Yesterday was the conclusion of that mirthful period, during which
Folly seemed to have taken possession of all the inhabitants of this
populous city. Every thing that gaiety, whim, humour, and
eccentricity could invent, was put in practice to render it a sort of
continued jubilee. From morn to night, the concourse of masks of
every description was great beyond any former example; but still
greater was the concourse of spectators. All the principal streets
and public gardens were thronged by singular characters, in
appropriate dresses, moving about in small detached parties or in
numerous close bodies, on foot, on horseback, or in carriages. The
_Boulevards_, the _Rue de la Loi_, and the _Rue St. Honoré_,
exhibited long processions of masks and grotesque figures, crowded
both in the inside and on the outside of vehicles of all sorts, from
a _fiacre_ to a German waggon, drawn by two, four, six, and eight
horses; while the _Palais Royal_, the _Tuileries_, the _Place de la
Concorde_, and the _Champs Elysées_ were filled with pedestrian wits,
amusing the surrounding multitude by the liveliness of their sallies
and the smartness of their repartee. Here S[<blot>]pins,
Scaramouches, Punchinellos, Pierrots, Harlequins, and Columbines,
together with nuns, friars, abbés, bishops, and _marquis_ in
caricature, enlivened the scene: there, sultans, sultanas,
janissaries, mamlûks, Turks, Spaniards, and Indians, in stately
pride, attracted attention. On one side, a Mars and Venus, an Apollo
and Daphne, figured under the attributes of heathen mythology: on
another, more than one Adam and Eve recalled to mind the origin of
the creation.
To the eye of an untravelled Englishman, the novelty of this sight
must have been a source of no small entertainment. If he was of a
reflecting mind, however, it must have given rise to a variety of
observations, and some of them of a rather serious nature. In
admiring the order and decency which reigned amidst so much mirth and
humour, he must have been desirous to appreciate the influence of
political events on the character of this people. In a word, he must
have been anxious to ascertain how far the return of our Gallic
neighbours to their ancient habits, announces a return to their
ancient institutions.
It is well known that the Carnival of modern times is an imitation of
the Saturnalia of the ancients, and that the celebration of those
festivals was remarkable for the liberty which universally prevailed;
slaves being, at that period, permitted to ridicule their masters,
and speak with freedom on every subject. During the last years of the
French monarchy, the Parisians neglected not to avail themselves of
this privilege. When all classes were confounded, at the time of the
Carnival, the most elevated became exposed to the lash of the lowest;
and, under the mask of satire, the abuses which had crept into
religious societies, and the corruption which prevailed in every
department of the State, escaped not their bold censure. From a
consciousness, no doubt, of their own weakness, the different
governments that have ruled over France since the revolution, dreaded
the renewal of scenes in which their tottering authority might be
overthrown; but such an apprehension cannot have been entertained by
the present government, as manifestly appears from the almost
unlimited license which has reigned during the late Carnival.
Notwithstanding which, it is worthy of remark that no satirical
disguises were met with, no shafts of ridicule were aimed at the
constituted authorities, no invective was uttered against such and
such an opinion, no abuse was levelled against this or that party.
Censure and malice either slept or durst not shew themselves, though
freedom of expression seemed to be under no restraint.
Formerly, when the people appeared indifferent to the motley
amusements of the Carnival, and little disposed to mix in them,
either as actors or spectators, it was not uncommon for the
government to pay for some masquerading. The _mouchards_ and
underlings of the police were habited as grotesque characters,
calculated to excite curiosity, and promote mirth. They then spread
themselves, to the number of two or three thousand, over different
parts of the town, and gave to the streets of Paris a false colouring
of joy and gladness; for the greater the misery of the people, the
more was it thought necessary to exhibit an outward representation of
public felicity. But these political impostures, having been seen
through, at length failed in their effect, and were nearly
relinquished before the revolution. At that time, nothing diverted
the populace so much as _attrapes_ or bites; and every thing that
engendered gross and filthy ideas was sure to please. Pieces of
money, heated purposely, were scattered on the pavement, in order
that persons, who attempted to pick them up, might burn their
fingers. Every sort of bite was practised; but the greatest
attraction and acme of delight consisted of _chianlits_, that is,
persons masked, walking about, apparently, in their shirt, the tail
of which was besmeared with mustard.
At the present day, these coarse and disgusting jokes are evidently
laid aside, as some of a more rational kind are exhibited; such as
the nun, partly concealed in a truss of straw, and strapped on the
catering friar's back; the effect of the galvanic fluid; and many
others too numerous to mention. No factitious mirth was this year
displayed; it was all natural; and if it did not add to the small sum
of happiness of the distressed part of the Parisian community, it
must, for a while at least, have made them forget their wretchedness.
With few exceptions, every one seemed employed in laughing or in
exciting laughter. Many of the characters assumed were such as
afforded an opportunity of displaying a particular species of wit or
humour; but the dress of some of the masquerading parties, being an
excellent imitation of the rich costumes of Asia, must have been
extremely expensive.
To conclude, the masked balls at the Opera, on the last days of the
Carnival, were numerously attended. Very few characters were here
attempted, and those were but faintly supported. Adventures are the
principal object of the frequenters of these balls, and I have reason
to think that the persons who went in quest of them were not
disappointed. In short, though I have often passed the Carnival in
Paris, I never witnessed one that went off with greater _éclat_. As
the Turkish Spy observes, a small quantity of ashes, dropped, the day
after its conclusion, on the head of these people in disguise, cools
their frenzy. From being mad and foolish, they become calm and
rational.