which Tom Derry must have had to draw largely on his wits, to amuse the
Queen; for it was then she was most savagely possessed by implacable
hatred of “that fellow,” as she called him, poor Sir Thomas Overbury;
and Prince Henry was sickening. But both their Majesties were as fond
of indulging their taste for dissipation as they were of yielding to
their strong prejudices. I find the _Merry Wives of Windsor_ played
on a Sunday night at Whitehall; and Tom Derry was probably present
in October, 1611, when “The Sunday following, att Grinwidg,” before
the Queen and the Prince was played ‘The Silver Aiedg,’ and the next
night following, ‘Lucrecia.’ With jester, sports, and plays on Sunday
as well as other nights, the Queen was not much the happier; and this
may be accounted for,--she was the most amiable person possible when
she was not put out; she never uttered an angry word except upon some
provocation, yet often with little; she was seldom obstinate except in
resolutely maintaining her own will, and, like Croaker in the Comedy,
was very easily led whenever she had her own way. Tom Derry himself
must have hardly earned all he obtained, from so gracious a mistress as
Anne of Denmark. A subsequent page will show that one at least of her
old and faithful servants could envy the condition of Derry the Jester.
James I. of England only continued a fashion which his grandfather,
James V. of Scotland, adopted during the few years of his majority.
We learn this incident from Dr. Irving, who informs us that it was
the duty of the Scottish court fools, like those in other royal
households, to amuse their patrons by their wit and humour, by bold
and startling remarks on passing occurrences of importance, and by
ludicrous representations of incidents and characters. In Scotland,
too, as elsewhere, the jesters were compelled to take as rough jokes
as they gave, and these were sometimes of the very rudest sort. They
were of the same quality in England, where the King set the example
of coarse jesting. An assertion which no one will require me to prove
who remembers what James added to his laugh when he took leave of his
hospitable entertainer, Fortescue, in the porch at Cornbury. Those who
are curious to know, will find the gracious pleasantry detailed in
Osborn.
One sample of the Scottish court fool, as narrated by Dr. Irving,--will
perhaps suffice to give some notion of the wit,--or the want of
it,--patronized in the North. The name of the jester was John Low, and
this John was once rebuked by a courtier for not having unbonneted and
bowed to a number of lords and fine gentlemen who had passed him. “I
did not know they were lords,” said John; “by what token do you know a
lord?” “Well,” said the courtier, “outwardly, at all events, by their
dress; you see them decked in velvet, and with gold about their necks.”
“Very good,” said John; “I’ll not forget to be civil to the first I
meet,” And thereupon, a short time after, Low was seen bowing and
scraping obsequiously to the mules in the court-yard, to the amazement
of the King and his courtiers, “Why are you crying ‘good day,’ and
making your leg to those beasts?” asked a Chamberlain. “Beasts!”
exclaimed Low, in feigned surprise; “I thought they were lords! Look at
their velvet coverings, and the gold trimmings about their necks. I was
told these were outward tokens of noble lords and gallant gentlemen.
What could a courteous fool do but bid them _good day_! Sure, I shall
never learn the difference between a lord and a beast.”
Our James I. may have heard of, but he probably never saw, his
grandfather’s fool, Jemmy Camber, “who, being but young, was for the
King _caught up_.” He barely exceeded three feet in height; but at the
age of forty years he measured above sis feet in girth, and “would
never be but a St. Vincent’s turnip, thick and round.” He was smooth
of face, fair of speech, but malicious in his acts. For his further
portraiture, here it is limned by Armin:--
“His head was small, his hair long on the same;
One ear was bigger than the other, far;
His forehead full, his eyes shone like a flame,
His nose flat, and his beard small, yet grew square.
His lips but little, and his wit was less.
But wide of mouth, for truth, I must confess.
His middle thick. as I have said before;
Indifferent thighs and knees, but very short,
His legs be square, a foot long and no more;
Whose very presence made the King much sport.
And a pearl spoon he still wore in his cap,
To eat his meat he loved and got by hap.
A pretty little foot; but a big hand,
On which he ever wore rings rich and good.
Backward, well made as any in that land,
Though thick; _and he did come of gentle blood_.”
Of as gentle blood as Jamie was, he was “caught up” for the King’s
sport. This fool Camber, with no wit of his own, yet gave rise to the
well-known proverb, “Hit or miss.” King James, to cure the fool’s
obesity, sent him to sea, under the illustrious guardianship of the
Earl of Huntley, “at whose departure,” says Armin, “they discharged
ordinance, as one that departed from the land with the King’s favour.
