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.[57] 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'Orléans， at Chantilly with the Prince de Condé， 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，[58] the residence of the Comte de Bédé， 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， puffed up by his situation， obliged to maintain a dignified and important air， constrained under that assumed gravity which democratic envy imposes on us as if a ransom. In 1753，[59] the parliamentarians， just exiled to Bourges， get up three companies of private theatricals and perform comedies， while one of them， M. Dupré de Saint-Maur， fights a rival with the sword. In 1787，[60] when the entire parliament is banished to Troyes the bishop， M. de Barral， returns from his chateau de Saint-Lye expressly to receive it， presiding every evening at a dinner of forty persons. "There was no end to the fêtes and dinners in the town； the president kept open house，" a triple quantity of food being consumed in the eating-houses and so much wood burned in the kitchens， that the town came near being put on short allowance.
Feasting and jollity is but little less in ordinary times. Aparliamentarian， like a seignior， must do credit to his fortune. See the letters of the President des Brosses concerning society in Dijon；it reminds us of the abbey of Thélème； then contrast this with the same town today.[61] In 1744， Monseigneur de Montigny， brother of the President de Bourbonne， apropos of the king's recovery， entertains the workmen， tradesmen and artisans in his employ to the number of eighty， another table being for his musicians and comedians， and a third for his clerks， secretaries， physicians， surgeons， attorneys and notaries；the crowd collects around a triumphal car covered with shepherdesses， shepherds and rustic divinities in theatrical costume； fountains flow with wine "as if it were water，" and after supper the confectionery is thrown out of the windows. Each parliamentarian around him has his "little Versailles， a grand hotel between court and garden，" This town， now so silent， then rang with the clatter of fine equipages. The profusion of the table is astonishing， "not only on gala days， but at the suppers of each week， and I could almost say， of each day." -Amidst all these fête-givers， the most illustrious of all， the President des Brosses， so grave on the magisterial bench， so intrepid in his remonstrances， so laborious，[62] so learned， is an extraordinary stimulator of fun (boute-entrain)， a genuine Gaul， with a sparkling， inexhaustible fund of salacious humor： with his friends he throws off his perruque， his gown， and even something more. Nobody dreams of being offended by it； nobody conceives that dress is an extinguisher， which is true of every species of dress， and of the gown in particular. "When I entered society， in 1785，" writes a parliamentarian， "I found myself introduced in a certain way， alike to the wives and the mistresses of the friends of my family， passing Monday evening with one， and Tuesday evening with the other. And I was only eighteen， and I belonged to a family of magistrates."[63] At Basville， at the residence of M. de Lamoignon， during the autumnal vacation and the Whitsuntide holidays， there are thirty persons at the table daily； there are three or four hunts a week， and the most prominent magistrates， M. de Lamoignon， M. Pasquier， M. de Rosambo， M.
and Mme. d'Aguesseau， perform the "Barber of Seville " in the chateau theater.
