Peter the Great maintained any number of fools, composed of imbeciles and those who, having been convicted of some grave offence, feigned madness, and were treated as such. Another class of fools consisted of those who, having committed some act of folly, were condemned to wear the dress of a fool. Oftentimes by the side of Peter the Great at table, and in his cups, was to be seen a personage addressed as the “Patriarch of Russia,” and sometimes as the “King of Siberia.” He was attired in sacerdotal robes, covered with loosely hung gold and silver medals. It was a favourite trick with Peter, when he and the Patriarch were equally drunk, “to suddenly overturn him, chair and all, and exhibit the reverend gentleman with his heels in the air.” But there was one official fool he favoured above all others, and he was Sotoff, a dwarf. He is said to have been ugly and deformed, the sound of his voice having been likened to the harsh croakings of frogs. But, although his appearance was not prepossessing, Peter admired his wit and humour, and would often grow weak from mere excess of laughter. And the title of “King of the Samoieds” was generally conferred by Peter on his occasional fools, as in the case of a Portuguese Jew, whom he saw among the patients at the “water cure” at Alonaitz in 1719, and whose “singularities and comic bearing” amused him much.
Like Peter the Great, the Czar Paul was fond of jesters; but on one occasion, when Fougère the actor abused his privilege by speaking too freely at supper, he was dragged from his bed at night, placed in a dark van, and was informed that his destination was Siberia. After travelling for several weeks he reached his destination, and on quitting the van found himself in the presence of Paul, who laughed heartily at the joke, whereby Fougère had believed that he was being conveyed to Siberia, when he was only being drawn round and round St. Petersburg.
English Court fools seem in many cases to have had a lively time, besides making themselves occasionally of valuable service in times of emergency. Thus, going back to early times, it is recorded how Gollet aroused William the Conqueror when a conspiracy was formed against his life; and tradition tells how Blondel, “that buffoon of a minstrel,” discovers his captive master, Richard I., by means of a song. King John appears to have recompensed his fool in an unusual and a liberal fashion by giving him a landed estate; and Edward I. kept a joculator in constant attendance upon him, one of whom is said to have slain an assassin at Ptolemais, that wounded his patron with a poisoned knife. A female jester amused the Court of Edward II., and when this monarch was keeping Whitsuntide at Westminster Hall, “this joculatrix rode into the hall on a closely clipped horse, and caracolled round about the tables, to the great amusement of the company.” A noted jester was Scogan, who was attached to the Court of Edward IV.; and, of the many amusing stories told respecting him, it is said that he borrowed a sum of money from the King, which, when he was unable to pay back, he fell sick and died, requesting his friends to take care that the King encountered the funeral. His Majesty did so, and, regretting the loss of his merry follower, he freely forgave Scogan his debt, upon hearing which, to the astonishment of Edward, he jumped up, exclaiming, “It is so revivifying that it has called me to life again.”
Patch, fool to Henry VIII., once besought the King to permit him to exact an egg from every husband who was dissatisfied with his wife. The King granted him a warrant, the ink of which was scarcely dry when the jester, with mock gravity, demanded the first egg from the King, remarking, “Your Grace belongs to the class of husbands on whom I am entitled to make levy.”
Will Sommers, whose alleged portrait at Hampton Court is familiar to most persons, was another jester at the Court of Henry VIII., and Will Saxton, the first Court fool to wear a wig, amused the King up to the last, and held office under Edward VI.
Many laughable anecdotes are told of John Heywood, named by Henry VIII. “King’s Jester,” whose wit and humour moved, writes Warton, Mary’s “rigid muscles” and “her sullen solemnity was not proof against his songs, his rhymes, and his jests.” Once when the Queen remarked that the priests must forego their wives, he replied, “Then your Grace must allow them lemmans (sweethearts), for the clergy cannot live without sauce.” On another occasion, when Mary asked, “What wind has blown you to Court?” he familiarly answered, “One that I might see your Majesty, and the other that your Majesty might see me.” On the death of Mary in 1558 he withdrew to Mechlin, where he passed the closing years of his life.
Queen Elizabeth had her jesters, and a notable personage was Clod, who occasionally exercised his wit at her expense. Thus, one day when she reproached him with neglecting his duties, he asked, “How so, in what have I failed?”
“In this,” answered the Queen, “you are ready enough to point your sharp satire at the faults of other people, but you never say a word of mine.”
“Ah,” exclaimed Clod, “why should I remind your Majesty of your faults, seeing that these are in everybody’s mouth, and you may hear of them hourly?”
Then there was Tarleton, who, writes Fuller, “when Queen Elizabeth was serious, I dare not say sullen, and out of good humour, he could undumpish her at his pleasure.” Tarleton wore his fool’s attire when the Queen dined, and when she dined abroad he attended her “in his clown’s apparel; being all dinner-while in the presence with her, to make her merry.” And so great was his popularity, that “the year of Tarleton’s death” was as common a saying as “the year of the Armada.”