feast of carnival; a kind
of universal petulance makes it resemble the bacchanals of the
imagination; but in imagination only is this resemblance, for the Romans
are in general very sober, and except the last day of carnival,
tolerably serious. We often make sudden discoveries of every sort in the
character of the Italians, and this is what contributes to give them the
reputation of being subtle and crafty.--There is, undoubtedly, a strong
habit of dissimulation in this country, which has supported so many
different yokes; but it is not to dissimulation that we must always
attribute the rapid transition from one manner of being to another. An
inflammable imagination is often the cause of it. The character of a
people who are only rational or witty, may be easily understood and will
not suddenly surprise us, but all that belongs to the imagination is
unexpected. It leaps over intermediate barriers, it is often hurt at
nothing, and frequently indifferent to that which ought most to affect
it. In fact, it is a law unto itself, and we can never calculate its
impressions from their causes.

For example, we cannot comprehend what amusement the Roman nobility find
in riding in their carriages from one end of the _corso_ to the other
for whole hours together, as well during the carnival as on the other
days of the year. Nothing ever diverts them from this custom. There are
also among the masks, men who saunter about with every appearance of
weariness, in the most ridiculous costume imaginable, and
who--melancholy harlequins and silent punchinellos,--do not say a word
the whole evening, but appear, if it may be so expressed, to have
satisfied their carnival conscience by having neglected nothing to be
merry.

We find at Rome a certain species of mask which is not seen elsewhere:
masks formed after the figures of the ancient statues, and which at a
distance imitate the most perfect beauty--the women often lose greatly
by removing them. But nevertheless this motionless imitation of life,
these stalking wax countenances, however pretty they may be, have
something terrifying in them. The great nobles make a tolerably grand
display of carriages on the last days of the carnival; but the pleasure
of this festival is the crowd and the confusion: it seems like a relic
of the _Saturnalia_; every class in Rome is mixed together. The most
grave magistrates ride with official dignity in the midst of the masks;
every window is decorated. Th