Whatever it is, therefore, that wearies us in these wealthy jokes
(like the North Pole Dinner) it is not merely that men make fools
of themselves. When Dickens described Mr. Chuckster, Dickens was,
strictly speaking, making a fool of himself; for he was making
a fool out of himself. And every kind of real lark, from acting
a charade to making a pun, does consist in restraining one's nine
hundred and ninety-nine serious selves and letting the fool loose.
The dullness of the millionaire joke is much deeper. It is not
silly at all; it is solely stupid. It does not consist of
ingenuity limited, but merely of inanity expanded. There is
considerable difference between a wit making a fool of himself
and a fool making a wit of himself.
The true explanation, I fancy, may be stated thus. We can all remember it
in the case of the really inspiriting parties and fooleries of our youth.
The only real fun is to have limited materials and a good idea.
This explains the perennial popularity of impromptu private theatricals.
These fascinate because they give such a scope for invention
and variety with the most domestic restriction of machinery.
A tea-cosy may have to do for an Admiral's cocked hat; it all
depends on whether the amateur actor can swear like an Admiral.
A hearth-rug may have to do for a bear's fur; it all depends on
whether the wearer is a polished and versatile man of the world
and can grunt like a bear.
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