I never knew any one so keenly alive to a joke as the king
was. He seemed to live only for joking. To tell a good story of
the joke kind, and to tell it well, was the surest road to his
favour. Thus it happened that his seven ministers were all noted
for their accomplishments as jokers. They all took after the
king, too, in being large, corpulent, oily men, as well as
inimitable jokers. Whether people grow fat by joking, or whether
there is something in fat itself which predisposes to a joke, I
have never been quite able to determine; but certain it is that a
lean joker is a rara avis in terris.
About the refinements, or, as he called them, the 'ghosts'
of wit, the king troubled himself very little. He had an
especial admiration for breadth in a jest, and would often put up
with length, for the sake of it. Over-niceties wearied him. He
would have preferred Rabelais's Gargantua to the Zadig of
Voltaire; and, upon the whole, practical jokes suited his taste
far better than verbal ones.
At the date of my narrative, professing jesters had not
altogether gone out of fashion at court. Several of the great
continental 'powers' still retained their 'fools', who wore
motley, with caps and bells, and who were expected to be always
ready with sharp witticisms, at a moment's notice, in
consideration of the crumbs
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