In one or two instances the monarch exhibited some attachment to his _fou_, by honouring his memory after death. The King Charles V. buried two of his jesters beneath sumptuous monuments. This King, too, was called “the Wise.” One _plaisant_ thus honoured was interred in the church of St. Germain l’Auxerrois, but I can find no account of his tomb in any description of the church to which I have had access. The second was a _fou_ of some condition apparently, for he bore a noble name, and that is not the case with any _fou à titre d’office_ that I have yet heard of. The one in question was Thevenin de St. Ligier, whose body was deposited in the church of St. Maurice de Senlis. The tomb is described as being of stone, ten feet by five, on which lies a figure of a man in a long robe, whose head and feet are of alabaster. He wears the fool’s hood, and other insignia of his office, among which is the long wand, which he grasps in his hand. The scroll of the tomb is composed of very small figures elaborately carved, and the inscription tells the reader that “Here lies Thevenin de Saint-Ligier, _fou_ of the King our Lord, who deceased on the 11th of July, in the year of Grace 1374. Pray God for his soul.”
We see the _fou_ hardly less honoured when, instead of being splendidly interred by his master, he follows the body of his patron to the tomb, amid the esteemed friends and followers especially selected to fittingly grace the solemn occasion. This was the case in 1416, at the obsequies of John, Duke de Berri. The funeral of that prince was a very stately affair; and not the least sincere mourner who was near the coffin, was the Duke’s favourite _plaisant_, who was attired in a full suit of sables, and bore himself with as much dignity as any noble there present. If my readers choose to accompany me any further, they will find German _narrs_ making a mockery of woe, but no samples of their honouring departed worth, as may be found among the _fous_ of France.
It was not every _fou_ who was a _plaisant_ to his master. Louis XI. must have discovered as much after taking into his service the jester of his deceased brother, Charles, Duke de Guyenne. The Duke and his mistress, “the lady of Monsoreau,” in the month of May 1472, being at dessert, divided between them a peach, presented to them by the kind Abbot of Saint-Jean d’Angeli. The lady and her lord _par amour_, speedily died, and their _fou_ passed into the service of the King. Some time after, Louis XI., then praying in his oratory, his fool standing by, held a little discourse and bargaining, as was his wont, with Our Lady of Clery. The staple of the royal discourse with the Virgin, was to this effect, that he and she being on the most friendly terms, mutually patronizing each other, she of course would arrange with Heaven that the King should not suffer for the murder of his brother; but that the Divine vengeance might very appropriately fall on the Abbot of Saint-Jean d’Angeli, whom Louis had employed to commit the deed, and who, as the monarch assured the Virgin, was a very sorry rascal indeed, fit for nothing better than everlasting perdition. “Just arrange this little matter for me, as I would have it,” said the King, “and I have in my eye some very pretty presents that I will offer at your altar.” According to Brantôme, this pleasant confession and proposed arrangement were overheard by the _fou_, whom Louis looked upon as an amusing imbecile without discretion. But the _plaisant_ loved his old master; and he must have as bitterly hated as he little feared his new patron, if it be true that he accused him of the crime before an august company at a grand banquet. The fool was probably soon disposed of, but when the great Duke of Burgundy laid fratricide to the charge of Louis, the latter met the charge manfully. He shut up the Abbot of Saint-Jean d’Angeli in a dungeon, and appointed two commissioners to examine into the accusation. Shortly after, the Abbot was found strangled in prison, some said, by himself; others declared, by the devil; while some thought of the King, and said nothing,--which was what Louis himself did. The examination having proceeded thus far, the King rewarded the two commissioners. He made Louis d’Amboise, Bishop of Albi; and to Pierre de Sacierges he gave a sinecure post of great value. Therewith the examination was at an end, and Louis, at his next _tête-à-tête_ with the Holy Virgin of Clery, probably talked like a man who had been wronged by false suspicion, and had come cleverly, if not triumphantly, out of a trying ordeal.