THE COURT FOOLS OF FRANCE.
Under the word Ministrelli, a term said to belong to “Monk’s Latin,” were anciently comprehended in France, not merely Minstrels, but Buffoons, Mimes, and Jesters generally. They are called in common parlance, says Du Fresne, in his Glossary, “Menestreux or Menestriers,” because they belong to the lower order of officers at court—“quod minoribus aulæ ministris accenserentur.” The same author shows the early identity of the minstrel with the jester, by quoting an ordinance regulating the arrangement of a fishermen’s religious festival held in early times at Toulouse; and which is to this effect. “Also, the fishermen shall be assembled, who ought to be present in the procession on that day with the ministri or joculatores; because the aforesaid fishermen are bound to have, on this special occasion, ministri or joculatores, in honour of the cross.... And they should lead the procession, with the ministri or joculatores beating the drum, as far as the church of St. Stephen.” From joculator, the French obtain their word jongleur, and through the latter we have our own term juggler. The monks made little distinction between different orders of minstrels, who were usually described by them as minstrels, or jesters; signifying that the officials designated under those names were one and the same. There is little doubt, at all events, of the French jester having ultimately sprung from the profession of the minstrel, when the latter was in its decline. It is perplexing, however, to find that although the minstrel or joculator is continually represented as being something of a musician, yet that Du Fresne, who frequently so describes him, also quotes a law of 1381, wherein we read that this worthy was altogether forbidden from playing on either a stringed or wind instrument: “Nullus ministreys seu jogulator audeat pinsare vel sonare instrumentum cujuscunque generis.” The law was evidently not of universal application, as may be gathered from Aimonius, who, when treating of the miracles of St. Benedict, shows us a buffoon, both singing and playing, in his vocation of bard. His words are: “Tanta vero illis securitas, ut scurram se præcedere facerent, qui musico instrumento res fortiter gestas et priorum bella præcineret, quatenus his acrius incitarentur.”
Enough, however, has been previously said on this subject; I will therefore turn from it, to that of the costume of the French “fou.” Most of the French writers on the subject of court jesters, maintain that the colours of the native fool were, almost invariably, yellow and green, striped. Many scores of pages have been written to show that these colours were selected, because they were in little estimation by modish people; yellow being generally worn by executioners, or by criminals, and green signifying jealousy and various other bad qualities. All this may be ingenious, but it is purely imaginary; for we find French court buffoons glittering in scarlet and gold, as well as green and yellow, and sometimes dressed in suits in which were to be counted the seven hues of Iris herself.
One especial circumstance is remarkable in our neighbours’ fools; namely, their consumption or waste of shoe-leather. In 1404, I meet, in the Collection de la Chambre des Comptes, with an entry of forty-seven pairs of shoes to Hancelin Coc, fool of Charles VI., and of seven pairs for the fool’s “varlet,” showing that Sir Witless was sometimes thought sufficiently noble or gentle to be worthy of a man to attend upon him; and yet Hancelin was dressed in a suit of iraigne, a material of which I can find no explanation in any French author, but which is described as of a reddish brown, and which was also used “pour garnir la chaière nécessaire pour servir au retrait du dit seigneur, le roy Charles VI.”
Thus the French fools were not always attired in green and yellow, and an additional proof is to be found in the fact, that on the occasion of the marriage, at Abbeville, of Louis XII., with Mary, the sister of Henry VIII. (subsequently wife of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk), among the personages, allegorical or otherwise, that were made to take part in the rejoicings, was to be seen the figure of Triboulet, the King’s fool, in a serge dress of red and yellow stripes. In a succeeding page referring to this jester, another proof will be found that green and yellow were not the exclusively official colours worn by the jesters at the court of France.
It is not easy,—I should rather say, it is impossible, to define with any certainty the period at which the “Plaisans,” as our merry friends are sometimes called, first held official rank, and were entitled to assume the appellation of Fou by right of legal appointment to the office. Flögel simply states, “the custom was so general, that historians expressed some surprise when they had to speak of a French court without an official fool in it.” Two such examples we have in Philip Augustus and Charles VII., neither of whom had any relish for the antics and humour of the green-and-yellow-striped mirth makers.
The earliest example of a French court fool, given by Dr. Rigollet, is in the reign of Hugh Capet; but Flögel goes back a full century, and about the year 894 finds one, named Jean, at the court of Charles the Simple. This good fellow’s influence was so great, that Charles once remarked to him, he thought they had better change places. As Jean did not look well pleased at the proposal, Charles asked him if he were not content at the idea of being a king. “Oh, content enough,” was the reply; “but I should be exceedingly ashamed at having such a fool.” It was this fool who once tried his master’s nerves, by rushing into his room one morning, with the exclamation, “Oh, Sire, such news! four thousand men have risen in the city.” “What!” cried the startled King; “with what intention have they risen?” “Well,” said Jean, placing his finger on his nose, “probably with the intention of lying down again at bedtime.”
It is possible that this fool, like his master, was rather German than French; and we commence quite early enough with the latter, when we begin from the period of the father of Hugh Capet, whose fool comes before us in a very solemn and melodramatic way. The celebrated Duke, in 943, went on an expedition against the Normans, and among his followers, says the ever lively Ordericus Vitalis, was his buffoon, mimus, or joculator, as he is called by the chronicler. One day, at the Duke’s table, the conversation fell on some holy personages who had died in the odour of sanctity. The joculator, being a fool, was a freethinker; and he dealt so rudely and sarcastically with these dead and sanctified individuals, in his ribald remarks, that the avenging justice of Heaven was aroused, and, says the smart Norman historian, a violent storm bursting forth from the skies, the lightnings flashed, and a thunderbolt, tearing down from the clouds, dashed through the roof, and at one stroke annihilated the jester and all who had moved him to asperse the Saints, or who had joined in the laugh he had raised against them.
Taking the Mimus to be a species of court fool who sang to the accompaniment of some instrument, when required, then Louis VIII. had such an official at court, though whether this mimus held his post by patent or not, is not mentioned by Nicholas de Braia, who notices the fact itself. This chronicler describes a grand banquet given by the King, shortly after his coronation, and which must have been a very jovial affair. “While they warm their hearts with the genial gift of Bacchus,” says the poet historian, “and care is swept away from the brow of the Prince by draughts of various wines, a mime celebrated for his skill on the harp, rises, and smiting his instrument, sings the praises of the King.” These praises were very highly strung indeed; and we only need to be told that censure, if necessary, or sarcasm, if opportunity allowed, was scattered amid the laudation, to be assured that the mimus here spoken of was really something of the official fool also.