Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni

Autobiography

EDI TED

W.D.Howells

Carlo

GOLDONI

1

5

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CHOICE AUTOBIOGRAPHIES.

EDITED BY WILLIAM D. HOWELLS.

" Little Classic " Style. - - - $ 1.25 a volume.

This series of the best autobiographies is prepared especially
for general reading. Each life is prefaced with a critical and
biographical essay by Mr. Howells, in which the sequel of the
author's history is given, together with collateral matter from
other sources, illustrative of his period and career. In some
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of uninteresting and objectionable matter. It is designed to
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AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

MEMOIRS

C A R L 0 (G O'L D O N

TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL FRENCIÏ,
BY JOHN BLACK.

WITH AN ESSAY
By WILLIAM D. HOWELLS.

BOS TO
JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY,

Late Ticknor & Fields, and Fields, Osgood. & Co.
1877.

COPYRIGHT.

. D. HOWELLS.

1877.

University Press : Welch, Bigelow, & Co.,
Cambridge.

CARLO GOLDONI

FTER Oliver Goldsmith, I do not know any
figure in the history of literature that should
take the geutle reader's liking more than the

These two charming writers are not unlike in certain
particulars of their lives. They were both children of
that easy-going eighteenth century, of the period before
its griefs began with the French Revolution, and as
Irishman and Venetian they might very naturally have
been allied in temperament; the American traveller is
nowhere more vividly reminded of a certain class of
adoptive fellow-citizens than in Venice. Moreover,
they had both the vagabondizing instinct, and were
aesthetic wanderers, Goldsmith all over Europe, and
Gfôldonî up and down Italy, to die after many years
of self-exile in France. They were alike in their half
education for the medical profession, and alike in
abandoning that respectable science for the groves of
Academe, not to say Bohemia; Goldoni, indeed, left
the law and several other useful and grave employ-
ments for those shades, which are not haunts of
flowery ease, after all. But these authors are even

6 CARLO GOLDONI.

more alike in certain engaging qualities of mind than
in their external circumstances. If the English essay-
ist was vastly higher in the theory than in the conduct
of life, poor Goldoni had his mural ideas, too, and tried
to teach in his comedies purity, good faith, and other
virtues which were foolishness tu most of the world "by
whose favor he must live. He resembled Goldsmith in
the amiability of his satire, the exquisite naturalness
of his characterization, the simplicity of his literary
motive ; but he was no poet, though a genius, and he
falls below Goldsmith in this rather than in respect
of the morality he taught.

Perhaps Dr. Goldsmith would have been but little
pleased to be compared with the A'enetian dramatist,
if the comparison had been made in his lifetime, for if
he ever heard of Goldoni at all, it must have been in
scornful terms from that Joseph Barretti who dwelt in
London and consorted with Doctor Johnson, and had
wielded upon his Italian brethren a Frusta Letteraria,
or Literary Lash (as he called his ferocious critical
papers), that drew blood: Barretti despised Goldoni
for a farceur of low degree, not being able to see the
truth and power of his comedies, and used to speak of
him as " one Charles Goldoni." Nevertheless, if the
Venetian could have brought himself to leave the de-
lights of Paris long enough to pay that visit to Lon-
don which the Italian operatic company once desired
of him, he might have met Goldsmith; and then I am
sure that the founder and master of the natural school
of English fiction would have liked the inventor of
realistic Italian comedy. At any rate Goldoni would
have liked Goldsmith. The Spectator was the fashion
at Venice as well as at London in Groldoni's day: it
had formed the taste for the kind of writing in which

CARLO GOLDONI. 7

Goldsmith excelled, and The Citizen of the World
would have found an intelligent admirer in a man who
helplessly knew as much of the world as himself.

I wish with all my heart that these amiable au-
thors were alike in having both written their memoirs.
What a treasure would not the autobiography of Gold-
smith be, written with the fulness and frankness of
Goldoni's ! What would we not give for such a pic-
ture of London life as Goldoni paints of Venetian life
in the first half of the last century ! I fancy the his-
tory of Goldsmith written by himself with the same
gentleness and forgiving mildness and humorous self-
satire as Goldoni's ; more of these qualities it could not
have ; and I doubt if in the whole range of autobiog-
raphy one can find anything of a cheerfuller sweetness.
I have personally to be glad that his memoirs was one
of the first books which fell into my hands when I went
to live in Venice, and that I read it together with his
comedies, so that the romantic city became early hu-
manized tome through the life and labors of the kindly
dramatist. The " large and beautiful house " in which
Goldoni says he was born, between the bridges of the
Knuckle-bone and the Honest Woman (the Venetian
street nomenclature is much of it deliciously quaint),
is still shown to strangers; and I have no doubt but
at Chiozza, where much of his boyhood was passed,
they could find you, for a very small sum, many palaces
in which he lived. At any rate, when you visit that
smaller and forlorner Venice, twenty-five miles away
in the lagoons, you cannot have a pleasauter associa-
tion with it than the dramatist's memory. Goldoni
will tell you that he was always returning to Chiozza
from whatever misadventure he met with elsewhere,
until he finally fled the lagoons to escape marriage

8 CARLO GOLDOXI.

with a young lady of that city to whom he had inad-
vertently betrothed himself. It was here that his
mother remained, while his father tried to establish
himself, at this city and that, in his profession of phy-
sician, and vainly placed his son at one school and
another, and was always on the point of making his
fortune. They were of a gay, improvident Modenese
race, and from the time when Goldoni's grandfather
came to Venice and outshone all the patricians in the
wasteful splendor of his villa on the Brenta, to the very
last year of the dramatist's life amid the early days of
the French Revolution, his career seems to have been
providentially enriched by every strange experience
that could fit into the hand of a comic author. What
better fortune for a man destined to write comedy than
that he should run away from school at Rimini, and
come back by sea with a company of strolling players
in their bark to Chiozza ; or that from the college of
Pavia, where his father afterwards placed him. he
should be expelled f< it writing a lampoon on the princi-
pal families of the city? He tells us how he was in-
stantly smitten with shame and remorse, and sixty years
later, when he writes his memoirs, he is still on his
knees to such of the good people as have so long sur-
vived the wrong he did them. But in the mean time
there was that Dominican friar who accompanied him
home, — that friar who confessed him and took all his
little money from him in penance, and then fell asleep
amidst the tale of his remaining sins : a friar forever
precious to the imagination ! And there was the pic-
turesque and melodramatic family dismay when he
reached home: his father's wrath, his mother's tears!
It is all like a chapter of Gil Bias.

Goldoni was still very young, and lie had a very

CARLO GOLDOXI. V

good heart ; he had been cajoled into his satire by
some malicious fellow-students^ and the lesson that
humanity is above literature came to'him mercifully
early. He was thereafter the founder of a school that
ennobled satire by dispersonalizing it. As regarded
his dramatic career, his expulsion from college was an
advantage. It made him the companion of his father
in his medical practice at Chiozza, where he saw
a strange and instructive side of life ; and later he was
his father's fellow-traveller on a journey into Germany
and a long sojourn in the Friuli, where he constantly
enriched himself with curious experiences, whatever
were his fathers gains.

There must have heen large numbers of Italians in
the eighteenth century who did not enjoy themselves,
but wherever you find them in memoirs they seem to
be having the best of times : eating, drinking, singing,
gaming, masking, making love right and left ; there
is apparently no end to their pleasures. This is the
impression of Italian life that remains in one's mind
from Groldoni's recollections of his light-hearted youth.
They have theatricals in all the houses where he vis-
its ; and he who began manager in his childhood with
a puppet-show is naturally turned to dramatic account
in those cheerful palaces. Wherever he goes, now
with his father, or later, when lie passes from one city
to another on his own changing occasions, lie has
nothing to do but to amuse and to be amused. If it is
in the Venetian dependencies, Ik- calls upon the patri-
cian governor, and stays at least two weeks witli him ;
if it is in distant countries like Milan or Modena or
Parma, he is the guest of tie- Serenest Republic's en-
voy,— an envoy with no more to do than an Amer-
ican minister, except to be gay, to be profuse, to be

10 CAELO GOLDONI.

elegant, to ornament society, and to patronize the
bowing and obsequious arts. What a charming epoch !
Life is everywhere a party of pleasure. There is a cer-
tain journey of Goldoni's (in one of his college vaca-
tions), down the Po and over the lagoon to Chiozza,
which strikes one even at this distance of time and
space with intolerable envy : ten young gentlemen and
their servants, in a luxuriously appointed barge, drift-
ing idly down the current, and nowise concerned about
arriving anywhere. They all, save Goldoni, play
upon some instrument, and he, who cannot play, can
rhyme the incidents of the voyage. The peasants for-
sake their fields and flocks as the happy voyagers pass,
and crowd the banks of the stream; when the en-
chanted barge halts at night near some town the citi-
zens throng it with invitations to every sort of gayety;
the nobles from their villas send hospitably to arrest
the wanderers ; it is a long progress of delight, under
skies forever blue, among shores forever green. All,
to have been young and rich and well-born in that day !
Or to have been a Venetian office-holder in times
when the government was the affair of the rich and
amiable patrician families who had the taste to choose
such friends as young Goldoni, and to make their
work agreeable to them! The reader must go to his
autobiography for the account of the prolonged picnic
of young gentlemen and ladies who followed the chan-
cellor's coadjutor Goldoni into the woods of Felt re to
stay the depredations upon the government timber.
The expedition proved almost fatal to Goldoni's peace ;
for he tells you how he fell in love with one of the
young ladies, and how "curiously" he reasoned him-
self out of the imprudence of making her his wife by
considering, Italian-like, that if the fatigues of the

CARLO GOLDONL 11

journey had so great effect upon her, she would fade
and age early, and so leave him to despair !

It is hard to realize that all this junketing goes on
amidst pretty continual fighting. Spaniards and Aus-
trians and Frenchmen are always down there in Italy
cutting one another's throats, and every now and then
interrupting with a siege or a battle the Italian party
of pleasure. The Italians take the interruption as
philosophically as they can, and as soon as the dead
are buried and the fires put out go on with their amuse-
ments as before. Of course a man predestined to write
comedy must often be taken at a disadvantage by
these wars, and Gold, mi's memoirs owe some of their
most entertaining chapters to his misadventures among
combatants with whom personally and nationally he
was at peace. The republic of Venice had long main-
tained her neutrality (though her territory was violated
at will by the belligerents) amidst the ever-renewed
hostilities of the barbarians who fought out their quar-
rels on Italian ground, and she did not meddle with
that brief war which the Cardinal Fleury and the Em-
peror Charles VI. set going between them about the
Pragmatic Sanction and the election of the Polish
king in 1729. It all resulted in the succession of Maria
Theresa to the Imperial throne, in the establish-
ment of the Spanish Bourbons in Naples, and the
house of Lorraine in Tuscany; but in the mean time
Groldoni, being a Venetian, had not even the tempered
interest in the war of those Italians whom its event
was to give this master or that. One fine morning,
being now attached to the Venetian embassy in Milan,
he is roused by his servant with the news that the city
is in the hands of the Sardinians, who have joined the
French and Spanish side. This is annoying to a gen-

12 CARLO GOLDONI.

tleman who has already so far entered upon a literary
career as to have written an unsuccessful opera (there
is nothing more Gil-Blas-like than his account of how
the singers laugh it to scorn), but Goldoni is above
everything cheerful, and he retires uncomplainingly
with the embassy to Crema, to be out of the way of
the bombardment of the Milanese citadel; and from
Crema he shortly afterwards goes to Parma, where,
standing on the city wall, he witnesses the once famous
battle of that name. The next day he sees the dead,
twenty thousand men, stripped naked over night, and
strewn in infinite shapes of mutilation and horror over
the field ; and, having by this time resigned his office
under the Venetian envoy, he gladly quits Parma for
the territories of the republic.

Never were misfortunes more blithely narrated than
those which beset him on this journey. He is first of
all things an author, aud you shall read in his memoirs
how, amidst these scenes of violence and carnage, he
has been industriously contriving a play: his Belisa-
rius, which he carries with him in his pocket, and
which he reads aWd to his travelling companion, a
young abbé of literary taste, as they drive along in
their carriage through a country infested by camp fol-
lowers, deserters from either host, and desperadoes of
every sort. Suddenly brigands appear, and stop at once
the carriage and the reading of Belisarius ; the liter-
ary gentlemen are glad to escape with their lives.
Towards nightfall Goldoni encounters some kindly
peasants at work in the field ; they take pity on him,
give him to eat and drink", and bring him to their good
curé in the village. The curé is a man of culture;
Goldoni mentions his play, the curé makes him a little
dinner, and he reads his blessed Belisarius (which has

CARLO GOLDONI. 13

remained safe from the rapacity of the brigands) to his
host and two other applausive abbés! What is ad-
versity after all, then ? A matter of individual tem-
perament, of race ?

Goldoni repairs to Venice, and he does not again
quit that soft and safe retreat for ten years, during
which he establishes his fame. But at the end of that
time, his destiny takes him into the fighting once more;
his old friends, the Frenchmen, the Sardinians, the
Spaniards, the Austrians, are all at it as usual. They
are all civil to the pleasant dramatist, however, and
treat him handsomely when he gets into trouble, and
he duly turns his adventures to account in comedy, with
unfailing enjoyment of their absurdity.

Goldoni, indeed, would not have been the cunning
worker in human nature that he was, if he had not
seen his own errors and their consequences with an
impartial eye. Somewhere in his comedies you will
find every one of them used, with more or less dis-
guise, — usually less. He knew quite well that he was
himself an amusing character, but for all that he recog-
nized his serious obligations to the race, and he kept a
much livelier conscience, literary and moral, than most
people of his world. Certain things, as gaming and
intriguing, he was forced practically to blink in himself
as well as others, such being the fashion of his age;
but he wrote comedies in which the career of the gam-
bler was painted in its true odors, and he helped ridi-
cule the cavalier servent out of existence. He seem-
to have been tenderly attached to his wife, who returned
his love with interest; in a society devoured by debts
he abhorred debt, and amidst envies, baekbitings, and
jealousies of every kind he kept a heart uncorroded by
hatred and full of generous friendship.

14 CARLO GOLDONL

He was curiously limited in his satirical scope. In
Venice he could not paint a dissolute or wicked noble,
or indeed put upon the stage a Venetian noble of any
sort; his nobles, therefore, were ostensibly of the in-
ferior, titled sort from the mainland. He might not so
much as name a convent in comedy ; any young lady
immured in a nunnery must be mentioned as being u at
the house of an aunt," and of course the vices and follies
of the clergy were sacred from his touch. He drew his
characters from the citizen class chiefly, but often with
great effect from the lowest of the people. Within the
bounds set him he painted the Venice of his time so
gracefully, so vividly, so truly, with so much more of.
the local human nature than of the mere manners of the
age, that his plays mirror in wonderful degree the Venice
of our own day.

Xo author ever wrote more purposely and directly
for the theatre than Goldoni ; in this, at least, be was
Shakespearian. He may be said to have always known
the stage ; his acquaintance with players began when
he ran away from school with the strollers from Rimini,
and it continued all his life. When he began seriously
to write comedy it was for a company of which he actu-
ally formed a part, and he studied his actors and kept
them as constantly in view as the persons of his drama.
His observation was from the world at large ; when he
had discovered or imagined a character he trained his
players to his own conception of it. Often he wrote a
part especially for some comedian; sometimes lie por-
trayed the characters of his actors in the play, and he
knew how to avenge himself for their obstinacies, ca-
prices, and jealousies by good-natured satire of their
recognizable qualities.

His material lay in himself and everywhere about

CARLO GOLDOXI. 15

him in the Venice which he knew so well. There his
genius seemed to prosper most ; although, he wrote
brilliant plays elsewhere, and lived to give the French
stage a comedy that had a prompt and (as those things
go) enduring success, Venice was the scene of his
greatest triumphs, There for many years he continued
to produce one play after another with almost uninter-
rupted good fortune, while elsewhere his inspiration
was fitful and uncertain. The best of his hundred and
fifty comedies are those in the soft speech of the lagoons ;
the next best are those Italian plays of which the scene
is laid in Venice.

They are simple affairs as to plot, but their move-
ment is very spirited. The dialogue is always brisk,
with a droll, natural, sarcastic humor in it that smacks
of the popular life; it is rarely witty, —perhaps there
is not a memorably witty passage m all his plays ;
there is no eloquence, and not often anything like
pathos, though now and then amidst the prevailing-
good spirits of his comedy there are touches of real
tenderness. His art is extremely good ; the plays are
well contrived. There are few long speeches; the
soliloquies and the asides are few ; there are seldom
explanations or narrative statements ; the sympathetic
spectator is briefly possessed of the situation by the
dialogue; the rest is left to his patience, which is
never heavily taxed, and to his curiosity, which is duly
piqued. I find the same sort of pleasure in reading
Groldoni's comedies as in seeing them played; though
in reading, the baldness of the morality is, of course,
more apparent. One ought not to smile at this mo-
rality, however, without remembering the aire, the
religion, and the race to which it was addressed: to
these some very elementary principles might have
seemed novel.

16 CABLO GOLDONI.

I do not know how often Molière is still played in
France, but in Italy, and especially in Venice, Guidon i
has his regular seasons, and holds his place upon the
stage as firmly as Shakespeare, with whom he is not
otherwise comparable : he was, as I have said, no poet.
All his countrymen are agreed as to the vast, the
unique value of his theatre in their literature. " To
say Goldoni is to say Italian comedy," writes Torelli
in a paper on the dramatist in his Passaggi e Profili.
"The severe critic who, in speaking of the gifts of this
famous man, would hold him to strict account for his
many defects cannot dispute the common voice which has
pronounced the Venetian humorist the father and the re-
storer of comedy. Goldoni, like all illustrious authors, has
had his impassioned detractors, his impassioned apolo-
gists : they have fought over his fame, for and against ;
they have discussed the marvellous subtlety of his dia-
logue and the poverty of his diction. But the true judges
of Goldoni were not the detractors, nor the 'apologists,
nor the commentators, nor the libellers ; his true judges
were the people in the pit, the spectators surprised by the
truth of the characters which he had studied from life,
and struck by the aptness of the sallies and replies,
which they had felt stirring in their own minds before
the persons of the play had uttered them. The worth
of Goldoni consists in the material truth, so to speak,
of his action, apparently expressed as it comes to hand,
but really sought out witli study and artifice." The
praise of Emiliani-Giudici is as cordial and as just, if
not so subtile: " Xo one painted better than he the
life that served him for a model, taught morality with
urbaner satire, invented dramatic situations with greater
art, showed greater fertility. C'esarott.i, a fervent ad-
mirer of French literature, compares him to "Molière,

CARLO GOLDOXI. 17

and declares that if Goldoni had had more leisure for
study, and could have meditated arid finished his pro-
ductions with more affectionate care, he might have
boasted a greater number of masterpieces, and have

been the first comic dramatist of the world Gol-

doni himself laments the fate that forced him to work
at such a breakneck rate. In one year he promised
and composed sixteen comédies. Nearly all his pro-
ductions, therefore, lack that final touch by which a
writer frees his work from the inevitable redundancies
of the first sketch, gives the material greater signifi-
cance, balances the larger and the lesser parts, and
achieves for it beauty and symmetry as a -whole." I
am bound to say that I have not myself felt in Goldoni
that want of finish here deplored, except a certain ten-
dency to tameness and coldness in the conclusion of
some of his plays. Neither should I agree with Cantù
in much of the censure which he mingles with his
praise: "Full of that spirit of observation and imi-
tation which seizes and portrays life, he reveals char-
acter, not in phrases and reflections, but in situations
an I in contrasts; and not character strained and exag-
gerated, but mixed and average as we see it in society.
He obeys his own knowledge of life rather than the re-
quirements of art, but his observation was limited to

the lower classes, whence he drew trivial persons

Gondoliers, servants, dancers, parasites, adventurers,
cicisbei, usurers, misers, husbands and wives of the pop-*
ulace, he depicts with marvellous fidelity, .... but
not the patricians in their refined corruption, nothing
that ennobles sentiment or elevates the mind. He
neglected his diction, and when he did not use his
native dialect he fell into an incorrect, common, and
pleading-lawyer's Italian ; he sins in useless scenes.

18 CARLO GOLDONI.

prolix discourses, scurrilous allusions ; yet no one sur-
passes him in the management of dialogue, in the
naturalness of his characters, in the simplicity of his
style!"

One can hardly blame Goldoni for not embroiling
himself with the government by attacking the Venetian
nobles, and if he preferred to paint the common life
about him he was right to do so ; in matters of art one
must do what one likes if one would do well. As for
the style, it is so much better to be graphie and simple
than to be irreproachable that even the Italian world,
which really suffer:- from an inelegance of speech, easily
forgives Goldoni's negligent diction; the f< ireigrier does
not feel it. To elevate the mind or ennoble the senti-
ments is not quite the comic dramatist's business; on
the other hand, Goldoni never pandered to a vicious
taste, in morals or aesthetics. His comedies are pure
in surprising degree when one 'thinks of the contempo-
rary English stage and romance: they may be read, for
the most part, with as little offence as so many novels
of Dickens. Now and then he girds himself up to
attack some social abuse, like the eicisbeo system, by
which every fashionable wife had her conventional
adorer, recognized in that quality by the world and tol-
erated by the husband. It was a silly usage, but not
so often wicked as might be thought. Parini's satire
lashed the poor cicisbei in Lombardy, while Goldoni
laughed at them in Venice : but it must have cost the
dramatist more to be virtuous against them, for he was
a social creature, liking best to please every one, and
fond of the gay and fine world. He gently complains
of the enmities his ridicule of the cicisbei excited against
him.

The reader of his memoirs will be interested and

CARLO GOLDOXI. 19

perhaps amused to find Goldoni defending the Prot-
estants from the insult offered them in a dramatic
lampoon upon himself, and actually procuring its sup-
pression on the ground of its offensiveness to the am-
bassadors of many friendly powers resident in Venice,
where indeed foreign Protestantism had eujoyed perfect
immunity ever since the times of Luther. But it is
really not fair to judge this sweet and kindly spirit as a
moralist or a reformer of any sort e.xcept in his own
proper world of comedy. Here he was bold, strenuous,
and untiring, and he succeeded in firmly establishing
the Italian comic drama against the popular taste and
the power of the vested interests.

Of course there were Italians who wrote true comedy
before Goldoni: there were Ariosto and Machiavelli, t<>
name no others, but their plays were not played, and
there was no body of national comedy at all answering
to that of the French or English. There were imita -
t< >rs of the French and imitators of the Spanish school
of comedy, and there was a sort of comic spectacle, full
of supernatural prodigies and fanciful extravagances,
which was in high favor. But the national spirit found
expression chiefly in the so-called comedy of art, which
had the strongest hold upon the popular affection ; and
Goldoni supplanted this by the sort of conquest which
seems to compromise and even to concede; with the
French and Spanish schools, with the spectacular
drama, he never pretended to make terms.

The comedy of art was simply the outline of an
action supplied to the players. The characters in
every plot were drawn from the same stock: Panta-
lone; Arlecchino, Brighella, Truffaldino, II Dottore,
Colombina, Corallina, and other inferior masks, and
the dialogue was the inspiration of tUe actors; it was

20 CARLO GOLDOXI.

very good or very bad according to their ability, and it
could not have been possible to a race with less genius
for improvisation than the Italians. Some of these
masks were of vast antiquity, like Pantaloon and
Harlequin ; the others dated back three or four centu-
ries. Arlecchino, Brighella, Truffaldino, Corallina,
and Colombina are always servants or people of low
degree ; they have severally their conventional traits
of slyness and stupidity, as immutable as the dresses
or masks in which they appear. Arlecchino and Bri-
ghella are by immemorial attribution natives of Ber-
gamo, and speak the quaint dialect of their city ; they
are both rogues, but the former is usually the prey
of the latter. Colombina and Corallina are equally
wicked jades, and are almost convertible characters.
They " know the defects of women in general, and of
their mistress in particular. Colombina or Corallina,
whichever it is, is from eighteen to twenty-five years
of age. She is pretty just short of wounding the van-
ity of her mistress ; she knows by heart the swoons,
vapors, caprices, tastes, of the lady whom she has the
advantage to serve. When she comes into her cham-
ber in the morning and hears the call, 'My dear Co-
lombina ! ' she instantly foresees a day of convulsive
attacks, emotional prostration, of tears, and of confi-
dences. If the lady is old, Corallina makes fun of her
behind her back, and flatters her to her face ; tells the
whole neighborhood of her artificial pretences, her un-
speakable follies. If she is young, she aids her with
embassies, with advice ; or else — and then the case is
terrible — she opposes her in everything, and makes
her really unhappy."

Pantalone dei Bisognosi is always a Venetian mer-
the dress and the Ions; beard of his

CARLO GOLDOXI. 21

class and city in the Middle Ages. He is true, just,
punctiliously honest : a wise head and a soft heart :
usually his son is a reprobate, and costs him much
anxiety and money before he turns from his evil ways
at the end of the comedy.

II Dottore Bacchettone is of the learned city of
Bergamo; he is dressed in black, and lias a great wine
stain on his face. Generally it is his business in the
Goldonian comedy to be the friend and correspondent
of Pantalone, and the father of the lover or heroine of
the play.

Goldoni wrote some hundred and fifty comedies, and
in quite half of them? I think, these standard charac-
ters appear. Every company had actors and actn
identified with the parts, and it was the dramatist's
difficult task to preserve enoiïgu" of the traditional to
keep them recognizably the same, while constantly in-
flecting and varying them to give novelty to the action
and meet the exigency of the plot He was obliged
to adopt the masks while supplying a complete play
instead of the outline of the comedy of art, which he
was seeking to supplant in the popular affections.
His success was sL>w and fitful. From time to time
he was Ibrced to give his players outlines; even so
late as his sojourn in Paris, we find him supplying
these skeleton dramas to the Italian company with
which he was connected. But without doubt it was
Goldoni who extinguished the comedy of art, and
created for the Italians not only a real comedy, hut the
taste to enjoy it, though the impulse in that direction
had been given from time to time long before his day,
and once by tin- good San Carlo Borroineo, — a saint
who scarcely needed canonization. ''One Flaminio
Scala/' writes Torelli, '"head of a company of play-

22 CARLO GOLDOXI.

ers, following the example of the ancient art, began to
give his pieces unity and form ; he began to write out
notes and take them into the theatre, showing the plot
of the action, and explaining what each actor should
do upon the scene, the idea by which he should be
guided in improvising, and of what nature the buf-
fooneries of Harlequin should he. Scala was praised
to the skies, and proclaimed illustrious by all Milan.
The times were rather shameless: this brave com-
pany, seeing themselves every day higher in favor
with the Milanese, loosed the rein of modesty, and let
their tongues wag at will. San Carlo Borromeo
called them before him, and, having thoroughly re-
buked them all, especially Harlequin, forbade them to
play anything more without first submitting the action
to the censorship. ' But if we should happen to im-
provise something!' cried Scala, meekly. 'Write out
the play first, and you will avoid that,' replied the
archbishop. And perhaps from this point began the
abolition of the comedy of art, and the regular comedy
had more studious followers."

Nevertheless, the honor is Goldoni's of having cre-
ated the regular comedy without lo.sing the charm of
the old, for there is a very great charm in the constant
recurrence of the familiar faces of Pantalone, Arlec-
chino, Brighella, TrufFaldino, Colombina, and Coral-
lina in the perpetually varied action and circumstance
of his plays. When oner you have entered into their
spirit, it is delightful to find that the lover is always
Florindo, and that his mistress is always Eosaura ; it
is like meeting those people whom some novelists
have the fancy of making reappear tnrough all their
fictions, and there is a sort of convenience in it for the
lazy imagination. I do not mean to say that all of

CARLO GOLDOXI. 23

Goldoni's comedies are restricted in their range of
character to these personages; great hampers of them
entirely depart from the tradition which- these keep in
view; but I own that I like host those which follow
the old comedy of art in respect to their dramatis per-
sonœ, though I must own also that I do not quite
know why.

Goethe, writing from Venice in 1786, describes the
performance of one of the best of the Gkridoniah come-
dies dealing with the popular life, — a comedy which
is still sure to be played at least once every winter in
Venice : —

•• Yesterday, at the theatre of St. Luke, was per-
formed Le Bàruffe-Chiozotte, which I should interpret
the Frays and Feuds of Chiozza. The dramatis per-
sona are principally seafaring people, inhabitants of
Chiozza, with their wives, sisters, and daughters. The
usual noisy démonstratif »ns of such sort of people in
their good or ill luck, — their dealings one with an-
other, their vehemence, but goodness of heart, common-
place remarks and unaffected manners, their naïve wit
and humor, — all this was excellently imitated. The
piece, moreover, is Goldoni's, and as I had been only
the day before in the place itself, and as the tones and
manners of the sailors and people of the seaport still
echoed in my ears and floated before my eyes, it de-
lighted me very much, ami although I did not under-
stand a single allusion, T was nevertheless, on the
whole, able to follow -it pretty well. I will now give
you the plan of the piece: it opens with the females
of Chiozza sitting, as usual,. on the strand before their
cabins, spinning, mending nets, sewing, or making
lace; a youth passes by, and notices one of them with
a more friendly greeting than the rest. Immediately

24 CARLO GOLDOXI.

the joking begins, and observes no bounds ; becom-
ing tarter and tarter, and growing ill-tempered, it soon
bursts out into reproaches : abuse vies with abuse ; in
the midst of all, one dame, more vehement than the
rest, bounces out with the truth ; and now an endless
din of scolding, railing, and screaming ; there is no
lack of more decided outrage, and at last the peace
officers are compelled to interfere.

" The second act opens with the Court of Justice. In
the absence of the podestà (who as a noble could not
lawfully be brought upon the stage) the actuarius pre-
sides. He orders the women to be brought before him
one by one. This gives rise to an interesting scene.
It happens that this official personage is himself enam-
ored of the first of the combatants who is brought be-
fore him. Only too happy to have an opportunity of
speaking with her alone, instead of hearing what she
has to say on the matter in question, he makes her a
declaration of love. In the midst of it a second woman,
who is herself in love with the actuary, in a fit of jeal-
ousy rushes in, aud with her the suspicious lover of the
first damsel, who is followed by all the rest ; and now
the same demon of confusion riots in the court as a
little before had set at loggerheads the people of the
harbor. In the third act the fan gets more and more
boisterous, and the whole ends with a hasty and pooT
dénoûment. The happiest thought, however, of the
whole piece is a character who is thus drawn : an old
sailor, who, from the hardships he has been exposed to
from his childhood, trembles and falters in all his limbs,
and even in his very organs of speech, is brought on
the scene to serve as a foil to this restless, screaming,
and jabbering crew. Before he can utter a word, he
has to make a long preparation by a slow twitching of

CAELO GOLDOXI. 25

his lips, and an assistant motion of his hands and arms ;
at last he blurts out what his thoughts are on the mat-
ter in dispute. But as he can only nonage to do this
in very short sentences, he acquires thereby a sort of
laconic gravity, so that all he utters sounds like an
adage or maxim ; and in this way a happy contrast is
afforded to the wild and passionate exclamations of the
other personages.

" But even as it was, I never witnessed anything
like the noisy delight the people evinced at seeing
themselves and their mates represented with such truth
of nature. It was <>nc continued laugh and tumultuous

shout of exultation from beginning to end Great

praise is due to the author, who out of nothing has hero
created the most amusing divertissement. However, he
never could have done it with any other people than
his own merry and light-hearted countrymen."

There could be no better analysis of a Goldonian
play than this, nor more satisfactory testimony to the
favor the dramatist enjoyed among his own people.
Yet it is said that Goldoni was at last glad to quit
Venice because of the displeasures he suffered from the
success of a rival dramatist, Carlo Gozzi. This writer
carried to the last excess the principle of the spectacular
drama, which Goldoni abhorred, and his popularity
must have been sorely vexatious ; but our author, win»
is commonly very frank about his motives, does not
hint at any such reason foT his expatriation. Those
were the grand and courtly times when a prince, having
a fancy for this or that artist, could send through his
ambassador and " demand" him of his native govern-
ment. Fmni time to time members of Goldoni's com-
pany were demanded by foreign powers : at last he was
himself demanded of the republic by the King of France.

26 CARLO GOLDOXI.

Quite the same, of course, he was master to stay at
home if he liked, but he preferred to accede to the de-
maud aud to go for two years to the great city, then as
now the ceutre of artistic aspiration, whither his fame
had preceded him. He lived in Paris the rest of his
days. He often thought of returning to Venice, but as
often was helpless to tear himself from the delights of
Paris, — the charms of Parisian society, the quick and
constant succession of novelties in science, literature,
and art, the exquisite playing at the theatres, — all, in
a word, that could allure a man of hue taste and light
temperament. Of light temperament Goldoni un-
doubtedly was, and as such he was a true son of his
century. It is amusing, in his memoirs, to observe
how unconscious he is of any brooding change which
was to involve the destinies ot the agreeable great folk
with whom his let was cast : the princesses whom he
taught Italian, the king whom he was brought to Paris
to amuse, the elegant court of which he modestly
firmed a part. He laments the death of the cold-
hearted debauchee Louis XV. as if he had been really
the well beloved of his people ; he devoutly rejoices
over the nuptials of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette
and the birth of their children as if the kingship were
to go on forever; and he makes no sign, amidst his
comments on French society, of any knowledge of an
impending and very imminent French revolution. It
must be owned that republicans have always taken
very kindly to foreign monarchs : the Swiss have been
the stay of several tottering despots ; the Americans
were the most loathsome admirers and flatterers of the
Second Emperor. Poor Goldoni was in raptures —
that is the truth — with French royalty aud all that
belonged to it, and probably no man in France was

CARLO GOLDONI. 27

more astonished when the Revolution swept everything

of that sort away. He had a pension of four thousand
francs from the king, which went with jhe other pen-
sions when the civil list was abolished, and so Goldoni
fell into extreme poverty] and sickness followed upon
his deprivations. Then the poet Chénier rose one day
in the convention, and making- these faets known asked
the restitution of Groldoni's pension, which was voted
by a great majority: and an annuity of twelve hundred
francs was continued to his widow after his death, which
took place five years later, when he was eighty-six
years old.

No kindlier creature seems ever to have lived, and
he had traits of genuine modesty that made him truly
lovable. He never would suffer himself to he compared
with Molière: he meekly howed down before French
geniuses whom the world lias ceased, if not to adore,
at least to hear of: when the great Count Alfieri calls
upon him he is almost overpowered by the honor the
noble tragic author docs a greater man. Nothing can
be sweeter than the courage with which he goes to
Diderot (who, having plagiarized one of Goldoni's com-
edies, spoke ill of his talent) and compels his detractor
to be his persona] friend. He seems to have kept his
temper throughout his trials and vexations in Venice
with actors, managers, patrons, and spectators: if ever
he retaliate- it is by some satire which they join him in
enjoying. A very curious chapter of these troubl
that relating to the printing of his plays, a right which
the manager, Med. -bac pretended to forbid him, and
which he was forced to assert by smuggling into Venice
an edition printed in Florence. But all that part of his
autobiography relating to his life in Italy is full of the
quaintest and most varied experience, and it make- cl

28 CARLO. GOLDONI.

whole dead world live again : a world of small ducal
and princely courts : of alien camps in the midst of a
patient and peaceful country ; of strange little local
jealousies and ambitions ; of fantastic and conventional
culture fostered by a thousand and one academies or
literary societies (Goldoni was himself a shepherd of
that famous Arcadia winch was the first of these) ; of a
restricted and frivolous intellectual life wasting itself
in idle disputations and trivial brilliancy : of a social
morality amusingly perverted, and yet not so bad as it
would seem to a wiser condition of things, though fool-
ishly bad, without doubt. In this world the philoso-
phies and heresies of transalpine Europe seem to have
no root ; it is as devout as it is gay; the church directs
its culture as well as its conscience, — one might almost
say its vices as well as its pleasures, so much are the
clergy and the whole religious profession in and of
that world.

