ladies not unfrequently excelled the court fools, male or female. They
did not, indeed, let their lightly-hung tongues ring out at Majesty
itself; but they observed no such restraint with anybody beneath the
rank, even though the individual might be above the King himself in
power. I may instance, as a case in point, the mighty Cardinal of
Lorraine, who, despite all his puissance, was often the butt of the
lively ladies of the Court of Catherine de Medicis and her royal
sons. Brantôme says of this gay and intellectual priest, that, when
things went well with him, his arrogance was insufferable; but that
no one could be more courteous, or more humble, when his projects met
with obstruction. One of the Queen’s maids-of-honour, Mdlle. de la
Guyonnière, afterwards Madame de Ligneroles, often carried on a fool’s
war with the redoubted Cardinal. Whenever the latter appeared to be
meek and polite with this lady,--she, who, according to Brantôme’s
pleasant compendium, “étoist très habile fille, belle, honneste, et
qui disoit bien le mot,” would, with audacious gaiety, exclaim, “Come,
come, meek Sir, tell us now if you have not met with some check during
the night past? Confess at once that you have been humbled, or we will
have nothing to say to you; for, most assuredly, you have encountered
some defeat. So, let us hear all about it, if you would have us
gracious with you.”
At a later period, we find another lady whose wit was wont to give
mirth to courtly circles, if not to the French Court itself. I allude
to the sister of that younger De Thou who was executed, by Richelieu,
in 1642, for not revealing the conspiracy headed by Cinq-Mars, who had
trusted the secret of it with his friend. In after-years, this lady
attended the funeral service of the Cardinal, or a service held for the
repose of his soul. And there she set the noble persons present into
scarcely suppressed laughter, by exclaiming, as she gazed at the coffin
where Richelieu lay, or was supposed to lie,--in the words of Martha to
Christ, after the death of Lazarus,--“Domine, si fuisses hîc, frater
meus non esset mortuus.” (“Lord, if thou hadst been _here_, my brother
had not died.”) It was very apt, though a little profane.
To return to the official female fool, we must go back to the Court
of the father of the King, under whom this lady lived, namely, the
Court of Henri IV. There was there a Mathurine, who seems to have
held the office of _Plaisante_, not to the Queen exclusively, but for
the benefit and amusement of the Court generally. Of what quality was
the wit of these _plaisantes_, some of whom I think were dwarfs, I am
unable to say; the only certain fact I can tell of them is, that they,
though not more than the male fools, continued to wear out the soles
of their shoes with great rapidity. The registers of accounts show an
extraordinary consumption of shoe leather. In the ‘_Collection de la
Chambre des Comptes_,’ under the year 1319, thirty-two pairs of shoes
are set down as having been supplied _at one time_ to the Queen’s dwarf!
It is said of Mathurine that she employed her wit in laughing people
out of the Huguenot faith into Catholicism. Mathurine was present in
1594 when Jean Chastel wounded Henri, in his attempt on that king’s
life, and she ran great risk of sharing the fate of the would-be
assassin, for the monarch, aware of her frantic zeal for the Roman
Catholic Church, and that she only looked on Henri as half a Romanist,
or believing that she was playing too serious a joke by right of her
office, ordered her under arrest as an accomplice. Mathurine, however,
proved her innocence, and was set free. She died previous to the year
1627.
De Tillot quotes two authors who make mention of this female fool,
Mathurine. The first is the anonymous author of ‘La Lunatique,’ who,
addressing the King’s male jester, “Maître Guillaume,” remarks:
“Thou doest well to have small love for the Reformers. Satan himself
looks on them only with regret; and for a good reason, seeing that
if the Reformers could have their way, there would soon be an end of
court fools and buffoons. Ah, poor Mathurine, and you poor fellows,
Angoulevent, Maître Guillaume, and indeed all you other fools, as
well without hoods as with, where would all your pensions be if the
Reformers had the upper hand?”
It is a significant fact, this, of the Reformers being the opponents
of the expensive follies, and their professors, patronized at Court.
Ogive, the second author cited by De Tillot, speaks also of Mathurine,
as a salaried fool, appointed by the King: “Folle à gages, et appointée
du Roi.” He writes, in 1627, saying, “Truly it is a marvellous thing
that noble personages, who have been brought up all their lives with
the parrots and apes of the Louvre, and who do not less belong to the
Court than Mathurine did, or the Queen-Mother’s dwarfs _do_, should not
have learnt in their cabinets to write reasonably.”