Jamie, hearing the ordinance go off, would ask, ‘What do they now?’
‘Marry!’ says the Earl, ‘they shoot at our enemies.’ ‘Oh!’ says Camber;
‘hit, I pray God!’ Again they discharge. ‘What do they now?’ quoth
he. ‘Marry, now the enemy shoot at us.’ ‘Oh, miss, I pray God!’ says
Jemmy Camber. So ever after it was a jest in the Scottish court, ‘Hit
or miss, quoth Jemmy Camber.’... And long time after, this jest was in
memory; yea I heard it myself, and some will talk of it at this day,”
says Armin, whose book was published in 1608.
Camber was a natural fool who was cheated out of his French crowns,
and sometimes of other things, by sharp-witted lasses. He prattled of
the sun blowing cold and the wind shining hot; ran mock races with
gigantic footmen, the King laying a thousand marks on the fool, and
Lady Carmichael backing the flunkey; and he had extremely dirty tricks
played upon him, which highly amused those august personages, but the
telling of which would not tend to either profit or pleasure. There
is something better worth narrating in the account of Camber’s death;
which I borrow from Armin. “The King’s chamberlain bid him arise and
come to the King, ‘I will not,’ quoth he, ‘I will go make my grave.’
See how things chanced. He spake truer than he was aware. Jemmy arose,
made him ready, takes his horse, and rides to the churchyard in the
high town, where he found the sexton, _as the custom is there, making
nine graves, three for men, three for women, and three for children;
and whoso dies next, first come, first served_.
“‘Lend me thy spade,’ says Jemmy; and with that digs a hole, which
hole he bids the sexton make for his grave, and doth give him a French
crown. The man, willing to please him (more for his gold than his
pleasure), did so; and the fool gets on his horse, and rides to a
gentleman of the town, and, on the sudden, within two hours after, he
died; of whom the sexton telling, Jemmy was buried there indeed. Thus
you see,” adds Robin Armin, moralizing, “fools have a guess at wit
sometimes; and the wisest could have done no more, not so much. But
this fat fool fills a lean, grave with his carcase; upon which grave
the King caused a stone of marble to be put, on which the poet writ
these lines in remembrance of him:--
“He that gar’d all men till jeare,
Jemy a Camber, he ligges here:
Pray for his soll, for he is geane,
And here a ligges beneath this steane.”
And now let us follow Motley to the English court of the Stuarts,
observing by the way, that, in the words of Mr. Thoms, in a note to Mr.
Collier’s edition of Armin’s ‘Nest of Ninnies,’ “the custom of keeping
a fool appears to have prevailed in the Scotch as generally as in any
other of the European courts, and, it may be presumed, was retained
for a long time among the nobility; since among the curiosities shown
at Glammis Castle, was, within these few years, the dress worn by the
domestic fool belonging to the family.”
Returning to the court of James the Unwise, I will venture upon the
remark, that that British Solomon played the fool, or was played to,
more frequently than most monarchs. Not only did the professional
jester exercise his vocation to please the King, but astute ambassadors
acted folly in order to obtain certain ends, and courtiers turned
amateur fools to win his favour.
Gondomar, the Spanish ambassador, used to say of James that “his most
intrinsic desires were legible on his countenance.” Gondomar acted with
him accordingly. The Spaniard’s manner, we are told by Osborn, was
first to disturb the King’s passions, “and after, to appease them by
some facetious drollery, before he embarked himself in what he intended
to make the employment of the present audience.”
The same author narrates a scene which took place at New Barnet, and
which is illustrative at least of the courtier-fool. James was the
guest there of a Mr. John West, in whose garden he was one day walking,
after dinner, when he stumbled over a mole-hill, and fell heels above
head, in so ridiculous a position that all the courtiers present burst
into a fit of laughter. They hastened, however, to assist him; but his
Majesty repulsed them, with sundry savoury epithets, in the use and
application of which, James was wonderfully expert. The royal rage
waxed fiercely; but it was softened down by a touch of humour on the
part of the host, which was characteristic of the court fool of an
older period. “Ah,” so ran the wittily conceited apology of Mr. West,
“it is not possible for any good subject to refrain from rejoicing at
your Majesty’s activity in tumbling over and over at a mole-hill.” And
with this fool’s compliment, the monarch was satisfied.