When Goldoni gets to France his autobiography is
no longer so charming. His delightful spirit indeed
remains unchanged, but it does not deal with such de-
lightful material. He sets down much concerning Paris
that does not interest, and, as I have hinted, he omits
almost everything that touches the grand social and in-
tellectual movement of the time. Perhaps as a foreigner
attached to the court he could not see this : but he felt
too deeply the greatness and fascination of the French
world ever to leave it for his native land. He was full
of wonder at its variety, its mental liveliness, and its
eagerness for every soft of novelty, and the closing
chapters of his memoirs are hardly more than a chron-
icle of such marvels as ballooning, walking on water,
and other semi-scientific inventions. Ile lias much to
say of the journals of Paris, hut not much of value,

CARLO GOLDOXI.

29

and he does not seem to have considered their great
number and activity as the prophecy of another age
and another order of tilings. For Goldcmi, apparently,
the eighteenth century was to last forever.

It is mainly in this part of his autobiography that I
have freely condensed his material. Elsewhere I have
struck out certain passages, but these contained little
that was necessary to a complete picture of the man
and his times. In the course of his memoirs he gives
tedious outlines of the plots of his comedies. These
I have nearly always omitted.

AUTHOR'S PREFACE.

HE life of every author, good or bad, is at the
head of his works or in the memoirs of the
time.
The life of a man, it is true, ought not to
appear till after his death ; but do these posterior por-
traits bear any resemblance to the originals? If they
proceed from a friend, the language of praise is not
always the language of truth ; if from an enemy, satire
is too often substituted for criticism.

My life is not interesting ; but it may happen that
some time hereafter a collection of my works may be
found in the corner of some old library. This will per-
haps excite a curiosity to know something of the singular
man who undert< k »k the reformation of the theatre of his
country, who gave to the stage and the press one hun-
dred and fifty comedies of character and intrigue, in
prose and in verse, and who saw eighteen editions of
his theatre pnfifisEed during his own lifetime. It will
be undoubtedly said. " This man must have been very
rich ; why did he quk his country f " Alas! posterity
must be informed that Croldoni found repose, tranquil-
lity, and comfort only in France, and that he finished

32 author's preface.

his career by a French comedy which had the good
fortune to succeed on the theatre of that nation.

I thought that the author alone could give a certain
and satisfactory idea of hisVharacter, his anecdotes, and
his writings; and I imagined also, that by publishing
the memoirs of his life in his own lifetime, if their ac-
curacy was not challenged by his contemporaries, his
veracity might be relied on by posterity.

In consequence of this idea, wheif I saw in 1760,
that after my first Florence edition, my theatre was the
subject of universal pillage, that fifteen editions had
been published without my avowal, without my knowl-
edge, and what is still worse, in a very incorrect state, I
conceived the project of printing a second edition at my
own expense, and inserting in each volume, instead of
a preface, a part of my life, imagining, at that time,
that at the end of the work the history of my person
and my theatre might be completed.

I was mistaken. When I began the octavo edition
of Pasquali, with plates, at Venice, I could not have
anv idea that my destiny would lead me to cross the
Alps.

On being called to France, in 1761, I continued to
furnish the changes and corrections which I had pro-
jected for the Venice edition ; but the vortex of Paris,
my new occupations, and the distance between the two
places, have diminished my activity and retarded the
execution of the press to such a degree, that a work
which was to extend to thirty volumes, and to be com-
pleted in eight years, is only at the expiration of twenty,
at the seventeenth volume, and will never be finished
in my lifetime.

What at present agitates and urges me is the account
of my life, I repeat, it is not interesting ; but what I

author's preface. 33

have hitherto given in the seventeen first volumes has
been so well received, that I am induced to continue it,
especially as what I have hitherto written has only a
reference to my person, and what remains for me to
say relates to my theatre in particular, that of the
Italians in general, and in part of that of the French
which I have narrowly examined. The comparison
of the manners and tastes of the two nations, and what-
ever I have seenvmd ohserved, may perhaps, be found
agreeable and even instructive to amateurs.

I am resolved therefore to labor as long as I can ;
and I do so with inexpressible pleasure, that I may the
sooner have to speak of my dear Paris, which gave me
so kind a reception, which has afforded me so much
amusement, and where I have been so usefully occupied.

I begin by throwing together into French the con-
tents of the historical prefaces of my seventeen volumes
of Pasquali. This is an abridgment of my life from
my birth to the commencement of what in Italy i
called the reformation of the Italian theatre. The,
public will see in what manner the comic genius, which
has always controlled me, was announced, how it was
developed, the useless efforts made to turn me from
the cultivation of it, and the sacrifice made by me t"
the imperious idol which carried me along. This will
form the first part of my memoirs.

The second part will comprehend the history of all my
pieces, an account of the circumstances which supplied
me with the subject of them, the success or failure of
my comedies, the rivalry excited by my success, the
cabals which I treated with contempt, and the criti-
cisms which I respected, the satires which I bore in
silence, and the cavils of the actors which I surmounted.
It will be seen that humanity is everywhere the same.

34

AUTHORS PREFACE.

that jealousy employs itself everywhere, and that every-
where a man of a cool and tranquil disposition, in the
end, acquires the love of the public, and wearies out
the perfidy of his enemies.

The third part of these Memoirs will contain my
emigration into France. I am so enchanted with
having an opportunity of speaking my mind freely on
this subject, that I am almost tempted to begin my
work with that period. But in everything there ought
to be method. I should have been perhaps obliged to
retouch the two preceding parts, and I am not fond of
going over what I have already done.

This is all that I had to say to my readers. I re-
quest them to read me. and to be so good as to yield
me their belief; truth has always been my favorite
virtue. I have always found my account in it ; it has
saved me from the necessity of studying falsehood, and
the mortification of blushing.

Wa&$ÈÊ

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MEMOIRS

OF

CARLO GOLDONI.

PART THE FIRST.

WAS born at Venice, in the year 1707, in a
large and beautiful house between the bridges
ofNoinboli and Donna Onesta, at the corner
of the street C'a cent' anni, in the parish of
St. Thomas. Julius Goldoni, my father, was born in
the same city ; but all his family were of Modena.
My grandfather, Charles Groldoni, went through his
studies in the famous college of Parma. There he
formed an acquaintance with two noble Venetians.
which soon ripened into the most intimate friendship.
They prevailed on him to follow them te Venice. Hi-
father being dead, he obtained permission from his
uncle, who was a colonel and governor of Finale, to
settle in the country of his friends, where he obtained
a very honorable and lucrative appointment in the
office of the Five Commercial Sages, and where he
married a Miss Barili of Modena. the daughter of one

36 MEMOIRS OF

counsellor of state of the Duke of Parma, and the sister
of another. This was my paternal grandmother.

On her death my grandfather became acquainted
with a respectable widow who had two daughters : he
married the mother, and the eldest daughter was
wedded to his son. They were of the Salvioni family,
and, though not rich, were in easy circumstances. My
mother was a pretty brunette, and though a little lame,
was still very attractive. All their property came into
the hands of my grandfather.

He was a worthy man, but by no means an econo-
mist. Fond of pleasure, the gay mode of life of the
Venetians was well suited to his disposition. He took
an elegant country-house, belonging to the Duke oJ
Massa-Carrara, in the Marca Trevigiana, six leagues
from Venice, where he lived in great splendor. The
grandees of the neighborhood could not brook the idea
of Groldoui drawing all the villagers and strangers about
him ; and one of his neighbors made an attempt to
deprive him of his house ; but my grandfather went to
Carrara, and took a lease of all the duke's property in
the Venetian territories. He returned quite proud of
his victory, and lived more extravagantly than ever.
He gave plays and operas, and had the best and most
celebrated actors and musicians at his command ; and
we had visitors from all quarters. Amidst this riot
and luxury did I enter the world. Could I possibly
contemn theatrical amusements, or not be a lover of
gay et y !

My mother brought me into the world with little
pain, and this increased her love for me ; my first ap-
pearance was not, as usual, announced by cries, and
this gentleness seemed then an indication of the pacific
character which from that day forward I have ever

CARLO GOLDOXI. 37

preserved. I was the idol of the house: my nurse
maintained that I was clever ; my mother took the
charge of my education, and my father of-my amuse-
ment. He ordered a puppet-show to he constructed
for me, which he contrived t<» manage himself, with the
assistance of three or four of his friends ; and at the age
of four tins was a high entertainment for me.

My grandfather died in 1712, of a defiuxion in the
chest, occasioned by his exertions in a party of pleas-
ure, which in six days brought him to his grave. My
grandmother soon followed him. This caused a terri-
ble change in our family, which, from the most fortu-
nate state of affluence, was all at once plunged into the
most embarrassing mediocrity. My father's education
was not what it ought to have been ; he was by no
means destitute of abilities, but they had never been
properly cultivated. He could not retain his father's
situation, which a crafty Greek contrived to get posses-
sion of. The free property of Modena was sold, and
the entailed mortgaged : and all that remained was the
property of Venice, the fortunes of my mother and aunt.
To add to our misfortune, my mother gave birth to a
second son, John Groldoni, my brother. My father
found himself very much embarrassed ; but as he was
not over fond of indulging in melancholy reflections,
he resolved on a journey to Rome to dispel his un-
easiness. I shall relate in the following chapter what
he did there, and what became of him. I must return
to myself, for I am the hero of my own tale.

My mother was left alone at the head of the house,
with her sister and her two children. She put the
youngest out to board; and, bestowing lier whole at-
tention on me, she determined on bringing me up under
her own eye. I was mild, tranquil, and obedient : at

38 MEMOIRS OF

the age of four, I could read aud write, I knew my
catechism by heart, and a tutor was procured for me.
I was very fond of hooks, and I learned with great
facility my grammar, and the principles of geography
and arithmetic ; hut my favorite reading was comedies.
The small library of my father contained a tolerable
number, aud I employed almost all my leisure mo-
ments in reading them. I even copied the passages
with which I was most delighted. My mother gave
herself no concern about the choice of my reading; it
was enough that my time was not taken up with the
usual playthings of children. Among the comic authors
whom I frequently read and reread, Cicognini had the
preference. This Florentine author, very little known
in the republic of letters, was the author of several
comedies of intrigue, full of whining pathos and
commonplace drollery ; still, however, they were ex-
ceedingly interesting, for he possessed the art of keep-
ing up a state of suspense, and he was successful in
winding up his plots. I was infinitely attached to him,
studied him with great attention, and, at the age of
eight, I had the presumption to compose a comedy.

The first person to whom 1 communicated this cir-
cumstance was my nurse, who thought it quite charm-
ing. My aunt laughed at me ; my mother scolded and
caressed me by turns ; my tutor maintained that there
was more wit and common-sense in it than belouged to
my age ; but what was most singular, my godfather, a
lawyer, richer in gold than in knowledge, could not be
prevailed on to believe that it was my composition.
He insisted that it had been revised and corrected by
my tutor, who was quite shocked at the insinuation.
The dispute was growing warm, when, luckily, a third
person made his appearance, and instantly restored

CARLO GOLDOXI. 39

tranquillity. This was M. Vallé, afterwards the Abbé
Vallé of Bergamo. This friend of the family had seen
me busied at my comedy, and had witnessed my puer-
ilities and my little sallies. I had entreated him to
speak to nobody on the subject : he had kept my secret ;
and on this occasion he put my incredulous godfather
to silence, and rendered justice to my good qualities.

In the first volume of my edition of Pasquali, I cited
the Abbé Vallé, who was living in J 770, in confirma-
tion of the truth of this anecdote, suspecting that there
might be other godfathers not disposed to give me
credit. If the reader ask what was the title of my
play, I cannot satisfy him, for this is a trifle I did not
think of when composing it : it would be easy for me
to invent one now ; but I prefer giving a true state-
ment of things to the embellishing them. This com-
edy, in short, or rather this piece of infantine folly, was
circulated amongst all my mother's acquaintance. A
copy was sent off to my father; and this leads me
again to speak of him.

My father was only to have remained a few months
in Rome, but lie staved four years. In this great cap-
ital of the Christian world there was an intimate friend
of his, M. Alexander Bonicelli, a Venetian, who had
lately married a Roman lady of great wealth, and who
lived in great splendor. M. Bonicelli gave his friend
Goldoni a very warm reception : he received him into
his house, introduced him into all societies and to all
his acquaintance, and recommended him powerfully to
If. Lancisi, the first physician and secret camériere of
Pope Clement XI. This celebrated doctor, by whom
the republic of letters and the faculty have been en-
riched with excellent works, conceived a strong attach-
ment for my father, who possessed talents, and who

40 MEMOIKS OF

was looking out for employment. Laneisi advised him
to apply himself to medicine, and he promised him his
favor, assistance, and protection. My father consented :
he studied in the college della Sapienzia, and served
his apprenticeship in the hospital del Santo Spirito.
At the end of four years he was created doctor, and
his Mecsenas sent him to make his first experiments at
Perugia.

My father's début was exceedingly fortunate: he
contrived to avoid those diseases with which he was
unacquainted; he cured his patients ; and the " Vene-
tian doctor" was quite in vogue in that country. My
father, who was perhaps a good physician, was also
very agreeable in company; and to the natural amenity
of his countrymen, he added an acquaintance with the
usages of genteel company in the place which he had
quitted. He acquired the esteem and the friendship of
the Bailloni and the Antinori, two of the most noble
and wealthy families of the town of Perugia.

In this town, and thus happily situated, he received
the first specimen of his eldest son's abilities. Defec-
tive as this comedy must have been, he was infinitely
flattered with it ; for, calculating by the rules of arith-
metic, if nine years gave four carats of talent, eighteen
might give twelve ; and, by regular progression, it was
possible to arrive even at a degree of perfection. My
father determined on having me with himself. This
was a sad blow for my mother, who at first resisted,
then hesitated, and at last yielded. One of the most
favorable opportunities occurred at this time. Our
family was very intimate with that of Count Rinalducci
de Rimini', who, with his wife and daughter, was then
at Venice. The Abbé Einalducci, a Benedictine
father, and the count's brother, was to set out for

CARLO GOLDOXI. 41

Rome ; and he undertook to pass through Perugia,
and to take the charge of me to that place.

Everything was got ready, and the moment of de-
parture arrived. I will not speak of the tears of my
tender mother : those who have children well know
what is suffered on such trying occasions. I was very
warmly attached to her who had given me birth, who
had reared and cherished me ; but the idea of a journey
is a charming consolation for a young man. Father
Rinaldueci and myself embarked in the port of Venice,
in a sort of felucca, called peota-zuecchina, and we
sailed for Rimini. I suffered nothing from the sea ; I
had even an excellent appetite, and we landed at the
mouth of the Mareechia, where horses were in readi-
ness for us. When a horse was brought to me, I was
in the greatest possible embarrassment. At Venice no
horses are to be seen in the streets; and though there
arc two academies, I was too young to derive any ad-
vantage from them. In my infancy I had seen horses
in the country, but I was afraid of them, and did not
dare to approach them. The r< nuls < »f Umbria, through
which we had to pass, were mountainous, and a horse
was the most convenient mode of conveyance for pas-
sengers; there was, therefore, no alternative. They
laid hold of me by the middle, and threw me on the
saddle. Merciful Heaven ! Boots, stirrups, whip,
and bridle ! what was to be done with all these things !
I was tossed about like a sack; the reverend father
laughed very heartily at me, the servants ridiculed me,
and I even laughed at myself. I became by degrees
familiarized to my pony. I regaled it with bread and
fruit, and in six days' time we arrived at Perugia.

My father was glad to see me, and still more glad to
see me in good health. I told him, with an air of im-

42 MEMOIRS OF

portance, that I had performed the journey on horse-
back ; he smiled as he applauded me, aud he embraced
me affectionately. The place where we were lodged
was exceedingly dismal, and the street steep and dirty;
I entreated my father to remove, but he could not, as
the house belonged to the hotel or palace d 'Antinori ;
he paid no rent, and was quite near the nuns of St.
Catharine, whose physician he was.

I now viewed the town of Perugia ; my father con-
ducted me everywhere himself; he began with the su-
perb church of San Lorenzo, which is the cathedral of
this country, where the ring with which St. Joseph es-
poused the Virgin Mary is still preserved : it is a stone
of a transparent bluish color, and very thick contour ;
so it appeared to me, — but this ring, it is said, has the
marvellous property of appearing under a different
color aud form to every one who approaches it. My
father pointed out to me the citadel, built when Perugia
was in the enjoyment of republican liberty, by order of
Paul the Third, under the pretext of a donation to the
Perugians of an hospital for patients and pilgrims.
He introduced pieces of camion in carts loaded with
straw, and the inhabitants soon found themselves
obliged to acknowledge Paul the Third. I saw fine
palaces and churches, and agreeable walks. I asked
whether there was a theatre, and I was told there was
none. " So much the worse," said Ij "I would not
remain here for all the gold in the world!"

After passing a few days in this manner, my father
determined that I should renew my studies ; a very
proper resolution, which accorded with my own wishes.
The Jesuits were then in vogue, and on being proposed
to them, I was received without difficulty. The hu-
manity-classes are not regulated here as in France ;

CARLO GOLDONL 43

there are only three, — under grammar, upper grammar,
or humanity, properly so called, and rhetoric. Those
who employ their time well may finish their course in
the space of three years. At Venice I had gone
through the first year of under grammar, and T might
now have entered the upper, hut the time which I had
lost, the distraction occasioned by travelling, and the
new masters under whom I was about to be placed, in-
duced my father to make me recommence my studies ;
in which he acted very wisely, for you will soon see,
my dear reader, how the vanity of the Venetian gram-
marian, who plumed himself on the composition of a
play, was in an instant wofully mortified. The liter-
ary season was well advanced, and I was received in
the under class as a scholar properly qualified for the
upper. My answers to the questions put to me were
incorrect ; I hesitated in my translations ; and the
Latin which I attempted to make was full of barbar-
isms and solecisms : in short, I became the derision of
my companions, who took a pleasure in challenging
me ; and as every encounter with them ended in my
defeat, my father was quite in despair, and I myself
was astonished and mortified, and believed myself be-
witched.

The time of the holidays drew near, when Ave had to
perform a task, which in Italy is called the passage
Latin : for this little labor decides the fate of the
scholar, whether be is to rise to a higher class, or con-
tinue to remain in the same. The latter alternative
was all that 1 had a right to expect. The day came :
the regent or rector dictated : the scholars wrote down :
and every one exerted himself to the utmost. I strained
every nerve, and figured to myself my honor and am-
bition at stake, and the concern of my father and mother;

44 MEMOIRS OF

I saw my neighbors bestowing a side glance at me, and
laughing at my endeavors: facit hahfjnatio version.
Rage and shame spurred me on and inspired me ; I read
my theme, I felt my head cool, my hand rapid, and my
memory fresh ; I finished before the rest, I sealed my
paper, took it to the regent, and departed very well
pleased with myself. Eight days afterwards the scholars
were collected together and called on ; and the decision
of the college was published. The first nomination
was, " Goldoni to the Upper"; on which a general
laugh burst out in the class, and many insulting ob-
servations were made. My translation was read aloud,
in which there was not a single fault of orthography.
The regent called me to the chair ; I rose to go ; I saw
my father at the door, and I ran to embrace him.

The regent wished to speak to me in private ; he
paid me several compliments, and told me, that not-
withstanding the gross mistakes which I committed
from time to time in my ordinary lessons, he had sus-
pected that I was possessed of talents from the favor-
able specimens he occasionally perceived in my themes
and verses ; he added that this last essay convinced
him that I had purposely concealed my talents, and he
alluded jocularly to the tricks of the Venetians. " You
do me too great an honor, reverend father," said I to
him : "I assure you I have suffered too much during
the last three months to amuse myself at such an ex-
pense : I did not counterfeit ignorance ; I was in reality
what I seemed, and it is a phenomenon which I cannot
explain." The regent exhorted mo to continue my ap-
plication, and as he himself was to pass to the upper
class to which I had gained a right of entrance, he
assured me of his favor and good-will.

My father, who was perfectly satisfied with me, en-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 45

deavored to recompense and amuse me during the time
of the vacation. He knew that I was fond of plays ;
he admired them also himself; he even collected a so-
ciety of young people, and obtained the use of a hall
in the palace d'Autinori, where he constructed a small
theatre ; the actors were formed by himself, and we
represented plays. In the pope's dominions (except
the three legations) women are not allowed on the
stage. I was young, and by no means ugly, and a
female character was allotted to me ; I even got the
first character and was charged with the prologue.
This prologue was so singular a piece that it has never
gone out of my head, and I must treat my reader with
it. In the last century the Italian literature was so
corrupted that both prose and poetry were turgid and
Lombastical ; and metaphors, hyperboles, and antith-
eses supplied the place of common-sense. This de-
praved taste was not altogether extirpated in 1720;
and my father was accustomed to it. The following
is the commencement of the precious composition which
I was made to deliver : " Benignissimo cielo !" (I was
addressing my auditors) uai rai del vostro splendi-
dissimosole, eccoci qual farfalle, die spiegando le deboli
ali de' nostri concetti, portiamo a si bel lume il volo,"
etc. ; which, in plain English, signifies, " Most benign
Heaven, in the rays of your most resplendent sun, be-
hold us like butterflies, who, on the feeble wings of
our expressions, take our flight to your admirable
light," etc.

This charming prologue procured me an immensity
of sweetmeats, with which the theatre was inundated,
and myself almost blinded. This is the usual expres-
sion of applause in the Pope's dominions. The pieee
in which I acted was ''La Sorellina di Don Pilone "

46 MEMOIRS OF

(The Little Sister of Don Pilone), and I was highly
applauded ; for in a country where plays are rare the
spectators are not difficult to please. My father said
that I seemed to comprehend my part, but that I should
never be a good actor • and he was not mistaken. We
continued to act till the end of the holidays. I took
my place at the opening of the classes; at the end of
the year I passed to rhetoric ; and I finished my course
with the friendship and esteem of the Jesuits, who did
me the honor to offer me a place in their society, — an
honor which I did not accept. During this period
great changes took place in our family. My mother
could no longer bear the absence of her eldest son ;
and she entreated her husband either to return to Ven-
ice or to permit her to join him. After many letters
and many discussions, it was at length decided that
Madame Goldoni, with her sister and her youngest son,
should join the rest of the family ; and this was im-
mediately carried into execution.

My mother could not enjoy a single day of good
health in Perugia, so much did the air of the country
disagree with her. Born and brought up in the tem-
perate climate of Venice, she could not bear the cold
of the mountains. She suffered a great deal, and was
almost at death's door, but she was resolved to sur-
mount the pains and dangers of her situation so long
as she believed my residence in that town necessary,
that the course of my studies, which were now so far
advanced, might not be exposed to interruption. When
my course was finished, she prevailed on my father to
satisfy her, and he very willingly consented. The
death of his protector, Antinori, had been productive
of several disagreeable circumstances ; the physicians
of Perugia bore him little good-will, and this induced

CARLO GOLDOXI. 47

him the more readily to resolve on quitting the territory
of Perugia and approach the mouth of the Adriatic.

II.

In a few days the project was carried into execution.
A carriage, capable of holding four persons, was pur-
chased, and we had my brother into the bargain. We
took the road of Spoleti, as the most commodious, and
we arrived at Rimini, where the whole family of Count
Rinalducci was assembled, and where we were received
with transports of joy. It was of the utmost con-
sequence that my literary application should not be a
second time interrupted. My father destined me for
medicine, and I had to enter on the study of philosophy.

The Dominicans of Rimini enjoyed a great reputa-
tion for logic, the key to all the sciences, physical as
well as speculative. Count Rinalducci introduced us
to Professor Candiui, and I was intrusted to his care.
As the count could not keep me in his own house, I
was boarded with M. Battaglini, a merchant and banker,
the friend and countryman of my father. Notwith-
standing the remonstrances and regrets of my mother,
who would never willingly part from me, the whole
family set out for Venice, where I could only join them
when it might be thought proper to send for me. They
embarked for Chiozza,* in a bark belonging to that

* Chiozza is eight leagues from Venice, and built on piles like the cap-
ital. It is computed to contain forty thousand souls, all of the lower
order, — fishermen, sailors, and women, who make a coarse lacp, in which
a considerable trade is carried on ; there are very few individuals above
the vulgar. Every person is ranged there in one of two classes, — the
rich or the poor; those who wear a wig and cloak are the rich ; and the
others, who have only a cap and capotto, are the poor ; and yet it fre-
quently happens that the latter possess four times more wealth than the
others.

48 MEMOIBS OF

place ; and the wind "being favorable, they arrived
there in a very short time ; but, on account of the
fatigue of my mother, they were obliged to stop there
for the sake of repose.

This place agreed very well with my mother, the air
of Chiozza corresponding with that of her native place.
She was elegantly lodged, enjoyed an agreeable view,
and a charming degree of freedom ; her sister was com-
plaisant, my brother was still an infant unable to speak,
and my father, who had projects, communicated his re-
flections to his wife, by whom they were approved.
u We must not return to Venice," said he, " till we are
in a situation to enable us to live without being burden-
some to any one." It was necessary, therefore, that he
should first go to Modena to arrange the family affairs.
This was accordingly done. My father was now at
Modena, my mother at Chiozza, and myself at Eimiui.

I fell sick, and was seized with the small-pox, but
of a very mild kind. M. Battaglini did not inform my
parents till he saw me out of danger. It is impossible
to be better taken care of and attended to than I was
on this occasion. I was hardly in a condition to ero
out, when my landlord, who was extremely attentive
and zealous for my welfare, urged me to return to Father
Candini. I went very unwillingly : this professor, who
was a man of great celebrity, wearied me dreadfully ; he
was mild, wise, and learned; he possessed great merit,
but he was a Thomist in his soul, and could not devi-
ate from his ordinary method ; his scholastic circumlo-
cutions appeared to be useless, and his barbara and
baralipton ridiculous. I wrote from his dictation ; but,
instead of going over my note-books at home, I nour-
ished my mind with a much more useful and agreeable
philosophy; I read Plantas. Terence, Aristophanes,

CARLO GOLDOXI. 49

and the fragments of Bfenander. It is true, I did not

shine iu oar daily circles : but I had the address to per-
suade my companions that my indifference to the mas-
ter's Lessons proceeded neither from laziness nor stupid
ignorance, but from being fatigued and disgusted with
tluir length and inutility. There were many of them
who thought on this subject like myself. Modern phi-
losophy had not then made the considerable progress
which has been since witnessed ; and it was at that
time necessary (especially for ecclesiastics) to keep to
the systems of Thomas, or Scot, or the peripatetic, or
the mixed, the whole of which only wander from the
philosophy of good sense.

I had great want of some agreeable amusement to
relieve the ennui which overpowered me. I soon found
an opportunity, of which I availed myself: and my
readers will not he displeased perhaps to pass with me
from the circles of philosophy to those of a company of
comedians. We had one at Rimini, which appealed
to me quite charming. It was the first time I saw
women on the stage: and I found that they ornamented
the scene in the most attractive manner. Rimini is in
the legation of Ravenna: women are admitted on the
theatre, and we do not see there, as at Rome, men
without beards or even the signs of them. The first
day or two, I went very modestly into the pit ; but see-
ing young people like myself on the boards, I endeav-
ored also to get there, and succeeded without difficulty.
I bestowed a side-glance on the ladies, who looked
boldly at me. By and by I grew mon- familiar, and
from one subject of conversation to another, and from
question to question, they learned that I was a Vene-
tian. They were all country-people of my own. and I
received compliments and caresses without number

50 MEMOIRS OF

from them. The director or manager himself loaded
me with kindness ; he asked me to dine with him, and
I went. The reverend Father Candini was now entirely
out of my head.

The comedians were on the point of finishing their
engagement, and taking their departure, which was a
most distressing circumstance for me. On a Friday, a
day of relaxation for all Italy, the state of Veuice ex-
cepted, we formed a rural party ; all the company were
with us, and the manager announced the departure for
the following week ; he had engaged the bark, which
was to conduct them to Chiozza. " To Chiozza ! n said
I, with a cry of surprise. " Yes, sir, we are to go to
Venice, but we shall stop fifteen or twenty days at
Chiozza, to give a few representations in passing."
" Ah ! my mother is at Chiozza ; how gladly would I
see her !" " Come along with us." " Yes, yes," cried
one and all; " with us, with us, in our bark ; you will
be very comfortable in it ; it will cost you nothing ; we
shall play, laugh, sing, and amuse ourselves." How
could I resist such temptations ? How could I lose so
fine an opportunity ? I accepted the invitation, and I
began to prepare for my journey.

I opened the business to my landlord, but he opposed
me warmly. As I insisted, however, he communicated
my project to Count Riualducci, and I had every one
against me. I pretended to acquiesce, and I kept my-
self quiet. On the day fixed for my departure I put
two shirts and a nightcap into my pocket ; Irepaired to
the port, was the first to enter the vessel, and concealed
myself well under the prow. I had my inkhorn with
me ; I wrote an excuse to M. Battaglini : I told him I
could not resist the desire of seeing my mother; I re-
quested him to make a present of my clothes to the

CARLO GOLDOXI. 51

nurse who took care of me in my illness; and I told
him that I was on the point of departure. This was a
fault, I own ; I have committed others, and I shall own
them in the same manner. The players arrived.
k' Where is M. Groldoni I " Goldoni then sallied out
of his hiding-place, at which every one began to laugh.
I was feasted and caressed. We set sail. Adieu,
Rimini. My comedians were not Scarron's company,
but on the whole, they presented a very amusing coup-
ci' a il. Twelve persons, actors as well as actresses, a
prompter, a machinist, a store-keeper, eight domestics,
four chambermaids, two nurses, children of every age,
cats, dogs, monkeys, parrots, birds, pigeons, and a
lamb ; it was another Xoah's ark ! The bark Mas
very large, and divided into a number of apartments.
Every female had her little corner, with curtains. Au
excellent bed Mas fitted up for me beside the manager;
and all of us were comfortable. The steward, who
was at the same time cook and butler, rang a little
bell, M-hich M'as our signal for breakfast. On this we
all assembled in a sort of saloon in the middle of the
vessel above the chests, trunks, and packages. An
oval table was covered with coffee, tea, milk, roast
meat, Mrater, and wine.

The principal actress {première amoureuse) asked
for soup. There M'as none. She M-as quite in a rage,
and they had all the difficulty in the world to pacify
her with a cup of chocolate. She Mas the ugliest and
the most difficult to pleas.- of the whole. After break-
fast, play M'as proposed till dinner should be ready. I
played tresset pretty well. It M'as the favorite game
of my mother, from whom I learned it. We were
going to begin tresset and piquet, but a faro-table on
deck dreM' everybody towards it. The bank M'as more

52 MEMOIRS OF

a matter of amusement than interest, and the director
would not have Buffered it on any other terms. We
played, laughed, joked, and crave ourselves up to all
manner of tricks till the bell summoned us to dinner.
Macaroni ! Every one fell upon it, and three dishes
were devoured. "We had also alamode beef, cold fowl,
a loin of veal, a dessert, and excellent wine. What
a charming dinner ! No cheer like a good appetite.

We remained four hours at table ; we played on dif-
ferent instruments, and sang a great deal. The actress
who played the waiting-maid sang divinely. I con-
sidered her attentively : she produced a singular sensa-
tion in me. Alas! an adventure took place which in-
terrupted the happiness of the society. A cat escaped
from her cage, the favorite of the principal actress,
who called on every one for assistance. She was
briskly phased, but, being as wild as her mistress, she
skipped, leaped about, and crept into every hole and
corner. When she found herself at last rather warmly
pursued, she climbed up the mast. Seeing the distress
of Madame Clarice, a sailor sprang up after her, when
the cat leaped into the sea, where she remained. Her
mistress was in despair, she attempted to kill every
animal within reach of her, and to throw her waiting-
maid into the watery grave of her darling. We all
t<»ok the part of the waiting-maid, and the quarrel be-
came general. The manager made his appearance,
laughed, rallied, and caressed the afflicted lady. She
at last began herself to laugh, and the cat was forgotten.
The wind was unfavorable, and we remained three days
at sea, always with the same amusements, the same
pleasures, and the same appetite. We arrived on the
fourth day at Chiozza.

I had not the address of my mother's lodgings, but

CARLO GOLDOXI. Do

I had not long to inquire, — Madame Goldoni and her
sister wore a head-dress ; they were in the rich class,
and known by everybody. I requested the manager
to accompany me : he very readily consented, and an-
nounced himself on his arrival. I remained in the
antechamber. " Madam," said he to my mother, " I
come from Rimini; I have news from your son."
"How does my son?" "Very well, madam." "Is
he content with his situation ! " " Not remarkably so,
madam; he suffers a great deal." " From what.'"
" From being so far from his tender mother. " " Poor
child ! I wish I had him beside me." (All this was
heard by me, and my heart beat within me. ) " Madam,"
continued the manager, " I offered to bring him with
me." " "Why then did you not .• " " Would you have
been pleased ! " " Undoubtedly." " But his studies .' "*
" His studies ! Could he not return? Besides, mas-
ters are everywhere to be had." " Then you would will-
ingly see him ?" " With the greatest joy." "Here
he is, then, madam." On this he opened the door, and
I made my entrance ; I threw myself at my mother's
feet, who cordially embraced me; neither of us could
speak for our tears. The actor, accustomed to scenes
of this nature, after passing some agreeable compli-
ments, took his leave of my mother, and departed; I
remained with her, and frankly owned the folly I had
committed ; she scolded me one moment, and caressed
me the next, and we were quite pleased with each
other. My aunt was then out ; ou her entrance, we
had a repetition of the same surprise and the same
caresses. My brother was at that time boarded out.

On the day after my arrival, my mother received
a letter from M. Battaglini at Rimini, who com-
municated to her my prank, of which he complained

54 MEMOIRS OF

bitterly, and informed her that she would soon receive
a portmanteau, containing my books, linen, and other
articles, which my nurse knew not what to do with.
My mother was very uneasy, and disposed to scold me ;
but apropos of letters, she remembered that she had
received a very interesting one from my father; she
went to look for it, and put it into my hands : the fol-
lowing is the substance of it.

"Pavia, March 17, 1721.

"My dear "Wife, — I have news for you concerning our
dear son, which will give you great pleasure. I quitted Mo-
dena, as you know, to go to Piacenza, for the sake of arranging
affairs with my cousin, M. Barilli, who still owes me a part of
my mother's fortune ; and if I can join this sum to the arrears
which I have just received at Modena, we shall be able to settle
ourselves comfortably.

" My cousin was not at Piacenza ; he had set out to Pavia,
to be present at the marriage of a nephew of his wife. As the
journey was not long, I resolved on joining him at Pavia. I
found him, spoke to him, he owned the debt, and matters are
arrauged. He is to pay me in six years ; but you shall hear
what has happened to me in this town.

