Nashville Union And American

THE CARNIVAL SEASON IN PARIS
This is a period when the mercurial and pleasure-loving population of Paris throw off all restraint and abandon themselves to wanton merriment. We make the following extract from a letter written by Dr. Thomas A. Means, now in France, to his father in Oxford, Georgia, descriptive of the strange sights he saw at the recent Carnival season in the gay city of Paris:
The Carnival season in this gay and licentious city has just closed, and it may not be amiss to attempt a brief description of some of the scenes which transpire here during these annual gala days. The festivities commence about the middle of January and last until the 24th of February. Both sexes the rich and the poor, the handsome and the homely, the haughty and the humble, the fop and the fool—are each out upon extensive promenades, either in keeping with their position in life, or, in Epes style, wearing the skin of an ass. Along the "Champs Elysees," in the Garden of the Tuileries and of the Luxembourg, in the "Jardin des Plantes," the "Bois de Boulogne," and along the "Quais," -in the court-yards, in the streets, on the pavements, in each Boulevard—and, indeed, everywhere throughout this vast city, may be seen all conceivable forms of amusement. Comic "Vaudeville Theatres" line the side walks --men, dressed fantastically, perform feats of legerdemain—Amateurs of birds, rats, owls, hedgehogs, etc., etc., beguile the passers by with the varied gyratory movements of their intellectually taught household—and boot-blacks, and beggars throw up for a time their licensed occupations to indulge in the less remunerative substitute—folly. The very organ-grinders decorate their instruments of support with garlands, of withered brush or box-wood, turn more vigorously, bow more politely, and seem, with the whirling crowd around them to care less for life than pleasure. The rag-pickers, too, not forgetting the privileges of the season, wall the lone back streets with an increased pace, humming some favorite air, and with an apparent independence of position or circumstance: while night-scavengers, with their teams and heavy carts, drive fearlessly along regardless of police or gendarmes.
Mask Balls occur semi-weekly, viz: Wednesday and Saturday nights—commencing always at 12 o'clock. Theatres increase their programmes, and glaring handbills announce extra pieces. Cafes add an hour or two to their calendar. And those bearing the Royal N. throw aside discrimination, and admit all grades of society, allowing every form of amusement, seemingly jubilant under the excitements of the Carnival; with the same sentiment which rings so merrily through our negro cabins in the Southern States during the winter holidays—t. e., "Christmas comes but once a year."
Upon the 21st commences the heat of the season, when washerwomen and "Fous," with fluted chapeaux—of Elizabethan model—mount unceremoniously the dump carts, drays, coal-wagons, voitures, coaches, omnibuses, hacks, and, indeed, every conceivable form of vehicle, and exultingly ride through the principal streets, uttering some Hindoo jargon without rhyme or meter; while along side sit, snugly ensconced, garcons of kindred stamp, fearless of criticism or of the public gaze, waist in arm, cheek to jowl, with their fair (?) mates—bestowing sweets by the mouthful, and with such voluptuous offensiveness as would turn the fair faces of the sensitive and lovely street-walkers of my own native land crimson to the temples. The horses, too, are alike festooned with ribbons, rags, sleigh-bells, feathers, knots of straw, etc., while upon their heads is fastened a "balai de bouleau, (a broom of birch,) hung with miniature implements of their avocations, such as crimping irons, washtubs, "bottles," brooms etc., etc.
Thus free, and thus exempt from care, earth becomes a momentary paradise, and even their Majesties are looked upon as beyond the reach of envy. This is, however, an evanescent show—a privilege by permission, handed down from the reign of Pepin. The day's revelry being over, the night is taken up in merry-making, dancing, card-playing, the pipe, and the bottle. And yet, notwithstanding all these evidences of licentious indulgence, I must say I witnessed no intoxication, at least what is termed drunkenness, in the American States. Either from the substitution of native wine and mild fermented liquors, for the stronger beverages of our own country, or from a greater self control in this habit, their youth seem to be in less peril, at least from this quarter, than thousands of the ardent and impulsive men of America, surrounded as they are by so many appliances and temptations to indulge in this ruinous vice.
Thus passes, then, the Carnival week in the French capital; ending, perhaps, with an increased bill of mortality, to say nothing of the hospital additions. With all, it may be regarded as in direct keeping with French character, which is ever inclined to shut out the future, enjoy the present, and regard the past as a record without a blemish.
I reserve for another letter a few particulars of the Twenty-fourth of February, or last day of this great festival.