In the palace of the French ambassador at Rome, Cardinal Bernis, there
was an unusually busy movement to-day. From the kitchen-boys to the
major-domo, all were in a most lively motion, in the most passionate
activity. For this morning, while taking his chocolate, the cardinal had
sent for his major-domo, and, quite contrary to the usual joviality
of his manner, had very seriously and solemnly said to him: "Signor
Brunelli, I to-day intrust you with a very important and responsible
duty, that of making as splendid as possible the grand festival we are
three days hence to give in honor of the Archduke Ferdinand. No pains
must be spared, nothing must be wanting; the most luxurious richness,
the most tasteful decoration, the most extravagant splendor must be
exhibited. For this entertainment must excite the attention not only of
Rome, but of all Europe; it must become the subject of conversation at
all the courts, and, above all, it must cause the despair of all present
ambassadorial housekeeping. I have very important diplomatic reasons
for this. All Europe shall see how devoted France is to the empire of
Austria, and what a good understanding subsists between the two courts.
Therefore, Signor Brunelli, strain your inventive head, that it may on
this occasion hit upon whatever is most distinguished and pre-eminent,
for this must be an entertainment never before equalled. That is what
I expect, what I demand of you; and if you satisfy my demands, it will
give me pleasure to reward your zeal by a present of a hundred ducats."