"On alighting at the hotel of the Red Cross, I was asked my
name, for the purpose of having it entered at the police. Next
day, the landlord introduced a servant of the governor's to me,
who very politely asked me to repair, at my convenience, to the
government palace. Notwithstanding the word convenience, I
was far from being at my case at that moment, and I was quite
at a loss to conjecture what they could possibly want with me.
I went first to my cousin, and after our affairs were settled, I
spoke to him of this sort of invitation, which disquieted me a
great deal, and I asked him whether he was personally ac-
quainted with the governor of Pavia. He told me he was,
that he had known him a long time, that he was the Marquis
Goldoni-Vidoui, of a good family of Cremona, and a senator of

CARLO GOLDOXI. 55

Milan. At the name of Goldoni, I banished every fear; I con-
ceived the most flattering ideas, and I was not deceived. I
went to see him in the afternoon ; he received me in the most
respectful and gracious manner. It was my -signature which
had inspired him with the desire of knowing me. We talked
a great deal ; I told him that I was originally from Modena :
he did me the honor of observing that the town of Cremona
was not very distant from Modena. People came in, and he
asked me to dine with him next day. I did not fail to go, as
you may well believe ; there were four of us at table, and we
had a very good dinner. The two other guests left us after
coffee, and the senator and myself were left by ourselves. We
spoke of a number of things, but principally of my family, my
situation, aud my actual circumstances; in short, he promised
to do somethiug for my eldest son. At Pavia there is a uni-
versity as famous as that of Padua, and several colleges, where
those who have exhibitions are alone received. The marcpuis
engaged to obtain for me one of those exhibitions in the Pope's
College ; and if Charles behaves himself, he will take care of
him.

" "Write nothing of this to my son. At my return I shall
s?nd for him. I wish to have the pleasure of informing him
of it myself.

" I shall not be long, I hope," etc.

The contents of this letter were quite calculated to
flatter me, and inspire me with the most unbounded
hopes. I then felt all the imprudence of my proceed-
ing. I dreaded my father's indignation, and I was afraid
lest he should be inclined to distrust my conduct in a
town still more distant, and where I should be much
more at liberty. My m< rtiher inf< urmed me that she would
endeavor to screen me from my father's reproaches, —
that she would take everything on herself, particularly
as my repentance appeared sincere. I was reasonable
enough in fact for my age; but I was apt to act incon-

56 MEMOIRS OF

siderately at times. This has done me much injury, as
the reader will see, and perhaps he will sometimes be
inclined to pity me.

My mother wished to introduce me to her acquaint-
ance ; but my only dress consisted of an old surtout,
which at sea had served me for dress, nightgown, and
a covering for my feet. She ordered a tailor, and I was
soon properly equipped, and in a state to make my ap-
pearance abroad. My first care was to call on my trav-
elling companions, who were very glad to see me.
They were engaged for twenty representations ; and as
I received a right of admission, I resolved to take ad-
vantage of it with the good pleasure of my affectionate
mother. She was very intimate with the Abbé Gen-
narij a canon of the cathedral. This good ecclesiastic
was rather a rigorist. Plays in Italy are not proscribed
by the Roman church, and players are not excommuni-
cated; but the Abbé Gennari maintained that the com-
edies which were then acted were dangerous for youth,
in which he was probably not much in the wrong. My
mother therefore forbid me the theatre. I was obliged
to obey ; but, though I did not go to the representations,
I visited the actors, and the actress who performed the
part of the waiting-maid more frequently than the oth-
ers. I have always continued to have a predilection
for those who act that character.

In six days my father arrived. I trembled all over :
my mother concealed me in her dressing-closet, and
took the rest on herself. My father ascended the steps ;
my mother ran to meet him ; my aunt did the same,
and the usual embraces took place. My father appeared
chagrined and thoughtful, and he had not his usual
gayety. They supposed him fatigued. On entering
the room, my father's first words were, "Where is my

CARLO GOLDOXI. 57

son ? " My mother answered with perfect sincerity,
" Our youngest son is boarded out." " Xo, no/' replied
my father in a rage, " I want the eldest,"and he must
he here. In concealing him from me, you are doiug
very wrong; he must be corrected for his misconduct."
My mother was quite at a loss what to do or say; she
uttered vaguely, "But — how ? w My father inter-
rupted her, stamping with his feet: "Yes, I have
been informed of everything by M. Battaglini, who
wrote to me at Modena, and I found the letter in pass-
ing through it."' My mother entreated of him, with an
afflicted air, to hear me before condemning me. My
father, still in a rage, asked again where I was. I
could contain myself no longer; I opened the glass
door, but I durst not advance. " Go out," said my
father to his wife and sister; "leave me alone with
this profligate." When they were gone, I came for-
ward trembling: "Ah, father!" "How, sir! How
do you happen to be here?" "Father — you have
been told." "Yes, I have been told that, in spite of
remonstrances and good advice, and in opposition to
every one, you have had the insoleuce to quit Rimini
abruptly." "What should I have done at Rimini,
father 1 It was lost time for me." "How, lost time!
Is the study of philosophy lost time?" "Ah! the
scholastic philosophy, the syllogisms, the enthymemas,
the sophisms, the negos propos and concedos ; do you
remember them, father ?" (He could not avoid dis-
playing a slight movement of the lips which indicated
his desire to laugh ; I was shrewd enough to perceive
it, and I took courage.) "Ah, father ! " I added, " teach
me the philosophy of man, sound moral philosophy,
and experimental natural philosophy." " Come, come ;
how did you arrive here ? " " By sea." " With

58 MEMOIRS OF

whom ! n " With a company of players." " Players ! "
" They are very respectable people, father." "What
is the name of the manager V " He is Florindo on the
stage, and they call him Florindo de' Macaroni." "0,

I know him : he is a worthy man; he acted Don Gio-
vanni in the ' Festin» di Pietra ' ; he thought proper to
eat the macaroni belonging to Harlequin, and that is
the way he came by that surname." " I assure you,
father, that this company — n "Where is the com-
pany gone to?7' "It is here." "Here?" "Yes,
father." " Do they act here ? " " Yes, father." "I
shall go to see them." " And I also, cither ? " "You,
rascal ! What is the name of the principal actress ! "
" Clarice." " 0, Clarice ! — excellent, ugly, hut very
clever." "Father — " "I must go to thank them."
" And I, father ! » " Wretch ! " " I beg your pardon."

II Well, well, for this time."

My mother, who had heard everything, now entered :
she was very glad to see me on good terms with my
father. She mentioned the Abbe Gennari to him, not
with the view of preventing me from going to the play
(for my father was as f>nd of it as myself), but for the
sake of informing him that the canon, suffering under
different diseases, was anxious to see him ; that he had
Bpoken to the whole town of the famous Venetian phy-
sician, pupil of the great Lancisi, who was instantly
expected : and that he had only to show himself to re-
ceive more patients than he could desire. This is what
really happened. Everybody wished to have Doctor
Groldoni; rich and poor flocked to him, and the poor
paid better than the rich. He took more commodious
apartments, and settled at Ohiozza, to remain there Be
long as fortune should continue favorable to him, or till
some other physician in vogue should supplant him.

CARLO GOLDOXI. 59

Seeing me unoccupied, and in want of good masters in
town., my father wished himself to make something of
me. He destined me for medicine, and till he should
have the letters announcing my nomination to the Col-
lege of Pa via, he ordered me to accompany him in his
daily visits. He thought that a little practice before
the study of the theory would give me a superficial
acquaintance with medicine, which I might find very
useful for the understanding technical terms and the
first principles of the art.

I was not over fond of medicine ; but I durst not be
refractory, for I should have been then told that I wished
to do neither one thing nor another.

III.

I was naturally gay, but subject from my infancy to
hypochondriacal or melancholy vapors, which threw
a dark shade over my mind. Attacked with a violent
fit of this lethargic disease, I sought for relief but could
find none. The players were gone; Chiozza had no
longer any amusement to my taste ; I was discontented
with medicine, I became gloomy and thoughtful, and
fell away more and mere every day. My parents soon
perceived my state ; my mother was the first to ques-
tion me. I confided my uneasiness to her. One day,
when we were partaking of a family dinner without
strangers or the presence of servants, my mother turned
the conversation to me. There was a debate of two
hours. My father was absolutely resolved that 1
should apply to medicine. It was in vain for me to
agitate myself, make wry faces, and look gloomy, he
would not yield. My mother at length proved to my
father that he was wrong, and she did it in this way :

60 MEMOIRS OF

"The -Marquis Goldoni," said she, " wishes to take
our child under his care. If Charles be a good physi-
cian, his protector may favor him, it is true ; but can
he give him patients ? Can he persuade people to pre-
fer him to so many others ? He may procure him the
place of professor in the University of Paviaj but then,
what an immense time and labor before he can get it ;
whereas if my son were to study law and become an
advocate, it would be easy for a senator of Milan to
make Ins fortune without the smallest trouble or diffi-
culty.-'

My father made no answer : he remained silent for a
few minutes. At length, turning to me, he said jocu-
larly : "Would you like the Code and Digest of Justin-
ian ?" "Yes, father," I replied, "a great deal better
than the Aphorisms of Hippocrates." "Your mother,"
said he, "is a sensible woman; her reasons are good,
and I may acquiesce in them: but in the mean time
you must not remain idle, but continue to accompany
me." I was still therefore where I was. My mother
then took up my cause with warmth. She advised my
father to send me to Venice and settle me with my
uncle Indric, one of the best attorneys of the capital,
and she proposed to accompany me herself and to re-
main with me there till my departure for Pavia. My
aunt supported her sisters project. I held up my
hands and wept for joy. My father consented, and I
was to go instantly to Venice. I was now contented,
and my vapors were immediately dissipated. Four
days afterwards my mother and myself took our de-
parture. We had but a passage of eight leagues, and
we arrived at Venice at the hour of dinner. We went
to lodge with M. Bertani, a maternal uncle of my
mother ; and next day we called on M. Indric, by

CARLO GOLDOXI. 61

whom we were very politely received. M. Paul Indric
had married my paternal aunt. It was a charming

family : a good husband and father, a goorl mother and
wife, and children excellently brought up. I was en-
tered in the office. I was the fourth clerk, but I en-
joyed certain privileges which my consanguinity could
not fail to procure me.

My present occupation was more agreeable than
that under my father at Chiozza : but the one seemed
as useless to me as the other. Supposing that I should
be called to the bar at Milan, I could derive no advan-
tage from the practice of that at Venice, which is un-
known to all the rest of Italy. It was impossible to
foresee that by a series of singular adventures I should
one day plead in the courts where I then considered
myself a stranger. Discharging my duty with accu-
racy, and meriting my uncle's praise, I contrived never-
theless to avail myself of the pleasures of a residence
at Venice and to partake of its amusements. It was
my native place : but I was too young when I quitted
it to know anything of it again.

Venice is so extraordinary a city that it is impos-
sible to form a correct idea of it without seeing it.
Maps, plans, models, and descriptions are insufficient ;
it must be seen. All other .cities bear more or less
resemblance to one another, but Venice resembles
none ; and every time I have seen it after a long ab-
sence it has been a new subject of astonishment and
surprise for me. As I advanced in years, and my
knowledge increased and furnished me with more nu-
merous objects of comparison, I ever discovered new
singularities and new beauties in it. But I then saw
it as a youth of fifteen, who could not be supposed to
be struck with what in reality was the most remark-

62 MEMOIRS OF

able, and who could only compare it with the small
towns which he had lived in. What I was most as-
tonished at was the surprising view which it presents
on a first approach. On seeing the extent of small
islands so close together and so admirably connected
by bridges, we imagine we behold a continent elevated
on a plain and washed on every side by an immense
sea which surrounds it. This is nut the sea, but a
very extensive marsh more or less covered with water
at the mouths of several ports with deep canals,
which admit large and small vessels into the town
and its environs. If you enter by the quarter of St.
Mark through a prodigious quantity of vessels of every
description, ships of war, merchantmen, frigates, gal-
leys, barks, boats, and gondolas, you land at the Piaz-
zetta (Small Place), where in one direction you see the
palace and the ducal church, which announce the
magnificence of the republic, and in another, the
place or square of St. Mark, surrounded with porticos
from designs by Palladio and Sansovino. In going
through the streets where haberdashery goods are sold,
you tread on flags of Istrian marble, carefully rough-
ened by the chisel to prevent their being slippery.
The whole quarter is a perpetual fair till you arrive at
the bridge of a single arch, ninety feet in breadth over
the great canal, which, from its elevation, allows the
passage of barks and boats in the highest tides, which
offers three different roads to passengers and which
upholds twenty-four shops with lodgings, the roofs of
which are covered with lead. This view, I own, ap-
peared surprising to me; and I have not found it
properly described by travellers. I ask my reader's
pardon if my fondness has got the better of me.
I shall not say more at present ; but I shall take

CARLO GOLDOXI. 63

the liberty of giving some idea of the manners and
customs of Venire, its laws ami constitution, when
circumstances shall lead me to the subject, and when
my knowledge may he supposed to have obtained more
consistency and precision. I shall conclude this notice
with a succinct account of its spectacles. In Italy
their places of public amusement are called theatres.
There are seven in Venice, each bearing the name of
the titular church of its parish. The theatre of St.
John Chrysostoin was then the first in the town,
where the grand operas were represented, where Me-
tastasio opened his dramatic, and Farinello, Faustiue,
and Cozzoni, their musical career. At present the
theatre of St. Benedict is highest in rank. The six
other theatres are called St. Samuel, St. Luke, St.
Angelo, St. Cassian, and St. Moses. Of these seven,
two are generally dedicated to grand operas, two
to eomic operas, and three to plays. I shall ad-
vert more particularly to all of them when I become
an author, in the manner of that country: for there
are none of them which have not had works of
mine, and which have nut contributed both to my
honor and profit.

I acquitted myself tolerably well in my employment
with the attorney at Venice. I possessed great facility
in giving a summary and abstract of a law-suit, and
my ancle would fain have kept me. but I was recalled
by a letter from my father. The situation in the
Pope's College had become vacant, and was kepi open
for me. The Marquis Goldoni communicated the cir-
cumstance to us, ami advised us to lose no time in setting
out. My mother and myself quitted Venice and re-
turned to Chiozza. My trunks were ready and corded,
my mother and my aunt in tears. My brother, who

64 MEMOIRS OF

had been taken home, wished to accompany me. The
separation was highly pathetic; but the chaise ar-
rived, and we were obliged to part.

We took the road of Rovigo and Ferrara, and
arrived at Modena, where we remained three days in
the house of M. Zavarisi, a very respectable notary in
that town, and a near relation of ours by the mother's
side. This worthy man had all my father's affairs in
hand. He drew our government annuities and our
house-rents, and, having supplied us with money, we
went to Piacenza. My father, when there, took care
to visit his cousin Barilli, who had not altogether ful-
filled his engagements. He contrived to make him
discharge the arrears of the two years which were
owing, so that we were now tolerably well stocked
with ready money, which turned out very useful to us
in the unforeseen circumstances in which we were
afterwards placed.

On arriving at Milan, we lodged at the inn of the
Three Kings, and the day following we went to pay
our visit to the Marquis Goldoni. It is impossible
to be better received than we were. My protector
seemed satisfied with me, and I was perfectly so with
him. The college was spoken of, and the day was
even fixed for my making my appearance in Pavia ;
but the marquis, on looking more attentively at me,
asked my father and myself why I was in a lay dress,
and why I did not wear the clerical band (petit collet).
We were quite at a loss to know what he meant. At
length we learned for the first time that to enter the
College of Ghislieri, called the Pope's College, it was
essentially necessary, first, that those who held exhi-
bitions should be tonsured ; secondly, that they should
have a certificate of their civil situation and their

CARLO GOLDOXI. 65

moral conduct ; thirdly, another certificate of their not
being married ; and fourthly, a certificate of haptisin.
My father and myself were quite thunderstruck, for all
this was new to us. The senator conceived that we
ought to have been informed of it, for he had in-
structed his secretary to transmit us a note on the
subject ; but this note was still remaining in his bu-
reau. This occasioned a number of excuses and a
number of entreaties for pardon on the part of the sec-
retary. The master was kind, and we should have
gained nothing in being cross.

But it was necessary to remedy the mistake. My
father resolved to write to his wife. She went imme-
diately to Venice, and set on foot every species of
solicitation. The certificates of celibacy and good
morals were easily procured, and the baptismal certifi-
cate still more so ; but the great embarrassment was
the tonsure, as the patriarch of Venice would not
grant dimissorial letters without the constitution of
the patrimony ordained by the canons of the church.
What was to be done ? The property of my father
was not situated in the Venetian dominions, and my
mother's was entailed. We were obliged to apply to
the senate for a dispensation. What delays, contra-
dictions, and loss of time ! The senatorial secretary
made us pay dear for his excuses and his blunders.
There was nothing but patience for us. My mother
gave herself a deal of trouble, and she was at length
successful ; but while she was laboring for her son at
Venice, what were we about at Milan ?

We remained fifteen days at Milan, dining and sup-
ping every day with my protector, who showed us
everything magnificent in th.it city, which is the capital
of Austrian Lombardy. I shall say nothing at present

66 MEMOIRS OF

of Milan. I have to return to it ; and I shall speak
more at large concerning it when I shall be more
qualified to handle the subject. In the mean time my
cr.stume was changed, and I wore the clerical band.
We set out at length for Pa via, well provided with
letters 'of recommendation. We lodged and boarded
in the house of one of the towns-people, and I was
introduced to the superior of the college where I was
to be received. We had a letter from Senator Goldoni
fur M. Lauzio, professor of law; who himself con-
ducted me to the university. I followed him into his
class, and did not lose my time waiting for my title of
collegian.

M. Lauzio was a jurisconsult of the greatest merit.
He possessed a very rich library, to which I had free
access as well as to his table. His wife was very kind
to me. She was still young enough, and must have
been pretty, but she was terribly disfigured by a mon-
strous goitre which descended from her chin to her
breast. These ornaments are by no means rare at
Milan and Bergamo ; but that of Madame Lauzio was
altogether particular in its kind, for it had a small
family of little .goitres around it. The small-pox is
certainly a great scourge for women ; but I know no
young woman pitted with the small-pox who would
exchange her scars for a Milanese goitre.

I derived great profit from the professor's library.
I ran over the institutes of Roman law, and fur-
nished my head with the matters for which I was
destined. I did not always confine myself -to juris-
prudence. There were shelves filled with a collection
of ancient and modern comedies, which were my favor-
ite reading. I resolved to divide my time between the
study of law and the perusal of comedies during the

CARLO GOLDONI. 67

whole period of my stay at Pavia; but my entry into
the college was the occasion of more dissipation than
application ; and I did well to profit by the three
months in which I waited for my dimissorial letters
and certificates from Venice. I reread with more
knowledge and greater pleasure the Greek and Latin
poets, and I said to myself, I wish it were in my power
to imitate them in their plans, their style, and their
precision ; but I should not be well pleased if I did not
throw more interest into my works, more marked char-
acters, more of the vis comica, and bring about a more
successful termination of the plot.

" Facile inventis addere."

We ought to respect the great masters who have
paved the way for us in science and art ; but every
age has its peculiar genius, and every climate its na-
tional taste. The Greek and Roman authors were
acquainted with Nature, and closely copied her; but
they exposed her unveiled and without restraint. It
was on this account that the fathers of the church
wrote against plays, and that the popes excommuni-
cated them. They have been corrected by decency,
and the anathema has been recalled in Italy. It
deserves much more to be recalled in France ; and
that it is not so is a phenomenon which I cannot
comprehend.

Rummaging about in this library, I saw English,
Spanish, and French theatres; but I found no Italian
theatre. There were here and there old Italian pieces,
but no collection which could do honor to Italy. It
was with pain I saw that the nation which was ac-
quainted with the dramatic art before every other in
modern times, was deficient in something essential. I

68 MEMOIRS OF

could not conceive how Italy had in this respect grown
negligent, vulgar, and degenerate. I passionately de-
sired to see my country rise to the level of others, and
I vowed to endeavor to contribute to it.

But I now received a letter from Venice, with the
diinissorials, certificates, and baptismal extract. The
latter was on the point of plunging us into a new em-
barrassment. I was two years under the age requi-
site for my reception into the college. I know not to
what saint I was beholden for the miracle ; but I do
know well, that I went to bed one night only sixteen,
and rose next morning two years older. My mother
had address enough to remedy the want of patrimony
necessary to obtain the dimissorial letters from the pa-
triarch of Venice; they were ordered to be issued by
M. Cavanis, a secretary of the senate, on the condi-
tion that if I embraced the ecclesiastical state, a rev-
enue should be constituted in my favor. I received
then the tonsure from the hands of Cardinal Cusani,
archbishop of Pavia ; and I went with my father on
leaving his eminence's chapel, to present myself in the
college. The superior, called prefect, was the Abbé
Bernerio, professor of canon law in the university, and
apostolical prothonotary, and in virtue of a bull of
Pius V. he enjoyed the title of prelate, immediately
subject to the holy seat. I was received by the prefect,
vice-prefect, and almoner. They delivered to me a
short sermon, and introduced me to the oldest of the
scholars. I was then installed. My father embraced
and quitted me, and next day he took the road for
Milan on his way home.

Perhaps, my dear reader, I abuse your complaisance
too much, in taking up your time with trifles, which
can but little interest or amuse you; but I have a

CARLO GOLDOXI. 69

strong desire to mention this college to you, where I
ought to have made my fortune, and where I met with
a sad reverse. I wish to avow my errors, and to prove
to you at the same time that at my age and in my sit-
uation the utmost virtue was requisite to avoid them.
Listen to me with patience. We were very well fed
and lodged in this college ; we had liberty to go out to
the university, and we went where we pleased. The
regulation allowed two to go ont together, who were
also to return together. We separated at the first
turning, after appointing a rendezvous for our return,
and when we returned alone, the porter took his
money and said nothing. His place was worth that
of the porter of a minister of state. We were as ele-
gantly dressed as the abbes who figure away in the
world; English cloth, French silk, embroidery, lace,
with a sort of robe-de-chamhre, without sleeves above
the coat, and a velvet stole fastened to the left shoulder
with the Ghislieri arms embroidered in gold and silver,
surmounted by the pontifical tiara, and the keys of
St. Peter. This robe, called sovrana, which is the
device of the college, gives an air of importance to the
wearer very well calculated to inspire a young man
with a high idea of himself. Our college was uot. as
you may perceive, a community of boys. We acted
precisely as we pleased. There was a great deal of .
dissipation within, and a great deal of freedom with-
out. I learned there fencing, dancing, music, and
drawing; and I learned also all possible games of
commerce and chance. The latter were prohibited,
but they were not the less played, and that of primero
cost me dear.

On going out, we looked at the university at a dis-
tance, and contrived to find our way into the most

70 MEMOIRS OF

agreeable houses. Hence the collegians at Pavia are
viewed by the towns-people in the light of officers in
garrison towns ; they are detested by the men and
received by the women. My Venetian jargon was
agreeable to the ladies, and gave me some advantage
over my comrades ; my age and figure were not un-
pleasing, and my couplets and songs were by no means
ill relished. Was it my fault that I did not employ
my time well ! Yes ; for among the forty which our
number consisted of, there were several wise and con-
siderate individuals, whom I ought to have imitated ;
but I was only sixteen, I was gay, weak, fond of pleas-
ure, and I yielded to temptation. But enough for my
first year of college; the holidays are approaching;
they begin about the end of June, and terminate with
October.

IV.
Four months of vacation ! Sixty leagues from home,
and the same distance returning ! We paid no board
in this college, but such an expense was by no means
a matter of indifférence. I might have boarded myself
in Pavia, but no student remained there who did not
belong to the place. The sovrana is not then worn ;
and not having the Pope's arms on our shoulder.-, it
• was to be feared lest the towns-people of Pavia should
contest with us certain rights of preference which we
had always been accustomed to enjoy.

I was certain, besides, that my mother would be
highly delighted to see me. I resolved, therefore, to
take my departure; and, being short of money. I went
by water, having for servant and guide a brother of
the butler of the college. The voyage was in no way
remarkable. I quitted Chiozza in a secular dress, and

CARLO GOLDOXI. 71

returned in an ecclesiastical one. My band was not
much calculated to inspire devotion; but my mother,
who was piously inclined, imagined she was receiv-
ing au apostle. She embraced me withH certain de-
gree of considération, and requested me to correct my
brother, who was causing her some uneasiness. He
was a very impatient and unruly lad, who absented
himself from school for the sake of fishing, and who at
eleven years of age fought like a devil, and cared for
nobody. My father, who knew him well, destined
him for a soldier ; but my mother wished to make a
monk of him, and this was a subject of continua} dis-
pute betwixt them. I troubled myself very little about
my brother. I sought for amusement, and found none.
Chiozza appeared to me more dirty than ever. I had
formerly a small library, and I looked for my old Ci-
eognini, of which I could find but a part, my brother
having used the rest in making papers for his hair.

The Canon Gennari was still the friend of the family.
My father had cured him of all the diseases which af-
flicted him, real and imaginary; and he was more
frequently with us than at home. I requested him to
procure me some books, but of the dramatic kind if
possible. The good canon was not himself over-
stocked with literature, but he promised, however, to
do what he could for me; and he kept his word. He
brought me, a few days afterwards, an old comedy,
bound in parchment, and, without taking the trouble
of looking into it, he gave it to me, on my promise t"
return it instantly, for he had taken it, without saying
anything, from the closet of one of his brethren. It
was the Mandragora of Machiavel. I was not ac-
quainted with it, but had heard of it, and knew very
well that it was not the most chaste production in the

72 MEMOIRS OF

world. I devoured it on the first reading, and I pe-
rused it at least ten times afterwards. My mother
paid no attention to the hook I was reading, for I had
received it from an ecclesiastic ; hut my father surprised
me one day in my room while I was making notes and
remarks on the Mandragora. He knew the piece, and
was aware how dangerous it was for a young man of
seventeen. He insisted on knowing from whom I got
it, and I told him. He lectured me severely, and
quarrelled with the poor canon, who had merely sinned
through inadvertency.

I had very good and very solid reasons to urge as an
excuse to my father, but lie would not listen to me. It
was neither the free style nor the scandalous intrigue
of the piece which fascinated me; its lubricity even
disgusted me, and I could perceive that the abuse of
confession was a heinous crime both in the eye of God
and man ; but it was the first comedy of character
which had ever fallen into my hands, and I was quite
enchanted with it. How desirable it would have been,
had the Italian authors continued, after this comedy,
to give decent and respectable pieces, and to draw
their characters from nature instead of the romantic
intrigues in which they indulged. But the honor of
ennobling comedy, and making it subservient to pur-
poses of utility, by exposing vice and absurdity to
derision and correction, was reserved for Molière. I
was yet unacquainted with this great man, for I knew
nothing of French. I proposed, however, to learn it,
and in the mean time I accustomed myself to consider
men closely, and to remark every appearance of origi-
nality of character.

The holidays were now drawing to an end, and my
departure became necessary. An abbe of our acquaint-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 73

ance was going to Modena, and my father availed
himself of the opportunity. He was the more disposed
to make me take that road, as I was to, he supplied
with money in Modena. My companion and myself
embarked with the courier of .Modena. We arrived in
two days, and went to Lodge with one of my father's
tenants who let furnished Lodgings.

I had enough to pay the expenses of posting to
Pa via; but not finding my cousin Zavarisi at Modena,
who had orders to supply me with some money, I
should have been quite destitute on reaching college,
where those who have exhibitions require a purse for
their pocket expenses. I arrived in the evening of the
same day at Piacenza.' I had a letter of recommenda-
tion from my father for Counsellor Barilli, whom I ac-
cordingly visited, and who received me very politely.
He offered to lodge me in his house; an offer which I
very properly accepted. He was indisposed and de-
sir »U8 of repose, and I was equally so, — so that we
made a hasty supper and went early to bed. Reflect-
ing seriously on my situation, I was tempted to borrow
a hundred crowns from my dear relation, who appeared
so good and kind to me; but he no longer owed any-
thing to my father, having paid him even before the
two last instalments became due: and I was afraid lest
my age, and my quality of scholar, should appear by
no means calculated to inspire him with confidence in
me.

In this state of irresolution and apprehension, I went
to bed: but thank Heaven! neither embarrassments
nor chagrins nor reflections have ever destroyed my
appetite or disturbed my repuse : and I slept soundly.
Next morning the counsellor sent to inquire whether I
would breakfast with him. I was completely dressed,

74 MEMOIRS OF

and on descending I found everything ready. My
landlord had a dish of soup, and there was a cup of
chocolate for me ; and. breakfasting and talking to-
gether, the conversation became at last interesting.
" My dear child."' said he, "I am old, I have had a
dangerous attack, and I expect every day the orders of
Providence to take my leave of this world." I was
proceeding to say those kind things which are usually
uttered in such cases; Lut he interrupted me. " No
flattery, my friend : we are horn to die. and my career
is far advanced. I have satisfied your father," he con-
tinued, "for the remainder of the dower which was
due from my family to his ; but on searching among
my papers and the accounts of my domestic concerns,
I have found an account opened between M. Goldoni
your grandfather, and myself." " 0 heavens," said I to
myself, u do we then owe him anything I " ''I have made
every examination," added the counsellor; " I have
compared letters and books, and I am certain that I
still owe a sum to his heirs." I began now to breathe,
and I wished to speak, but he still interrupted me and
continued his discourse. " I should not like to die,"
said he, " without discharging it. I have heirs who
only wait for my death to dissipate the property which
I have saved for them, and your father would have
some difficulty in procuring payment. Ah ! if he were
here," continued he, " with what pleasure would I give
him the money ! "

'• Sir." said I, with an air of importance, " I am his
son ; ' Pater et filins censentur una et eadem persona ' ;
so says Justinian, as you know better than I do."
"Aha!" said he, "you are studying law then?"
" Yes, sir," said I : "and I shall be a licentiate in a
short time; I shall go to Milan, where I mean to fol-

CARLO GOLDONI. 75

low the profession of advocate." He looked at me,
and smiled ; and then asked me my age. I was a little
embarrassed, for my certificate of baptism and my re-
ception in the college did not tally. I answered, how-
ever, with assurance and without violation of truth :
" I have in my pocket, sir, the letters-patent of my
college ; would you wish to look at them ? You will
see that I was past eighteen when I was received, and
this is my second year; eighteen and two are twenty.
and I am close on my twenty-first year : ' Annus in-
ceptus habetur pro completo ' : and, according to the
Venetian code, majority is attained at twenty-one."
(I tried to perplex matters, but I was only nineteen.)
M. Barilli, however, was not to be duped. He clearly
saw that I was still in my minority, and that he should
be risking his money. He had, however, a recom-
mendation from my father in my favor, and why was
he to suppose me capable of deceiving him ? But he
changed the discourse : he next asked me why I had
not followed the profession of my nit her, and no longer
talked of money. I answered, that I had no taste for
medicine ; and immediately recurring to what was up-
permost in my mind, u Might I ask you, sir," said
I, " what is the amount of the sum you owe my
father I n " Two thousand lire of this country; the
money is in that drawer." Still, however, he did
not touch it. " Sir," added I, with a degree of curi-
osity somewhat keen, " is it in gold or silver ? "
"It is in gold," said he, " in sequins of Florence,
which, after those of Venice, are in the greatest re-
quest. They ar<- very convenient for carrying. Would
you," said he, with a waggish air, "take the charge
of them ? " " With the greatest pleasure, sir," replied
I, " I shall give you a receipt, I shall inform my father,

7(3 MEMOIRS OF

and account to him for it." " Will you dissipate it ? "
said he ; "will you dissipate this money?" "Alas!
sir." replied I, with vivacity, "you do not know me;
I assure you, I am incapable of a bad action; the
almoner of the college is the treasurer whom my father
has appointed for my little revenue: and upon my
honor, sir, on reaching Pavia. I shall place the sequins
in the hands of this worthy abbé."

" Well, well." said he. " I shall rely on your honesty :
write me a discharge agreeably to this draft which
I have prepared." I took the pen : M. Barilli opened
his drawer and spread out the sequins on the desk. T
looked at them with an eye of affection. " Stop,'' said
he, u I forgot you are travelling, and there are robbers."
I remarked that I travelled post, and that there was
nothing to apprehend. He was of a different opinion,
however, and continued to insist on the danger. I
brought in my guide, the brother of the butler, and
then M. Barilli appeared satisfied. He delivered a
lecture to both of us. I still trembled. At last he
gave me the money, and I was consoled for everything.
The counsellor and myself dined together, and after
dinner the horses arrived. I took my leave, and set
out for Pavia. Scarcely had I entered the town, when
I went to deposit the sequins in the hands of my treas-
urer. I asked six for myself, which he gave )ne, and
I continued to manage the remainder of the sum so
well, that I had enough for the whole season at college
and my expenses home.

This year I was somewhat less dissipated than the
former. I attended to my lessons at the university,
and seldom accepted the parties of pleasure to which I
was invited.

In October and in November four of my companions

CARLO GOLDONL 77

wore licentiated. In Italy no ceremony can take place
without the decoration of a sonnet. I was supposed
to possess a faculty of versification, and -had become
the panegyrist of the deserving and undeserving. Dur-
ing the Christinas holidays the Marquis Groldoni came
to Pavia, at the head of a commission from the senate
of Milan, to investigate a canal in the district of Pavia,
which had become tin- subject of several lawsuits, and
he did me the honor of taking me with him. Six days
afterwards I returned to the college, quite proud of the
distinction I had received. This piece of ostentation
was highly injurious to me: it excited the envy of my
companions, who from that moment, perhaps, medi-
tated the revenge which they took the following year.

When the holidays came. I was desirous of passing
them at Milan ; but two countrymen of my own whom
I met by chance in a tennis-court induced me to alter
my determination. These were the secretary and
maître d'hôtel of the resident of the republic of Venice
at Milan. This minister (M. Salvioni) having quitted
this life, it became necessary for his suite and equipages
to return to Venice; and the two persons in question
were at Pavia for the purpose of hiring a covered
barge, in which they offered to give me a place. They
assured me that the society would be delightful, that I
should want neither for good cheer, play, nor excellent
music, and all gratis. Could I refuse such an oppor-
tunity .'

When the company was ready to set off. I was Bent
for; I repaired to the banks of the Ticino, and en-
tered the covered barge where all were assembled.
Nothing could be more convenient or more elegant
than this small vessel, called burchiello, and which
had been sent for expressly from Venice. There was

78 MEMOIRS OF

a roomy apartment and an antechamber covered over
with wood, surmounted with a balustrade, lighted up
on both sides, and adorned with glasses, paintings,
and engravings, and fitted up with cupboards, benches,
and chairs, in the first stylo of convenience. It was
a very different affair from the bark of the comedians
of Rimini.