Thirty-four years after this was written, a Spanish _folle_ appeared at
the French Court, and in rather suspicious society; that of Don John
of Austria, who accompanied the famous Pimentel to Paris, to negotiate
the marriage of Maria Theresa of Spain with the young Louis XIV. (a
marriage which, as it was to put an end to the war, was more cared
for by Mazarin than a union which might have taken place between the
Cardinal’s most clever niece, Marie Mancini, and the French king).
Don John had the impudence to present at court this woman, whom he
called his “Folle.” She was full of fun and wit, and every one sought
to excite both. Louis enjoyed her jokes with wonderful zest. Her name
was Capiton, and no party was thought complete without the presence
of the Don’s _Folle_. The cudgelling of brains between her and Marie
Mancini was a gladiatorial fight. Poor Marie had loved Louis, and Louis
was warmly attached to a woman who had awakened in him the only good
qualities he ever possessed, and who saved him from being such a mere
beast as his successor was. Capiton loved to provoke Marie, by singing
the praises of the Spanish Infanta, and Marie, sharp-witted, as well
as sharply wounded by these praises of a rival who was to triumph
over her, replied by sarcasms that were repeated with intense delight
throughout France. The haughty, eccentric, coarse, and sensual Don John
was proud of his Folle Capiton.
The official female fool survived as late as the year 1722, when we
meet with a certain Kathrin Lise. She was the duly-appointed jokeress,
if I may so speak, to the Duchess von Sachsen-Weissenfels-Dahme, who
resided in the castle of Drehna, and depended upon Kathrin for her
mirth. This is all we know of the last of the line of female jesters.
* * * * *
Before proceeding to sketch an historical outline of our own English
fools, I propose to treat briefly of the Eastern buffoons. These may
fairly claim precedence, on the ground that in the East the fashion of
maintaining household fools is supposed to have originated, and that it
has not yet expired in that locality. Further, there is, in connection
with barbaric Courts, both in the East and the West, some legendary
matter connected with the Fool, of which it may be as well finally to
dispose, prior to dealing with the English jester as an historical
character.
THE ORIENTAL “NOODLE.”
As I have just stated, the court or household fool probably originated
in the East. The close of this Chapter will show that in the East that
pleasant or pretentious official still survives. In a region where
aberration of mind is taken to be a sort of divine inspiration, we need
not wonder at finding the professional jester still attached to certain
families, and himself and his vocation treated with a certain degree of
respect.
I have already spoken of the buffoons who could not move the gravity
of their own solemn master Attila; and we know that Timour rather kept
these people for the amusement of his guests, than that he experienced
any satisfaction himself in the exercise of their craft. They were
not wanting in the Courts of the Caliphs, and the name of Bahalul
conspicuously figures among the cap-and-bell favourites of Haroon
Al-Raschid. It was to him that the Caliph once said, “Fool, give me a
list of all the blockheads in Bagdad.” To which Bahalul answered, “That
were not so easy, and would take too long; but if you want a list of
the wise men, you shall have it in two minutes.”
It was in jest that Haroon presented him a document, by which he was
constituted governor of all the bears, wolves, foxes, apes, and asses,
in the Caliphate. “It is too much for me,” said the fool; “I am not
ambitious enough to desire to rule all your holiness’s subjects.”
Bahalul one day, finding no one in the throne-room of the sovereign
father of the faithful, seated himself on the cushions of the
priest-monarch. The guards near were horror-stricken at beholding
the jester on the sacred couch of authority, imitating the manners of
Haroon himself; just as Chicot, long after, used to mimic those of
Henri III. They speedily dragged him from the throne of cushions, and
began bastinadoing him with such violence that the Caliph, hearing his
cries, entered the hall and demanded the reason of the outcry. “Uncle,”
said Bahalul, “I am not screaming on my own account, but on yours. I
pity you. I have only tried royalty for five minutes, and I am already
in a fever with pain inflicted by these fellows. What must you endure,
then, who occupy the same distinguished seat every day!”
