, no furious competition, no
uncertain careers, no infinite perspectives. Ranks were clearly
defined, ambitions limited, there was less envy. Man was not habitually
dissatisfied, soured and preoccupied as he is nowadays. Few free passes
were allowed where there was no right to pass; we think of nothing
but advancement; they thought only of amusing themselves. An officer,
instead of raging and storming over the army lists, busies himself in
inventing some new disguise for a masked ball; a magistrate, instead of
counting the convictions he has secured, provides a magnificent supper.
At Paris, every afternoon in the left avenue of the Palais-Royal, "fine
company, very richly dressed, gather under the large trees;" and in the
evening "on leaving the opera at half-past eight, they go back there and
remain until two o'clock in the morning." They have music in the open
air by moonlight, Gavat singing, and the chevalier de Saint-George
playing on the violin.[2257] At Moffontaine, "the Comte de Vaudreuil,
Lebrun the poet, the chevalier de Coigny, so amiable and so gay,
Brongniart, Robert, compose charades every night and wake each other
up to repeat them." At Maupertuis in M. de Montesquiou's house, at
Saint-Ouen with the Marshal de Noailles, at Genevilliers with the Comte
de Vandreuil, at Rainay with the Duc d'Orleans, at Chantilly with the
Prince de Conde, there is nothing but festivity. We read no biography
of the day, no provincial document, no inventory, without hearing the
tinkling of the universal carnival. At Monchoix,[2258] the residence of
the Comte de Bede, Chateaubriand's uncle, "they had music, dancing and
hunting, rollicking from morning to night, eating up both capital and
income." At Aix and Marseilles, throughout the fashionable world, with
the Comte de Valbelle, I find nothing but concerts, entertainment,
balls, gallantries, and private theatricals with the Comtesse de
Mirabeau for the leading performer. At Chateauroux, M. Dupin de
Francueil entertains "a troop of musicians, lackeys, cooks, parasites,
horses and dogs, bestowing everything lavishly, in amusements and in
charity, wishing to be happy himself and everybody else around him,"
never casting up accounts, and going to ruin in the most delightful
manner possible. Nothing arrests this gaiety, neither old age, exile,
nor misfortune; in 1793 it still subsists in the prisons of the
Republic. A man in place is not then made uncomfortable by his official
coat,