We were in all ten masters and a number of do-
mestics. There were beds under the prow and under
the poop; but we travelled only by day; and it was
decided that we should sleep in good inns, or when
we could find none, that we were to demand hospi-
tality from the rich Benedictines who are in the pos-
session of immense property alone: the two banks of the
Po. All these gentlemen played on some instrument.
We had three violins, a violoncello, two oboes, a
French horn, and a guitar. I was the only person
who was good for nothing. I was ashamed of it, and
by way of remedying my want of ability, I employed
myself two hours every day in putting in verse, either
good or bad, the anecdotes and agreeable adventures
of the preceding day. This piece of complaisance
Avas productive of great pleasure to my travelling
companions, and served to amuse us after our coffee.
Music was their favorite occupation. At the close
of day they ranged themselves on a sort of deck
which formed the roof of our floating habitation, and,
making the air resound with their harmony, they
attracted from all quarters the nymphs and shep-
herds of this river, which was the grave of Phaeton.
Perhaps, my dear reader, you will be incliued to
observe that I am a little pompous here. It may be
so ; but this is the way I painted our serenade in my
verses. The fact is, that the banks of the Po (called

CARLO GOLDOXI. 79

by the Italian poets the king of floods) was lined with
all the inhabitants of the environs, who came in
crowds to hear us. The display of hats and hand-
kerchiefs in the air was a sufficient indication of their
pleasure and their applause.

We arrived at Cremona at six o'clock in the even-
ing. The inhabitants had got notice that we were to
pass through that place : and the banks of the river
were filled with people awaiting our arrival. We
landed ; we were received with transports of joy.
We were ushered into a superb house which was
partly in the town and partly in the country. We
gave a concert, and the musicians of the town added
to the pleasure. We had a splendid supper, danced
the whole night, and. with the sun, returned to our
barge, where we found our mattresses delicious. The
same scene nearly was repeated at Piacenza. Stellada,
and at the Bottrigues, in the house of the Marquis
Tassoni; and in this manner, amidst every species of
delight and amusement, we arrived at Chiozza. where
I was to separate from the most amiable and inter-
esting society in the world. My companions were
friendly enough to accompany me. I introduced them
to my father, who thanked them most sincerely, and
even urged them to sup with him, but they wished to
reach Venice that evening. They asked me for the
verses which I had composed on our voyage. I re-
quested time to make a fair copy of them. Ï promised
t" stud them, and I kept my word.

My mother had formed an acquaintance with a
Donna Maria-Elizabetta Bonaldi. a nun of the convent
of Sr. Francis, sister of M. Bonaldi. advocate and
notary, of Venice. They had received in this convent,
from Rome, a relic of their seraphic founder, which

80 MEMOIRS OF

was to be exposed with pomp and edification. For
this purpose a sermon was requisite, and Donna Bo-
naldi, on the faith of my clerical habiliments, believed
me moralist, theologian, and orator. She was the pro-
tector of a young abbé, graceful in manner, and pos-
sessed of a good memory : and she entreated of me to
compose a sermon and confide it to her protege, being
sure that he would deliver it admirably. I at first
sought to be excused, but afterwards reflecting that
the panegyric of Pius V. was delivered every year in
my college, and was composed by one of the students,
I accepted this opportunity of exercising myself in an
art which did not appear to me very difficult. I com-
posed my sermon in fifteen days. The little abbé
committed it to memory, and delivered it as well as an
old practised preacher could have done. The sermon
produced the greatest effect : the audience wept, ap-
plauded, and kept sideling upon their chairs. The
orator grew warm, and worked away with his hands
and feet. On this the applause increased, and the poor
devil was quite exhausted. He called for- silence from
the pulpit : and silence immediately ensued. It was
known that I composed it, and the compliments and
happy presages were numberless. I had highly flat-
tered the nuns, and turned the discourse on them in a
delicate manner, ascribing to them the possession of
every virtue unblemished by bigotry (I knew them,
and was well aware that they were not bigots) ; and
this was the means of procuring me a magnificent pres-
ent in embroidery, lace, and sweetmeats. The labor
of my sermon and the discussions which followed occu-
pied me so long that my holidays had nearly expired.
My father wrote to Venice for a carriage to convey me
to Milan. An opportunity immediately occurred. My

CARLO GOLDOXI. 81

father and myself went to Padua, where there was
a return chaise for Milan. The driver was known
and could be relied on ; and I set out alone in his
chaise.

I alighted at the Marquis Gtoldoni's, and remained
there six days, till the »nd of the holidays. The con-
versation of my protector was altogether calculated to
inspire me with hope and ardor. I believed myself
on the very pinnacle of good fortune, while I stood
on the verge of ruin.

Y.

I learned at Milan the death of the superior of my
college, and I was acquainted with the Abbé Scara-
belli, his successor. On my arrival at Pavia, I imme-
diately paid my respects to the new prefect, who was
very intimate with Senator Goldoni, and who assured
me of his good wishes. I also visited the new dean
of the students, who, after the usual ceremonies, asked
me if I wished to maintain my civil-law thesis this
year. He added that it was my turn, but that if I
was not particularly desirous, he should like to pass
another in my place. I told him very frankly that as
my turn was eome, I had good reasons for availing
myself of it. as I was anxious to finish my course and
settle at Milan. The same day I requested the prefect
to have the goodness to cause lots to be drawn to ascer-
tain the points I had to defend. The day was fixed ;
the articles were destined for me ; and I was to main-
tain my thesis daring the Christmas holidays. Every-
thing went on charmingly, and I was considered a
spirited young man, desirous of acquiring honor. In
the meau time some amusement was necessary. Two

82 MEMOIRS OF

days afterwards I went out for the purpose of paying
visits ; and I began with the house which I was fond-
est of. I rang the bell (in Italy there are no porters)
and, on the door being opened, I was told that the lady
of the house was sick, and that her daughter received
no visits. I was sorry for this, and a number of com-
pliments passed on both sides. I went to another door,
and. on seeing the servant, asked if I could have the
honor of seeing the ladies. "They are all in the
country, sir" (and yet I had seen two female heads
at the window). As I could make nothing of all this,
I went to a third place, and still nobody was at home.
I own that I was very much piqued, that I believed
myself insulted, and I could not conjecture the cause.
I resolved, however, not to expose myself to any more
of those unpleasant occurrences, and with a troubled
mind and enraged heart I returned home.

In the evening I related, at the fireside where the
students generally assembled, with an air of greater
indifference than I really felt, the adventure which I
had experienced. Some pitied me and others laughed
at me. On the arrival of the supper hour, we entered
the refectory, and afterwards withdrew to our respective
rooms. While 1 was musing on the unpleasant circum-
stances which I had experienced, I heard a knocking
at my .door, and four of my comrades immediately
entered, who told me they had something serious to
communicate to me. As I had not a sufficient number
of chairs for them, we made a settee of the bed. I
willingly prepared to listen to them ; but all four
wished to speak at once; each had his story to tell,
and each his opinion to give. The following is the
substance of what I could gather from their account.

The towns-people of Pa via were sworn enemies to

CARLO GOLDOXI. 83

the students, and, during the last holidays, they had
entered into a conspiracy against us. It was agreed
on at their meetings, that any girl who received the
visits of a student should never be askedjhi marriage
by a townsman, and a resolution to this purpose was
signed by forty of them. This resolution had been
circulated in every house ; the mothers and daughters
had taken the alarm, and the students had all of a
sudden become a dangerous object in their eyes. The
general opinion of my four companions was in favor
of revenge. I had no yreat desire to interfere in the
business ; but they treated me as a coward and a pol-
troon, and 1 was foolish enough to consider my honor
at stake, and to promise not to quit the party.

I imagined I was speaking to four friends ; but they
were traitors who ardently desired my ruin. They
still entertained a grudge against me for the affair of
the preceding year, and they had nourished hatred
against me for a whole twelvemonth in their hearts,
and wished for nothing more than an occasion for giv-
ing vent to it. I was their dupe, but I had scarcely
entered my eighteenth year, and I had to do with old
foxes of twenty-eight and thirty.

These worthies were in the habit of carrying pistols
in their pockets, to the use of which I was an entire
stranger. They very generously furnished me with
them ; I thought them pretty, I delighted in handling
them, and my head was quite turned. I had fire-arms
on me and knew not what to do .with them. Could I
dare to force open a door ? Independently of the
danger of such an attempt, it would have been a viola-
tion of the rules of decency and respectability. I
wished to rid myself of this useless encumbrance ; my
good friends frequently came to visit me and renew the

84 MEMOIRS OF

powder in the pan ; they recounted unheard-of feats of
courage, the obstacles which they had surmounted, the
rivals whom they had vanquished ; I, in my turn, had
also sprang over harriers, reduced mothers and daugh-
ters to subjection, and made head against the bravos
of the town ; we were all equally veridical, and all of
us perhaps equally brave.

When the traitors saw that notwithstanding my
pistols. I did nothing to draw attention towards me,
they went to work in a different way. An accusation
was lodged with the superiors against me of having
fire-arms in my pockets, and I was visited one day, on
entering the college, by the servants, who found my
pistols on me. The prefect of the college was not at
Pavia, and the vice-prefect ordered me to be confined
to my room under arrest. I was desirous of taking
advantage of this time to get on with my thesis, but
my pretended friends still came t<> tempt me, and to
employ more dangerous means of seduction, as they had
a tendency to tickle my self-love.

" You are a poet," said they; "and you have con-
sequently much more sure and efficacious instruments
for your revenge than pistols and other fire-arms : a
stroke of the pen, judiciously applied, is a bomb which
crushes the principal object, and of which the splinters
carry havoc right and left among the adherents."
"Courage! courage!" they all exclaimed at once;
"we shall furnish you with singular anecdotes, and
you will be revenged, and we also." I was quite aware
of the danger and inconveniences to which they wished
to expose me, and I represented to them the trouble-
some consequences which might be the result. " By
no means," said they; " nobody will know : we are all
four good friends, and men of honor; we promise to

CARLO GOLDONI. 85

observe the utmost discretion, and we are willing to
take a solemn and sacred oath that nobody shall ever
learn anything of the business." Constitutionally
weak, and occasionally foolish and imprudent, I yielded
to the temptation; and in thus satisfying the desires of
my enemies, I put arms in their hands against myself.
My first idea was to compose a comedy in the manner
of Aristophanes; but distrusting the sufficiency of my
powers, and being limited besides in point of time, I
composed an Atellano, a species of rude comedy among
the Romans, abounding in pleasantry and satire. The
title of my Atellano was the Colossus. That I might
give the perfection of beauty in all its proportions to
the colossal statue, I took the eyes of Miss .Such-a-one,
the mouth of another, the neck of a third, etc. ; but
the artists and amateurs were of different opinions, and
found defects everywhere.

This satire was calculated to wound the delicacy of
several decent and respectable families, and, unfortu-
nately for me, I contrived to give an interest to it by
amusing and attractive sallies, and by traits of that
vis comica, which in me had a great deal of nature
and very little prudence. My work was charming in
the opinion of my four enemies ; they immediately sent
for a young man who made two copies of it in one day,
which the knaves seized upon, and circulated in every
society and coffee-house of the town. My name was
not to be mentioned, the oaths of secrecy were reiter-
ated, and they kept their word, for my name was not
pronounced ; but having formerlycomposed a quatrain,
containing my name, surname, and country, they tacked
this quatrain to the tail of the Colossus, as if I had had
the audacity to boast of it.

The Atellano became the novelty of the day, and

86 MEMOIRS OF

those who were not implicated iu it laughed at the
work, while they condemned the author. Twelve
families cried for vengeance, and my life was sought
after ; hut fortunately for me, I was still under arrest.
Several of my companious were insulted; the Pope's
College was hesieged ; the prefect was written to, who
returned precipitately, and, wishing to save me, wrote
immediately to the Senator Goldoni. The latter de-
spatched letters to the Senator Erba Odescalchi, governor
of Pavia ; the archbishop from whom I had received
the tonsure was applied to in my favor, as well as the
Marquis Ghislieri, by whom I was named ; but all my
protections, and all manner of proceedings were use-
less; my sacrifice was inevitable, and had it not been
for the privilege of the place in which I was, I should
have been laid hold of by the ministers of justice. My
exclusion from college was announced to me, and I was
detained till the storm was calmed, that I might take
my departure without danger.

What an accumulation of horror, remorse, and re-
gret ! My hopes vanished, my situation sacrificed, my
time lost ! Parents, protectors, friends, acquaintances,
would all be justified in taking part against me ; I was
afflicted and inconsolable ; I kept my room, I saw no-
body, and nobody came to see me. What a miserable
state of mind, — what a wretched situation! In my
solitude I was oppressed with grief, and filled with
objects which incessantly tormented me, and projects
which rapidly succeeded one another on my mind. The
injury which I had done to myself, and the injustice
which I had been guilty of towards others, were per-
petually before my eyes : and the sense of this injustice
weighed more on my mind than my own personal dis-
aster. If at the distance of sixty years, there should

CARLO GOLDOXI. 87

still remain at Pa via some remembrance of my person
and my imprudence, I entreat the forgiveness of those
whom I offended, while I assure them that I have been
amply punished for my fault, and that I believe it to
be sufficiently expiated.

While I was plunged in remorse, and occupied with
these reflections, I received the following letter from
my father, which was a terrible augmentation of my
chagrin and despair : —

" I should wish you, my dear son, to pass the vacation this
year at Milan. I have engaged to go to Udiue in Venetian
Friuli, to undertake a cure, which may occupy me some length
of time, and I am uncertain but I may also be obliged to go
into Austrian Friuli, on account of another person suffering
under the same disease. I shall write a letter of acknowledg-
ment to the marquis for his generous offers to us, but you must
also on your part endeavor to merit his goodness. You inform
me that you have shortly to defend a thesis ; endeavor to acquit
yourself with honor. By this means you will please your pro-
tector, and highly delight your father and mother, who love
you dearly," etc.

This letter completed my degradation. " How,"
said I, " shall I dare to exhibit myself before my
parents, covered with shame and universal contempt ! n
I was in such dread of this terrible moment, that to
extricate myself from the consequences of one fault I
meditated another, which might have totally ruined me.
" No ; I will not expose myself to the most deserved
and the most cutting reproaches ; no, I will not appear
before my irritated family ; Chiozza shall never see me
more ; I will go anywhere rather than return to it; I
will run away, and try my fortune, and either make
reparation for my fault, or perish. I will go to Rome,

88 MEMOIRS OF

where I shall perhaps find the friend of my father who
was so kind to him, and who will not abandon me.
Ah ! if I could but become the pupil of G ravina, the
man the most versant in belles-lettres, and the most
skilled in tin- dramatic art. Ah ! if he should but con-
ceive such an affection for me as he had for Metastasis !
Have not I also good dispositions, talents, and genius !
Yes, I must to Rome. But how can I get thither ?
Have I money enough ? I must go afoot — afoot ! —
yes, afoot. And my trunk and my effects ? Let the
trunk and effects go to the devil. All that I want
is some shirts, some stockings, neckcloths, and night-
caps. " While occupied with these extravagant reflec-
tions, I kept filling a portmanteau with linen, which I
placed in the bottom of my trunk, destining it for my
journey to Rome.

As my departure was to be instantaneous, I wrote to
the almoner of the college for money, who. in his
answer, informed me that he had no property of my
fathers in his hands, but that, nevertheless, the ex-
pense of my passage by water, and my board to Chi-
ozza, should be defrayed by him, and that the provedi-
tor of the house would furnish me with a small supply,
for which my father should be accountable. At the
break of the following day a coach came for me; and
after my trunk was put into it, the proveditor entered
it along with me. We drove to the Ticino, where we
got into a small boat, and at the place where the
Ticino flows into the Po, we went on board a large
and ugly bark, which had brought a lading of salt. My
guide consigned me over to the care of the master, to
whom he whispered something. He afterwards gave
me a small packet from the almoner of the college, and
after saluting me and wishing me a prosperous voyage,

CARLO GOLDCOsI. 89

he at last took his leave. The first thing I did was to
examine my treasure. I opened the packet. Heavens !
what an agreeable surprise for me: I found in it forty-
two sequins of Florence (nearly twenty louis-d'ors).
This was sufficient to take me to Rome, supposing I
travelled prist ami took my trunk with me. But how
could the almoner, who had no money belonging to my
father, confide this sum to me ? While I was occu-
pie I with these reflections and these charming projects,
the proveditor made his appearance again in his boat.
He had committed a mistake : the money given to me
belonged to the college, and was destined to pay a
wood-merchant; and he took back the packet, and
gave me thirty paoli iu lieu of it, amounting to the value
of about twelve shillings !

I was now rich with a vengeance ! I did not want
money for my passage to Chiozza, but how was I to
manage my journey to Rome ? The sequins which I
had been handling added mightily to my mortification ;
but I was obliged to console myself in the best way I
could, and to bring my mind to bear with the inconven-
iences of a pilgrimage. My bed was under the prow,
and my trunk beside me : I dined and supped with the
master of the bark, whose long stories were quite in-
sufferable.

On the second day we arrived at Piacenza, where
the master, having some business to transact, was in-
duced to land. This appeared to me a favorable
moment for my escape. I took my portmanteau, and
told my gentleman that I was commissioned to give it
to Counsellor Barilli, and that I would take this favor-
able opportunity to do so; but the knave would not let
me go. He said he had positive instructions to detain
me ; and when I persisted in my intention, he threat-

90 MEMOIRS OF

ened to have recourse to violent measures. I was
obliged to yield to force, and stomach my chagrin : I
had no alternative but to go to Chiozza. or throw my-
self into the Po. I retired to my nook: my misfor-
tunes had not hitherto drawn a tear from me, but I
now wept bitterly. " In the evening I was sent for
to supper, but refused to go. A few minutes after-
wards, I heard the words " Deo gratias " pronounced
in a pathetic tone by an unknown voice. It was
still tolerably light ; and on looking through a crevice
of the door, I observed a monk, who was address-
iug himself to me. I opened, and let him in. He
was a Dominican of Palermo, the brother of a famous
Jesuit, highly celebrated as a preacher; and he had
embarked that day at Piacenza, and, like myself, was
bound for Chiozza. He knew my story, the master
having revealed everything to him ; and he came to
offer me the temporal and spiritual consolation which
his vocation entitled him to bestow upon me, and
which my situation seemed to require. He displayed a
great deal of sensibility and fervency in his discourse.
I saw him shed tears ; at least I saw him apply his
handkerchief to his eyes. I was touched with this, and
abandoned myself to his mercy.

The master sent to inform us that they were wait-
ing for us. The reverend father was by no means
disposed to lose his collation, but, seeing me full of
compunction, he begged the master to have the good-
ness to wait a moment. Then turning towards me, he
embraced me, and, with tears in his eyes, pointed out
to me the dangers of my situation, and showed me that
the infernal enemy might take possession of me and
plunge me into an eternal abyss. I have already hinted
that I was subject to fits of hypochondriacal vapors, and

CAELO GOLDOXI. 91

I was then in a most deplorable situation. My exorcist,
perceiving this, proposed confession to me. I threw
myself at his feet. "God be praised ! " said he ; " yes,
my dear child, prepare yourself till my return"; and
he then went and supped without me. I remained on
my knees and began a conscientious examination of
myself. In half an hour the father returned with a
wax-light in his hand and seated himself on my trunk.
I delivered my confiteor, and went through my general
confession with the requisite humility and contrition.
It was necessary to exhibit signs of repentance ; and
the first point was to make reparation for the injury
done by me to the families against whom I had directed
my satire. But how was this to be done at present !
u Till you are enabled to retract your calumnies," said
the reverend father, "you can only propitiate the wrath
of God by means of alms ; for alms-giving is the first
meritorious work which effaces sin." "Yes, father,"
said I to him, " I shall bestow them." " By no means,"
he replied; "the sacrifice must be instantly made."
"But I have only thirty paoli." ''Very well, child;
in foregoing the money which we possess we have as
much merit as if we gave more.'7 I drew forth my
thirty paoli, and requested my confessor to take the
charge of distributing them to the poor. This he will-
ingly acceded to, and then he gave me absolution. I
wished to continue still longer, having some things to
say which I had forgotten ; but the reverend father
began to doze, and his eyes closed every moment : he
told me to keep myself quiet, and he took me by the
hand, gave me his benediction, and hurried away to
his bed.

We were still eight days longer on our passage ; I
wished to confess myself every day, but I had no more

92 MEMOIRS OF

money for penitence. I arrived, trembling, at Chiozza,
with my confessor, who undertook to bring about a rec-
onciliation between me and my relations. My father
was at Venice on business; my mother saw me coming,
and received me with tears ; for the almoner of the col-
lege had not failed to inform my family of the particu-
lars of my conduct. The reverend father had but little
difficulty in touching the heart of a tender mother; she
possessed ability and firmness, and, turning towards the
Dominican, by whom she was fatigued. " My reverend
father,'' said she, "if my son had committed a knavish
action, I would never have consented to see him more ;
but he has been guilty of a piece of imprudence, and
I pardon him."

My travelling companion would have wished that my
father had been at home to present him to the prior of
St. Dominic. There was something under this which
I could not well comprehend. My mother told him
that she expected my father in the course of the day ;
at which the reverend father appeared satisfied, and
without any ceremony he invited himself to dine with
us. While we were at table my father arrived, and I
rose and shut myself in the adjoining room. On my
father's entrance he perceived a large cowl. " This is
a stranger," said my mother, ''who demanded hospi-
tality." "But this other plate, — this other chair?''
Ic was no longer possible to be silent respecting me;
my mother wept ; the monk harangued ; he did not
forget the parable of the prodigal son. My father was
good-natured, and very fond of me; in short, I was sent
for, and at last restored to favor.

In the afternoon my father accompanied the Domini-
can to his convent. They were unwilling to receive
him, as all monks who travel ought to have a written

CARLO GOLDONI. 93

permission from their superiors, which they call obedi-
ence, and which serves for a passport and certificate 5

and the one in the possession of the present applicant
was old, torn, and illegible, and his name unknown.
My father, who had credit, got him to be received, on

condition that he should not remain long. Let us fin-
ish the history of this worthy monk. He spoke to my
father and mother of a relic which was set in a silver
watch, and he made them fall on their knees when he
showed them a piece of cord twisted round iron wire.
This was a piece of the lace of the Virgin Mary, which
had even served for her divine Son ; and the proof was
confirmed, as he said, by a miracle which never failed;
for when the lace was thrown into the fire, the fiâmes
respected the relie ; it was drawn out uninjured ; and it
was then plunged into oil, which immediately became
miraculous oil and performed wonderful cures. My
father and mother could have wished to see this miracle,
but it could not be performed without preparations and
pious ceremonies, and in presence of a certain number
of devout persons, for greater edification and the Lrh >ry
of God. A good deal of conversation took place on
this subject ; and as my father was the physician of the
nuns of St. Francis, he managed matters with them so
well that they determined to allow the miracle to be
performed according to the instructions of the Domini-
can : and the day and place were fixed for the ceremony
taking place. The reverend father contrived to procure
a good stock of oil and some money for the masses
which were necessary for him on his journey. Every-
thing was executed : but next day the bishop and mag-
istrate having learned that a religions ceremony had
taken place without permission, in which a strange
monk had dared to put on the stole, bring people to-

94 MEMOIRS OF

gether, and boast of his miracles, proceeded separately
to the verification of the facts. The miraculous lace,
which resisted the flames, was nothing more nor less
than iron wire arranged in such a manner as to deceive
the eyes. The nuns were reprimanded, and the monk
disappeared.

My father and myself took our departure a few days
afterwards for Friuli, and we passed through Porto-
Gruero, where my mother possessed some revenue as
a public creditor. This small town, un the borders of
Friuli, is the residence of the Bishop of Concordia, a
city of great antiquity, but almost abandoned on account
of the badness of the air. Continuing our route, we
passed the Tailliamento, sometimes a river and some-
times a torrent, which must be forded, as there are
neither bridges nor ferry-boats ; and we at length ar-
rived at Udine, the capital of Venetian Friuli.

VI.

My father followed his profession at Udine, and I
resumed my studies. M. Movelli, a celebrated juris-
consult, gave lectures on civil and canon law, in his
own house, for the instruction of one of his nephews ;
he admitted a few persons belonging to the country to
his lessons, and I had the good fortune to be of the
number. I own that I profited more during six months,
on this occasion, than I had done during the three
years at Pavia.

I had a great desire to study ; but I was young,
and required some agreeable relaxation ; I sought for
amusements, and found them of various sorts. Lent
arrived : I went on Ash-Wednesday to the cathedral,
to hear Father Cataneo, a reformed Augustine, whose

CARLO GOLDOXI. 95

sermons I found admirable. On going away, I retained
the three points of his division, word for word; and I
endeavored to compress his argument, and give an
idea of its development and moral in fourteen verses ;
and in my own opinion I made a very tolerable sonnet
of it. The same day I went and communicated it to
M. Treo, a gentleman of Udine, well versed hi the
belles-lettres, who had a great taste for poetry, and
my sonnet appeared very passable to him also. He
was kind enough to correct a few of the expressions,
and to encourage me to compose others. I followed
the preacher with great exactness, performed the same-
task every day, and at the close I found I had put
thirty-six excellent sermons into thirty-six sonnets of
one kind or another. I had taken the precaution of
sending them to the press as soon as I had sufficient
materials for a sheet in quarto, and during Easter week
I published my pamphlet, which was dedicated to the
deputies of the town. I was overpowered with thanks
from the orator, and received many acknowledgments,
and a great deal of applause from the first magistrates.
The novelty of the thing gave pleasure, and the rapid-
ity of the execution was still more surprising.

My father was at Gorizia, in the house of his illus-
trious patient Count Lantieri, lieutenant-general in the
army of the Emperor Charles the Sixth, and inspector
of the Austrian troops in Carniola and German Friuli.
I was very well received by that amiable nobleman,
who was the delight of his country. We did not
remain long at Gorizia, but passed immediately to
Yipack, a very considerable market town in Carniola,
at the source of a river from which it takes its name,
and a fief of the house of Lantieri. We passed four
months there in the most agreeable manner possible.

96 MEMOIRS OF

The nobility of that country pay their visits in whole
families; fathers, children, masters, servants, horses,
all set oft' at once, and all are received and lodged.
Thirty masters may be frequently seen, sometimes in
one house, and sometimes in another ; but as Count
Lantieri was accounted valetudinary, he went no-
where and received everybody. His table was not
delicately but abundantly served. I still remember
a dish of roast, which was the etiquette; a foreleg of
mutton, or venison, or a breast of veal, constituted the
base of it ; above this there were hares or pheasants ;
with red and gray partridges again above them, and
next woodcocks or snipes or thrushes ; and the pyra-
mid ended with larks and fig-peckers.

This strange assemblage was immediately shared
out and distributed. The small birds were served up
on their arrival : every one laid hold of the game to
cut it up : and the amateurs of meat saw the large
pieces which were most to their taste uncovered before
them. It was also the etiquette to serve up three sorts
of soup at each repast : bread soup with the ragouts :
an herb soup with the first service, and peeled barley
with the entremets : this barley was moistened with the
gravy of the roast meat, and I was told that it was
good for digestion.

What was most troublesome to me was the healths
which we were every moment obliged to drink. On
St Charles's day they began with his impérial maj-
esty, and each guest was presented with a drinking
vessel of a very singular kind ; it was a glass machine
of a foot in length, composed of different balls, which
diminished progressively, and were separated from one
another by small tubes, and which were terminated by
a longitudinal aperture, that could be very conven-

CARLO GOLDONI. 97

iently applied to the mouth, and through which the
liquor issued; the bottom of this machine, called the
glo-glo, was tilled, and on placing the top to the mouth,
and raising the elbow, the wine which passed through
the different tubes and balls, rendered a harmonious
sound ; and all the guests performing the same opera-
tion at the same time, made a concert of a very new
and pleasant sort. I know not whether the same
customs are still observed in that country ; everything
changes, and everything may be there changed ; but
if in those cantons there be yet any persons of the
olden times, like me, they may perhaps be glad to
have this brought to their recollection.

Count Lantieri was very well satisfied with my father,
for he was greatly recovered, and almost completely
cured ; his kindness was also extended to me, and to
procure amusement for me, he caused a puppet-show,
which was almost abandoned, and which was very rich
in figures and decorations, to be refitted. I profited by
this, and amused the company by giving them a piece
of a great man, expressly composed for wooden come-
dians. This was the Sneezing of Hercules, by Peter
James Martelli, a Bolognese.

This celebrated man was the only person who could
have left us a complete theatre, if he had not possessed
the folly of attempting a new species of versification
for the Italians; verses of fourteen syllables, and rhymed
by couplets nearly like the French verses. I shall speak
of these Martellian verses in the second part of the
Memoirs; for notwithstanding their proscription, I
took it into my head to be pleased with them fifty
years after the death of their author.

Martelli published, in six volumes, dramatical com-
positions of every possible description, from the most

98 MEMOIRS OF

severe tragedy to the puppet-show called Bambocciata
by him, of which the title was the Sneezing of Hercules.
The imagination of the author sent Hercules into the
country of the pygmies. Those poor little creatures,
frightened at the aspect of an animated mountain with
legs and arms, ran and concealed themselves in holes.
One day as Hercules had stretched himself out in the
open field, and was sleeping tranquilly, the timid in-
habitants issued out of their retreats, and, armed with
prickles and rushes, mounted on the monstrous man,
and covered him from head to foot, like flies when they
fall on a piece of rotten meat. Hercules waked, and
felt something in his nose which made him sneeze ; on
which his enemies tumbled down in all directions.
This ends the piece. There is a plan, a progression,
an intrigue, a catastrophe, and winding up ; the style
is good and well supported ; the thoughts and senti-
ments are all proportionate to the size of the person-
ages. The verses even are short, and everything indi-
cates pygmies. A gigantic puppet was requisite for
Hercules ; everything was well executed. The enter-
tainment was productive of much pleasure ; and I could
lay a bet that I am the only person who ever thought
of executing the Bambocciata of Martelli.

Our representations over, and Count Lantieri's cure
still going on better and better, my father began to
speak of returning home. I was at the same time
invited to make a tour along with the secretary of the
count, who was charged with commissions for his
master. My father allowed me an absence of fifteen
days : and we set out by post in a small four-wheeled
chariot. We first arrived at Laubec, the capital of
Carnioli, on the river of the same name. I saw noth-
ing extraordinary there but crawfish of surprising

CARLO GOLDONI. 99

beauty and as large as lobsters, as some of them were a
foot in length. From thence we passed to Gratz, the
capital of Styria, where there is a very ancient and very
celebrated university, much better frequented than that
of Pavia, as the Germans are much more studious and
less dissipated than the Italians. I could have wished
to extend my journey as far as Prague ; but my com-
panion and myself were both limited, he by the orders
of his master, and I by those of my father. All that
we could do was not to return by the same road : we
traversed Carinthia ; we saw Trieste, a considerable
seaport on the Adriatic Sea ; from thence we passed
through Aquileia and Gradisca, and returned to Yipack
two days later than the time prescribed us.

Immediately on my return my father took his leave
of Count Lantieri, who, as a recompense for his care,
made him a present of a very handsome sum of money,
adding a very pretty box with his portrait and a silver
watch for myself. A young man in those times was
glad to have a silver watch, and now the lackeys will
not deign to carry them.

VII.

On our arrival at Chiozza we were received as a
mother receives her dear son, as a wife receives her
dear husband after a long absence. I was delighted to
see again that virtuous mother who was so tenderly at-
tached to me ; my mother and myself were very partial
to each other; but how different the love of a mother
for her son from that of a son for his mother ! Children
love from gratitude ; but mothers love by a natural
impulse, and self-love has not a less share in their ten-
der friendship; they love the fruits of their conjugal

100 MEMOIRS OF

union, conceived by them with satisfaction, carried by
them with pain in their bosom, and brought into the
world with so much suffering. They have seen them
grow up from day to day ; they have enjoyed the first
display of their innocence ; they have been accustomed
to see them, to love them, to watch over them. I
am even disposed to believe that the last reason is the
strongest of all, and that a mother would not be less
fond of a child changed at nurse than of her own, pro-
vided she had bona fide received it for her own, had
taken care of its first education, and been accustomed
to caress and cherish it.

This is a digression foreign to these memoirs, but I
like to gossip occasionally ; and without hunting for
fine things, nothing interests me more than the analysis
of the human heart. But to resume the thread of our
discourse.

My father received a letter from his cousin Zavarisi,
a notary at Modena, to the following import : The
duke had renewed an ancient edict by which every pos-
sessor of rents and real property was prohibited from
absenting himself from his dominions without permis-
sion, and these permissions cost a great deal. M. Zava-
risi added in his letter, that as my views respecting
Milan had failed, it would be advisable for my father to
send me to Modena, in which there was a university as
at Pavia, where I might finish my legal studies, receive
a license, and afterwards be entered as an advocate !
This worthy relation, who was sincerely attached to us,
put my father in mind that his ancestors had always
held distinguished places in the duchy of Modena ; that
I might revive the ancient credit of our family, and, at
the same time, save the expense of a permission, which
would require to be renewed every two years. He

CARLO GOLDOXI. lUl

concluded with telling us that he would take care of
my person, and that lie would see that I should he
comfortably and respectably hoarded. In a postscript
he mentioned that he had a good marriage in view for

me. This letter gave rise to endless reasonings for and
against between my father and mother. The master,
however, carried the point, and it was decided that I
should instantly depart with the courier of Modena.

At Venice there are couriers who travel and couriers
who do not travel. The former are called couriers of
Rome, as they ordinarily go only to Rome and Milan,
though at other times they are despatched wherever
the republic may want them. Their number is fixed
at thirty-two, and they enjoy a certain consideration in
the community. But with respect to the other couriers
the case is very different ; they are merely conductors
of packet-boats, paid by those who respectively farm
them. They are enabled, however, to improve their
fortune by availing themselves of nooks in their boats
for the concealment of parcels. These packet-boats,
which are five in number, are very convenient. They
set out for Ferrara, Bologna, Modena, Mantua, and
Florence ; the passengers are boarded in various styles,
according to their wishes, and the price is very moder-
ate. There is but one trifling inconvenience, that in
the same voyage the bark is three times changed.
Every state through which the couriers pass claims
the right of employing their own boats and crew, aud
the different contiguous states have never fallen upon
an arrangement favorable for the common interest
without incommoding passengers. I could wish the
masters of the Po to read my memoirs, and to profit
by my advice.

1 entered the packet-boat of Modena ; we were four-

102 MEMOIRS OF

teen passengers : our conductor, named Bastia, was a
very aged and spare man, of a severe physiognomy,
"but a very respectable man, and even devout withal.
We took our first dinner all of us together at the inn,
where the master procured the necessary provisions for
our supper, which was to be taken on our passage. At
nightfall two lamps diffused a light everywhere, and
the courier then made his appearance in the midst of
us with a ehaplet in his hands and begged and exhorted
us very politely to recite along with him aloud a third
part of a rosary and the litanies of the Virgin. We all
gave our assent to the pious request of the good man
Bastia, and ranged ourselves in two rows to divide the
pater-nosters and ave-marias, which we recited with
becoming devotion. In a corner of the boat there
were three of our travellers who sat with their hats on
and kept laughiug and mimicking us. Bastia, having
perceived this, requested the three gentlemen to observe
good manners at least, if they were not disposed to be
devout. The three unknown persons on this laughed
full in his face. The courier was vexed, but said noth-
ing further, as he knew not whom he had to do with ;
but a sailor, who recognized them, told the courier
they were three Jews. Bastia's fury exceeded all
bounds, and he cried out like a mad person, " What!
you are Jews, and at dinner you ate bacon ! " At this
unexpected sally everybody began to laugh, and the
Jews as well as the rest. The courier continued, " I
pity those who are so unfortunate as not to know our
religion ; but I despise those who observe none. You
ate bacon ; you are knaves." The Jews iu a fury
threw themselves on the courier : we took the reason-
able part of defending him, and we forced the Israelites
to keep by themselves. Our rosary, thus interrupted,

CARLO GOLDONL 103

was postponed to the following day. We supped with

tolerable gayety, and we went to sleep on our little
mattresses. Nothing extraordinary took place during
the remainder of the voyage.

