May we not reasonably conclude that there was once considerable dignity attached to the office of fool, seeing that many ancient families bore the insignia of fools in their arms? The chief of these was the family of Briesach, long since extinct; and indeed I only know one house now existing whose crest seems to intimate some connection with the old jester, or some love of “short, brilliant folly.” I allude to the House of Orford (Walpole). The crest is a male bust, on whose head is the old official fool’s cap, rising from a coronet. The motto also seems to bear reference to the circumstance; for _Fari quæ sentias_, “Speak what you think,” was exactly the injunction suited to the court jester. It must, however, be observed that even the jester, licensed as he was, could not always do this without watching his opportunity, and the license at one court was different from that at another. It was just the same regarding courtiers and their homage to sovereigns. As Chesterfield reminds his son, it was respectful to bow to the King of England, but at that time it was rather a rudeness than otherwise to bow to the King of France. And now let us contemplate the outward presence of the official fool. From the oldest period, the jester is represented bald, and wise men, monks at least, adopted the fashion. They shaved their heads, like fools, says Agrippa, in his discourse on Vanity. The fashion, however, was very ancient. The Greek Gelatopoios (laughter-maker), the Mimes, and the Moriones, are never represented otherwise but bald. As with the natural, so with the artificial covering of the head, the fools and the monks followed, or nearly followed, one mode. The hood attached to the cloak was the covering for a fool, with an addition signified in a remark of Erasmus, that the Franciscans only wanted asses’ ears and bells, to look like fools by profession. The Franciscans would seem to have intended some such profession, for they called themselves _Mundi Moriones_, or Fools of the World. And it was not an unusual thing to meet with highly religious persons who styled themselves, some, “God’s Fools,” others, “Christ’s Fools.” Thus, in 1382, Conrad von Queinfurt, a priest, prays in his epitaph, “Christe, tuum Mimum salvum facias!” As a jester would address a sovereign to have mercy on his poor fool, so did Conrad address Christ. This fashion was adopted by Homagius, in 1609; when that pious personage called himself, “Fool in the Court of God,” or “God’s Court Fool.”