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.