On approaching Modena, Bastia asked me where 1
meant to lodge. I knew not myself, as M. Zavarisi
was to find me out a boarding-house. Bastia requested
me to board with him ; he was acquainted with M.
Zavarisi, and he flattered himself that it would meet
with his approbation. This was actually the case ;
and I went to lodge with the courier. It was a most
sanctified house : father, sons, daughters, daughter-in-
law, and children were all possessed of the greatest
devotion. I found no amusement with them ; but as
they were honest people, who lived prudently and
tranquilly, I was very well pleased with their atten-
tions; and people are always estimable when they
fulfil their social duties. My cousin Zavarisi, well
pleased to have me beside him, first presented me to
the rector of the university, and took me afterwards to
the house of a celebrated advocate of the country,
where I was to become acquainted with the practice
of the law, and where I instantly took my place. In
this study there was a nephew of the celebrated Mura-
tori, who procured me the acquaintance of his uncle, a
man of universal talents, who was an honor to his na-
tion and age, and who would have been cardinal if he
had been less strenuous in his writings in favor of the
house of Este.

My new companion showed me everything most cu-
rious in the town ; and, among other things, the ducal
palace, which was extremely beautiful and magnificent,
and which contained the valuable collection of pictures
then at Modena, but since purchased by the King of

104 MEMOIRS OF

Poland for the sum of a hundred thousand sequins. I
was curious to see the famous bucket, the subject of
the Secchia Rappita of Tassoni : I saw it in the
steeple of the cathedral, where it is suspended by an
iron chain. I contrived to amuse myself tol< rahly
well; and I believe the residence at Modena would
have suited me well, both on account of the literary
societies which abound there, and on account of the
spectacles, which are very frequent, and the hope which
I had of repairing my losses.

But a frightful scene which I witnessed a few days
after my arrival, a horrible ceremony, a piece of pomp
of religious jurisdiction, struck me so much, that my
mind was troubled and my senses agitated ! I saw in
the middle of a crowd of people, a scaffold elevated to
the height of five feet, on which a man appeared with
his head uncovered and his hands tied. This was an
abbé of my acquaintance, an enlightened literary man,
a celebrated poet, well known and highly esteemed in

Italy ; it was the Abbé J B V . One

monk held a book in his hand; another interrogated
the sufferer, who answered haughtily. The spectators
clapped with their hands, and encouraged him: the
reproaches augmented; the man subjected to this piece
of degradation trembled with rage : I could bear the
scene no longer. I went off in a state of thoughtful-
ness and agitation, and quite stunned ; my vapors in-
stantly attacked me : I returned home, and shut myself
up in my room, plunged in the most dismal and humil-
iating reflections for humanity. " Good God ! " said I
to myself, "to what are we subject in this short life,
which we are obliged to drag out ? Here is a man ac-
cused of uttering improper language to a woman who
had been taking the sacrament. Who denounced him?

CARLO GOLDOXI. 105

The woman herself. Heavens î is not misfortune alone
a sufficient punishment ? n

Whilst I was indulging my sad reveries, Father
Bastia, knowing of my return, came to propose to me
to join his family in reciting the rosary. I required
something to relieve my mind, and I accepted the pro-
posal with pleasure. I said my rosary with devotion,
and I found my consolation in it. Supper was served

up, and the Abbé V was spoken of. I marked the

horror which I felt for that spectacle ; "my host, who
was of the secular society of that jurisdiction, consid-
ered the ceremony superb and exemplary. I asked
him how the spectacle terminated. He told me that
his pride had at length been humbled ; that his obsti-
nacy had at length yielded ; that he was obliged to
avow with a loud voice all his crimes, to recite a for-
mula of retractation presented to him, and that he was
condemned to six years' imprisonment. The terrible
aspect of this man under his ignominious treatment
never quitted me. I saw no one ; I went to mass
every day with Bastia: I went to sermon and to
prayers with him ; he was quite contented with me,
and endeavored to nourish in me that unction which
appeared in my actions and my discourse, by accounts
of visions, miracles, and conversions. My resolution
was taken, and I was firmly resolved to enter the order
of Capuchins. I wrote to my father a very labored
letter, which, however, was destitute of common-sense.
I requested his permission to renounce the world, and
envelope myself in a cowL My father, who was no
fool, took care not to oppose me: he flattered me a
great deal ; he seemed satisfied with the inspiration I
displayed, and merely begged me to join him immedi-
ately on the receipt of his letter, promising me that he

106 MEMOIRS OF

himself and my mother wished for nothing more than
to see me satisfied.'

At sight of this answer, I prepared for my departure.
Bastia, who did not that day take the charge of the
hark for Venice, recommended me to his comrade, who
was to perform the voyage. I bade adieu to the de-
vout family ; I begged to be remembered in their
prayers, and I parted from them under the workings of
contrition. On arriving at Chiozza, my dear parents
received me with endless caresses. I asked their ben-
ediction, which they gave me with tears ; and I spoke
of my project, which they did not disapprove. My
father proposed to take me with him to Venice ; but
this I refused with all the frankness of devotion. On
his telling me, however, that it was to present me to
the guardian of the Capuchins, I willingly consented.
We went to Venice, where we visited our relations and
friends, dining with some and supping with others.
They deceived me. I was taken to the play, and in
fifteen days there was no longer any thought of the
cloister. My vapors were dissipated, and I was re-
stored to reason. I pitied always the man whom I saw
on the scaffold ; but I discovered that it was not neces-
sary to renounce the world to avoid it. My father
took me back to Chiozza, and my mother, who was
pious without being bigoted, was very glad to see me
in my usual state. I became still more dear and in-
teresting to her on account of the absence of her
youngest son.

My brother, who had always been destined for the
army, was sent to Zara, the capital of Dalmatia ; he
was consigned to M. Visinoni, a cousin of my mother,
and a captain of dragoons, and adjutant to the pro-
veditor-general of that province, which belongs to the

CARLO GOLDOXI. 107

republic of Venice. This brave officer, whom all the
generals who succeeded to the command of Zara
wished to have beside them, took the charge of my
brother's education, and afterwards placed him in his
regiment.

For my part, I knew not what was to become of me.
At the age of twenty-one I had experienced so many
reverses, so many singular catastrophes had happened
to me, and so many troublesome events, that I no
longer flattered myself with anything", ' and saw no
other resource in my mind than the dramatic art,
which I was still fond of, and which I should long be-
fore have entered into, if I had been master of my own
will. My father, however, vexed to see me the sport
of fortune, did not allow himself to be cast down by
those circumstances, which began to wear a serious
aspect both for him and me. He had been at a con-
siderable and useless expense to give me a profession,
and he could have wished to procure me a respectable
and lucrative employment, which should cost him
nothing. This was not so easily to be found ; he did
find one, however, and so much to my taste that I
forgot all the losses which I had sustained, and I had
nothing further to regret.

The republic of Venice sends a noble Venetian for
governor to Chiozza, with the title of "podesta," who
takes with him a chancellor for criminal matters ; an
office which corresponds with that of "lieutenant-
criminel n in France ; and this criminal chancellor
must have an assistant in his office, with the title of
coadjutor. These appointments are more or less lucra-
tive, according to the country in which they are situ-
ated ; but they are all very agreeable, as the holders
of them are admitted to the governor's table, are in

108 MEMOIKS OF

his excellency's party, and see every person of distinc-
tion in the place. However small the labor, it turns
out pretty well. My father enjoyed the protection of
the governor, who was at that time the noble Francis
Bonfadini. He was also very much connected with
the criminal chancellor, and well acquainted with the
coadjutor. In short, he procured my appointment as
adjunct to the latter.

The period of the Venetian government is fixed ; the
governors are changed every sixteen months. "When
I entered my place, four months had only elapsed. Be-
sides, I was a supernumerary, and could not pretend
to any kind of emoluments ; but I enjoyed all the
pleasures of society, a good table, abundance of plays,
concerts, balls, and fêtes. It is a charming employ-
ment ; but as they are not regular offices, and as the
governor can give the commission to whomsoever he
pleases, there are some of their chancellors who lan-
guish in inaction, and others who pass over the rest,
and have no time to repose themselves. It is personal
merit which brings them into repute ; but most fre-
quently protections carry the day. I was aware of the
necessity of securing a reputation to myself; and in
my quality of supernumerary, I took every means of
instructing myself, and making myself useful. The
coadjutor was not too fond of employment; I assisted
him as much as possible ; and at the end of a few
months I had become as competent as himself. The
chancellor was not long in perceiving it ; and he gave
me thorny commissions without their passing through
the channel of his coadjutor, which I was fortunate
enough to execute to his satisfaction.

Criminal procedure is a very interesting lesson for
the knowledge of human nature. The guilty indi-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 109

diminish the horror of it : he is either artful by nature,
or becomes bo through fear: he knows that he has to
do with intelligent persons, with professional people,
ami yet he does not despair to deceive them. The law
has prescribed to criminals certain forms of interroga-
te >n which must he followed, lest the demands should
he captious, and lest weakness or ignorance should be
surprised. However, it is necessary to know a little,
or endeavor to conjecture the character and mind of the
man about to be examined ; and, observing a medium
between rigor and humanity, an endeavor is made to
discover the truth without constraining the individual.
What interested me the most was the review of the
procedure, and the report which I prepared for my
chancellor ; for on those reviews and reports the situ-
ation, honor, and life of a man frequently depends.
The accused are defended, the matter is discussed;
but the report produces the first impression. Woe to
those who draw up reviews without knowledge, and re-
ports without reflection. Do not say, my dear reader,
that I am puffing myself off; you see when I commit
imprudent actions, I do not spare myself; and I must
be requited when I am pleased with myself.

The sixteen months' residence of the podestà drew
to a close. Our criminal-chancellor was already re-
tained for Feltre, and he proposed to me the place of
principal coadjutor, if I would follow him. Charmed
with this proposition, I took a suitable time to speak
of it to my father ; and next day an engagement was
concluded between us. Here I was at length settled.
Hitherto I had looked only on employments at a dis-
tance ; but now I held one which pleased and suited
me. I resolved with myself never to quit it ; but man

110 MEMOIRS OF

proposes, and God disposes. On the departure of our
governor from Chiozza, all were eager to show him
every sort of honor ; and the wits of the town, or those
who thought themselves such, had a literary assembly,
in which the illustrious person by whom they had
been governed was celebrated both in verse and prose.
I sang also all the sorts of glory of the hero of the
festival, and I expatiated at great length on the virtues
and personal qualities of the governor's lady ; both of
them had shown a kindness for me ; and at Bergamo,
where I saw them in office some time afterwards, as
well as at Venice when his excellency was decorated
with the rank of senator, they always continued to
honor me with their protection.

Everybody went away, and I remained at Chiozza
till M. Zabottini (this was the name of the chancellor)
called me to Venice for the journey to Feltre. I had
always cultivated the acquaintance of the nuns of St.
Francis, where there were charming boarders ; the Sig-

nora B had one under her direction who was very

beautiful, very rich, and very amiable ; she would have
pleased me infinitely, but my age, my situation, and
my fortune forbade me to flatter myself with the idea :
the nun, however, did not despair ; and when I caDed
on her she never failed to send for the young lady to
the parlor. I felt that I was becoming seriously at-
tached : the directress seemed satisfied ; I did not com-
prehend her : I spoke to her one day of my inclination
and my fear; and she encouraged me and confided the
secret to me. This lady possessed merit and prop-
erty; but there was a stain on her birth. " How-
ever, this small defect is nothing," said the lady with
the veil; " the girl is prudent and well educated; and
I answer for her character and conduct. She has,"

CARLO GOLDOXI. Ill

slip continued, u a guardian, who must be gained over ;
bat let me alone for that. This guardian, who is
very old and very infirm, has, it is true, some pre-
tensions to his ward: but he is in the wrong, and —
as I stand far something in this business — let me
alone, I say again ; I shall arrange things for the
best." I own. from this discourse, this confidence, and
this encouragement, I began to believe myself fortu-
nate. Miss X did not look upon me with an un-
favorable eye, and I reckoned the affair as good as
concluded. The whole convent perceived my inclina-
tion for the boarder, and there were ladies acquainted
with the intrigues of the parlor who took pity on me,
and informed me of what was passing. They did it in
this way. The windows of my room were exactly
opposite to the steeple of the convent ; several aper-
tures were contrived in its construction, through which
the figures of those who approached them were con-
fusedly seen. I had several times observed figures and
signs at these apertures, and I learned in time that
those signs marked the letters of the alphabet, that
words were formed of them, and that a conversation
could thus be carried on at a distance. I had almost
every day a quarter of an hour of this mute conversa-
tion, which was of a discreet and decorous nature. By
means of this manual alphabet I learned that Miss
N was on the point of being married to her guar-
dian. Indignant at the proceedings of Lady B ,

I called on her after dinner, determined to display my
resentment. I demanded to see her ; she came, and
on looking steadily at me, perceived that I was cha-
grined, and dexterously took care not to give me time
to speak ; she began the attack herself with a sort of
vigor and a degree of vehemence.

112 MEMOIRS OF

" Very well, sir," said she, " you are displeased, I
see by your countenance." I wished to speak then,
hut she would not listen to me ; she raised her voice,
and continued : '* Yes. sir. Miss X is to he mar-
ried, and her guardian is to marry her." I wished to
speak loud in my turn. " Silence, silence," cried she,
"listen to me; this marriage is my contrivance: I
have, after mature consideration, heen induced to second
it, and it was for you that I solicited it." " For me ! "
said I. " Yes ; silence.*' said she, " and you shall see
the design of an honest woman, who is attached to
yon. Are you," continued she, "in a situation to
marry ? No, for a hundred reasons. Would the lady
have waited your convenience ? No, for it was not in
her power ; she must have married : a young man
would have married her, and you would have lost her
forever. Now she is to he married to an old man, to
a valetudinary, who cannot live long : you will receive a
pretty widow who will he richer than she is at present ;
and in the mean time you can go on in your own way.
Yes, yes, she is yours ; I pledge myself for that ; I
give you my word of honor."

Miss N now made her appearance and ap-
proached the grate. The directress said to me, with a
mysterious air, "Compliment Miss on her marriage."
I could hold out no longer. I made my how, and went
away without saying a word. I never saw either the
directress or the hoarder again; and happily I soon
forgot both of them.

As soon as I received the letter directing me to re-
pair to Feltre, I set out from Chiozza. accompanied by
my father, and went to Venice to be introduced along
with him to his excellency. Paolo Spinelli, a nohle
Venetian, the podestà or governor, whom I was to

CARLO GOLDONL 113

follow. We also called on Chancellor Zabottini, under
whose orders I was to labor. I left Venice a few days
afterwards, and in forty-eight hours I reached the place
of my residence. Feltre or Feltri is a town situated in
the Marcia Trevigiana, a province of the republic of
Venice, sixty leagues from the capital. It contains a
bishopric and a numerous nobility. The town is moun-
tainous and steep, and so completely covered with
snow during the whole winter, that from the doors in
the narrow streets being choked up with snow and ice,
they are obliged to make their way out at the windows.
The followiug Latin verse is ascribed to Caesar: —

" Feltria perpetuo niviuin damnata rigori."

Having arrived there before my colleagues, for the
purpose of receiving from my predecessor the archives
and other papers, I was very agreeably surprised to
learn that there was a company of comedians in the
town, who had been invited by the old governor, and
who intended giving a few representations on the ar-
rival of the new. This company was under the direc-
tion of Charles Veronese, the same who, thirty years
afterwards, came to Paris to play the character of
pantaloon at the Italian theatre, and who brought
the beautiful Coralina and the charming Camilla, his
daughters, along with him. This company was not
amiss; the director, notwithstanding his glass eye.
played the principal inamorato: and I saw with pleas-
ure the same Florindo dei Macaroni whom I knew at
Rimini, and who, on account of his age. only acted the
characters of kings in tragedy and noble fathers in
comedy.

Four days afterwards the governor arrived, and the
chancellor and another officer of justice with the title

114: MEMOIRS OF

of vicar, who here and in several other provinces of the
state of Venice, has a voice along with the podestà in
sentences and judgments. I laid aside for several
months every idea of pleasure and amusement, and
applied seriously to labor, as, after this second govern-
ment in which I acted as coadjutor, I could aspire to a
chancellorship. I examined into the papers in the
chancery, among which 1 found a commission from the
senate that my predecessors had neglected. I gave an
account of it to my principal, who judged the affair of
an interesting nature, and charged me to follow it
through with all my abilities. This was a criminal
procedure on account of timber cut down in the forests
of the republic; and there were two hundred persons
implicated in the crime. This required an exam-
ination on the spot, to ascertain the corpus delicti. I
went myself with surveyors and guards across rocks,
torrents, and precipices. The procedure occasioned a
great noise, and threw every one into consternation;
for the wood had been cut down with impunity for
more than twenty years, and there was reason to ap-
prehend a revolt, which might have fallen on the poor
devil of a coadjutor who roused the sleeping lion. For-
tunately, this great affair terminated something in the
same way as the parturition of the mountain. The
republic was satisfied with securing its wood for the
future. The chancellor lost nothing, and the coadjutor
was indemnified for his fears.

I was intrusted some time afterwards with another
commission of a much more agreeable and amusing
nature. This was to carry through an investigation
ten leagues from the town, into the circumstances of a
dispute where fire-arms had been made use of, and
dangerous wounds received. As the couutry where

CARLO GOLDOXI. 115

this happened was flat, and the road lay through
charming estates and country-houses, I engaged several
of my friends to follow me ; we were in all twelve,
six males and six females, and four domestics. We all
rode on horseback, and we employed twelve days in
this delicious expedition. During all this time we
never dined and supped in the same place ; and for
twelve nights we never slept on beds. We went very
frequently on foot along delightful roads bordered with
vines, aud shaded with fig-trees, breakfasting on milk,
and sometimes sharing the ordinary fare of the peas-
ants, which is a soup composed of Turkey corn called
polenta, and of which we made most delicious toasts.
Wherever we went, we saw nothing but fetes, rejoic-
ings, and entertainments ; and at every place where
we stopped in the evenins: we had balls the whole night
through, in which the ladies played their part as well
as the men. In this party there were two sisters, one
married and the other single. The latter was very
much to my liking, and I may say I made the party
for her alone. She was as prudent and modest as her
sister was headstrong and foolish ; the singularity of
our journey afforded us an opportunity of coming to an
explanation, and we became lovers.

My investigation was concluded in two hours ; we
selected another road for our return, to vary our pleas-
ure ; but on our arrival at Feltre, we were all worn
out, exhausted, and more dead than alive. I felt the
effects for a month, and my poor Angelica had a fever
of forty days. The six gentlemen of our party pro-
posed another species of entertainment to me. In the
palace of the governor there was a theatre, which they
wished to put to some use ; and they did me the honor
to tell me that they had conceived the project on my

116 MEMOIRS OF

account, and they left me the power of choosing the.
pieces and distributing the characters. I thanked
them, and accepted the proposition, and with the ap-
probation of his excellency and my chancellor, I put
myself at the head of this new entertainment. I could
have wished something comic, but I was not fond
of buffoonery, and there were no good comedies ;
I therefore gave the preference to tragedy. As the
operas of Metastasio were then represented every-
where even without music, I put the airs into recita-
tive; I endeavored as well as I could to approximate
the style of that charming author ; and I made choice
of Didone and Siroe for our representation. I distrib-
uted the parts, according to the characters of my .
actors, whom I knew, and I reserved the worst for
myself. In this I acted wisely, for I was completely
unsuited for tragedy. Fortunately, I had composed
two small pieces in which I played two parts of char-
acter, and redeemed my reputation. The first of these
pieces was the Good Father, and the second La Canta-
trice. Both were approved of, and my acting was
considered passable for an amateur. I saw the last of
these pieces some time afterwards at Venice, where a
young advocate thought proper to give it out as his
own work, and to receive compliments on the subject ;
but, having been imprudent enough to publish it with
his name, he experienced the mortification of seeing
his plagiarism unmasked.

I did what I could to engage my beautiful Angelica
to accept a part in our tragedies, but it was impossible;
she was timid, and had she even been willing, her
parents would not have given their permission. She
visited us ; but this pleasure cost her tears ; for she
was jealous and suffered much from seeing me on such

CARLO GOLDOXT. 117

a familiar footing with my fair companions. The poor
little girl loved me with tenderness and sincerity, and
I loved her also with my whole soul ; I may say she
was the first person whom I ever loved. She aspired
to become my wife, which she would have been if
certain singular reflections, that, however, were well
founded, had not turned me from the design. Her
elder sister had been remarkably beautiful ; and, after
her first child, she became ugly. The -youngest had
the same skin and the same features : she was one of
those delicate beauties whom the air injures, and whom
the smallest fatigue or pain discomposes ; of all which
I saw a convincing proof. The fatigue of our journey
produced a visible change upon her : I was young, and
if my wife were in a short time to have lost her bloom,
I foresaw what would have been my despair. This
was reasoning curiously for a lover ; but whether from
virtue, weakness, or inconstancy, I quitted Feltre with-
out marrying her.

VIII.

I had some difficulty in tearing myself from the
charming object with whom I first tasted the charms
of virtuous love. It must be owned, however, that
this love was not of a very vigorous description, as I
could quit my mistress. A little more mind and grace
would perhaps have fixed me ; but she possessed beauty
alone ; and even that beauty seemed to me on its de-
cline. I had time for reflection, and my self-love was
stronger than my passion.

I required something to divert my thoughts from the
subject, and several circumstances occurred calculated
to produce this effect. My father, who could never

118 MEMOIRS OF

settle in one place (a propensity which he left as an
inheritance to his son) had changed his country. In
returning from Modena, whither he weut on family
affairs, he passed through Ferrara, and there he re-
ceived a very advantageous offer of being settled as a
physician at Bagnacavallo, with a fixed income. This
was a favorable proposition, and he accepted it ; and
it was arranged that I should join him there the very
first opportunity my situation would admit of.

On leaving Feltre, I passed through Venice without
stopping, and embarked with the courier of Ferrara.
In the bark there were numbers of people, but they
were ill assorted. Among others, there was a meagre
and pale young man with black hair, a broken voice,
and a sinister physiognomy, the son of a butcher of
Padua, who set up for a great man. This gentleman
grew weary, and invited everybody to play; nobody,
however, would listen to him, and I had the honor of
taking him up. He proposed at first faro on a small
scale, tête-à-tête, but this the courier would not have
permitted. We played at a child's game, called " cala-
carte," in which he who has the greatest number of
cards at the end of the game gains a fish, and he who
has the greatest number of spades gains another. I
lost my cards always, and never had any spades : at
thirty sous the fish, he contrived to obtain from me
two sequins ; I suspected him, but I paid my money
without saying anything.

On arriving at Ferrara I had need of repose, and I
went to lodge at the hotel of St. Mark, where the post-
horses were kept. While I was dining alone in my
room, I received a visit from my gambler, who came
to offer me my revenge. On my refusing, he laughed
at me, and, drawing from his pocket a pack of cards

CARLO GOLDOXI. 119

and a handful of sequins, he proposed faro to me,
which I still, however, refused. " Come, come, sir,"
said he ; "I owe you your revenge. I am an honest
man, willing to give it you ; and you cannot refuse me.
You don't know me," he continued. "To set your
mind at ease with respect to me, there are the cards ;
hold you the bank and I shall punt." The proposition
seemed to me fair ; I was not yet cunning enough to
suspect the tricks of this sleight-of-hand gentry ; I be-
lieved in good earnest that chance would decide the
business, and that I had an opportunity of recovering
my money.

I drew ten sequins from my purse, as an equivalent
for those of my antagonist, and I mixed the cards and
gave him them to cut. He laid two punts, which I
gained, and on which I was as frisky as a harlequin.
I shuffled again, and gave the cards to him to cut : my
gentleman doubled his stake and gained ; he made
paroli : this paroli decided the bank, and I could not
refuse to hold it. I held it accordingly, and I gained.
On this he swore like a trooper, took up the cards,
which had fallen on the table, counted them, found an
odd card, and maintained there was a false deal. He
attempted to seize my money, which I defended. He
then drew a pistol from his pocket ; and I started
back and let go my sequins. On hearing my plaintive
and trembling voice, a waiter of the hotel, leagued
in all probability with the cheat, made his appear-
ance, and announced to us that we had both incurred
the most rigorous penalties denounced against games
of hazard, and threatened to inform against us in-
stantly if we refused to give him some money. I
was not long in giving him a sequin for myself,
and I took post instantly, enraged at having lost

120 MEMOIRS OF

my money, and still more at having allowed myself to
be swindled.

On arriving at Bagnacavallo, I was consoled with
the sight of my dear parents. My father had had an
attack of a mortal disease, and his only regret was, as
he said, lest he should die without seeing me. Alas !
he saw me, and I saw him ; but this reciprocal pleasure
lasted but a very short time.

Bagnacavallo is merely a large village, in the lega-
tion of Ravenna, very rich, very fertile, and very com-
mercial. After iutroduciug me into the best society of
this place, my father, as an additional gratification for
me, took me to Faenza. In this town was first dis-
covered the sort of argillous matter mixed with potter's-
earth and sand, of which the glazed earth is composed
which the Italians call majolica, the French faience
and the English delft ware. In Italy a number of delft
plates were painted by Rafaelle d'Urbino, or by his
pupils. These plates are framed in an elegant style,
and preserved with great care in picture cabinets. I
saw a very abundant and very rich collection of them
at Venice, in the Grimani Palace at Santa Maria For-
mosa. Faenza is a very pretty town of Romagna, but
there is nothing remarkable to be seen in it. We were
very well received and treated by the Marquis Spada :
we saw several comedies performed by a strolling com-
pany, and in six days we returned to Bagnacavallo.

A few days afterwards, my father fell sick. It was
a year since he had been seized with his last disease :
he perceived, on taking to bed, that the relapse Mas
serious, and his pulse announced his danger to him.
His fever became malignant on the seventh day, and
grew worse and worse every hour. When he saw
himself near his latter end, he called me to his bedside,

CARLO GOLDOM. 121

and, recommending his dear wife to my protection, bade
mc adieu, and gave me his blessing. He sent im-
mediately for his confessor, and received the sacrament.
On the fourteenth day my father was no more. He
was buried in the church of St. Jerome of Bagnacavallo,
the 9th March, 1731.

I will not dwell here on the firmness of a virtuous
father, the grief of a tender wife, and the sensibility of
a beloved and grateful son, but shall merely give you a
rapid sketch of the most cruel moments of my life.
The loss was keenly felt by me, and it occasioned an
essential change in my situation and family. I endeav-
ored to console my mother, and she in turn endeavored
t<> comfort me : we required the assistance of each other.
Oar first care was to leave the place and return to my
maternal aunt at Venice, and we lodged with her in
the house of one of our relations, where fortunately
there were apartments to let. During the whole jour-
ney from Romagna to Venice my mother did nothing
but speak of my chancery-employment on the main-
land, which she called a gipsy occupation, for it was
necessary to be on the spot, and to be perpetually
changing from country to country. She wished to live
along with me, to see me occupied sedentarily beside
her, and she conjured and solicited me with tears in her
eyes to embrace the profession of an advocate. On my
arrival at Venice, all our friends joined my mother in
the same wish ; I resisted as long as I could, but was
at last obliged to yield. Did I act wisely i Will my
mother long enjoy her son? She had every reason to
think so ; but my stars perpetually thwarted every one
of my projects. Thalia expected me in her temple,
she led me to it through many a crooked path, and
made me endure the thorns and the briers before yield-
ing me any of the flowers.

122 MEMOIRS OF

As I was on the point of appearing in my gown in
the courts of law, where a few years before I appeared
without one, I called on my Unele Indrie. with whom
I acquired my knowledge of law-practice. He was
glad to see me again, and assured me of his endeavors
in my behalf. I had great difficulties, however, to sur-
mount. To be received advocate at Venice, the first
step is to be licensed by the University of Padua ; and
to obtain the license, a course of civil law in that town
must be gone through, five consecutive years must be
passed there, and the certificates of attendance at all
the different classes of the public schools must be pro-
duced. Strangers alone can present themselves in the
college, defend their theses, and receive their license on
the spot without delay. I belonged by descent to Mo-
dena: but as both my father and myself were born in
Venice, was I entitled to the advantage of strangers ?
I know not, but a letter written by order of the Duke
<>f Modena to his minister at Venice, procured me a
place in the privileged class. I was thus enabled to
repair instantly to Padua and receive my degree of doc-
tor ; but a new and still more serious difficulty now
occurred. The Venetian code is alone followed at the
bar of Venice; and Bartolus, Baldus, and Justinian are
never cited. They are scarcely known there ; but they
must be known at Padua. It is the same at Venice as
at Paris, — young men lose their time in a useless study.
I had lost my time like other people ; I had studied the
Komau law at Pa via, Udine. and Modena ; but then
for four years this study had been interrupted, and
every trace of the Imperial law was lost. I saw my-
self, therefore, under the necessity of becoming once
more a scholar.

I applied to one of my old friends, M. Kadi, whom I

CARLO GOLDONL 123

knew in my infancy, and who, having employed his time
much better than myself, was become a good advocate,
and an excellent master for the instruction of the candi-
dates who frequent Padua only four times a year, to
show themselves and obtain their certificates of attend-
ance. M. Radi was a w< >rthy man, but, from being fond
of play, he was rather embarrassed in his circumstances.
His scholars profited by his lessons, and frequently car-
ried his money as well as his instructions away with
them. When M. Radi thought me sufficiently prepared
f >r a public exhibition, we set out together for Padua.
I own that, notwithstanding the instruction I had re-
ceived and a certain confidence acquired in my inter-
course with the world, I entertained a considerable
dread of the grave and solemn countenances by whom
I was to be judged. My friend laughed at my appre-
hensions, and told me I had nothing to fear, and all
that I had to pass through was nothing but ceremony,
and that a person must be very ignorant indeed who
failed to be crowned with the laurels of the university.
On arriving at the city of doctors, we waited first on
M. Pi-rhi. the civil-law professor, to request him to have
the goodness to be my promoter, that is, the person who
in quality of assistant presents and supports the candi-
dates. He acceded to my request, and received with
every expression of kindness a silver tea-board of
which I made him a present. We next went to the
office of the university, to deposit in the hands of the
treasurer the sum which the professors divide among
themselves. This advance is called a deposit ; but it
is there as at the theatre, the money is never returned
after the drawing of the curtain. We had visits to pay
to all the doctors of the college, and many of them we
accomplished with cards; but on calling on the Abbé

124 MEMOIRS OF

Arrighi, one of the first professors in the university, the
porter had orders to receive us. We found him in his
closet, and paid him the usual compliments of request-
ing him to honor us with his presence, and to grant us
his indulgence. He seemed very much astonished that
we should confine ourselves to this dry and useless com-
pliment. We could not comprehend the cause of this;
hut we afterwards ohtained the following information.

A new regulation had been enacted and published, by
order of the reformers of the course of studies at Padua,
by which all candidates for a doctor's degree, before
appearing in full college, were to undergo a particular
examination for the purpose of ascertaining whether
they were sufficiently instructed for a public examina-
tion. It was M. Arrighi himself who, seeing that this
public examination of candidates was treated as a mere
farce, that the indolence of youth was too much encour-
aged, that questions were selected at pleasure, that even
the arguments were communicated and the answers fur-
nished, and that they made only doctors without doc-
trine, thought proper in the excess of his zeal to solicit
and obtain this famous regulation which would have
destroyed the University of Padua had it been long en-
forced. I had therefore to go through this examination,
and the Abbe Arrighi was to be my examiner. He
requested M. Radi to retire into his library, and he be-
gan immediately to interrogate me. He was by no
means disposed to spare me, but wandered from the
code of Justinian to the canons of the church, and from
the digests to the pandects. I always, however, gave
an answer of one kind or another, though perhaps I
was more often wrong than right; but I displayed a
tolerable degree of knowledge and a great deal of con-
fidence. My examiner, who was very strict and sera-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 125

pulous, was by no means fully satisfied with me, and
wished me to prolong my studies ; but I told him frankly
that I came to Padua to obtain my degree ; that my
reputation would be injured were I to return without
one ; and that I had made my deposit. " What ! " said
he, " you have deposited your money fw "Yes, sir."
"And it was received without my orders?" "The
treasurer received it without hesitation ; and here is his
receipt." " So much the worse ; you ruif a risk of los-
ing it. Have you the courage to venture yourself ! "
" Yes, sir, I am determined at all hazards. I would
rather renounce forever my views of becoming an ad-
vocate, than return a second time." " You are very
bold." "Sir, I possess honorable feelings." "Very
well, fix your day. I shall be there; but take care; the
most trifling fault will defeat your object." On this I
made my bow and took my leave. Eadi had heard
everything, and was in greater apprehension than my-
self. I knew that my answers had not been very accu-
rate ; but in the college of doctors the questions are
limited, and the candidate is not made to wander through
the immense chaos of jurisprudence from one end to the
other.

Next day we repaired to the university to see the
points which fate should allot me drawn from the urn.
The civil law point turned on intestate successions,
and that of the canon law on bigamy. I was well ac-
quainted with the titles of the one and the chapters of
the other ; I went over them the same day in the
library of Doctor Pighi, my promoter ; and I applied
myself seriously till the hour of supper. My friend
and myself sat down to table, when five young per-
sons entered the room and wished to sup with us.
This we willingly agreed to, and, after supper, we

126 MEMOIRS OF

began to laugh and amuse ourselves. One of the five
scholars was a candidate who had "been refused in the
examination by Professor Arrighi: and he poured forth
execrations against that abbé, who was a Corsican by
birth, and satirized his barbarity and the barbarity of
his country. I wished these gentlemen good night;
for, as my examination was to take place next day, I
required sleep ; but they laughed at me, and drew
from their pockets a pack of cards, and one of them
produced his sequins on the table. Radi was the first
to give in to the proposition : and the whole night
through we played, and Radi and myself lost our
money. We were interrupted by the beadle of the
college, who brought me the gown which I was to
appear in. The clock of the university summoned me
to the examination, which I had to encounter without
having closed my eyes, and smarting under chagrin at
the loss of my time and money.

However, the exigency required exertion. On my
arrival I was met by my promoter, who took me by
the hand and seated me beside himself on a balus-
trade, with a numerous assembly in a semicircle in
front of us. When every person was seated, I rose
and began by reciting the usual ceremony and propos-
ing the two theses which I had to defend. One of
those deputed to carry on the argumentation attacked
me with a syllogism in barhara with citations of texts
in the major and minor. I resumed the argument,
and in the citation of a paragraph I confounded No. 5
with No. 7: my promoter whispered my mistake to
me, which I wished to correct. On this M. Arrighi
rose from his seat and said aloud to If. Pighi, " I pro-
test, sir, that I will not suffer the smallest infraction
of the laws of the regulation. All assistance to candi-

CARLO GOLDONI. 127

dates is prohibited at a time like this. It may pass
f r this time ; but I give you warning for the fu-
ture."

