Vale Carne

Carnival in New Orleans. What is it really like? Is it, as some claim, an anachronism, a painfully nurtured microcosm of the past? Aren’t the balls, the secret societies, the socially prestigious “Krewes” of Comus, Momus, Proteus and Rex with their emphasis on family, background and tradition outmoded in this the Space Age? Hasn’t it become vulgarized, taken over by public relations men to fill the hotels, restaurants and Bourbon Street honky-tonks for two weeks in what would normally be a dull tourist period? Above all, mustn’t there be something wrong in a city which gives itself over for nearly a fortnight to nothing more uplifting than the production and consumption of a good time, of lightheartedness and fun?

Well, and, as usual, yes and no. Carnival is loud, it is commercial. It is undoubtedly a shot in the arm to business. But anachronistic it is not. In this predominantly Roman Catholic city with its strong French and Spanish heritage, Carnival has retained its original religious meaning. It is the feast, the celebration, the last outpouring of gaiety before the forty days of mourning, fast and penance which make up a Lent which is rigorously observed in New Orleans where, as the Italian word implies, it is a farewell (vale) to meat (carne).

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Priscilla L. Buckley

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Carnival in New Orleans. What is it really like? Is it, as some claim, an anachronism, a painfully nurtured microcosm of the past? Aren’t the balls, the secret societies, the socially prestigious “Krewes” of Comus, Momus, Proteus and Rex with their emphasis on family, background and tradition outmoded in this the Space Age? Hasn’t it become vulgarized, taken over by public relations men to fill the hotels, restaurants and Bourbon Street honky-tonks for two weeks in what would normally be a dull tourist period? Above all, mustn’t there be something wrong in a city which gives itself over for nearly a fortnight to nothing more uplifting than the production and consumption of a good time, of lightheartedness and fun?

Well, and, as usual, yes and no. Carnival is loud, it is commercial. It is undoubtedly a shot in the arm to business. But anachronistic it is not. In this predominantly Roman Catholic city with its strong French and Spanish heritage, Carnival has retained its original religious meaning. It is the feast, the celebration, the last outpouring of gaiety before the forty days of mourning, fast and penance which make up a Lent which is rigorously observed in New Orleans where, as the Italian word implies, it is a farewell (vale) to meat (carne).