THE IVAL
February 20th
What a of doors! What is the meaning of these shouts andcries? Ah! I recollect: this is the last day of the ival, and themaskers are passing.
Christianity has not been able to abolish the noisy baaliaivals of the pagan times, but it has ged the hat whichit has given to these "days of liberty" annouhe ending of thefeasts, and the month of fasting which should follow; -ival means,literally, "farewell to flesh!" It is a forty days farewell to the"blessed pullets and fat hams," so celebrated by Pantagruels minstrel.
Man prepares for privation by satiety, and finishes his sin thhlybefore he begins to repent.
Why, in all ages and among every people, do we meet with some ohese mad festivals? Must we believe that it requires su effort formen to be reasohat the weaker ones have need of rest atintervals? The monks of La Trappe, who are o silence by theirrule, are allowed to speak on a month, and on this day they all talkat once from the rising to the setting of the sun.
Perhaps it is the same in the world. As we are obliged all the year tobe det, orderly, and reasonable, we make up for such a loraintduring the ival. It is a door opeo the ingruous fancies andwishes that have hitherto been crowded bato a er of our brain.
For a moment the slaves bee the masters, as in the days of theSaturnalia, and all is given up to the "fools of the family."
The shouts in the square redouble; the troops of masks increase--on foot,in carriages, and on horseback. It is now who attract the mostattention by making a figure for a few hours, or by exg curiosityor envy; to-morrow they will all return, dull and exhausted, to theemployments and troubles of yesterday.
Alas! thought I with vexation, each of us is like these masqueraders;our whole life is often but an unsightly ival! A man has needof holidays, to relax his mind, rest his body, and open his heart. he not have them, then, with these coarse pleasures? Eists havebeen long inquiring what is the best disposal of the industry of thehuman race. Ah! if I could only discover the best disposal of itsleisure! It is easy enough to find it work; but who will find itrelaxation? Work supplies the daily bread; but it is cheerfulhatgives it a relish. O philoso i of pleasure! find usamusements without brutality, enjoyments without selfishness; in a word,i a ival that will please everybody, and bring shame to no one.
Three oclock.--I have just shut my window, and stirred up my fire. Asthis is a holiday for everybody, I will make it one for myself, too. SoI light the little lamp over which, on grand occasions, I make a cup ofthe coffee that my portresss sht from the Levant, and I look inmy bookcase for one of my favorite authors.
First, here is the amusing parson of Meudon; but his characters are toofond of talking slang:--Voltaire; but he disheartens men by alwaysbantering them:--Moliere; but he hinders ones laughter by making ohink:--Lesage; let us stop at him. Being profound rather than grave, hepreaches virtue while ridig vice; if bitterness is sometimes to befound in his writings, it is always in the garb of mirth: he sees themiseries of the world without despising it, and knows its cowardly trickswithout hating it.
Let us call up all the heroes of his book.... Gil Blas, Fabrice,Sangrado, the Archbishop of Granada, the Duke of Lerma, Aurora, Scipio!
Ye gay raceful figures, rise before my eyes, people my solitude;bring h