I perceived that this misplaced sally excited uni-
versal indignation, and I seized the favorable instant
t ■> resume the substance of my thesis and the proposi-
tions of the argument. In place of the scholastic
method I substituted learning, reasonings, and the
discussions of compilers and interpreters. I gave a
dissertation on the whole extent of intestate succes-
sions, which met with universal applause; and seeing
the success of my boldness, I made an instantaneous
transition from the civil to the canon law, and under-
took the article of bigamy, which I treated like the
other. I went through the laws of the Greeks and
Romans, and cited councils. I was fortunate in the
questions which fell to my lot; for I knew them by
heart; and on this occasion I acquired an immortal
honor. The votes were now taken, and the registrar
published the result. I was made a licentiate " ne-
mine penitùs penitùsque discrepante" ; that is to say,
without one dissentient voice, not even that of M.
Arrighi, who, on the contrary, was very well satisfied.
My promoter then put the doctor's cap on my head
and proceeded to pass an eulogium on the licentiate ;
but as I did not follow the usual routine, he composed
Latin prose and verse adapted to the occasion, which
was highly honorable both to himself and me. Every
one may enter on the reception of the candidate, and
on this occasion I was quite overpowered by the com-
pliments and salutations which I received. Radi and
myself returned to our hotel, very well pleased with
the termination of this affair, and very much embar-
rassed to find ourselves without money. This, how-

128 MEMOIRS OF

ever, was a sine qua non, and we obtained some with-
out much difficulty, aud took our departure exultingly
and triumphantly for Venice.

On arriving at Venice, after embracing my mother
and aunt, whose joy was excessive, I paid a visit to
my uncle the attorney ; whom I solicited to obtain a
place for me with an advocate for instruction in the
forms and practice of the bar. My uncle, who was
enabled to make a choice, recommended me to M.
Terzi, one of the best pleaders and chamber-counsel in
the republic, with whom I was to remain two years ;
but I entered in the month of October, 1731, and left
him in May, 1732; when I was received as an advo-
cate. In all probability they looked merely to the
date of the year and not to that of the months.
There was always something extraordinary in all my
arrangements, and, to say the truth, almost always to
my advantage. I was born lucky, and whenever I
have not been so the fault has been entirely my own.

The advocates at Venice must have their lodgings
and be at their chambers in the quarter della Roba.
I took apartments at San Paternian, and my mother
and aunt did not quit me. I equipped myself in my
professional gown, the same as that of the patricians,
enveloped my head in an immense wig, and waited
with great impatience for the day of my presentation
in court. This presentation does not take place with-
out ceremony. The novice must have two assistants,
called at Venice Compari di Palazzo, whom the young
man selects from among those old advocates who are
the most attached to him. I chose M. Uccelli and M.
Roberti, both my neighbors. I went between my two
friends to the bottom of the great staircase in the
great hall of the courts, and for half an hour I was

CARLO GOLDOXI. 129

obliged to make so many bows and contortions that
my back was almost broken, and my wig resembled
the mane of a lion. Every one who passed me had
something to say respecting me ; some observed that I
mus a lad with s<ane expression in my countenance;
others, that I was a new sweeper of the courts ; some
embraced me, and others laughed in my face. At
length I ascended and sent my servant in quest of a
gondola, not daring to make my appearance in the
open street in my then equipment, and I appointed
him to meet me in the hall of the great council, where
I seated myself on a bench and where I saw every-
body pass without being seen by anybody.

I began to reflect on the profession of which I had
made choice. There are generally two hundred and
forty advocates in the list at Venice ; of these there
are from ten to twelve in the first rank, twenty per-
haps in the second, and all the rest are obliged to hunt
for clients, and the pettifogging attorneys are willing
enough to become their hounds on the condition of
sharing together the prey. I was in apprehension for
myself as I was last on the list, and I regretted the
chanceries which I had abandoned. But then, on the
other hand, I saw no profession so lucrative and hon-
orable as that of an advocate. A noble Venetian, a
patrician, a member of the republic, who would not
deign to become merchant, banker, notary, physician,
or professor of a university, has no hesitation in em-
bracing the profession of an advocate, which he fol-
lows in the courts, and he calls the other advocates his
brothers. Everything depended on good fortune ; and
why was I to be less fortunate than another f The
attempt required to be made, and it was incumbent
on me to plunge into the chaos of the bar, where

130 MEMOIRS OF

perseverance and probity lead to the temple of for-
tune.

While I was thus musing by myself and building
castles in Spain, I observed a fair, round, and plump
woman of about thirty, advancing towards me, of a
tolerable figure, with a flat nose, roguish eyes, a pro-
fusion of gold about her neck, ears, arms, and fingers,
and in a dress which announced her to be of the inferior
orders, but in easy circumstances ; she accosted and
'saluted me. " Good day, sir." " Good day, madam."
" Will you allow me to pay you my compliments f "
"On what!" " On your admission ; I observed you
making your obeisance at court: upon my word, sir,
you are prettily equipped!" "Am I not? Do yon.
think me handsome ? " " 0, the dress is nothing ; M.
Goldoni becomes everything." " So you know me,
madam?" "Have not I seen you four years ago in
the land of litigation, in a long peruke and a short
robe?" " You are in the right, when I was with an
attorney ?" "Yes, with M. Indric." " So you know
my uncle, then?" "I? I know every person here,
from the doge to the clerks of court." "Are you
married ?w " Xo." "Are you a widow?" "No."
" Have you any employment ? " " Xo." " You have
a revenue, then?" "None at all." "But you are
well equipped ; and how do you live then ?" "I am
a girl of the courts, and the courts maintain me."
" Upon my word, that is very singular ! You belong
to the courts, you say?" "Yes, sir; my father was
employed in them." «• What did he follow ?" " He
listened at the doors, and carried good news to those
who were in expectation of pardons, or sentences, or
favorable judgments; and as he had good legs he was
always first with the news. My mother was always

CARLO GOLDOXI. 131

here as well as myself; she was not proud, she receive.!
money and accepted of a few commissions. I was horn
and brought up in these gilded halls, and you see I
have gold upon me." " Your story is very singular;
so you follow the footsteps of your mother? " "No,
sir, I do something else." " And what is that ?" "I
solicit lawsuits." '* Solicit lawsuits! I do not under-
stand you." " I am as well known as Barabbas ; all
the advocates .and attorneys are well known to be my
friends, and many people apply to me to procure them
counsel and defenders. Those who have recourse to
me are not generally rich : and I apply to new-comers,
to persons without emp] >yment, who wish nothing
better than to have an opportunity of making them-
selves known. Do you know, sir, that, such as you
see me, I have made the fortune of a good dozen of the
most famous advocates at this bar? Come, sir, take
courage ; with your good leave I shall also be the
making of you." I was amused with listening to her;
and as my servant did not arrive I continued the con-
versation.

'•Very well, madam: have you any good affair at
present?" "Yes, sir, I have several, and some of
them excellent ; I have a widow suspected of having
concealed effects; another anxious that a contract of
marriage drawn posterior to its date should be held
good; I have girls who demand to be portioned; I
have wives who wish a separation; and I have people
of condition pursued by their creditors : you see, you
have only to choose."

" My good woman," said I to her, "I have allowed
you to speak, and I wish now to speak in my turn. I
am young and entering on my career, and desirous of
occasions of employment where I may appear to ad-

132 MEMOIRS OF

vantage ; but the desire of labor and the itch of plead-
ing will never induce me to undertake such bad causes
as those you propose to me." " Ah, ah ! " said she,
'' you despise my clients, because I told you there was
nothing to be gained ; but listen : you shall be well
paid, and even paid beforehand if you choose." I saw
my servant at a distance ; I rose, and said to the wo-
man with a firm and determined tone, "No, you are
not acquainted with me : I am a man of honor." She
laid hold of my hand, and said with a serious air,
" Bravo ! continue always to entertain the same senti-
ments." "Ah, ah," said I to her, " you change your
language." u0 yes," said she, " and the language
which I now use is better than that I have quitted.
Our conversation has not been without mystery ; bear
it in mind, and take care never to mention it. Adieu,
sir, be always prudent and always honorable, and you
will find your account in it." On this she went away,
and I remained lost in astonishment. I could make
nothing of the matter, but I afterwards learned that
she was a spy ; that she came for the purpose of sound-
ing me ; but I never either learned or wished to learn
by whom she had been employed.

IX.

I WAS now an advocate ; my introduction to the bar
had taken place, and the next thing was to procure
clients. I attended every day in court, listening to the
masters of the profession, and looking round every-
where to see if my physiognomy happened to take with
any one who might think proper to give me an oppor-
tunity of appearing in a cause of appeal. A new ad-
vocate cannot shine and show himself off to advantage

CARLO GOLDOXI. 133

in the tribunals where causes originate ; and it is in the
superior courts alone that he can display his science,
eloquence, voice, and grace ; four means all equally
necessary to place an advocate in the first rank at
Venice. My Uncle Indric was liberal in his promises,
and all my friends were incessantly flattering me ; but
in the mean time I was obliged to pass the whole of the
afternoon and part of the evening in a closet, that I
might not lose the first favorable instant. -

One of the most essential articles in the profits of a
Venetian advocate is derived from consultations. An
advocate of the first order is paid for a consultation of
not more than three quarters of an hour at the rate of
two and three sequins ; and there are sometimes in a
cause of consequence not less than twelve, fifteen, and
twenty consultations before it is heard by the judge.
If the advocate be employed to write and draw up a
demand or an answer in the course of the suit, he re-
ceives an immediate payment of from four to six and
twelve sequins. The pleadings are not in writing at
Venice ; the advocate pleads viva voce, and his ha-
rangue is paid for according to the interest of the cause
and the merit of the defender. All this mounts to
something very high ; in my moments of solitude and
ennui, I used to amuse myself with attempts to calcu-
late it; and as far as I could judge, an advocate in
great repute may gain, without injuring himself, forty
thousand livres per annum ; a very large sum indeed for
a country where living is not half so dear as at Paris.

Nobody visited me but a few curious persons for the
sake of sounding me, or litigants of a dangerous de-
scription. I listened patiently to them, and gave them
my opinion ; I did not keep my watch in my hand ; I
allowed them to stay as long as they chose ; I accom-

134 MEMOIRS OF

panied them to the door, and they gave me nothing.
This is the lot of all beginners, who must lay their ac-
count with waiting for three or four years hefore they
can get a name, or gain any money. I am inclined to
think, however, that if I had continued my career at
the bar, I should have got on much more promptly
than many of my brethren : for in six months I pleaded
a cause and gained it ; hut my star already threatened
me with a new change, which I could not avoid. I
reserve, however, for another place, the origin and con-
sequences of a revolution much more violent still than
that which I had experienced in the College of Pa via.

Meanwhile I passed my time alone in my closet, of
with very indifferent company, and I made almanacs. '
To make almanacs either in Italian or French is
losing one's time with useless fancies; hut at present,
however, it was otherwise. I made a real almanac,
which was printed, relished, and applauded. I gave it
for title gt The Experience of the Past : Astrologer of
the Future ; Critical Almanac for the year 173*2." It
contained a general discourse on the year, and four
discourses on the four seasons in triplets, interwoven
in the manner of Dante, containing criticisms on the
manners of the age. and for every day of the year
there was a prognostication containing a joke, a criti-
cism, or a point. I shall not give an account of a
trine which does not deserve the trouhle. I shall
merely trauscrihe the couplet for Easter-day, because
this piece of pleasantry, in other respects perhaps the
most commonplace of the whole, produced a remark-
able effect from the verification of the prognostication,
and both procured me pleasure and services of great
importance. The prediction in Italian verse ran as
follows : —

CARLO GOLDONL 135

"In si gran giorno nna gentil contessa
Al perucchier sacrifica la inessa."

" In this great day an amiable countess will sacrifice the
mass to her hairdresser."

This little work, such as it was, amused me very much ;
for there were then no public amusements in Venice,

and my different occupations prevented me from think-
ing of them. The criticisms and pleasantries of my
almanac were really of a comic description, and each
prognostication might have furnished subject-matter
for a comedy. I was then seized with a desire to return
to my old project, and I sketched a few pieces ; hut on
reflecting that comedy did not harmonize very much
with the gravity of my gown, I concluded the majesty
of tragedy to be more analogous to my profession,
and I was guilty of a breach of fidelity to Thalia in
ranking myself under the standard of Melpomene.

As I wish to conceal nothing from my reader, I must
reveal my secret to him. My affairs became deranged
(I shall soon explain why aud wherefore). My closet
brought me in nothing, aud I was under the necessity
of turning my time to some account. The profits in
comedy are very moderate in Italy for the author ; and
from the opera alone I could gain a hundred sequins
at once. With this view I composed a lyrical tragedy,
called Amalosonte. I was well pleased with my labor,
and I found people to whom the reading of it seemed to
give satisfaction ; but, to tell the truth, I had not made
choice of connoisseurs. I shall afterwards speak of
this musical tragedy. But I must advert to a cause
which my Uncle Indric came to propose to me.

This cause was a contest originating in a hydraulic
servitude. A miller made a purchase of a stream of

136 MEMOIRS OF

water for his mill. The proprietor of the source altered
its direction ; and the object of the action was to rein-
state the miller in his rights, with damages and inter-
est. The town of Crema took the miller's part. A
model had been executed ; and legal investigations,
violences, and rebellions had taken place. The cause
was of a mixed nature, partly civil and partly criminal ;
and it came before the Avvogadori, a very grave magis-
tracy, like that of the Roman tribunes of the people.
The advocate opposed to me was the celebrated Corde-
lina, the most learned and eloquent man at the bar of
Venice ; and I had to make an immediate answer with-
out, writing or time for meditation.

The day was appointed, and I repaired to the proper
tribunal. My adversary spoke for an hour and a half;
I listened to him without fear. On the conclusion of
his harangue I began mine, in which I endeavored,
by a pathetic preamble, to conciliate the favor of my
judge. This was my first exhibition, and I required
indulgence. On entering upon the subject, I boldly
attacked the harangue of Cordelina; my facts were
true, my reasons good, my voice sonorous, and my
eloquence not displeasing. I spoke for two hours, and
on my couclifsipn I retired bathed from head to foot.
My servant waited for me in an adjoining room. I
changed my linen ; I was fatigued and exhausted.
My uncle made his appearance, who exclaimed, " My
dear nephew, we have gained the action, and the
adverse party is condemned in costs. Courage, my
friend," continued he; "this first attempt makes you
known as a man who will get on, and you will not be
in want of clients." "Who would not conclude me very
fortunate ? — Heavens ! what a destiny ! What a num-
ber of vicissitudes and reverses !

CARLO GOLDOXI. 137

The unfortunate event which I am about to recount,
and which I have already announced, might have
appeared uniting the anecdotes of the two preceding
years; but I prefer giving the whole story at once, to
interweaving it piecemeal with the rest of my narra-
tion. My mother had been very intimate with Madame

St. and Miss Mar — , tw< » sisters living apart, though

lodged under the same roof. During her travels the
acquaintance dropped ; but it was renewed on our
settling again at Venice. I was introduced to these
ladies ; and as Miss Mar — was richest, she lodged on
the first floor. As she saw company, she received the
greatest number of visits. Miss Mar — was not young ;
but she still possessed the remains of beauty. At the
age of forty she was as fresh as a rose, as white as
snow, with a natural complexion ; large, sparkling, and
intelligent eyes, a charming mouth, and an agreeable
embonpoint. Her nose alone disfigured her somewhat.
It was aquiline, and à little too much raised, which,
however, gave her an air of importance when she as-
sumed a serious tone. She had always refused mar-
riage, though from her respectable air and her fortune,
she could never have been in want of advantageous
offers ; and for my good or bad fortune, it so happened
that I was the happy mortal who made the first im-
pression on lier. We understood one another, but
durst not speak; for she acted the prude, and I was
afraid of a refusal. I consulted my mother, who was
by no means 'displeased ; and even, from an opinion
that the match was advantageous to me, took upon her
to open the matter. She proceeded very slowly, how-
ever, not to draw me from my professional occupation,
and she was desirous to see me first somewhat mora
firmly established.

138 MEMOIRS OF

Meanwhile, I continued to pass my evenings with
Miss Mar — . Her sister used to join the party, with
her two daughters, who were marriageable. The
oldest was deformed, and the other was ugly. She
had, however, black and roguish eyes, an abundance
of entertaining drollery, and possessed the most natural
and engaging gracefulness. Her aunt disliked her, for
she had frequently opp< >sed her in her temporary incli-
nations, and never failed to use her utmost efforts
to supplant her in my good graces. For my part, I
amused myself with the niece, and kept steadfast to the
v aunt. In the mean time an excellency contrived to
introduce himself to Miss Mar — , and paid her some
attentions, of which she was the dupe. Neither of
*w them had the least affection for the other; the lady
*A . wished the title, and his excellency the fortune.

However, seeing myself deprived of the place of
honor which I had occupied, I was piqued, and, by
way of revenge, paid my court to her detested rival. I
carried my vengeance so far that in two months' time
I became completely enamored, and I drew up for my
ugly mistress a good contract of marriage, regular and
formal in every respect. The mother of the young
woman and her adherents, it is true, made use of every
means to get hold of me. In our contract there were
articles very advantageous for me ; I was to receive an
income belonging to the young lady ; her mother was
to give up her diamonds to her; and I was to receive a
considerable sum of money from a friend of the family,
whom they would not name to me.

I still continued to visit Miss Mar — , and passed the
evenings as usual; but the aunt distrusted the niece,
for whom my attentions were, as she could perceive,
somewhat less reserved. She knew that for some time

CARLO GOLDONL 139

I usually ascended to the second floor before entering J) .' ^ .
the first: she was devoured by vexation, and wished
to get rid of her sister, her nieces, and myself. For
this purpose she solicited her marriage with the gentle- EU^*"^
mau whom she supposed she had secured; and pro-,
posed to him to agree upon the time and conditions : q
but what was her astonishment and humiliation to
receive for answer that his excellency demanded the
half of her property as a donation on marrying her,
and the other half after her death! She was seized
with transports of rage, hatred, and contempt ; she
sent a formal refusal to her suitor, and almost died of
grief. All this was communicated by persons about
the house to the eldest sister, and it threw both mother
and daughter into the greatest joy. Miss Mar — did
not dare to speak ; she was forced to stomach her
chagrin; ami, seeing me display marks of kindness for
the niece, she cast now and then a furious look at me
with her large eyes, which were inflamed with rage.
In this society we were all of us bad politicians. Miss
Mar — , who knew not the footing on which her niece
received me, still flattered herself with the hope of tear-
ing me from the object of her jealousy, and on account •
of the difference of fortune, of again seeing me at her *
feet : but the perfidious part of which I am now going K V-A
to accuse myself soon completely undeceived her. I
composed a song for my mistress, which was set to
music by an amateur of taste, with the intention of
having it sung in a serenade on the canal which the
house of these ladies overlooked. I took an opportu-
nity favorable for the execution of my project, fully v
sure of pleasing the one and provoking the other. Kh**

About nine o'clock in the evening, when we were
assembled in a party in the saloon of the aunt, a very

140 MEMOIRS OF

jtA^'^'noisy symphony was heard on the canal under the bal-
cony of the aunt, and consequently also under the
windows of the niece. We all rose that we might
enjoy it ; and on the conclusion of the overture, we
heard the charming voice of Agnese, a female singer
then in fashion for serenades, who, from the sweet-
ness of her voice and the purity of her expression,
gave an effect to the music and a celebrity to the
couplets.

The song was successful at Venice, and sung up
and down everywhere ; hut it lighted up the torch of
discord in the minds of the two rivals, each of whom
appropriated it to herself. I tranquillized the niece
by assuring her in a whisper that the fête was intended
for her, and I left the mind of the other in doubt and
agitation. I received compliments from every one,
which, however, I refused, and continued incognito;
but I was by no means sorry to be suspected.

Next day I made my entrance at the usual hour.
Miss Mar — , who was watching for me, saw me enter,

v/A^ came out to me in the passage, and made me accom-
" V- pany her into her room. Having requested me to sit

jt . down beside her, she said to me, with a serious and
passionate air, "You have regaled us with a very
brilliant entertainment ; but as there are more women
/than one in this house, for whom, pray. Mas this piece
of gallantry intended \ I know not whether I have a
right to return you my thanks." ''Madam," I an-
swered, '• I am not the author of the serenade."
Here she interrupted me with a proud and almost
threatening air. " Do not conceal yourself," said she :
" the effort is useless: tell me only whether this
amusement was intended for me or for another. I
must warn you," continued she, "that this déclara-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 141

tion may become serious ; that it ought to be decisive ; ^
and another word shall not be heard from me on the
subject."

Had I been free, I know not what answer I should
have made; but I was tied down, and had but one
answer to give. " Madam," said I, " supposing me to
be the author of the serenade, I should never have
dared to address it to you." " Why not ? " said she.
"Because," I answered, " your views, are too ele-
vated for me ; and great lords alone can merit your
esteem — " "This is enough," said she, rising:
" I comprehend everything sufficiently : very well, sir,
yon will repent it." (She was in the right: I have
repented it very much.) » \,Al

War was now declared. Miss Mar — , piqued at be-
ing supplanted by her niece, and afraid of seeing her ^o/^*
married before herself, turned her views elsewhere.
Opposite her windows there was a respectable family,
not titled, but allied to patrician families ; and the
eldest son had paid, his court to Miss Mar — , and met
with a refusal. She endeavored to renew the inter-
course with the young man, who was not backward on
his part ; she purchased a very honorable situation for
him, and in six days' time everything was agreed on
and the marriage concluded. M. Z , the new hus-
band, had a sister who was to be married the same
month to a gentleman of the mainland ; both mar-
riages of persons in easy circumstances ; and that of
my mistress and myself was to be the third ; and not-
withstanding our poverty, we were also obliged to put
on an appearance of wealth and ruin ourselves. This
was what deranged my affairs and reduced me to ex-
tremities. But how was I to extricate myself !

My mother knew nothing of what was going on in a \\^^\

142 MEMOIRS OF

house which she seldom visited,
ing herself of the ceremonies usual on such occasions,
■ was malicious enough to inform her of it ; she sent her
a marriage card; my mother was greatly astonished;
she spoke to me; I was obliged to own everything;
still, however, I endeavored to soften the folly com-
mitted by me in giving effect to promises of a nature
lint altogether to be relied on ; and I concluded by
telling her that at my age a wife of forty was not a
suitable match for me. This last reason seemed to
appease my mother more than all the rest. She asked
me whether the time was yet fixed for my marriage.
I told her that it was, and that we had still three good
* months before us. A marriage at Venice in form, and
**^S^ with all the customary follies, is a much more cere-
monious affair than anywhere else. In the first place,
there is the signature of the contract, with the inter-
vention of parents and friends, a formality which we
avoided by signing our contract secretly. Secondly,
the presentation of the ring. This is not the marriage-
ring, but a stone ring, a solitary diamond, which the
bridegroom must make a present of to his bride. The
relations and friends are invited on this occasion : there
is a great display in the house ; great pomp and much
dressing ; and no meeting takes place at Venice with-
out expensive refreshments. This expense we could
not avoid ; for our marriage, however ridiculous, could
not be kept secret ; and we were obliged to do like
other people, and go completely through with things.
The third ceremony is the presentation of the pearls.
A few days before the nuptial benediction takes place,
the mother, or the nearest relation of the bridegroom,
waits on the bride, and presents her with a necklace of
fine pearls, which the young lady wears regularly about

CARLO GOLDOXI. 143

her neck from that day to the termination of the first
year of her marriage. Few families possess these pearl
necklaces, or wish to be at the expense of them ; but
they are hired, and if they are anything beautiful, the
hire is very high. This presentation is attended with
balls, entertainments, and dresses, and consequently is
very expensive.

I shall say nothing of the other successive ceremonies
which are nearly similar to those which take place
everywhere. I stop at that of the pearls, which I ought
to have gone through, but which I omitted for â hun-
dred reasons; the first of which was, that I had no
more money. On the approach of this last preliminary
of the nuptials, I intimated to my intended mother-in-
law, that I now expected the performance of the three
conditions of our contract. These were the revenues
which were to he assigned over to me, the diamonds
which the mother agreed to deposit in the hands of
her daughter, or mine, before the day of the presenta-
tion of the pearls, and the putting me in possession of
the whole or part of the considerable sum which was
promised to lier by the unknown protector. The fol-
lowing is the result of the conference which one of my
cousins took the charge of. The revenues of the young
lady consisted in one of those life-annuities destined by
the republic for a certain number of females ; but they
must all wait their turn; and there were still four to

die before Miss St. could enjoy hers : she herself

might even die before touching the first quarter's pay-
ment. As to the diamonds, they were decidedly des-
tined for the daughter; but the mother, who was still
young, would not consent to part with them during her
own lifetime, and would only agree to give them after
her death. With regard to the gentleman who was

144 MEMOIRS OF

to give the money (for what reason is not so clear),
he had undertaken a journey, and was not to return for
some time.

Such was the comfortable situation in which I was
placed. I had not sufficient means to support an ex-
pensive establishment, and still less to enable me to
vie with the luxury of two fortunate couples. My
closet yielded me little or nothing ; I had contracted
debts : I saw myself on the brink of a precipice, and
I was in love ! I mused, I reflected, I sustained a dis-
tressing conflict between love and reason ; but at last
the latter gained the victory over the dominion of the
senses. I communicated my situation to my mother,
who, with tears in her eyes, agreed with me that some
violent resolution was absolutely necessary to avoid
ruin. She mortgaged her property to pay my debts at
Venice ; I assigned over my Modena property for her
maintenance, and I formed the resolution of departing.
In the moment when I had the most flattering pros-
pects, after the successful appearance made by me in
court in the midst of the acclamations of the bar, I
quitted my country, my relations, my friends, my love,
my hopes, and my profession ; I took my departure,
and landed at Padua : the first step was taken, the rest
cost me nothing; for, thanks to the goodness of my
temperament, excepting my mother, everything else
,v' was soon forgotten by me ; and the pleasure of liberty
consoled me for the loss of my mistress.

On leaving Venice, I wrote a letter to the mother
of the unfortunate young woman ; and I attributed to
her the immediate cause of the resolution to which I
was reduced. I assured her that on the fulfilment of
the three conditions of the contract, I should soon re-
turn ; and, expecting an answer, I still continued my

CARLO GOLDOXI. 145

journey. I carried my treasure along with me. This
was Amalasontc, which I had composed during my
leisure, and respecting which I entertained hopes which
I believed to be extremely well founded. I knew that
the opera of Milan was one of the most considerable
not only of Italy, but of all Europe. I proposed, there- A/U^J
fore, to present my drama to the direction at Milan,
which is in the hands of the nobility. I calculated on
the reception of my work, and that I could not fail to
obtain the hundred sequins ; but he who reckons with-
out his host, reckons twice. \/

X.

In my way from Padua to Milan, I arrived at Vi-

cenza, where I stopped for four days. In this city |/

I was acquainted with Count Parminion Triscino, of J/vv>
the family of the celebrated author of Sophonisba, a
tragedy composed in the Grecian manner, and one of
the best pieces of the good age of Italian literature. I
knew M. Trissino in early youth at Venice. We both^v vô
of us had a taste for the dramatic art. I showed him
my Amalasonte, which he applauded very coldly, and
he advised me to be constant to comedy, for which
he knew me to possess talents. I was displeased to \^ (i
find he did not think my opera charming, and I attrib-
uted his coolness to the preference which he himself H* C
manifested for comedy.

I saw with pleasure at Yicenza the famous Olympic ^Ta/\
theatre of Palladio, a very celebrated architect of the
sixteenth century, and a native of that city ; and I
admired his triumphal arch, which with no other or-
naments but those of the regularity of its proportions,
passes for the chef-d'oeuvre of modern architecture.

146 MEMOIRS OF

The beautiful models exist, and the imitations are rare.
I passed from Yieenza to Verona, where I was desirous
of becoming acquainted with the Marquis Maffei, the
author of Merope, a very successful work, which has
been happily imitated. This man, who was versed in
every department of literature, knew better than any
person the necessity for the reform of the Italian thea-
tre. He attempted the undertaking, and published a
volume with the title of " Reform of the Italian Thea-
tre " ; which contained his Merope aud two comedies,
the Ceremonies and Rajout. The tragedy met with
general applause ; but the two comedies were not so
successful.

Not finding M. Maffei at Verona, I took the road to
l/^^ Brescia, and stopped for the night at Desenzano, on
j,**1 the Lago di Garda. Supping at the tahle-d'hote, where,
notwithstanding my chagrin, I ate with the best ap-
petite in the world, I happened to be seated beside
an abbé of the town of Salo, whose agreeable conver-
sation prompted me to visit that charming country,
where we proceed through orange-trees in the open
air, and always along the banks of a delightful lake.
Another reason determined me to turn aside from my
road. I was very short of money. Fortunately, my
mother was proprietor of a house at Salô, and, beiug
known to the tenant, I had reason to flatter myself
that I should obtain something from him.

It was but four leagues from Deseuzano to Salo, and
the abbé and myself proposed this journey on horse-
back for the sake of enjoying the pleasure of the road.
On the third day I returned alone, after a great deal of
amusement, with a few sequins in my pocket, advanced
me by my mother's tenant. I paid the driver, who
waited my return, his three days' repose, and resumed
the Brescia road.

7

CARLO GOLDOXI. 147

When at Vieenzaj I wrote to M. Novello, whom I ' (

had known at Feltre in the quality of vicar of the
government, and who was then assessor of the gov-
ernor of Brescia. I alighted at the government-pal-

M6! ML. Novello received me very graciously ; and,
recollecting some comic trifles composed by me at Fel-
tre, he asked me in the course of the evening, at sup-
per, whether I had anything of the same kind to show ,
him. I mentioned my opera, which he expressed a
curiosity to hear. We fixed on the following day.— r
He invited to dinner along with us several literary
men, of whom there are many in that part of the coun- j/£o
try in deserved estimation, and after coffee I commenced
my drama, which was listened to with attention, and l \ I
unanimously applauded.

As my judges were connoisseurs, I had every reason N
to he satisfied. They even analyzed my piece. The
character of Amalasonte was well imagined and well .^y1
sustained, and was a moral lesson for queen-mothers
charged with the guardianship and education of their
august children. The good and had courtiers, artfully
contrasted, formed an interesting picture, and the un-
fortunate catastrophe ofAtalaric and the triumph of
Amalasonte formed a denouement, which, while it sat-
isfied the severe laws of tragedy, was productive of the
entertainment and pleasure peculiar to the melodrama.
My style appeared to this judicious assembly more
adapted to tragedy than music, and they could have
wished me to suppress the airs and the rhyme for the
sake of converting it into a good tragedy. I thanked
them for their indulgence, hut I was not in a situation
to profit by their advice. In Italy a tragedy with all t
the excellence of Corneille or Racine might have v ^~ -'
gained me high honor, but very little profit ; and I was

148 MEMOIRS OF

in want of both. I quitted Brescia with the determi-
ç.* f nation of leaving my drama untouched, and of offering
it to the opera of Milan.

There is a shorter way from Brescia to Milan, but I
was desirous of seeing Bergamo, and I took the road
by that city. In traversing the country of Harlequin,
I was curious to observe whether there was any existing
trace of that comic character which afforded such en-
tertainment to the Italian theatre. I could see neither
the black visages, nor the small eyes, nor the ludicrous
party-colored dress, but I observed the hair tails in the
hats with winch the peasants of those districts are still
equipped. I shall speak of the mask and of the char-
acter and origin of Harlequin in a chapter dedicated to
the history of the four masks of Italian comedy. On
mv arrival at Bergamo, I alighted at an inn in the
suburbs, as carriages are unable to ascend to the town,
which is very high and very steep. I went on foot to
the government quarter, which is precisely the summit
of this rough mountain. Extremely fatigued, and
cursing my idle curiosity, knowing nobody, and re-
quiring repose, I at last remembered that M. Porta,
my old companion in the criminal chancery of Chiozza,
had been appointed civil chancellor of Bergamo. I
inquired for his residence, which I found out : my
friend, however, was not at home, but six leagues dis-
tant, on a commission relative to his office. I re-
quested his servant to allow me to rest myself a mo-
ment, and in the" course of my conversation with him
rl asked who was governor of the town. What pleas-
ing news ! What an agreeable surprise for me ! It
was his excellency Bonfadini, he who was podestà at
Chiozza while I served there in quality of vice-chan-
cellor. ' I found myself all at once quite at home, and

CARLO GOLDONI. 149

I went immediately to the palace and announced my-
self.

While I was in the antechamber waiting for ad-
mission, I heard the governor himself laughing and r^^f
exclaiming aloud, "Ah! the astrologer! It is the as- *;
trologer! Show him in. Ladies, you shall see the
astrologer." I could not conceive the meaning of all
this; I was afraid lest an attempt should be made toW*'
hold me up to ridicule, and I entered under very con-
siderable embarrassment. The governor soon quieted
my apprehensions, and put me at my ease. He rose,
and came forward to receive me, and introduce me to
his lady and the society : " This is M. Goldoni ; do not

you recollect, ladies, the Countess C , whom we used

to rally on account of being perpetually at her toilet
and never at mass, and the prognostication of the anon-
ymous author? Well, this is M. Goldoni, the author
of the Critical Almanac in question." On this every
one was anxious to show me some attention; the gov-
ernor invited me to his house and his table ; an invita-
tion which I accepted and profited by, for fifteen days
passed by me in the most agreeable manner in the
world. I was obliged, however, to make one with the
ladies at play, and I was neither rich nor fortunate. . v

The governor, who was both respectful and consider- V^
ate, abstained from inquiring into the motives of my
journey. After a few days, however, I thought proper
to communicate my adventures and my situation to
him. He felt for me, and offered to keep me with him
during the ten remaining months of his government ;
an offer for which I thanked him, but which I could
not accept. I requested him, however, to give me
letters of recommendation for Milan ; and he gave me
several, and, among others, I received one from his

150 MEMOIRS OF

lady for the Resident of Venice, which proved of great
utility to me. On the expiration of fifteen days I took
my leave of his excellency. My air was by uo means
expressive of content. He questioned me closely on
the subject : but I did not dare to say anything ; yet
he could easily perceive that my embarrassment did
not proceed from excessive wealth. He opened his
purse, I refused ; he iusisted. I modestly took ten
sequins, for which I wished to give him my note, but
he refused to take it. What goodness and kindness ! I
took my departure next day, and continued my journey.

I arrived at length at Milan, the venerable capital
of Lombardy, the ancient appanage of the Spanish
monarchy, where I should have appeared with the
cloak and ruff, according to the Castilian costume, had
not the satiric Muse deprived me of the place for which
I was destined. I was now a candidate for the cothur-
nus ; but the honors of a triumph were reserved for the
sock. I went to lodge at the Hotel del Pozzo, one of
the most famous iu Milan ; for if we wish to exhibit
ourselves to advantage, we must, at least, appear rich,
if we be not so in reality ; and next day I carried the
letter of recommendation of the governor's lady to the
Resident of Venice.

M. Bartolini, secretary of the senate, and formerly
vice-bay at Constantinople, was then resident. He
was very rich, very maguificent, and in as high consid-
eration at Milan as at Venice. Several years after-
wards he was uamed, by election grand chancellor of
the republic; a dignity which he continued to enjoy to
the period of his death, which gives the title of " excel-
lency ,? to the person who holds it, and gives him a
place immediately after the actual nobility. The Resi-
dent of Venice being the only foreign minister resident

CARLO GOLDOXI. 151

at Milan, on account of the daily affairs which take
place between the two neighboring states, the Venetian
envoy enjoys the highest consideration, and is consid-
ered on an equal footing with grandees of the duchy of
Milan.

