This derivation seems more satisfactory than that given by Upton, who tells us that “Old Vice was a droll character in our old plays, accoutred with a long coat, a cap, a pair of ass’s ears, and a dagger of lath. This buffoon character was used to make fun with the devil; and he had several trite expressions, as, ‘I’ll be with you in a trice. Ah, hah, boy, are you there?’ etc.; and this was great entertainment to the audience, to see their old enemy so belaboured in effigy. Vice seems to be an abbreviation of Vice-devil,—as Vice-roy, Vice-doge, etc., and therefore called, very properly, ‘The Vice.’ He makes very free with his master, like most other Vice-roys or Prime Ministers, so that he is the devil’s Vice, or Prime Minister. And,” adds Mr. Upton, “this it is which makes him so saucy.”
In that dialogue of which Erasmus is the author, called the ‘Franciscani,’ Conrad, the monk, asks Pandocheus, “Are not fools dressed otherwise than wise men?” “Well,” says Pandocheus, “I do not know which dress would be most suitable for you; but you only lack long ears and little bells, to look like the fools themselves.” “Ay,” replied Conrad, “we have not those adornments, and we are plainly fools as regards the things of this world; if we are what we profess to be.” “I know nothing about that,” rejoins Pandocheus; “but I do know that there are many fools, with elongated ears and tinkling bells, who are far wiser men than they who wear the whole insignia of a doctor.” He even goes so far as to assert, that there were some who outdid the University philosophers in their lectures, and who, of course, were twenty times as amusing;—the cockscomb outdoing the doctoral hat.
The cockscomb which surmounted the headpiece of the fool, is too familiar to require description. Its antiquity however is undoubted, since Lucian describes, in his ‘Lapithæ,’ the appearance of a jester with closely-shorn head, except at the top, where it was left in the form of the “comb” which decorates the head of the cock.
The fool carried a stick, staff, or club, which, according to Flögel, was originally nothing more than the plant (Typha Linnæi) which grows in marshes, and which was commonly known as the fools’ club, or sceptre. It was afterwards usual to furnish the jester with one made of leather, something in the shape of Hercules’ club, with a loop to hang it from the arm. It was such an emblem of his vocation as this that a fool once received from his lord, with the command never to give it up except to a greater fool than himself. Some months after, the donor fell ill, the doctor visited him frequently, and the latter being asked on one occasion of his leaving the house, what he thought of the patient, roughly answered, “He’ll be off soon; he won’t stop here long.”
The fool heard the words, ran into the stables, and seeing no preparation for departure, shook his head as if perplexed. The next day, he heard a similar remark from the doctor,—again looked into the stables, and observing all quiet there, went up to the chamber of his sick master.
“The doctor,” whispered he, “declares that you are going to leave us. How long will you be away, master mine? a year?”
“Longer, much longer, merry friend,” said the lord. “So long, that coming back is out of all question.”
“But I see no preparation in the stables—”
“No, nor elsewhere!” groaned the sick man.
“Then I beg to give you my club,” said the jester; “for if you are setting out on a journey which you know you must make, and from which you also know you will never come back, and all this without getting anything ready for it, assuredly, master, you are a greater fool than I. But, perhaps, it is not too late for remedy.”