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.”