This minister received ine in the most frank and
encouraging manner. He had a high esteem for the
lady by whom I was recommended, anrl offered every
assistance within his own power, or within the reach
of his interest ; but with a grave and ministerial air he
inquired into the motives of my journey to Milan, and
the nature of the adventures mentioned in the letter of
Madame Bonfadini. The question was natural and
proper, and my answer simple. I related to him, from
beginning to end, the whole story of the aunt and^ the
niece. The resident was acquainted with the persons,
and laughed heartily at my recital; and with respect
to the fear expressed by me, lest I should be pursued
and molested, he assured me that I need be under no
apprehension at Milan.

The naïveté of my conversation, and the detail of my
adventures, led the minister to conclude I was by no
means rich ; and he asked me in a very noble man-
ner, if I stood in need of anything for my present
supply. I thanked him ; I had still some of my Ber-
gamo sequins, and I had my opera, and wanted assist-
ance from nobody. M. Bartolini invited me to dine
with him next day ; I accepted his invitation, and took
my leave of him.

I was eager to present my piece, and to have it read.
We were then in the very time of the carnival. There
was an opera at Milan, and I was acquainted with
CafFariello, the principal actor, and also- with the
director and composer of the ballets, and his wife

152 MEMOIKS OF

(Madame Grossatesta), who was the principal dancer.
I thought it would look becoming, and be of advan-
tage, for me to be presented to the directors of the
Milan theatre by known individuals. On a Friday, a
day of relaxation throughout almost all Italy, I waited
in the evening on Madame Grossatesta, who kept an
open house, where the actors, actresses, and dancers
of the opera usually assembled. This excellent dancer,
who was my countrywoman, and whom I .knew at
Venice, received me with the utmost politeness ; and
her husband, a clever and well-informed Modenese,
had a dispute with his wife respecting my country, in
which he very gallantly maintained that by descent
mine was the same as his own. It was still early, and
as we were almost alone, I took advantage of that cir-
cumstance to announce my project to them. They were
enchanted with it, and promised to introduce me, and
they congratulated me beforehand on the reception of
my work.

The company continued to increase ; Caffariello
made his appearance, saw and recognized me, saluted
me with the tone of an Alexander, and took his place
beside the mistress of the house. A few minutes after-
wards, Count Prata, one of the directors of the theatre,
the most skilled in everything relative to the drama,
was announced. Madame Grossatesta introduced me
to the count and spoke to him of my opera, and he
undertook to propose me to the assembly of directors ;
but it would afford him infinite pleasure, he said, to
know something of my work ; a wish in which he was
joined by my countrywoman. I wanted nothing so
much as an opportunity of reading it. A small table
and a candle were brought towards us, round which
we all seated ourselves, and I began to read. I an-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 1

■JO

nounced the title of " Arnalasonte." Caffariello sang
the word " Ainalasonte n ; it was long, and seemed ridicu-
lous to him. Everybody laughed bat myself: the lady
scolded, and the nightingale was silent. I read over the
names of the characters, of which there were nine in
the piece. Here a small shrill voice, which proceeded
from an old castrato who sung in the choruses, and
who mewed like a cat, cried out, "Too many, too
many ; there are at least two characters too many."
I saw that I was by no means at my ease, and wished
to give over my reading. M. Prata imposed silence on
this insolent fellow, who had not the merit of Cana-
ri Ho to excuse him, and, turning to me, observed, "It
is true, sir, there are usually not more than six or
seven characters in a drama; but when a work is de-
serving of it, we willingly put ourselves to the expense
of two actors. Have the goodness," he added, "to
continue the reading, if you please."

I resumed my reading, — Act first, scene first, Clode-
sile and Arpagon. Here M. Caffariello again asked me
the name of the first soprano in my opera. " Sir," said I,
" it is Clodesile." " What ! " said he, " you open the
scene with the principal actor, and make him appear
while all the people enter, seat themselves, and make a
noise. Truly, sir, I am not your man." (What pa-
tience!) M. Prata here interposed. " Let us see," said
he, " whether the scene is interesting." I read the
first scene, and while I was repeating my verses, a lit-
tle insignificant wretch drew a paper from his pocket,
and went to the harpsichord to recite an air in his part.
The mistress of the house was obliged to make me ex-
cuses without intermission. M. Prata took me by the
hand, and conducted me into a dressing-closet at a con-
siderable distance from the room.

154 MEMOIRS OF

The count, having requested me to seat myself, sat
down beside me and endeavored to pacify me respect-
ing the misbehavior of a set of giddy fools. He re-
quested me to read my drama to himself alone, that he
might be able to form a judgment of it, and to tell me
his opinion with sincerity. I was very well pleased with
this act of complaisance, for which I returned him my
thanks, and I began the reading of my piece, which I
went through from the first verse to the last, not spar-
ing him a single comma. He listened with attention,
with patience ; and, on the conclusion of the reading,
he gave me the result of his attention and judgment
nearly in the fol] owing words : —

" It appears to me," said he, " that you have tolera-
bly well studied the poetics of Aristotle and Horace,
and that you have written your piece according to the.
principles of tragedy. You do not seem to be aware
that a musical drama is an imperfect work, subject to
rules and customs destitute of common sense, I am
willing to allow, but which still require to be literally
followed. Were you in France, you might take more
pains to please the publie : but here you must begin by
pleasing the actors and actresses ; you must satisfy the
musical composer: you must consult the scene-painter:
every department has its rules, and it would be treason
against the drama to dare to infringe on them, or to
fail in their observance.

'• Listen." lie continued, "I shall point out to you
a few of those rules which are immutable, and with
which you do not seem to be acquainted. The three
principal personages of the drama ought to sing five
airs each : two in the first act, two in the second, and
one in the third. The second actress and the second
soprano can only have three, and the inferior characters

CARLO GOLDOXI. 155

must he satisfied with a single air each, or two at the
most The author of the words must furnish the musi-
cian with the different shades which form the chiaro-
scuro of music, and take care that two pathetic airs do
not succeed each other. He must distribute with the
same precaution the bravura airs, the airs of action, the
inferior airs, and the minuets and rondeaus.

"He must, above all things, avoid giving impassioned
airs, bravura airs, or rondeaus, to inferior characters ;
those poor devils must be satisfied with what they get,
and every opportunity of distinguishing themselves is
denied them."

M. Prata would have gone on; but I interrupted
him. " You have told me enough, sir/' said I to him,
li do not take the trouble of enlarging farther on the
subject. I again returned him my thanks, and took my
leave. I perceived at last that my judges at Brescia
were in the right, and that Count Trissino of Vicenza
was still more in the right, and that I alone was wrong.
On returning to my lodgings, I felt one moment hot and
the next cold; I was quite crestfallen. I drew my
piece from my pocket, and at sight of it I felt half
inclined to tear it to pieces. The waiter of the inn
entered, and inquired what I wished for supper. "I
shall not sup," I answered, "but make up a good lire."
I still had my Amalasonte in my hands ; I kept read-
ing a few of the verses, which I thought charming.
"Accursed rules! My piece is good, I am certain of it;
but the theatre is bad, and the actors, actresses, com-
posers, decorators — may tl:e devil take them all ! And
thou, unfortunate production, which hast cost me so
much labor, and deceived my hopes and expectations,
I consign thee to the devouring flames ! " On this I
threw it into the lire, and looked upon it while burn-

15G MEMOIRS OF

iug, with a sort of cool complacency. My chagrin and
indignation required some vent: I turned my vengeance
against myself, and then I deemed myself sufficiently
revenged. All was over, and the piece entirely out of
my head : but on stirring up the ashes with the tongs,
and collecting the remains of my manuscript to com-
plete the work of destruction. I began to reflect that on
no occasion had I sacrificed my supper to my chagrin.
I called the waiter, and ordered him to cover the table
instantly. I had not long to wait ; I ate heartily, and
drank still more so; I then went tu bed, and enjoyed a
profound sleep.

The only thing extraordinary was, that I awoke next
morning two hours sooner than usual. Unpleasant
remembrances now began to influence my mind.
"Come, come," said I to myself, "no ill-humor;
pluck up courage, and call on the Resident of Venice."
He had invited me to dinner ; and, that I might have a
private interview with him, it was requisite that I
should visit him instantly. I accordingly dressed my-
self and set out. The minister, seeing me at nine
o'clock in the morning, suspected that something par-
ticular had urged my visit. He received me in his
dressing-room. I gave him to understand that I wished
to speak to him privately, and he gave orders for his
servants to leave us- I related to him what had hap-
pened the preceding day. I gave him a description of
the disagreeable conversation which had so much
shocked me ; communicated the opinion of Count
Prata to him ; and I concluded with observing that I
was the most embarrassed man in the world.

M. Bartoliui was much amused with the account of
the comic scene of the three heroic actors, and asked
me to allow him to read my opera. u My opera, sir ?

CARLO GOLDONL 157

It is no longer in existence." " What have you done
with it .' " " I have burnt it ! " " Y< m have burnt it \ "
"Yes, sir, I have burned my whole stock, my sole
property, all my resources and my hopes." The minis-
ter laughed still more heartily at this, and after laugh-
iug and taU»"g for some time, the result was that I took
up my residence with him ; that he received me in the
character of gentleman of his chamber, gave me a very
pretty apartment ; and, notwithstanding my disappoint-
ment, I found, taking everything into consideration,
that I was rather a gainer than a loser.

My employment was confined to agreeable commis-
sions, such as complimenting noble Venetians on their
travels, or waiting upon the governor or magistrates
of Milan in the business of the republic. These occa-
sions were by no means frequent, and I had all my lei-
sure at my disposal, for my amusement or otherwise as
I might think proper.

There came to this town, in the beginning of Lent, a
mountebank of a singular description, whose name de-
serves a place perhaps in the annals of the age. His
name was Bonafede Vitali ; he was a native of Parma,
and he styled himself the Anonymous. He was of a
good family, had received an excellent education, and
had been a Jesuit. Disgusted with the cloister, he
a] tplicd to the study of medicine, and succeeded in ob-
taining a professor's chair in the University of Palermo.
This singular man, to whom no branch of science was
unknown, possessed an inordinate ambition to display
the extent of his knowledge : and, as he was a better
orator than a writer, he quitted the honorable situation
which he occupied, for the purpose of mounting the
stage and haranguing the public; but as he was not
rich enough to be satisfied with mere glory, he turned

1Ô8 MEMOIRS OF

his talents to account by vending his medicines. This
was nothing more nor less than playing the mounte-
bank ; but his specific remedies were good, and his sci-
ence and eloquence procured for him a reputation and
a degree of consideration by no means common. He
resolved publicly all the most difficult questions which
were proposed to him in every science and on the most
abstruse subjects. Problems, points of criticism, his-
tory, and literature, were handed up to him on his em-
pirical stage, and he returned an immediate answer,
and gave very satisfactory dissertations. He appeared
some years afterwards at Venice. He was sent for to
Verona ou account of an epidemical disease, which cut
off all who were attacked by it. His arrival in that
town resembled the appearance of Esculapius in Greece;
he cured everybody with a particular sort of apple
(pommes d'api), and Cyprus wine. In gratitude for
this, he was named first physician of Verona ; but he
did not enjoy that dignity long, having died the same
year, regretted by everybody excepting the physicians.
When at Milan, the Anonymous had the satisfaction
of seeing the place where he exhibited always filled
with crowds of people on foot and in carriages ; but
as the learned were far from being the best pur-
chasers, he was obliged to furnish his scaffold with ob-
jects calculated to attract and entertain the ignorant
multitude, and the new Hippocrates vended his drugs
and displayed his rhetoric, surrounded with the- four
masks of the Italian comedy. M. Bonafede Vitali had
als< « a passu »n for comedy, and kept up at his own ex-
pense a complete company of comedians, who, after
assisting their master in receiving the money thrown
up in handkerchiefs, and returning the same handker-
chiefs filled with small pots or boxes, represented

CARLO GOLDOXI. 159

pieces in three acts, with the help of torches of white
wax, in a style which might be called magnificent. I
wished to become acquainted with the Anonymous, as
much on account of the extraordinary man himself, as
for the sake of his assistance. I called on him one
day. under the pretext of purchasing his antidote. He
interrogated me respecting the disease which I had, or
which I believed myself to have ; and he soon per-
ceived that it was mere curiosity which brought me to
his house. He gave orders to bring me a good cup of
chocolate, which, lie said, was the most suitable medi-
cine for my disease. I was delighted with this piece
of politeness. We conversed together for some time,
and I found him as amiable in private as he was
learned in public. In the course of our conversation
I informed him that I was attached to the Resident of
Venice. It occurred to him that I might be able to
assist him in a certain project, which he communicated
to me. I undertook to serve him, and I was fortunate
enough to succeed. The affair was this : (but do not,
my dear reader, let this digression disgust you, for you
will soon perceive how necessary it is for the connec-
tion of my story.)

The theatres of Milan were closed during Lent, as is
usual throughout Italy. The theatre for the represen-
tation of comedy was to have opened at Easter, and an
engagement for that purpose had been entered into with
one of the best theatrical companies ; but the director,
having received an invitation into Germany, set out
without giving the slightest notice, and left the Milan-
ese quite unprovided. The town, being then without
entertainments, proposed to send to Venice and Bo-
logna to raise a company. The Anonymous was
desirous that the preference should be given to his,

160 MEMOIRS OF

which certainly was not excellent, but- which, never-
theless, contained three or four individuals of merit, and
which, on the whole, was very well arranged. In fact,
M. Casali, who acted the principal lovers, and M.
Euhini, who was an admirable pantaloon, were both
called the following year to Venice, the first for the
theatre of St. Samuel, and the other for that of St.
Luke. I willingly accepted of a commission, which
promised every way to be agreeable to me. I imparted
it to the minister, who undertook to speak to the prin-
cipal ladies of that city. I myself mentioned the busi-
ness to Count Prata, whose acquaintance I continued to
cultivate ; I employed my own credit, and that of the
Resident of Venice, with the governor ; and in three
days' time the contract was signed, and the Anonymous
satisfied ; and I had, by way of recompense, a second
box in front, large enough to contain ten persons.
Availing myself of this company, with which I was
on an intimate footing, I resumed the composition of
some theatrical trifles. I should not have had suffi-
cient time for a comedy, as the arrangement with the
Anonymous was merely for the spring and summer, to
the month of September ; and as there was a musical
composer, and a male and female who sang pretty well
in the company, I composed an interlude for two
voices, under the title of the " Venetian Gondolier,"
which was executed with all the success that such a spe-
cies of composition ought to have. This is the first
comic production of mine which appeared in public and
afterwards in print : for it was published in the fourth
volume or the Venetian edition of my comic operas by
Pasquali.

Whilst they were acting my Venetian Gondolier at
Milan, together with sketches or outlines of comedies,

CARLO GOLDOXI. 161

the first representation of Belisarins was given out,
and it was continually announced during six days to
excite the public curiosity and secure a full house. In
this the comedians were not deceived. The theatre of
Milan at that time, afterwards burnt down, — the almost
universal destiny of theatres, — was the largest in Italy
next to that of Naples ; and on the first representation of
Belisarius, the crowd was so great that the passages
even were choked up. But what a detestable piece !
Justinian was imbecile, Theodora a courtesan, and
Belisarius a long-winded divine. He appeared on the
stage deprived of his eyes ; Harlequin was his guide,
and drove him along with a cudgel. Everybody was
shocked, and no one more so than myself, having dis-
tributed a number of tickets t i persons of the first merit.
Next day I called on Casali, who fell a laughing
when he saw me, and said in a bantering tone, " Very
well, sir ; what do you think of our famous Beli-
sarius ! " " I think," said I, " that it is such a piece
of indignity to the public as I could hardly have ex-
pected.7' " Alas, sir," he replied, " you know but
little of actors. There is not a company which does
not occasionally fall upon similar tricks to gain money;
and this in the theatrical jargon is called una arrostita
(roasting). " What do you mean by arrostita f " said
I. " It means," he answered, "in good Tuscan, una
corbeUatura; in the Lombard dialect una minchionada ;
and in French une attrape (a trick). The actors are
in the habit of availing themselves of it, and the pub-
lic is accustomed to suffer it ; all are not equally deli-
cate, and the arrostitas will be continued till they are
suppressed by a reform." " I entreat of yon, M. Casali,"
said I, " not to roast ine a second time; and I advise
you to burn your Belisarius, for there never was any-
thing, I believe, more detestable."

162 MEMOIRS OF

"You are in the right," said he; "but I am per-
suaded that a good piece might be made of this bad
one." " Undoubtedly," I observed; "for the history

of Belisarius may furnish the subject of au excellent
piece." "Well, sir," replied Casali, "as you are de-
sirous of laboring for the theatre, you caunot do bet-
ter than begin with this." " Xo," said I, "I will
begin with a tragedy." " Make a tragi-coinedy of it."
"Not in the taste of yours." " Let there be no
masks nor buffoonery." " I shall see what I can do."
" Stop a moment, here is Belisarius." " I don't want
it : I shall take history for my guide." " So much the
better ; I recommend my friend Justinian to you." " I
shall do the best I can." " I am not rich, but I shall
endeavor — " " Nonsense." " I write for my amuse-
ment." " I must impart a secret to you, sir. I am
going next year to Venice, and if I could only carry a
Belisarius along with me, — a magnificent Belisarius
(infiochi)." "You shall have it perhaps. "But you
must promise me." "Well, I do promise." "On your
honor f " " On my honor." With this, Casali was
satisfied ; and I quitted him and returned home, de-
termined to keep my word with him carefully and
religiously.

The resident, knowing that I was returned, sent for
me for the purpose of informing me that he was on the
point of setting out for Venice on particular business,
having- received permission from the senate to absent
himself from Milan for some days. He had a Milanese
secretary: but they were not on good tenus with each
other. The secretary was somewhat too fastidious,
and the minister was subject to very violent sallies of
passion. He honored me with several commissions,
and as there was reason to apprehend from the rumors

CARLO GOLDOXI. 163

which were in circulation that Lombardy was on the
point of being implicated in a war. he charged me,

amollir other things, to write to him every day. and to
be an attentive observer of everything which should
take place. This was encroaching on the duties of the
secretary; but I could not refuse, and it would have
been in vain to argne the point with the minister. I
did not fail to execute the commissions intrusted to
me : hut I endeavored, at the same time, J,o undertake
the work which I promised to execute on my word of
honor.

In a few days I completed the first act. I com-
municated it to If. Casali, who was enchanted with it,
and wished to copy it instantly: bnt two events took
place at the same time, the first of which retarded toy
progress in the work, and the other prevented me from
working for a long time.

XI.

Early one morning my servant burst into my room
and drew aside the curtain. On seeing me awake, he
exclaimed, "Ah, sir! I have great news to tell you:
fifteen thousand Savoyards, horse and toot, have taken
possession of the city, and are drawn up in the square
of the cathedral." Astonished at this piece of unex-
pected news, I put a hundred questions to my lackey.
who knew nothing more than what he had already told
me. I dressed myself with all possible expedition, and
repaired to the coffee-house, where ten people en-
deavored to speak at once to me. All were anxious to
he the first to inform me; and I had many different
accounts, but the following is actually what took place.
We were in the commencement of the war of 1733.

164 MEMOIRS OF

called the war of Don Carlos. The King of Sardinia,
having declared himself for that prince, had united his
forces with those of France and Spain against the
house of Austria. The Savoyards, having marched
all night, arrived by break of day at the gates of Milan.
The general demanded the keys of the town, and, Milan
being too large for a defence, the keys were accordingly
delivered over to him. Without inquiring farther into
the matter, I deemed myself sufficiently instructed to
communicate the event to the resident. I returned
and wrote an account of it, which I sent off express to
Venice, and three days afterwards the Venetian minister
returned to Milan.

In the mean time the French troops soon made their
appearance, and joined their allies the Sardinians,
and they formed together that large army which was
called by the Italians Tarmata dei Gallo-Sardi. The
allies prepared for laying siege to the castle of Milan,
and they made approaches for the purpose of battering
the citadel, which obliged the inhabitants of the parade
to shift their quarters. The besieging army soon began
to open their trenches and to construct their covered
ways : the siege proceeded rapidly ; the batteries kept
firing night and day, and the guns of the citadel an-
swered those of the besiegers. The bombs now and
then improperly directed paid us a visit in the town.

A few days afterwards my minister received a ducal
letter in parchment, and sealed with lead, from a courier
of the republic of Venice, directing him to leave Milan
and take up his residence at Crema during the war.
This information the resident immediately communi-
cated to me. He took this opportunity to get rid of
his secretary, whom he disliked, and he conferred this
honorable and lucrative situation on me, and ordered
me to hold myself in readiness to set out next day.

CARLO GOLDONI. 165

Crama is a town belonging to the republic of Venice,
and is governed by a noble Venetian with the title of
podestà. It lies forty-eight leagues from the capital
and nine from the city of Milan. The Resident of Ven-
ice was enabled in this town to have an eye over every-
thing that was taking place, and to watch the designs of
the belligerent powers without committing the republie,
which was neuter, and which could not acknowledge the
new masters of the Milanese. But this "minister was
not the only person similarly employed; for a senator
had been despatched from Venice to Crema at the same
time, with the title of extraordinary proveditorj and
both exerted themselves to the utmost of their power
in keeping "up correspondences and transmitting the
most recent and certain information to the senate.

We received every day at least ten, twelve, and even
sometimes so many as twenty letters from Milan, Turin,
Brescia, and every part of the country, through which
troops were to pass or where forage or stores were de-
manded. It was my business to open them, compare
them, make extracts from them, and then to project a
despatch agreeably to the most uniform and most satis-
factory accounts. The minister, guided by my labors,
made his selections accordingly, and afterwards pro-
ceeded to make his remarks and reflections, and we
sometimes despatched four messengers in the course of
one day to the capital. This exercise gave me, no
doubt, a great deal of employment, but I was infinitely
amused by it. I became in this manner initiated into
the knowledge of politics and diplomacy, from which I
derived very great advantage when I was named four
years afterwards Genoese consul at Venice.

After a siege of twenty days, during four of which
there was a practicable breach, the castle of Milan was

166 MEMOIRS OF

under the necessity of capitulating, having demanded
and obtained all the honors of war, drums beating, col-
ors flying, and covered wagons to Mantua, which was
the general rendezvous of the Germans, who were not
yet sufficiently strong to oppose the progress of their
enemies. The combined armies, profiting by this fa-
vorable conjuncture, laid siege a few days afterwards to
Pizzighetone, a small frontier town iu the Cremonese,
at the confluence of the Serio and Ada, very well forti-
fied and possessing a very considerable citadel. The
theatre of war advancing nearer and nearer to Crema,
we were the better enabled to procure news, as we
could distinctly hear the discharge of the guns; but
hostilities did not proceed much farther, for the Ger-
mans, who were in expectation of orders from A'ienna
or Mantua, demanded an armistice of three days, which
was readily granted to them.

On this occasion I was sent, in the quality of an hon-
orable spy, to the camp of the allies. It is impossible
to draw with accuracy such a picture as a camp pre-
sents during an armistice; the most brilliant festivity
prevails, and altogether it exhibits the most astonishing
spectacle which it is possible to imagine. A bridge
thrown over the breach afforded a communication be-
tween the besiegers and the besieged : tables were
spread in every quarter, and the officers entertained one
another by turns : within and without, under tents and
arbors, there was nothing but balls, entertainments,
and concerts. All the people of the environs flocked
there on foot, on horseback, and in carriages : provis-
ions arrived from every quarter ; abundance was seen
in a moment, and there was no want of stage doctors
and tumblers. It was a charming fair, a delightful
rendezvous. I enjoyed it for several hours every day;

CARLO GOLDOXI. 167

and on the third I saw the German garrison march out
with the same honors as those which had been granted
to the castle of Milan. I was amused to see French
and Piedmontese soldiers leaving their standards and
thrusting themselves in the midst of the ranks of their
countrymen, and thus desert with impunity.

In the evening I made a report of all that I saw or
learned to the minister; and I ventured to assure him,
in consequence of the conversations whk-h I had had
with different officers, that the combined armies were
to encamp in the duchies of Parma and Piacenza for
the purpose of securing them from the incursions which
there was every reason to apprehend from the Germans.
The event corresponded with the information ; the allies
gradually defiled towards the Cremonese and established
themselves in the environs of Parma, where the duchess-
dowager, at the head of the regency, governed the state.
The distance of the troops diminished my labor very
much, and afforded me leisure to apply to more agree-
able occupations. I resumed my Belisarius, on which
I employed myself with great assiduity and interest,
and I never quitted it till it was finished, and till I
thought I had every reason to be satisfied.

In the mean time my brother, who on the death of
M. Visnoni had quitted the service of Venice, and re-
paired to Modena, in the hopes of being employed by
the duke, having been disappointed in this expecta-
tion, came to join me at Crema. I received him in a
very friendly manner, and presented him to the resi-
dent, from whom he received the place of gentleman,
formerly occupied by myself. But if the one was hot
and impatient, the other was fiery in the extreme ; and
they could not ajcree together. The resident gave my
brother his dismissal, and he took his leave in very bad
humor.

168 MEMOIRS OF

The ill-conduct of my brother did me some injury
in the mind of the minister, who never afterwards had
the same kindness or friendship for me. A hypocriti-
cal Dominican contrived to worm himself into his con-
fidence, and when I was not in the way he wrote to
his dictation. All this had a tendency to disgust me.
My superior and myself were now two "beings discon-
tented with each other, and the following adventure
had the effect « >f producing a total rupture.

One day when I was in my chamber, a servant en-
tered with the information that I was wanted by the
minister. I made my appearance before the resident,
who gave me a manuscript to copy. It was the man-
ifesto of the King of Sardinia, with the reasons which
induced him to engage in the French cause. This pro-
duction was at that moment of some value, for the
original was still in the press at Turin, and it required
to be copied that it might be sent off to Venice.

The minister did not dine nor sup at home that day.
He ordered me to bring him the manuscript and copy
next morning when he awoke. The paper was pretty
voluminous and badly written, but it required despatch.
I returned to my room, and sat down instantly to work,
and labored at it till nine o'clock in the evening, taking
no other dinner than a cup of chocolate. On finishing,
I locked the two copies in my desk, and repaired to the
Stag inn. where I engaged in a faro party with four
gentlemen, none of whom were known to me. I punted
and won, and I durst not therefore go away first. "We
passed the whole night at play. When I looked at
my watch, I found it was seven o'clock in the morning.
I was still a winner, but I could not remain any longer;
and I therefore made my excuses to the company, and
took my leave of them.

CARLO GOLDOXI. 169

I met one of our servants a few steps from the inn,
by whom I was informed that I had been sought for
by order of the resident in every corner. He rose at
five o'clock in the morning, and asked for me; and on
being told that I had slept out all night, he became
quite furious. I made all the haste I could home, and
entered my chamber, from which I took the two papers,
and delivered them to the minister. He gave me a
very unpleasant reception, and even went s<> far as to
suspect me of having communicated the King of Sar-
dinia's manifest'» to the extraordinary proveditor of the
republic of Venice. This imputation hurt and dis-
tressed me very much, and, contrary to my usual mode
of behavior, I gave way to an impulse of passion.
The minister threatened to have me arrested. I quitted
him, and sought a refuge with the bishop of the town,
who took my part, and undertook to make op matters
with the resident. I thanked him for his kind inten-
tion ; but my resolution was taken to depart as soon
as my innocence should be established. The resident
had time to make inquiry where I had passed the
night, and his opinion of me underwent a change; but
I was unwilling to expose myself any more to similar
unpleasant scenes, and I asked permission to give up
my situation, which was accordingly granted. I called
on the minister for the purpose of excusing myself, and
returning him my thanks. I then packed up the dif-
ferent articles belonging to me, hired a chaise for
ftfodena, where my mother still remained, and set out
three days afterwards.

On arriving at Parma, the 28th of June, St. Peter's
Eve, in 1733, a memorable day for that town, I went
to lodge at the Osteria del Gallo. I was awaked next
morning by a dreadful noise. On springing out of bed,

170 MEMOIRS OF

and opening my room window, I perceived the place
full of people running in all directions, and rushing
against one another. There was nothing but weeping,
crying, and distress : I observed women carrying their
children in their arms, and others dragging them along
the ground ; men loaded with hampers, baskets, trunks,
and packages; old men unable to support themselves;
sick persons in their shirts; carts upturned and the
horses running about loose. "What is the meaning of
all this," said I ; " is it the end of the world ? n

I wrapped myself in my great-coat over my shirt,
rushed hastily down stairs to the kitchen ; but to all
my demands and questions I could receive no answer.
The innkeeper was packing up his plate, and his wife,
with her hair all dishevelled, held a box of jewels in
her band and her clothes in her apron. I wished to
speak to her, but she threw me against the door and
rushed out. "What is the matter? what is the mat-
ter?" I asked of every person I met. At length I
perceived a man at the stable-door, whom I recognized
to be my driver. I went up to hirn; and he was able
to satisfy my curiosity.

''The whole place is in uproar," said he, uand not
without reason ; for the Germans are at the gates of
the town, and if they enter it, it is sure to be pillaged.
Every one is taking refuge in the church, and con-
fiding their effects to the protection of God." "Will
the soldiers," said I to him, "have time for reflection
on such an occasion ! Besides, are all the Germans
Catholics ? "

While I was thus conversing with my guide, the
scene immediately changed, and nothing but cries of
joy, ringing of bells, and discharging of all manner of
fireworks, was to be heard. The churches were im-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 171

mediately empty, the property was earned back again,
friends were inquiring kindly for one another and em-
bracing in an affectionate manner. How was this
change brought about ? The affair was this : a spy in
the pay of both the allies and the Germans appeared
the night before in the camp of the former at the
village of St. Peter, a league distance from the city,
and gave information that a detachment of the Ger-
man troops were to forage the following day in the
environs of Parma with the intention of surprising the
town. The Marshal de Coigny, who then commanded
the army, detached the two regiments of Picardy and
Champagne to watch the enemy; but as this brave
general never failed in precaution or vigilance, he
caused the spy whom he distrusted to be arrested, and
gave orders that the whole camp should remain under
arms. M. de Coigny was not mistaken; on the two
regiments arriving within sight of the ramparts of the
town, they discovered the German army to the num-
ber of forty thousand, under Marshal de Mercy, with,
ten field -pieces. The French, who were advancing
on the highway, surrounded with large ditches, had
no means of retreat : they advanced boldly, but they
were nearly all cut down by the enemy's artillery.

This was the signal of surprise for the Freneh com-
mander. The spy was instantly hanged, and the army
began its march with the utmost expedition. The
road was confined and the cavalry could not advance ;
but the infantry made such a vigorous charge that
the enemy were forced to retreat, and it was then that
the alarm of the Parmesans was converted into joy.
Everybody ran to the ramparts of the town, and I
ran with the rest. It was impossible to have a nearer
view of a battle ; the smoke frequently prevented us

172 MEMOIRS OF

from distinguishing objects ; but still we had a very
rare eoup-rVœil. such as few people can boast of hav-
ing enjoyed. A continual fire was kept up for nine
hours without interruption, and night separated the
two armies. The Germans dispersed themselves among
the mountains ofReggio, and the allies remained mas-
ters of the field of battle. Next day I saw Marshal
de Mercy, who was killed in the heat of the battle,
brought into Parma on a litter. This general was
embalmed and sent to Germany, as was also the Prince
of Wurtemberg, who shared the same fate.

But a much more horrible and disgusting spectacle
was seen by me in the afternoon of the following day.
This was the dead bodies which had been stripped
during the night, and which were said to amount to
twenty-four thousand. They were lying naked in
heaps; and limbs, arms, skulls, and blood were scat-
tered in all directions. What a carnage ! The Par-
mesans dreaded lest the air should be infected from
the difficulty of interring such a number of massacred
bodies ; but the republic of Venice, whose territories
are almost contiguous to those of Parma, and which
was interested in the preservation of the purity of the
air, sent an abundance of lime, that all these car-
cases might speedily disappear from the surface of the
earth.

On the third day after the battle I was desirous of
proceeding to Modena. My guide observed that the
roads in that direction were all impracticable, on ac-
count of the continual incursions of the troops of the
two parties. He added that if I wished to go to
Milan, to which place he belonged, he would conduct
me there, and if I were inclined to go to Brescia he
knew one of his comrades who was on the point of

CAIÎLO GOLDONI. 173

setting out for that city with an abbe, whom I might
accompany. I accepted this last proposition. Brescia

was the more suitable place of the two for me, and I
set out next day with the Abbé Garoffini, a very well-
informed young man, who was a great lover of spec-
tacles. "We had a long conversation during our jour-
ney ; and, as I had the disease common to all authors,
I took care to mention my Belisarius. The abbé
expressed a curiosity to hear it ; and arour first dining
station I drew my piece from my trunk and began the
reading. I had not finished the first act before the
driver urged us to proceed. The abbé was displeased,
as he took an interest in the piece. " Never mind,"
said I, "I can read in the carriage as well as here."
We resumed our seats in the chaise, and as the drivers
go very slowly, I continued my reading without the
slightest difficulty.

While we were both occupied in this manner, the
carriage suddenly stopped, and we observed five men
with mustachios and a military uniform, who with
drawn swords ordered us to alight. Could we hesi-
tate to obey the absolute orders of these gentlemen ?
I alighted at one side, and the abbé at the other. One
of them demanded my purse, which I instantly gave
him; another took -my watch ; a third rummaged my
pockets, and took my box, which was only shell: the
two last treated the abbé in the same manner: and the
whole five fell next upon our trunks, my little strong-
box, and our bandies of night-clothes. When the
driver found himself at liberty, he galloped off with
his horses, and I took to flight also. I sprang over a
very broad ditch, and ran across the fields, fearing that
the rascals might also wish to take my great-coat, my
coat and breeches, and even my life ; and I esteemed

174 MEMOIRS OF

myself exceedingly fortunate in escaping with the loss
of my money and effects, and in haying sayed Belisa-
rius from the wreck.

Haying lost sight of the robbers, and not knowing
what was become of my travelling companion, I dis-
covered an avenue of trees, and I lay down tranquilly
"beside a stream. I allayed my thirst with the water
which I lifted to my mouth in the hollow of my hand,
and the water tasted delicious. Feeling myself ex-
hausted with fatigue, and my mind haying become
more calm, and not seeing any person to whom I could
apply, I took by chance one of the directions of the
avenue, which I was persuaded would terminate in
some inhabited place. I soon perceived laborers at
work in the field. I accosted them with confidence,
and communicated my adventure to them, of which
they knew something already, having seen the knaves .
who stripped us proceed along a cross road laden like
mules. They were deserters, who attacked passen-
gers, and did not even spare the hamlets and farm-
houses. Such are the unfortunate fruits of war, which
fall indiscriminately on friends and foes, and distress
the innocent. " How," said I, " can these robbers get
rid of the effects stolen by them in this manner with-
out being apprehended ? " The peasants were all
anxious to answer me, and their eagerness marked
their indignation. At a short distance from the place
where we then were, there was a company of rich in-
dividuals established and tolerated for the purpose of
purchasing the spoils of the victims of war ; and the
purchasers paid no attention whether the effects came
from the field of battle or the highway.