Bahalul seems to have been a dissipated fellow, and the Caliph enjoined
him to marry and live discreetly, loving his wife, and bringing up his
family in honour. The jester so far obeyed as to go through the nuptial
ceremony; but as he was conducting his wife to her apartment, the
uncourteous bridegroom suddenly paused, looked as if he were petrified,
and declaring that he had never heard such a tumult in his life, took
to his heels, and did not re-appear for months. Meanwhile, the deserted
bride had procured a divorce, and _then_ Bahalul made his _rentrée_ at
Court.
“So!” exclaimed the Caliph, with an inquiring air.
“Ay, ay!” cried the fool, “you would have done as I did. The tumult
scared me away beyond the hills.”
“What tumult?” asked Haroon.
“Why,” said Bahalul, “as my wife was entering her room, there came from
her, sounds as of a thousand voices. Amid them, I could distinguish
the cries of ‘rent! taxes! doctors! sons! daughters! schooling!
dress! silks! satins! muslins! drawers! slippers! money! more money!
debt! imprisonment! and Bahalul has drowned himself in the Caliph’s
bath!--therewith,” added the jester, “terrified at the solemn warning,
and wishing to avoid the profanity of plunging my person into your
brightness’s bath, I fled, till the danger was over, and--here I am;
owing nothing, and disinclined to drown myself.”
Bahalul, however, was not the most favourite jester of this Caliph.
There is no doubt that the most renowned of these was Ebn Oaz. We
have indeed but one sample of his quality, but that is excellent.
Unfortunately, it is also well known; but it must not be omitted in
this record of the fraternity. Haroon, it is said, desired to exhibit
the best qualities of the wit in presence of the young Sultana and her
brilliant court; and he suddenly ordered Ebn Oaz to make some excuse
which should be more offensive than the crime it was to extenuate.
After considerable thought, Oaz slunk away, and the disappointed
spectators were speaking of him as “incapable,” when the Caliph,
suddenly starting up from his seat, with a roar and a look of exquisite
anguish, set the whole court in confusion. The fact was, that Ebn
Oaz had gone behind the curtains of the throne, and, opening them
gently, had given the Caliph so astounding a pinch in the rear, that
he sprang up as if a javelin had pierced him. Looking on the offender
with rage and anguish, he ordered him to be slain for the treasonable
and intolerable assault. “Stay!” said Oaz to the too-ready officials,
who were already fingering their bow-strings. “Hear my excuse,” added
he, turning to the Caliph; “I declare, by way of apology, that when I
pinched your Holiness behind, I thought I was pinching the Sultana,
your wife.” Haroon saw at once that the excuse was worse than the
crime, and that he ought to be delighted; but he only laughed in a
forced way, remarking to the Sultana, before he resumed his seat, that
he felt he should not forget the joke for some time to come.
This story has been made wonderful use of, and has been dished up
in a hundred different ways in a hundred different localities. It
belongs, however, originally to the East, as do so many other of our
most ancient and accepted anecdotes. I believe that all the facetiæ
of Hierocles were old Indian, before they were new Greek stories,
and that the “simpleton” who clung to the anchor when the ship was
sinking,--who stood before a mirror with his eyes closed, to see how he
looked when asleep,--who carried about with him a brick of his house,
as a specimen of the building,--who made the experiment of keeping a
horse alive without food, only failing to succeed by the premature
death of the steed;--all these, and some dozens of others like them,
had all drawn laughter from Eastern potentates before they began to
raise a smile in the fairer faces of the Hellenes. But these stories
only amused; and the jester had the prerogative of being free, as well
as the duty of being entertaining.
This freedom of the jester, and the good use to which he could apply
his joke and his license, is exemplified in the case of the town-fool
who entered the hall where Mahmoud Ghizni was seated in full assembly.
Without appearing to be conscious of the illustrious presence and the
august company, he went prying about into the corners of the hall, as
if in search of some particular object. At length, said he, “Not one!”
“Not one what?” roared the Ghiznian.
“Sheep’s tail!” said the fool, in a tone of voice which set every one
in a roar of laughter.
“It’s no laughing matter,” added he; “I am starving, and all I ask is a
sheep’s tail for my dinner.”
