The question whether we were to have a Carnival at all, remained long doubtful; the usual time for issuing the regulations had long passed, and no edict had appeared; strange reports were spread and odd stories circulated.

Our rulers were, it seems, equally afraid of having a carnival and not having it; and with their wonted wisdom decided on the middle course, of having a carnival which was not a carnival at all.

One week before the first of the eight fete-days, the long-delayed edict was posted on the walls; the festival was to be celebrated as usual, except that no masks were to be allowed; false beards and moustaches, or any attempt to disguise the features, were strictly forbidden.

Political allusions, or cries of any kind, were placed under the same ban; crowds were to disperse at a moment's notice, and prompt obedience was to be rendered to any injunction of the police.

Subject to these slight restraints, the wild revel and the joyous licence of the Carnival was to rule unbridled.