Guillaume Dupré (d’après), Henri IV en buste d’après bronze, 19e siècle, dépôt du musée du Louvre Nicolas Guinier (d’après), Médaille d’Henri IV, bronze, 20e siècle, don des Amis du château Jean-François Villain (1790-18..) et Louis Parant (1768-1851), Apothéose d’Henri IV, lithographie, 19e siècle, don des Amis du château Crispin de Passe l’ancien (1564-1637), Portrait du dauphin, Louis XIII enfant, estampe, 17e siècle Thomas de Leu, (15..-1612), Portrait du duc de Vendôme enfant, estampe, 17e siècle, don des Amis du château Jacques Granthomme (15..-16..), Portrait du dauphin, Louis XIII enfant, estampe, 17e siècle Eugène Devéria (1805-1865), Étude de bouffon pour La Naissance d’Henri IV, huile sur toile, 19e siècle, don de M. Prouté
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In the popular imagination, the jester is an ugly, deformed, grotesque, wicked, and sometimes cruel figure. Of humble origins, he enjoys the privilege, thanks to his appearance, of approaching the powerful, whom his tricks and jokes entertain. Almost anything is permitted to him because he is considered to be of little consequence.
The jester embodies a form of physical monstrosity that falls outside the norm. In highly hierarchical and structured societies, the body contributes to social distinction, and the jester’s presence at court serves as a reminder of this. Clothing and bearing therefore convey social meaning from childhood onwards. No one is exempt from the status assigned to them, not even infants—especially when they are destined for important positions, such as the dauphin, the future king, or children born outside marriage but legitimised by the king, such as César de Bourbon (1594–1665), son of Henri IV and Gabrielle d’Estrées (1573–1599).
During the Renaissance, the first portraits of children intended to enhance royal prestige or to facilitate marriage alliances arranged from the cradle began to appear.
The poses are therefore solemn, and the luxurious clothing stands in stark contrast to the tender appearance of the young sitters.
Here, the dauphin is shown crushing snakes with his hands, following the tradition of the childhood of Hercules. The image is intended to assert that the future king will be capable of maintaining order and suppressing rebellion.
The practice of dressing boys in long gowns with white collars until the age of seven can sometimes make it difficult for us to identify the sitters. During the Renaissance, kings were frequently compared with the gods and emperors of Antiquity as a means of celebrating their power. Such associations served to affirm the sovereign’s divine legitimacy, innate strength, and wisdom.
The king—in this case Henri IV—is therefore depicted with a youthful, muscular torso that contrasts with his beard and wrinkles, signs of wisdom and maturity. He appears naked, helmeted, and triumphant on this medal, where he is represented as the god Mars. Such feats could only lead him, after his death, to join the ranks of the gods, as depicted in this drawing by Louis-Bertin Parant.
The appearance of these different characters may seem funny or even a little scary to us. And yet, many of them are kings or future kings, known as dauphins. Here, their appearance—their bodies as well as their clothes—is used to show just how special and important they are.
The jester who entertains kings is chosen for his unusual appearance and his cleverness. He is allowed to say things that no one else would dare say at court because his difference makes him an outsider.