James undoubtedly enjoyed wit in others besides his professional
court jesters, from whom, to tell the truth, he obtained it of a very
inferior quality. There was Dean Field, who was one of the first
fellows nominated by the King for the projected Chelsea College; he
owed much of his promotion to his wit, and the same may be said of
Dr. Collins. L’Estrange narrates an incident exhibiting the punning
inclination of their wits in a disputation held by them in the
delighted King’s presence. They had “promised one another,” says Sir
Nicholas, “to lay aside all extravagance of wit, and to buckle to a
serious argumentation; but they soon violated their own law, for Field
began thus--‘Sic disputas, Colendissime Collins,’ and Collins again to
him, afterwards--‘Sic disputas, Ager Colende.’
At the court, at which learned men thus trifled, the professional fool
often gave offence that was not worth taking, and which indeed the
wiser spirits of the court passed by with contempt. We have an instance
of this in the case of Stone, whose name has come down to us, through
Selden, as a court fool of this reign. The incident shows, too, that
the fool’s privilege of speech did not always avail him; and that
it was the thin-skinned and thick-headed who were the first to take
offence, and to call for punishment on the offender. Selden exemplifies
this in his ‘Table Talk,’ with reference to this court fool, Stone. “A
gallant man is above ill words, an example we have in the old Lord of
Salisbury, who was a great, wise man. Stone had called some Lord about
court, ‘Fool.’ The Lord complains, and has Stone whipt. Stone cries, ‘I
might have called my Lord of Salisbury, _Fool_, often enough, before
_he_ would have had me whipt.’” This shows, that if Stone had small
wit, he at least possessed some discernment, and could distinguish
between a grave, wise Lord, and one who had more sensitiveness than
sense. And this is all we know of Stone, whose reputation has been
obscured by the brighter and more lasting renown of the celebrated
jester, Archie Armstrong.
Archibald Armstrong was a native of Arthuret, in Cumberland, and is
supposed to have been “caught up” at an early age, and attached to
the household of King James. Our British King Arthur has left many a
memorial of himself in the vicinity of our northern lakes; and the name
of the birth-place of the Court fool, is one that carries the thoughts
back to the most brilliant of legendary sovereigns.
When first we encounter Archy Armstrong at the English court of James,
it is rather in the character of buffoon amid fools of nobility, than
of witty court jester. Taken altogether, it may be said of him as old
Puttenham said of Thersites, that he was “a glorious noddie;” and he
was, commonly, in very glorious company.
I have noticed in a previous page that Sir Thomas Jermyn, Sir Ralph
Sheldon, and Thomas Badger were spoken of as “fools or buffoons” at
the court of James. But Sir Anthony Weldon names three others,--Sir
Edward Zouch, Sir George Goring, and Sir John Finett,--as “the chief
and master fools; and surely,” adds Sir Anthony, “this fooling got them
more than any other’s wisdom, far above them in desert. There were a
set of fiddlers brought up on purpose for this fooling; and Goring was
master of the game for fooleries, sometimes presenting David Droman and
Archie Armstrong on the backs of the other fools, to tilt one at the
other, till they fell together by the ears. But Sir John Millisent, who
was never known before, was commended for notable fooling; and he was
indeed the best extemporary fool of them all.”
Archie was often ill-treated, favourite as he was with James himself.
At one time, the friends of Prince Charles, whenever they could catch
him, used to toss him, “like a dog,” as Armstrong himself said, in
a blanket. Osborn asserts that the reason for this treatment was
told him by Archie himself. The King and his son, with a gallant
company, had been witnessing the sports at Newmarket. When these were
concluded, they bade each other farewell, and rode off different ways.
The company, almost universally, turned and accompanied the Prince.
Archie remained by his master, to whom he pointed out a circumstance
which disagreeably, but conclusively, proved that the popularity of the
heir-apparent exceeded that of the reigning Sovereign. The knowledge of
this bitter truth, as irrefutable as any told to Lear by _his_ fool,
moved James to tears. Archie joked at it, but the King wept. The latter
was probably also moved to an extensive demonstration of ill-humour,
to the great discomfort of the Prince and his friends, otherwise they
would not have so repeatedly satisfied their wrath by tossing the court
jester in a blanket.
