The crack of
the postilions' whips used to announce to the Eternal City in general
the arrival of a distinguished guest. _Domestiques de place_ flocked
to the call. The luckiest of them took possession of the new comer by
entering his service. In a few days he provided his master with a
palace, furniture, footmen, carriages, and horses. The foreigner
settled himself comfortably, and then presented his letters of
introduction. His credentials being examined, the best society at once
opened its arms to him, and cried, "You are one of us!" From that
moment he was at home wherever he went. He was a guest at every house.
He danced, supped, played, and made love to the ladies. And of course,
in his turn, he opened his own palace to his liberal entertainers,
adding a new feature to the brilliancy of a Roman winter.
No foreigner failed to carry away with him some recollection of a city
so fertile in marvels. One bought pictures, another ancient marbles,
this one medals, that one books. The trade of Rome prospered by this
circulation of foreign money.
The heats of summer drove away foreigners as well as natives; but they
never went far. Naples, Florence, or Venice offered them agreeable
quarters till the return of the winter season. And they had excellent
reasons for returning to Rome, which is the only city in the world in
which one has never seen everything. Some of them so entirely forgot
their own countries, that death overtook them between the Piazza del
Popolo and the Piazza de Venizia.
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