“The fact is,” said the jester, “I come from the family of a nobleman in the Faubourg St. Germain. He is possessed by an evil spirit; will hear nothing of God; fears as little touching the devil; scorns to celebrate the religious festival of Easter, and holds the entire brotherhood of priestly men in utter detestation.”
Brusquet then crossed the palm of each brother with a crown-piece, which so inspired the two Franciscans, that they declared if the patient were possessed by a legion of devils, they would undertake to drive them all out of him. Therewith the three departed for Strozzi’s house, where their appearance excited some surprise in the Marshal’s personal attendant. The latter, however, gave way when Brusquet, after taking him aside, had informed him that his master had particularly important business to transact with the two spiritual gentlemen, and that they might enter the Marshal’s chamber without being announced. The servant bowed and withdrew; Brusquet showed the Franciscans into Strozzi’s bedroom, the door of which he immediately closed upon them, and remained standing on watch outside.
The monks found the Marshal lying on his bed reading. To his stare of surprise they meekly replied by inquiring how he found himself in soul and body. “So well, both in strength and spirit,” said Strozzi, “that if you do not immediately decamp, I will fling the couple of you out of window.” They concluded that he was very powerfully “possessed” indeed; and straightway with loud prayer, and some inharmonious singing, they proceeded to sprinkle him from head to foot with holy water. He really hissed with rage, as if he had been red-hot. Then, leaping from his bed, he grasped at his dagger, and flew at the monks. A fearful struggle ensued, and howling, and stamping, and showers of oaths on one side, and holy water on the other. When the uproar brought the servants of the Marshal to his assistance, they found him speechless with rage, and in the sudden temporary lull, Brusquet beckoned them from the room, and locked the door upon Strozzi and his attendants. He then paid and dismissed the Franciscans, and, fresh from this new exploit, he ran to the palace, and kept the whole royal and august personages there assembled, in a roar of laughter at the highly seasoned details which he exultingly recounted,—from the Marshal’s ride into Paris, to the final exorcism made to relieve him from Satanic possession.
The joke was so exceedingly to the taste of his Majesty, that he despatched messengers to Strozzi to inquire after his ghostly and bodily health, and especially if the Franciscans had succeeded or failed in making a true believer of the most unbelieving man in France.
Strozzi never forgave this trick, which had rendered him ridiculous in the eyes of his own servants. He exacted a double vengeance, which fell heavily on the fool. The Cardinal of Lorraine had established an inquisitorial tribunal in France, and before this body, Brusquet was charged with heresy, and with open mockery of the religion of the State. The tribunal found it an easy matter to fling the alleged offender into confinement, with menace of loss of life. He was a well-plumed pigeon, whom of course, they did not intend to kill, but only to greatly terrify and thoroughly pluck. Brusquet was a coward and avaricious, but he bled freely in pistoles in order to save his life and purchase freedom.—Strozzi having injured him in purse, proceeded to assail him in his honour.
The year was 1555. The Cardinal de Lorraine had gone on a mission to Rome, and in his suite was his favourite Brusquet, who had the royal sanction to follow his Eminence. The Legation had not been long within the walls of Rome, when intelligence of the death of the King’s “plaisant” reached Paris, by especial courier. The latter carried with him a duly attested document, the jester’s last will. It was the most singular of deeds, for therein the testator willed or prayed that the King should permit the wife of Brusquet to retain the office held previously by her husband,—that of Superintendent-General of Posting,—on one condition, namely, that she espoused his friend the courier, who was the bearer of the news and the testamentary paper. It was thought that nothing could possibly be more appropriate than this dying act of a court fool. The thing was resolved upon, and the wife of Brusquet, who had no children, except a married daughter, was forced, persuaded, or cajoled, till she consented to marry the courier,—in order that she might preserve a lucrative office.
The wedded pair had already kept house for a month when Brusquet (who was daily electrifying the Papal Court by his mirthfulness or impudence) suddenly learned the news of his death, and of the indecently hasty marriage of his not altogether disconsolate widow. He was in exceeding wrath, hurried back to Paris, turned the second husband into the street, chastised his wife, and then publicly remarried her! Court, camp, and city considered this last act as one more in the official character of the fool than any he had hitherto accomplished, and the hilarity was general and unbounded. Brusquet, however, only showed that his wit had departed, for he attempted to avenge himself by conveying false information to the Court of Rome as to alleged traitorous intentions of Strozzi against the states and property of the Church. He represented the Marshal as having fallen into disgrace, and, after flying from France, having joined an Algerine force destined to operate successively against Ostia, Civita Vecchia, and Ancona, and ultimately to plunder the wealthy shrine of Loretto. The Roman Government was only needlessly alarmed, and Brusquet only suffered for his accusation of another.
There can be little doubt that his old personal enemy brought down upon him the calamity by which he was visited in 1562. In the very midst of much worldly prosperity, he found himself accused of a very serious crime, that of being a Huguenot, and, still worse, that of suppressing or delaying despatches which contained news unfavourable to the Huguenot cause. The accusation would seem to have been better founded as regards Brusquet’s son-in-law. The storm, however, fell most heavily upon the former. He was obliged to fly, and the orthodox populace plundered the house which the heretical court fool had abandoned with so much precipitation.
The fugitive jester found a home, first at Nogent, with Madame de Bouillon, a great friend of the Huguenots, and, subsequently, with Madame de Valentinois. But to be a concealed, fugitive dependant was little to the humour of a man who had made three kings laugh, and whose jokes had for so long a period been accepted as apologies or excuses for much rascality. He stooped to beseech his adversary, Strozzi, in a letter shown by the latter to Brantôme, who describes it as very well expressed, to use his influence with the authorities, to enable him, an odd man, to end his days in Paris, in peace and quietness. The petition was unheeded; at all events, the petitioner drew no benefit from it. He lost all heart, patience, and health, sank into moody despair, and died at the château of Anet, the guest of Madame de Valentinois, in the year 1563.
If there be any of Brusquet’s descendants living, they belong to their illustrious ancestor through his daughter. It is popularly said, that when Thoni (one of the fools of Henry II.) died, the principal poets of the day applied for the vacant post. This shows, as I have before remarked, that the suggestion of Ménage, that the court poet and court fool often consisted of one and the same person, is not to be summarily rejected. The poets probably were not such fools as to neglect the present opportunity, which offered them the chance of a lucrative social appointment, with that of the less richly paid office of plaisant to the King.