This jester was himself a good-tempered fellow, by no means lacking
sense, especially the sense to grow rich by the exercise of his
vocation, however contemptible it may have been. His recorded jests,
like Scogan’s, are poor, unauthenticated, and, except on one or two
solitary occasions, do not exhibit him in his character of court fool
at all. There is, however, one incident which has been highly praised
for its wit, is vouched for by Coke, and repeated by Neale, and which
may be told, if it be only to show that it is very apocryphal. It
refers to the circumstance of the secret expedition of Charles into
Spain. Conversing on this matter with the King, Archie said, “I must
change caps with your Majesty.” “Why?” asked the King. “Why, who
sent the Prince into Spain?” asked Armstrong, in his turn. James,
comprehending the fool, said, “But suppose the Prince should come
safely back again?” “In that case,” replied the jester, “I will take my
cap from my head, and send it to the King of Spain.”
Now there are several objections to the truth of this incident. One
is, that similar stories are told of fools of much earlier times; but
objections of far greater weight exist in the fact, that Armstrong
himself accompanied the Prince and Buckingham, and Endymion Porter, on
their celebrated mad-cap expedition. We have double proof of this in a
letter from Howell, who saw him there, and in one from Archie himself,
or written under his dictation, dated from Madrid, and which will be
found below, for the first time in print. “Our cousin Archie,” thus
writes Howell, “hath more privilege than any; for he often goes with
his fool’s coat when the Infanta is with her _meninas_ and ladies of
honour, and keeps a blowing and a blustering among them, and flirts out
what he lists.” The jester was wonderfully bold, it must be confessed,
as may be seen by his comment, when the Spanish Dons and Doñas were
discussing the gallantry of the Duke of Bavaria, who, with a small
force, had routed the much larger army of James’s son-in-law, Frederick
the Pfalzgraf. “Oh!” cried the patriotic fool, “I will tell you a
stranger circumstance. Is it not more singular that one hundred and
forty ships should have sailed from Spain to attack England, and that
not ten of them should have returned to tell what became of the rest?”
This is very good; but, as I have previously noticed, there is a
much more interesting letter from Spain than Howell’s,--one from
Archie himself. The original (which was kindly pointed out to me by
Mr. Hepworth Dixon,) will be found at the British Museum (Additional
Manuscripts, 19,402, fol. 79); it is addressed to James I., and is to
this effect:--“Most great and gracious King. To let your Majesty know,
never was fool better accepted on by the King of Spain, except his own
fool; and to tell your Majesty secretly, I am better accepted on than
he is. To let your Majesty know, I am sent for by this King when none
of your own nor your son’s men can come near him,--to the glory of God
and praise of you. I shall think myself better and more fool than all
the fools here, for aught I see; yet I thank God and Christ my Saviour,
and you, for it. Whoever could think that your Majesty kept a gull and
an ass in me,--he is a gull and an ass himself. To let your Majesty
know, that I cannot tell you the thoughts of kings’ hearts; but this
King is of the bravest colour I ever saw, yourself except. And this
King will not let me have a _trunchman_. I desire your Majesty’s help
in all need, for I cannot understand him; but I think myself as wise
as he or any in his Court, as grave as you think the Spaniard is. You
will write to your son and Buckingham, and charge them to provide me a
_trunchman_[F] and then you shall know from your fool, by God’s help
and Christ’s help, and the Virgin Mary’s, more secret business than
from all your wise men here. My Lord Aston,--your Majesty shall give
him thanks,--writes to you and to your son; do give him thanks, for
never kinder friend I found in this world; his house is at my command,
and besides he gave me white boots when my own trunk was not come up.
I think every day of yourself, and of your Majesty’s gracious favour;
for you will never be missed till you are gone, and the child that is
unborn will say a praise for you. But I hope in God, for my own part,
never to see it. The further I go, the more I see, for all that I see
here are foolery to you. For toys and such noise as I see, with God’s
grace, my Saviour’s, and your leave, I will let you know more whenever
I come to you; and no more, with grief in my eyes and tears in my
heart, and praying for your Majesty’s happy and gracious continuance
among us. Your Majesty’s Servant, Archibald Armstrong, your X best fool
of state, both here and there. Court of Spain, 28th April, 1623.”
The above letter, with its mixture of blustering familiarity, small
wit, and profanity, was probably taken down from the dictation of
Archie. The fool, it will be observed, appends his _mark_; and the
original is entirely in the handwriting of Buckingham. There is in it
good illustration of the position occupied by Armstrong; and the letter
will, I hope, be considered not superfluous here, for this and other
social traits which it contains.
