The History of Court Fools

1. Auflage 2019
ISBN: 978-3-7481-7801-9
Verlag: BoD - Books on Demand
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 499 Seiten

In the days of old, it happened that all Olympus was dull, and Zeus complained, yawning the while, that there was not a fool amongst the gods, with wit enough to keep the divine assembly alive, or to kill the members of it with laughter. "Father," said Mercury, "the sport that is lacking here, may be found for us all, on earth. Look at that broad tract of land between the Peneus and Aliacmon. It is all alive with folks in their holiday gear, enjoying the sunshine, eating sweet melons, singing till they are hoarse, and dancing till they are weary." "What then?" asked Jupiter. "It would be rare sport, oh king of gods and men, to scatter all these gaily-robed revellers, and by a shower, spoil their finery."

Autoren/Hrsg.

Doran

Leseproben

THE FOOL,—OF LEGEND AND ANTIQUITY.

In the days of old, it happened that all Olympus was dull, and Zeus complained, yawning the while, that there was not a fool amongst the gods, with wit enough to keep the divine assembly alive, or to kill the members of it with laughter.

“ Father,” said Mercury, “the sport that is lacking here, may be found for us all, on earth. Look at that broad tract of land between the Peneus and Aliacmon. It is all alive with folks in their holiday gear, enjoying the sunshine, eating sweet melons, singing till they are hoarse, and dancing till they are weary.”

“ What then?” asked Jupiter.

“ It would be rare sport, oh king of gods and men, to scatter all these gaily-robed revellers, and by a shower, spoil their finery.”

“ Thou hast lived to little purpose in witty companionship, complacent son of Maia,” observed the Olympian, “if be thy idea of sport. But thy thought is susceptible of improvement. Let that serene priest, who is fast asleep by the deserted shrine below, announce that a shower is indeed about to descend, but that it shall wet none but fools.”

A slight sound of thunder was heard, and the aroused servant of the gods stood in front of the altar, and made the requisite announcement to the people. There was a philosopher close by, leaning against the door-post of his modest habitation. He no sooner heard that the impending storm was to wet only the fools, than he first hastily covered his head, and next hurriedly entered his dwelling-place and shut himself up in his study. Not another individual prepared to avoid the tempest. Each man waited to see the fools drenched, and every man there was, in two minutes, wet to the very skin.

When the sun re-appeared, the philosopher walked out into the market-place. The thoroughly-soaked idiots, observing his comfortable condition, hailed the good man with the epithet of “fool.” They pelted him with sticks and stones, tore his gown, plucked his beard, and loaded him with foul terms that would have twisted the jaw of Aristophanes.

Bruised, battered, deafened, staggering, the philosopher nevertheless contrived to keep his wits. “Oh, sagacious asses!” said he to the roaring crowd, who at once sank into silence at the compliment paid to their wisdom, “have patience but for a single minute, and I will prove to you that I am not such a fool as I look.” Bending back his head, and turning the palms of his hands upwards to the sky, “Oh wise father,” he exclaimed, “of the witty and the witless, vouchsafe to send down upon me a deluge for my peculiar and individual use. Wet me to the skin even as these fools are wet. Constitute me, thereby, as great a fool as my neighbours; and enable me, in consequence, a fool, to live at peace among fools.”

At these words, the two assemblies,—of idiots below, and of Olympians above, shook with laughter, at once loud and inextinguishable. Down came the shower prayed for, upon the person of the philosopher, but peculiar influences were sent down with it, and the dripping sage rose from his knees ten times wittier than he was before.

Jupiter’s beard was yet wagging with laughter, and merry tears fell from the eyelids of Juno, whose head lay in frolicsome helplessness upon the bosom of her hilarious lord,—when the latter exclaimed, “We have spoiled that good fellow’s robe, but we will also make his fortune.”

“ That is already accomplished,” remarked Juno. “I have just breathed into the ear of the chief of the district, and is now taking the philosopher home with him, to be at once his diverter and instructor.”

At night, as all Olympus looked down into the court of the prince, near whom, at the banquet, the wise fool lay, pouring out witty truths as fast as his lips could utter them, the gods both envied the fun and admired the wisdom. “That fellow,” cried Jupiter, “shall be the founder of a race. Henceforward each court shall have its fool; and fools shall be, for many a long day, the preachers and admonishers of kings. Children,” he added, to the gods and goddesses, “let us drink his health!”

