natural world.
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