Armstrong returned to England with Prince Charles, into whose regular
service he passed, after the death of James. I have said in a previous
page, that there were faithful servants of Anne of Denmark who lived
to envy her fool; and I may here add that there was one especially
who envied him, and who was still more angry when he compared the
well-cared-for condition of Archie with his own neglected, despised,
and unmerited situation.
The individual to whom I allude is William Belou. According to
unpublished documents in the State Paper office relating to the
domestic affairs of Charles I., under the dates 1625 and 1626, Belou
was a Dane, who, at the age of ten years, was placed in the household
of Anne of Denmark by the King of that country, and he accompanied
that princess to Scotland. Belou remained in her service till, as he
says, “it pleased Almighty God to translate her to a better kingdom.” He
subsequently was an attendant on the person of James I., who granted
him an annuity of £150 for life; which, of course, was not paid. “This
pension,” says Belou, in a memorial to Charles, “being the only mark
or testimony of my good behaviour in the late Queen’s service, I would
not have sold it for £1000 in times past.” But the poor pensionary had
entered the service of the Duke of Holstein, afterwards of the King of
Denmark. He must have been ill requited, for he adds, “I have not only
spent my readiest means, but run myself a thousand pounds in debt.”
Belou then offers to surrender the patent for his annuity, if Charles
will “cause my Lord Treasurer give to Charles de Bowsie and Abraham
Decks that they shall receive the moneys above specified that I owe
them, at a certain day.”
The old servant could get no attention paid to his intercessions; and
he came to England, to endeavour to procure by his personal address
what he could not obtain by missive, What he did and how he sped, is
shown in the subjoined honest, hearty, graphic letter to Mr. Secretary
Conway. It is the outpouring of an indignant, but not a disrespectful,
discarded servant, “broken in body and mind, and totally ruined in
estate.” The picture is admirably drawn, and we find in it our old
friends Tom Derry and Archie Armstrong, in such conditions of comfort
and well-being, as to show that old fools had more substantial respect
at the hands of Charles, than old servants, defrauded of their income.
“May it please your Lordship, according to your direction, I have
essayed to you a petition, but find neither matter nor reason for it.
I have been worse treated than a natural fool, witness Tom Duri,[G]
who, for aught I know, is better used, according to his estate and
quality, than any servant the late Queen left behind her; at least a
great deal better than I. I have been worse used than a counterfeit,
witness Archie Armstrong, who shows me that the King has given so
special direction for payment of his entertainment, that he is better
than he was in the late King’s time; when I, having a pension for
which I served, toiled, and travelled the space of thirty-seven years,
cannot receive one penny, till I have spent three in seeking of it. I
have been worse used than a Turk, witness a Turkish ambassador, whom I
have seen get audience of the late King; who had his despatch in three
weeks, when I, in three winters’ attendance, cannot obtain means or
leave to return to my native country, but am constrained to forget and
expose my wife and only daughter to rapt and desolation; that bloody
inquisition army of Wallenstein being within three or four days’
march of a country-house where I left them. All this I have endured
patiently, or at least with a forced and seeming senselessness. But
now, my honourable Lord, I am worse used than a dog; for having moved
a poor humble petition to the King, verbally, at Hampton Court, that
if his Majesty will give me no money, he would let me have a pass or
a warrant, that I might go out to put my wife and daughter in a surer
place, he went away silently, without one word speaking; and I am sure
he will speak to his dogs. Since, then, my Lord, I have fallen beneath
the degree of a dog, I can petition no more, for fear I fall a-howling
when I would complain. Wherefore, I have enclosed within this letter
the copy of two petitions given to his Majesty heretofore. I beseech
your Lordship to peruse them again, and consider what I can offer more
or demand less than I have done in the said two petitions; and, only by
procuring me his Majesty’s pass, save me from this last of evils, that
it be not saddled on my back as a hedshef of my other wrongs endured,
that I have slipped away, like a knotless thread, without his Majesty’s
knowledge. If I can obtain this, I rest
“Yours, to serve your Lordship with the best thoughts of my heart and
the best report my hard fortune can bring forth,
“WILLIAM BELOU.
“_To my very honourable Lord, my Lord Connoway,
Secretary of Estate to the King his Majesty of
Great Britain, give these._”