The brilliant society thus addressed could neither drink nor speak, for laughing. “Dear master,” said Hebe, as she took her place behind the monarch of divinities, who looked at her inquiringly, “they laugh, because you did not say fools, , should henceforward furnish kings with funny counsel and comic sermons.”

“ Let their majesties look to it,” answered Jove, “here’s a health to the first of fools!”

In the legend of the original jester, we cannot well pass over, without some brief illustration, the old, yet ever-young and especial mirth-maker of the court of Olympus itself, where Momus reigned, the joker of the gods. Perhaps I should rather say there he was tolerated, than that there he reigned. For there was this difference between the sublime immortals and weaker mortals,—that the former could never take a joke from their court fool without wincing, while the latter laughed the louder as the wit was sharper; for they wisely chose to applaud in such jesting,

“ the sportive wit,
Which healed the folly that it deigned to hit.”

Not so, the irritable gods, with regard to Momus, who was, significantly enough, the Son of Night. Momus however cared nothing for the irritability of his august masters and mistresses. His ready wit pierced them all in turn; and the shafts of his ridicule excited many an absurd roar of anguish. When Minerva had built the house of which she was so proud, the Olympian fool at once detected the error made by the Goddess of Wisdom, and remarked, “Had turned house-builder, I would have had a movable mansion.”

“ Why so, you intellectual ass?” asked the lady, who was somewhat rough-tongued, and loved antithesis.

“ Because,” answered the son of Nox, “I could then get away from bad neighbourhoods, and the vicinity of foolish women who consort with owls!”

Venus, clad in her usual attire, and proud in the conviction of her faultlessness, passed by Sir Momus, and turning gracefully in his presence, like Mademoiselle Rosati before a box-full of her admirers, defied him to detect a flaw in her unequalled and dazzling form.

Momus clapped his hands to his eyes, half-blinded by the lustre, and said, “It is true enough, Ourania,—you are not to be looked at without blinking; but before you executed that charming pirouette, I heard your foot-fall on the clouds. Now, a heavy-heeled beauty is not a vessel without a flaw.”

Save Venus herself, there was not a goddess within hearing, who did not laugh more or less loudly, at the fool’s censure. Vulcan, to draw off attention from the queen of love, and to gain a compliment for himself, directed the notice of Momus to the clay figure of a man which he had just executed. The critic looked at it for a moment, and turned away with a curl on his lip. “My man,” said he, “should have had a window in his chest. Through such a lattice, I could have looked in, not only upon his ailments, but his thoughts.”

“ My bull here,” said Neptune, touching Momus with his trident, which at will he could extend from his own watery plain to the topmost point of Olympus,—“My bull here, of which am the artist, is more perfect than our limping brother’s man.”

“ The beast would have been more perfect still,” cried Momus, from his cradle in the clouds, “if he had had eyes nearer his horns. He would strike more surely than he can now. Leave making bulls, oh son of Ops, to your children in Ierne,—though, even bulls shall be as laughable as your own.”

In this way the Fool of the Olympian Court treated without reserve the illustrious company, whom he fearlessly mocked and censured. They never bore the censure well; and, ultimately, they rose and ejected him from Heaven. With a mask in one hand, and a small carved figure in the other, he lightly fell to Earth. “You see I come from the skies,” said the crafty fellow to the staring crowds that gathered round him, “and therefore am worthy of welcome and worship.”

How could the poor people know that he had been kicked out from Olympus? They raised an altar, hoisted the celestial exile above it, danced round it like fools, and went home shouting, “ ”

To pretend to show the moral of my story, would be to insult the good sense of my readers.

It is singular that the successor of Momus, as brewer of laughter to the gods, was Vulcan, and that also was kicked out from Olympus. On the ninth day of his descent he came in sight of Lemnos, where the people, without stopping to think whether they were about to receive a precious gift or a rejected waif from Heaven, stretched out their arms to catch him. It is not everything that seems to come from above, that is divine.

And mark!—Since Momus fell, Folly has never left the Earth. But Vulcan taught men to labour; and the founder of industry, the great doer of a good work,...