“Nay!” cried Mahmoud, “thou shalt have one;” and whispering to an
official who stood near, the latter personage presently brought in a
raw vegetable, which in its shape somewhat closely resembled the long,
heavy, and unctuous tail of the Eastern sheep. The fool took it without
observation; and, after thanks to the Prophet for excellent mutton, he
began devouring it. Observing that the monarch smiled, the jester asked
him, with the tail in his mouth, if what he was doing reminded his
Majesty of anything.
“Of what should a sheep’s tail in thy mouth remind me,” said Mahmoud,
“except of the proverb that ‘Extremes meet’?” The fool was overwhelmed
for awhile by the laughter duly shouted forth by the subordinates at
their great master’s joke, but he soon recovered himself, and when
Mahmoud asked him what he thought of his joint, he answered, “That the
thing was eatable enough, but that he observed that sheep’s tails were
by no means so fat and well-flavoured as they had been in the days of
his Majesty’s predecessor; but that, as men were more lean, too, now,
than they used to be, perhaps the fact alluded to was of no material
consequence.”
“Thou art not such a fool as thou pretendest to be,” said the
sovereign. “It was but yesterday that one of thy profession told me of
the gratitude the owls felt for me, because of the many ruined villages
in the land; and now thou hintest at the misery of the people. Go thy
way, good fellow, and go thy way with full stomach, and assurance that
both evils shall yet be remedied.”
In the sixteenth century, when Baber was Emperor of Hindostan, the
merry profession was in favour, but the furnishers of amusement for the
monarch comprised others besides jesters. Thus, at state dinners, as
soon as the imperial host and his guests took their places, tumblers,
rope-dancers, and jugglers, whom no other country could equal,
exhibited their feats. The highest point of fun was when the scattering
of coin among the performers, excited a huge uproar. In earlier times,
the wordy contests of two fools used to beguile the half-hour before
dinner; but in Baber’s days, he and similar potentates were wont to be
exceedingly well amused by witnessing a couple of rams butting at each
other. It was perhaps as rational for royalty so to do, as to listen to
Ethiopian serenaders chanting harmonized nonsense.
Some writers have classed the “Mutes” among the professional fools
of the Eastern courts. This would seem to be an error not easily
accounted for. The duty of that official was of a rather severe cast.
The fool, however, was well known among the Turks, and perhaps the most
celebrated was that Nasur ed Deen Chodscha, who was in the service
of the first Bajazet, and who joked to such excellent effect that he
once tickled Timour Leng into such good humour that the latter paid
the fool the high compliment of saving from plunder his native town
Jengi-Scheher (Neapolis). It was done after this wise:--
The inhabitants of the city, hearing of the approach of the conqueror,
prepared to defend themselves with vigour. Nasur counselled them to
do nothing of the sort, but to trust to him alone, and his mediation
with Timour. The people were doubtful of his success, but they yielded.
Before proceeding to the camp of the besieger, Nasur, who knew it was
useless to approach the great chief without a present, considered what
gift was likely to be most acceptable. He resolved it should be fruit,
but he hesitated between figs and quinces. “I will consult with my
wife,” said Nasur ed Deen, and he according did so. The lady advised
him to take quinces, as the larger fruit. “Very good,” said Nasur,
“that being your opinion, I will take figs.” When he reached the foot
of the throne of Tamerlane, he announced himself as the ambassador
from the beleaguered citizens, and presented, as an offering of their
homage, his trumpery basket of figs. The chief burst into a rage, and
ordered them to be flung at the head of the representative of the
people of Jengi-Scheher. The courtiers pelted him with right good will;
and each time he was struck, Nasur, who stood patient and immovable,
gently exclaimed, “Now Allah be praised!” or, “Oh, the Prophet be
thanked!” or, “Oh, admirable! how can I be sufficiently grateful?”
“What dost thou mean, fellow?” asked Timour; “we pelt you with figs,
and you seem to enjoy it!”
“Ay, truly, great Sir,” replied Nasur; “I gratefully enjoy the
consequence of my own wit. My wife counselled me to bring quinces, but
I chose to bring figs; and well that I did, for with figs you have only
bruised me, but had I brought quinces, you would have beaten my brains
out.”
The stern conqueror laughed aloud, and declared that, for the sake of
one fool, he would spare all the asses in the city, male and female,
them and their property.
