that way about
it. And I remember, in my rambles along the famous thoroughfare, seeing
a saturnine old fellow in a dingy black coat and slouch hat, with a sour
snarl on his unprepossessing features, who made it his business, all
day, to cuff and kick the little boys whom he caught throwing confetti,
or picking up the fallen bouquets, and to shove the latter down into
the sewer which ran beneath the street, through the apertures opening
underneath the curb. He seemed to have stationed himself there as
a living protest and scourge against and of the whole spirit of the
carnival; to hate it just because the rest of the world enjoyed it, and
to wish that he might make everybody else as miserable and uncharitable
as he was. He was like a wicked and ugly Mrs. Partington, trying to
sweep back the Atlantic of holiday merriment with his dirty mop. But
this crabbed humor of his, while it made him conspicuous against the
broad background of gayety, of course had no effect on the gayety
itself. The flood of laughter, jocundity, and semi-boisterous frolic
continued to roll up and down the Corso all day long, never attempting
to be anything but pure nonsense, indeed, but achieving, nevertheless,
the wise end of nonsense in the right time and place--that of refreshing
and lightening the mind and heart. Dulce est desipere in loco--that old
saw might have been made precisely to serve as the motto of the Roman
carnival; and very likely it was actually suggested to its renowned
author by some similar sport belonging to the old Roman days, before
Christianity was thought of. The young fellows--English, American, or
of whatever other nationality--would stride up and down the overflowing
street hour after hour, clad in linen dust-coats down to their heels,
with a bag of confetti slung on one side and another full of bouquets on
the other; and they would plunge a warlike hand into the former and hurl
ammunition at their rivals; or they would, pick out a bunch of flowers
from the latter for a pretty girl--not that the flowers were worth
anything intrinsically, nor was that their fault--but just to show
the fitting sentiment. There was only one rule, the unwritten one that
everybody was to take everything that came with a smile or a laugh, and
never get angry at anything; and this universal good-humor lifted the
whole affair into a wholesome and profitable sphere. Then there was
the double row of carriages forever moving in opposite directions, a