“Then,” cried Nasur, “the entire population is safe!” and he ran
homewards to communicate the joyful intelligence.
Nasur, indeed, ranks among the most useful, as well as the most witty,
of his ancient vocation. On one occasion, Bajazet had condemned many
scores of his officers to death, for some trifling offence, in time of
war. “Ay, indeed,” exclaimed the fool, “hang the knaves! hang them!
what use are they? kill them for small offences, and rogues will fear
to commit greater! excellent wisdom! Timour is at hand; away with
them before he comes! The army can do without leaders. You take the
standard; I will beat the drum; and we will thus meet that troublesome
individual at the head of the forces. We will see how we can handle the
Tartars, without such knaves as these to help us!” Bajazet comprehended
the implied reproof, and spared the well-proved and lightly-offending
leaders of his host.
On another occasion, Nasur, having succeeded so well with his figs,
acknowledged the clemency of Timour, by presenting him with a few
fresh gherkins, for the great warrior’s supper. The chief ordered
him a reward of ten gold crowns, and Nasur went home rejoiced. When
the season came that other gherkins had grown into cucumbers, Nasur,
expecting commensurate recompense, carried to the residence of Timour
a basket full of the refreshing vegetable. The door-keeper, however,
refused to allow him to pass until he had agreed to give him half the
reward that might be paid to Nasur by order of the chief. It happened
that the latter was “not i’ the vein,” and instead of commanding a
recompense of gold crowns, he sentenced the unfortunate gift-bearer to
receive a hundred blows from the stick. Nasur took fifty patiently;
but _then_ he cried to the unpleasant official to hold his hand; and
he explained how the other half of the acknowledgment belonged to the
door-keeper. Timour swore that the stipulation should be observed, and
the remaining half-hundred blows were paid where they were justly due.
A whole Encyclopædia might be written of the sayings and doings of
the Eastern “simpletons,” alone. My space is too limited to allow of
my doing much more than to offer a few illustrations; but, to those
who have much curiosity in the matter, and who may not be disinclined
to spend whole hours with a single class of the Oriental Fools, I
recommend the well-known book, which contains the birth, parentage,
and education, life, character, and behaviour, lively sayings, last
dying speech and confession of the Gooroo Noodle. From that tempting
chronicle, I return to the “Toorke” jester, with the remark that, great
as was his freedom of speech, it was not every witty fellow at Court
who was so licensed. The courtier who ventured to take a liberty with
a Turkish potentate was as uncertain, as to the effect, as the Roman
wits were when bold enough to joke with the Emperor. Selim, the son of
Bajazet, was one with whom the most favoured of his followers could
not with impunity venture on freedom of speech. When engaged on his
Egyptian expedition, one of his officials the most closely attached to
his person, hazarded the question as to when his Majesty expected to be
at Cairo. “_We_ shall be there,” said Selim, “when it may please God.
As for thy arrival there, it rather pleases me that thou shalt stay
here.” And therewith, on a sign from the Sultan, the unlucky querist
was instantly put to death.
Murad the Third, though as savage by nature as Selim, could take a
joke better than his predecessor could a simple question. There was
one thing, however, which he could _not_ tolerate--tobacco; the use
of which he punished with death. But among the few members of his
court was a man renowned for his wit, and for his power of raising
the spirits of the Sultan, even when these had been depressed by a
three days’ fit of drunkenness. Now this court-wit loved smoking, and
was resolved, not only to have his pipe, but to escape the penalty
of death attached to the enjoyment of it. Accordingly, he caused a
deep pit to be dug in his tent, and when he desired to give himself
up to his dearest indulgence, he would descend into it, sitting there
concealed by a sieve-like construction drawn over the top, and lightly
covered with turf. One evening, Murad became sagacious of the hookah
from afar, and, tracing the offender to the very pit in which he was
quietly smoking, threatened him with instant death. The offender,
however, coolly thrusting his head upward, as he provokingly drew
another mouthful of reeking luxury, exclaimed, “Go to, thou son of a
bond-woman! Thy edicts extend _over_ the earth, certainly; but they
do not extend under it.” “Take thy life for thy joke,” said Murad,
laughing and coughing,--the first at the jest, and the second at the
odour and vapour, which he detested,--“I only wish thy pipe were as
enjoyable as thy wit.”