The sun was setting. These good people offered
me a small fragment of their repast, which, notwith-

CARLO GOLDONL 175

standing my disaster, I ate with considerable appetite.
They invited me to pass the night with them, and I
was disposed to accept with gratitude the hospitality
of those kind individuals, when a respectable old man,
the father and grandfather of my benefactors, remarked
to me, that with them I could only repose on straw
and hay, and that it would be better to allow them to
conduct me to Casal Pasturlengo, which was only a
league distant, and where the parish" priest, a very
worthy and polite man, would receive and lodge me
with the utmost pleasure. This opinion met with
general applause. A young man undertook to conduct
me. I followed him, proffering thanks to Heaven,
which, while it tolerates the wicked, excites also kind
and virtuous hearts to relieve their fellow-creatures.

XII.

On arriving at Casal Pasturlengo, I desired my guide
to inform the clergyman of my accident. A few minutes
afterwards this worthy pastor came k> the door, offered
me his hand, and requested me to walk in. Enchanted
with this favorable reception, I turned towards the
young man by whom I had been escorted, and in
thanking him, I testified my regret at my inability to
recompense him. The clergyman perceived my em-
barrassment, and gave a few pence to the peasant, who
went away quite satisfied. This is a trifle, it is true ;
but it proves the way of thinking of a just and com-
passionate man.

The supper is taken at an early hour in the country.
That of the clergyman was ready when I arrived, and
I made no ceremony, but gladly shared with him what
had been prepared by his governante. Our conversa-

176 MEMOIRS OF

tion turned at "first on the war, and I mentioned what
I had seen at Parma, Milan, and Pizzighetone. In-
sensibly I found myself engaged in some details re-
specting my employment and occupations ; and my
discourse ended as usual with the article of Belisarius.
The ecclesiastic, who was a very wise and exemplary
man, did not condemn decent and moral plays, and he
expressed a curiosity to hear my piece ; hut I was then
too fatigued to begin the reading, and it was put off
till next day. I was shown to a delightful bed, where
I forgot all my chagrins, and slept till ten o'clock the
next morning.

As soon as I was awake, an excellent cup of choco-
late was brought me. As the weather was fine, I
walked out till midday, the hour of dinner, when we
saw each other again with pleasure. Two other ab-
bes of his parish dined with us, and after dinner I be-
gan the reading of my piece. My host demanded my
permission to admit his governante and his régisseur.
For my part, I could have wished the whole village
present. The piece was very much relished. The
three abbés, who were by no means blockheads, dis-
tinguished the most interesting and remarkable pas-
sages ; and the villagers proved by their applause that
my work was suited to every capacity, and equally
capable of pleasing the learned and the ignorant.

I received the compliments of my host, who thanked
me for my complaisance ; the two other abbés followed
his example, and each of them gave me an invitation
to dinner ; but I was unwilling to occasion any incon-
venience to my landlord, and I was, besides, anxious
to continue my route. The clergyman asked me in
what manner I intended to travel. I told him I was
very well disposed to set out on foot ; but this worthy

CARLO GOLDONI. 177

man would not hear of such a thing. He gave me his
horse and his servant, and he gave the servant orders
to pay for my dinner. I took my leave next day,
overcome with the favors and acts of kindness I had
received.

On arriving at Desenzano, ,1 dined in the same inn
on the Lake di Garda, where I had twice before slept,
and I arrived at Verona at nightfall.

Verona is one of the finest cities of Italy. It de-
serves, without doubt, that I should speak of its beau-
ties, its ornaments, its academies, aud the talents which
it has produced and fostered in every age ; but this
digression would lead me too far; and I shall merely
confine myself to the mention of the monument which
has some relation, perhaps, to the subject of my me-
moirs. At Verona there is an amphitheatre, the work
of the Romans. It is not known whether it belongs
to the period of Trajan or Domitian ; but it is in such
excellent preservation, that it may be used at present
as well as in the time when it was constructed. This
vast edifice, called in Italy 1' Arena di Verona, is of an
oval form ; its greatest interior diameter is two hundred
and twenty-five Paris feet, and the smallest one hun-
dred and thirty-three. Forty-five rows of marble steps
surround it, which are capable of containing twenty
thousand persons seated at their ease. In the central
space spectacles of all kinds are given : courses, jousts,
bull-fights ; and in summer, plays are even represented
with no other light than that of the natural day. For
this purpose, in the middle of the space, there is erected,
on very strong supports, a theatre in boards, which is
taken down every winter and refitted again in the fine
season; and the best companies of Italy occasionally
resort here to display their talents. There are no boxes

178 MEMOIRS OF

for the spectators ; a space inclosed off with boards
forms a vast pit with chairs. The lower orders are
allowed, for a trilling expense, to range themselves
along the steps in front of the theatre ; and notwith-
standing the small expense of admission, there is not
a theatre in Italy that yields so much as the Arena.

On leaving my inn the day after my arrival, I ob-
served playbills, in which I read that "Harlequin
Mute through Fear " was to be acted that day. I went
in the afternoon, and placed myself in the enclosure, in
the middle of the Arena, where there was a very
numerous assembly. The curtain was drawn ; an
apology was to be delivered for the change of the piece,
which was not the " Mute through Fear," as had been
promised, but auother, the name of which I do not now
remember. But what an agreeable surprise for me !
The actor who came forward to address the public was
no other than my dear friend Casali, the proposer and
proprietor of my Belisarius.

I quitted my place to get upon the stage. As the
place was not very extensive, my intention was imme-
diately opposed. I asked for Casali ; he came forward,
and appeared quite enchanted to see me. He made
way for me, and introduced me to the director, the
principal actress, the second and third, and the whole
company. All were eager to speak to me. Casali
took me apart ; we went behind a curtain ; the deco-
ration was changed, and I remained exposed to the
audience ; I escaped with all possible expedition from
the hisses with which I was assailed. This was rather
an unlucky prelude for an author; but the Veronese
have sufficiently indemnified me in the sequel for this
little disagreeable incident. The company was the one
which Casali mentioned to me at Milan ; it belonged to

CARLO GOLDOXI. 179

the Grimani theatre of St. Samuel, in Venice, where
it played every autumn and winter, passing the spring
and summer on the mainland.

The company was under the direction of M. Imer, a
very polite and respectable Genoese, who invited me to
dine with him next day, which was a holiday with
them. I accepted his invitation, and promised in
return to read him my Belisarius. We were all in
unison, and satisfied with one anothe'r. Next day I
repaired accordingly to the directors, where I found all
the company assembled. Imer wished to treat his
companions with the novelty which Casali had been
mentioning to them. The dinner was splendid, and
the gayety of the comedians quite charming. They
made couplets, and sang bacchanalian songs. They
anticipated every wish of mine ; they were so many
crimps anxious to enlist me.

When dinner was over, we retired to the director's
room, where I read my piece. It was listened to with
attention, and at the conclusion the applause was gen-
eral and complete. Imer took me by the hand, and
with a magisterial tone pronounced, " Bravo ! " I was
complimented by every one ; Casali wept for joy.
One of the actors asked me very politely if his com-
rades were to have the good fortune of being the first
to represent my piece. Casali rose, and in a decided
tone, answered: "Yes, sir, M. Goldoni did me the
honor to labor for me " ; and, laying hold of the piece
which was lying on the table, "I shall," said he,
4 'with the good pleasure of the author, proceed to copy
it out myself." Without waiting the author's answer
he carried it off instantly.

Imer took me apart, and requested me to accept of
a single apartment in the same house beside his own ;

180 MEMOIRS OF

he invited me also to his tahle all the time that his
company should remain at Verona. In my circum-
stances I could refuse nothing. Without having had
the advantage of a regular education, Imer possessed
intellect and information : he was passionately fond of
comedy : he was naturally eloquent, and could have
supported with great ease the part of an extempore
lover according to the Italian practice, had his height
and figure corresponded with his talents. Being short,
squat, with a short neck or rather with none, small
eyes, and a little flat nose, he appeared ridiculous iu
serious characters, and overcharged characters or cari-
catures were not in fashion. He possessed a good
voice : he contrived the introduction into comedy of
musical interludes, which had so long been inseparable
from the grand opera, and had at last been suppressed
to make room for ballets.

The comic opera had its origin at Naples and Rome,
but it was unknown in Lombardy and the Venetian
dominions, so that the project of Imer succeeded, and
the novelty was productive of much pleasure, and
highly profitable to the comedians. He had two ac-
tresses in this company for interludes ; the one a very
pretty and a very able widow of the name of Zanetta
Casanova, who played the part of young lovers in
comedy : and the other a woman possessed of a charm-
ing voice, but who had no talents for acting. This
M'as Madame Agnese Amurat, the same singer whom
I mentioned as employed by me in my serenade at
Venice. Neither of these two women knew a single
note of music, and Imer was precisely in the same
situation ; but they were all three possessed of taste,
a correct ear. and a perfect execution; and the public
were satisfied with them.

CARLO GOLDOXL 181

The first interlude they began with was the Can-
tatrice, a small piece composed by me at Feltre for a
private theatre: and I had thus contributed to the
advantage of the Venice company without knowing it
and without being known. No wonder then that I
stood high in the opinion of the director, to whom I
was announced by Casali as the author of the Can-
tatrice ; and this was the true cause of the kindness
with which I was treated by him ; for, in general, we
give nothing without an equivalent, and my Belisa-
rius would have been insufficient, had I not given a
proof of my qualifications for dramatic poetry.

liner, win» possessed judgment and penetration, fore-
saw that my Belisarius would everywhere be suc-
cessful. This he was not displeased at ; but he was
at the same time desirous that his person and his new
employment should participate in the success which
he anticipated. He requested me, therefore, to com-
pose an interlude for three voices with all possible de-
spatch, that there might be time to set it to music. I
composed an interlude in three acts, which I called
La Pupilla. I took the plot of this piece from the
private life of the director; I perceived that he had a
decided inclination for the widow of his company: I
saw also that he was jealous of her, and I brought
him accordingly into the piece. liner was not long in
perceiving it, but the interlude appeared to him so
well written, and the attack so respectful and delicate,
that he easily pardoned me this piece of pleasantry.
He overpowered me with thanks and applause, and
instantly despatched my work to Venice to the musi-
cian whom he had already engaged. Meanwhile Be-
lisarius had been copied, and the parts distributed.
A few days afterwards the first rehearsal took place

182 MEMOIRS OF

with the parts in their hands; and the piece produced
a still greater impression at the second reading than at
the first

Casali, more and more satisfied with me, after as-
suring me that the director and proprietor of the
theatre would take care to recompense me, requested
me to do him the favor to receive, as a particular mark
of his gratitude, a present of six sequins.

I remained tranquilly at Verona till the end of Sep-
tember. At last I set out with liner for Venice in a
postchaise, and we arrived there at eight o'clock in
the evening of the same day. Imer conducted me
into his house, showed me the room which he destined
for me, introduced me to his wife and his daughters,
and as I had a strong desire to see my maternal aunt,
I requested him to dispense with my supping with his
family. I was very desirous of obtaining information

respecting Madame St. and her daughter, and

learning whether they still entertained any pretensions
to me. My aunt assured me that I might keep my-
self perfectly tranquil : that these high-minded ladies,
on hearing that I had entered into an engagement
with comedians, had set me down as unworthy to
approach them, and entertained no other sentiments
for me hut those of contempt and indignation. "So
much the better," said I, — " so much the better ; this
is still another advantage which I shall owe to my
talents. With the comedians I am like an artist in
his workshop. They are worthy people, much more
estimable than the slaves of pride and ambition.7' I
next spoke of my family affairs. My mother, who
was still at Modena, was in good health, and my debts
were almost wholly paid off. I supped with my aunt
and mv relations. After taking leave of them to

CARLO GOLDOXI. 183

return to my host, I chose the longest road, and went
round by the bridge of the Rialto and the square of
St. Mark; and I enjoyed the charming spectacle of a
city still more wonderful by night than by day.

I had not yet seen Paris, but I had returned from
several towns where at night everything was total
darkness. It appeared to me that the lamps of Venice
formed a decoration both useful and agreeable, and the
more deserving of praise, as the burden does not fall
on individuals, but is defrayed by an additional draw-
ing of the lottery every year. Besides this general
illumination, there is that of the shops, which at all
seasons remain open till ten o'clock in the evening,
and a great number are not shut till midnight, and
several are never shut at all.

Everything eatable is to be found displayed at mid-
night in Venice, the same as in the middle of the day :
all the taverns are open, and suppers are in prepara-
tion in every inn and hotel ; for company dinners and
suppers are not common in Venice, but parties of
pleasure and picnics bring together individuals with
greater liberty and gayety. In summer the square of
St. Mark and its environs are frequented by night as
much as by day. The coffee-houses are full of fash-
ionable company, males and females of every descrip-
tion. In every square, street, and canal singing is to
be heard. The shopkeepers sing while they sell their
wares ; the workmen sing on quitting their labors ; the
gondoliers sing while waiting for their masters. The
essential character of the people is gayety. and the
character of the Venetian language is pleasantry.

Delighted to see my country again, which always
appeared to me more and more extraordinary and
amusing, I returned to my new lodging, where I found

184 MEMOIRS OF

Imer waiting for me, who informed, me of his inten-
tion of calling on M. Grimani, the proprietor of the
theatre, next day, and of taking me with him to he
introduced to his excellency, if I had no other engage-
ments. As I was unengaged, I accepted his proposi-
tion, and we accordingly went together. M. Grimani
was the most polite man in the world ; and he had
nothing of that inconvenient haughtiness which is as
prejudicial to the great as it is humiliating to inferiors.
Illustrious by birth, and estimable from his talents, he
was desirous only of being beloved, and his amiable
qualities captivated every heart.

He received me with great kindness, and engaged
me to labor for the company which he maintained ;
and by way of farther encouragement, he gave me
hopes, that as he was also proprietor of the theatre of
St. John Chrysostom, and undertaker of the grand
opera, he would endeavor to employ me and attach me
to that theatre. Quite pleased with his excellency, and
the kind offices which Imer had rendered me with him,
I gave up every thought but that of deserving the
public suffrage. The first representation of Belisarius
was fixed for St. Catharine, a period when the vacations
of the courts are at an end, and when the company re-
turn from the country. In the mean time we were occu-
pied with rehearsals, sometimes of my tragi -comedy,
and at other times of my interlude ; and as my occupa-
tions were not very considerable. I prepared something
new for the carnival. I undertook the composition
of a tragedy called Rosimonda, and another interlude
called La Birba. I derived the plot of the large piece
from La Rosimonda del Mute, a paltry romance of
the last century, and the smaller one was a picture
of the Jugglers of the Square of St. Mark, whose Ian-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 185

guage, humor, tricks, and whole behavior I had studied
with great care. The comic traits that I made use of
in my interludes were so much grain that I sowed in
my field to ripen one day into an agreeable and profita-
ble harvest.

XIII.

At length, on the 24th November, 1734, my Beli-
sarius appeared on the stage for the first time. It was
my début, and it could not have been more brilliant
or satisfactory for me. My piece was listened to with
a silence altogether extraordinary and unusual in the
Italian theatres. The public, accustomed to noise, gave
vent to it between the acts ; and by expressions of joy,
clapping of hands, and reciprocal signs between the pit
and boxes, the author and actors received the most dis-
tinguished marks of applause. All these displays of
an unusual degree of satisfaction redoubled at the end
of the piece to such a degree that the actors were quite
affected. Some wept while others laughed, and these
different effects flowed from the same feeling of joy.
The author of the piece is not called for in Italy for the
purpose of being seen and applauded on the stage.
But when the principal actor presented himself to an-
nounce the play for the succeeding evening, all the
spectators at once cried, " Questa, questa, questa," that
is to say, " The same, the same" ; and the curtain was
dropped. The same piece was accordingly given next
day. and it was continued to be given every day till the
14th of December, when the autumn performances were
closed. This was a very fortunate commencement for
me, for the piece was by no means m valuable as it had
been estimated, and I hold it myself in so little consid-

186 MEMOIRS OF

eration that it shall never appear in the collection of
my works.

Elegant literature is as well understood and as much
cultivated at Venice as in any other place ; but the
connoisseurs could not avoid applauding a work, the
imperfections of which were well known to them.
Seeing the superiority of my piece over the farces, and
other ordinary productions of the comedians, they were
induced to augur from this first attempt a succession of
other pieces capable of exciting emulation and paving
the way for a reform of the Italian theatre. The
principal defect of my piece was the appearance of
Belisarius with his eyes put out and bleeding ; with
this exception, the play, which I called a tragi-com-
edy, was not destitute of merit ; and it interested the
spectator in a suitable and natural manner. My heroes
were men and not demigods, their passions had the
degree of elevation suitable to their rank, but they
appeared with the properties of human nature with
which we are acquainted, and their virtues and vices
were not carried to an imaginary excess. My style
was not elegant, and my versification has never been
any way sublime ; but this was precisely what was
requisite to bring back to reason a public accustomed
to hyperboles, antitheses, and everything ridiculously
gigantic and romantic.

At the sixth representation of Belisarius, Imer
thought he might add La Pupilla, and this little piece
was very well received by the public ; but while Imer
supposed the interlude supported the tragi-comedy, it
was, on the contrary, the tragi-comedy which supported
the interlude. At all events I was a great gainer ; for
the public seeing me come forward at the same time in
the two walks and in a manner altogether new, I was

CA.RLO GOLDONI. 187

honored with the general esteem of my countrymen,
and I received the most flattering and distinguished
encouragement from them.

On this occasion I made an acquaintance with his
excellency Nicolas Balbi, a Venetian patrician and
senator, whose warm and constant protection has
always been highly honorable to me, and whose opin-
ions, credit, and adherence have alw«ys been of the
greatest utility to me. On the 17th January my
Rosiinonda was represented for the first time. It was
not damned ; but after Belisarius I could hardly
flatter myself with an equally brilliant success : it
had four very tolerable representations. On the fifth,
Imer supported it with a new interlude. La Birba
gave high pleasure ; this very comic and very gay trifle
maintained Rosimonda during four other represen-
tations ; but at last we were obliged to return to Bel-
isarius. This piece had the same success on being
resumed as at first, and Belisarius and La Birba
were played together till Shrove-Tuesday, and finished
the carnival ; and with them we terminated the theat-
rical year.

The theatres are not opened at Venice till the begin-
ning of October; but during the fifteen days of the
fair of the Ascension, there is a grand opera, and
sometimes two, which have sometimes as many as
twenty representations. Grimani, the proprietor of
the theatre of St. Samuel, had an opera in that season
represented on his account; and he attached me to that
spectacle, as he had promised. The drama which they
were to give this year wTas not new ; they had chosen
La Griselda, an opera of Apostolo Zeno and Pari-
ati, who worked in conjunction before the departure of
Zeno for Vienna, in the emperor's service, and the

188 MEMOIRS OF

composer who was to set it to music was the Abbe"
Vivaldi, called il prête rosso (the red priest), on account
of his hair. He was much better known by this nick-
name than by his real name.

This ecclesiastic, who was an excellent performer on
the violin and an indifferent composer, had trained and
instructed in singing Miss Giraud, a young singer, born
at Venice, but the daughter of a French hairdresser.
She was not pretty, but graceful ; her shape was ele-
gant, her eyes and hair were beautiful, and her mouth
charming ; she had very little voice, but a great deal of
action. She was to represent the character of Griselda.

M. Grimani sent me to the musicians to make the
necessary changes in the opera, both for the sake of
shortening it, and changing the position and character
of the airs to suit the actors and the composer. I called
therefore on the Abbé Vivaldi, and announced myself
as having come from his excellency Grimani. I found
him surrounded with music, and with the breviary in
his hand. He rose, and made the sign of the cross,
put his breviary aside, and then, after the usual com-
pliments, u What motive, sir," said he, " procures me
the pleasure of seeing you ? " "His excelleucy Gri-
mani has employed me to make such changes as you
may deem necessary in the opera of next fair : I there-
fore wish to be informed, sir, what are your intentions."
" So, so, you are employed to make the changes in the
opera of Griselda ; M. Lalli is not now then attached
to the theatre of M. Grimani?" " M. Lalli, who is
very old, will always enjoy the profits, the epistles
dedicatory, and the sale of books, which I do not care
for, — I shall have the pleasure of being employed in
an exercise highly amusing for me, aud I shall have
the honor of commencing under the orders of M. Vi-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 189

valdi." (The abbé resumed his breviary, made a
second sign of the cross, and returned no answer.)
" Sir," said I, " I should be sorry to withdraw you
from your religious occupation ; I will wait upon you
another time." "I know very well, my dear sir, that
you have talents for poetry. I have seen your Beli-
sarius, which gave me a great deal of pleasure ; but
this is a very different affair ; it is possible to make a
tragedy and an epic poem if you will, and yet not be
able to write a single musical quatrain." " Be so good
as allow me to look at your drama." " 0 yes, with
all my heart ; where is Griselda gone to ? It was here
— Deus in adjutorium meum intende — Domine —
Domine — Domine — it was here this very instant —
Domine ad adjuvandum — Ah, here it is. See, sir,
this scene between Gualtiere and Griselda is very in-
teresting and touching. The author has tacked a
pathetic air to it, but Miss Giraud is not fond of lan-
guishing songs ; she wishes something expressive and
full of agitation, an expression of the passions by
different means, by words interrupted, for example, by
sighs, with action and motion ; I don't know whether
you understand me?" " Yes, sir, I understand you
perfectly well ; besides, I have had the honor of hear-
ing Miss Giraud, and I know that her voice is not very
powerful." u What, sir, do you mean to insult my
scholar ? She is good at everything, she can sing any-
thing." '• Yes, sir, you are right; give me the book,
and allow me to proceed." u Xo, sir, I cannot part
with it, I am in want of it, and am pressed for time."
u Very well, sir, if you are pressed lend it to me a mo-
ment, and I will instantly satisfy you." " Instantly V1
'• Yes, sir, instantly."
The abbé laughed at my attempt, and gave me the

190 MEMOIRS OF

drama, and paper and ink, resumed his breviary, and
walked about, reciting his psalms and hymns. I read
over the scene with which I was already acquainted ;
I recapitulated all that the musician desired, and, in
less than a quarter of an hour I wrote down an air of
eight verses, divided into two parts. I then called my
ecclesiastic, and showed him my work. Vivaldi read
it, his countenance brightened up, he read it again,
threw d»twn his prayer-book, and called Miss Giraud.
When she entered, he exclaimed " Ah, here is a won-
derful man, here is an excellent poet : read this air ;
this gentleman composed it here without stirring from
the spot in less than a quarter of an hour." Then
turning towards me, he said, " I beg your pardon,
sir " ; and he embraced me, and protested he would
never have any other poet than myself. He confided
the drama to me, with orders to make some other
changes ; in all of which he was satisfied with me, and
the opera succeeded admirably. I was now initiated
in the opera, in comedy, and in the interludes, which
were the forerunners of the Italian comic operas.

The company of Grimani had gone to Padua, to
perform there during the spring season, and I was ex-
pected there with impatience to give my pieces. AVhen
I got clear of the opera of Venice, I repaired to Padua.
My novelties made their appearance at the theatre of
that place, and the applauses of my brethren the doc-
tors were equal to those of my countrymen. I found
that great changes had taken place in the company ;
the waiting-maid had gone to Dresden, having been
engaged by that court, and the harlequin had been dis-
charged ; and M. Campagnani, a Milanese, the delight
of the amateurs of his country, but insupportable when
acting with professional actors, had been adopted in

CARLO GOLDOXI. 191

his place. But the greatest loss experienced by the
company was that of the Widow Casanova, who, not-
withstanding her connection with the director, had
accepted of an engagement in the service of the King
of Poland. She was succeeded as a singer by Madame
Passalacqua, who at the same time performed the
characters of waiting-maids; and for the parts of
Livers, they had made an acquisition pf a Madame
Ferramonti, a charming actress, who was young, beau-
tiful, very amiable, and very intelligent, full of talents
and interesting qualities.

I was not long in discerning her merit, and I at-
tached myself in a particular manner to her; I became
the friend of her husband, who was not employed in
the company ; and I formed the project of making an
excellent actress of this young woman. The other
women did not fail to become jealous of her. I ex-
perienced several disagreeable occurrences in conse-
quence ; and I should have suffered still more if she
had not been carried off by death the same year.

My comedians had given at Padua the number of
representations agreed upon, and they were preparing
t<> visit Udine in Venetian Friuli.

liner proposed that I should accompany him, and I
consented to follow the company ; but I did not travel
with the director. I made my excuse to him, and set
out in an excellent carriage with Madame Ferramonti
and the good man her husband.

My works were very much applauded at Udine.
That town was prepossessed in my favor ; and the
author of the Easter poetry was, in their opinion, a
very excellent dramatic poet.

On returning to Venice, the first thing I did was to
embrace my mother ; we had a long conversation to-

192 MEMOIRS OF

gether ; my Venetian property was disencumbered ;
my Modena revenue increased ; my brother had re-
entered the army, and my mother was desirous that I
should again resume my profession of advocate. I
reasoned with her on the subject, and declared that as
I had once quitted it, and made my appearance in my
country in a character altogether different, I could no
longer flatter myself with the confidence which I did
not merit ; while the career which I had entered upon
was equally honorable, and might in time turn out
lucrative.

My mother, with tears in her eyes, said that she
durst not oppose my wish, that she reproached herself
with having seduced me from the Criminal Chancery,
and that, having confidence in my reason, honor, and
activity, she left me at full liberty to choose my own
profession. I thanked her and embraced her a second
time ; and from one thing to another I came to the

article of Madame St. and her daughter, quite

satisfied that the contempt expressed by these ladies
for the employment chosen by me had relieved me from
all fear and embarrassment.

" By no means," said my mother, "you are quite

mistaken ; Madame St. and her daughter have

waited on me ; they overpowered me with their polite-
ness, and they spoke to me of you as an estimable and
wonderful young man. Your distinguished success has
rendered you in their eyes worthy of their considera-
tion, and they still reckon on you."

" No," said I, with a tone of indignation; "no, my
mother, I will never connect myself with a family by
wh< »m I was deceived, ruined, and at last treated with
disdain."

" Do not alarm yourself," replied my mother ; " they

CARLO GOLDONI. 193

are not richer than they were ; I shall return their
visit, and endeavor to reason with them, and I under-
take to procure your release. Let us talk of something
else," continued she; " tell me what you have been
doing since our separation."

I instantly satisfied her, and communicated several
of my adventures, though I concealed also a great
number. I made her successively weep, laugh, and
tremble : we dined with our relations ; my mother
was anxious to tell the company what I had imparted
to her ; but she only confused matters and excited their
curiosity, and I was myself obliged to tell everything
over again; when, exhilarated by the gayety of the
repast, I ventured to mention a number of particulars
which were quite new to my mother. " Ah, you
knave!" she exclaimed from time to time, a you did
not tell me this, or that, or that other." I passed my
time very agreeably, and made old uncles and aunts
laugh at my expense, who never laughed before in their
lives. My conversation was perhaps in those days more
engaging than my writings.

Towards the end of September my company of
comedians returned to the capital ; we rehearsed our
opening piece, and on the 4th of October it appeared
on the stage. The novelty produced surprise ; the lit-
erary assembly was relished ; the comedy in one act
failed on account of the harlequin, who was not an
agreeable actor ; the comic opera was well received,
and became a standing piece at the theatre.

XIV.

The actors of St. Samuel were to pass the spring the
next year at Genoa, and the summer at Florence ; and

194 MEMOIRS OF

as there were six new actors in the company. Irner
deemed my presence necessary, and proposed that I
should accompany him. I had thus an excellent op-
portunity of seeing two of the most beautiful cities of
Italy, and all my expenses were to be defrayed. I
spoke to my mother, who always approved of my rea-
sons, and I set out for Genoa with the director.

After passing through the very rich and delightful
village of San Pietro d' Arena, we discovered Genoa in
the direction of the sea. What a charming and sur-
prising spectacle ! It is a semicircular amphitheatre,
which on the one hand forms the vast basin of the port,
and gradually rises on the other along the declivity of the
mountain with immense buildings, which at a distance
seem placed above one another, and are terminated by
terraces, balustrades, or gardens, which serve for roofs
to the different habitations. In front of these, rows of
palaces, hotels, and houses of citizens, some coated
with marble, and others ornamented with painting, the
two moles winch form the mouth of the port, are to be
seen ; a work worthy of the Romans, as the Genoese,
notwithstanding the violence and depth of the sea,
have overcome nature, which seemed to oppose their
establishment.

We alighted near the lighthouse, and entered by
the gate of St. Thomas. We saw the immense Doria
palace, where three sovereigns were lodged at the
same time, and we then went straight to the inn of St.
Martha till we got the lodgings which were to be pro-
cured for us. The lottery was drawing that day, and
I had a great desire to see that ceremony. The lot-
tery, called in Italy li II lotto di Genova,'" and at Paris
" La loterie royale de France," was not then estab-
lished at Venice. There were, however, persons who

CARLO GOLDONt 195

disposed of tickets underhand for the lottery of Genoa,
and I had one of these tickets in my pocket, which I
brought from home with me. The lottery was in-
vented at Genoa, and the first idea of it was suggested
by chance. The Genoese draw twice every year, by
lot, the names of five senators to supply the places of
those who go out of office. The names of all those
who are in the urn, and who may be drawn, are known
at Genoa. Individuals of the town began by betting
among themselves : one said, u I bet that such a one
will come out at next drawing " ; another said, u I bet
that a different person will be drawn ' 7 ; and the wager
was equal. Some time afterwards, banks for and
against were opened by artful persons, who gave an
advantage to those who put into them. This came to
the ears of government, and the small banks were pro-
hibited : but the farmers who offered for them were
listened to. In this manner the lottery was established
for two drawings, and some time afterwards the number
was augmented. The lottery is now almost universal,
and I shall not presume to say whether it is deserving
of praise or blame : I speak of everything without de-
ciding anything ; and endeavoring to view things in as
favorable light as possible, it appears to me that the
lottery of Genoa furnishes a good revenue for the gov-
ernment, an occupation for the idle, and a hope for the
wretched and unfortunate. For my part I was quite
delighted with the lottery on this occasion ; for I gained
a prize of a hundred pistoles, with which I was very
well satisfied.

But at Genoa a piece of good fortune of still greater
value happened to me, which shed its blissful influence
over all the rest of my life : for I there married a pru-
dent, kind, and charming young woman, who indem-

196 MEMOIRS OF

nified me for all the tricks played me by other wo-
men, and reconciled me to the fair sex. Yes, my dear
reader, I became a husband, and I will tell you how.
The director and myself -were lodged in a house be-
longing to the theatre. I had observed, opposite the
windows of my room, a young woman who appeared
to me rather pretty, and with whom I wished 'to form
an acquaintance. One day, when she was alone at her
window, I saluted her somewhat tenderly ; she bowed
and instantly withdrew, and did not make her appear-
ance again. This excited my curiosity, and irritated
my self-love. I endeavored to learn who lived oppo-
site my apartments. The house belonged to M. Conio,
a notary of the College of Genoa, and one of the four
notaries deputed to the Bank of St. George ; a respect-
able man, possessed of property, but who, having a
very numerous family, was not in .such easy circum-
stances as he ought to have been.

So far good : I was desirous of forming an acquaint-
ance with M. Conio ; I knew that Imer had paper of
that bank derived from the rents of boxes which he
neg< »tiated by means of exchange brokers. I requested
him to confide one of the bank-bills to my care, which
he very willingly did ; and I went to the Bank of St.
George to present this bill to M. Conio, and to avail
myself of that opportunity to discover, his character. I
found the notary surrounded with people, and I waited
till they were gone ; I then went up to him, and re-
quested him to have the goodness to pay the value of
my note. This worthy man received me with great
politeness ; but he told me that I had made a mistake,
that the bills were not payable at the bank, but that
the first exchange broker or merchant would have
given me cash for them instantly. I begged to be ex-

CARLO GOLDONL 197

cused ; I told him that I was a stranger, and his
neighbor. I had a great deal to say to him, but the
hoar was advanced, he requested permission to shut up
his office, and told me that we should converse to-
gether on our way home.

We went out together, and he proposed taking a cup
of coffee with me till dinner-time ; I accepted the pro-
posal, for in Italy we take ten cups of coffee a day.
We entered a lemonade shop, and as M. Conio had
seen me with the comedians, he asked me what char-
acters I played. " Sir," said I, " your question does
not offend me, for any other person would have made
the same mistake.7' I told him who I was, and what
my employment was ; he apologized for his mistake :
lie was fond of plays, and frequented the theatre where
he had seen my pieces, and he was delighted as much
to have an opportunity of becoming acquainted with
me, as I was with him. This brought us together;
he visited me, and I visited him in turn : I had oppor-
tunities of seeing Miss Conio, who appeared every day
more agreeable and deserving in my eyes. In a
month's time I demanded from M. Conio his daughter
in marriage.

He was in no way surprised, having perceived my,
inclinations, and he had no apprehension of a refusal
on the part of the young woman ; but, like a wise and
prudent man, he requested a little time, and wrote to
the Genoese consul at Venice for information respect-
ing my character. I could not object to this delay,
and I wrote off at the same time, imparting my pro-
ject to my mother, and describing my future wife to
her; and I requested her to send me instantly all
the certificates which are necessary on similar occa-
sions.

198 MEMOIRS OF

In a month's time I received my mother's consent
and the requisite papers : and a few days afterwards
M. Conio also received the most nattering accounts
< if me. Our marriage was fixed for the month of July,
the portion agreed on. and the contract signed.

liner knew nothing of all this : I had grounds for
apprehending that he would endeavor to frustrate my
project. He was in reality very much chagrined at it.
as he was obliged to pass the summer at Florence, and
I could not accompany him. I promised, however,
that I would not quit the company : that I should la-
bor for tlie season at Venice, and retain in good time,
and I kept my word. I was now the most contented
and happy man in the world : but was it possible for
me to experience happiness without some misfortune
afterwards ? I was seized with a fever on my mar-
riage-night, and I experienced a second attack of the
small-pox, which I had had at Rimini in my youth.
Fortunately for me I was riot dangerously ill, and my
features were not impaired. My poor wife shed many
a tear over my pillow : .-he was then, and has always
since been, my chief consolation.

At length my wife and myself set out for Venice in
the beginning of September. 0 heavens ! What
tears were shed ! What a cruel separation for my
wife : she quitted all at once, father, mother, brothers,
sisters, uncles, aunts — but she went with her hus-
band. On arriving at Venice with my wife, I intro-
duced lier to my mother and aunt. My mother was
enchanted with the mildness of her daughter-in-law.
and my aunt, who was not in easy circumstances, made
a friend and confidante of lier niece. It was a charming
family: all was peace and harmony: and I was the
happiest man in the world. My comedians, who had

CARLO GOLDONI. 190

renounced all hopes of me, were glad to see me again,
more especially as I brought them a new piece. •• Ri-
naldo di Montalbano," a tragi-eoinedy, in five acts and
in v.

This subject was derived from the stock of the Italian
theatre. I purified it from the gross faults which
rendered it insufferable, and brought it as near as
Bible to the style of the ancient chivalry, ajid the decency
and decorum requisite in a piece where Charlemagne
made his appearance. The public, accustomed :
Rinaldo, Paladin of France, appear in the council of war
wrapped up in a torn cloak, and harlequin defend his
master's castle and put to fiight the emperors' soldiers
with kettles and broken pots, were pleased *
the calumniated hero maintain his cause with dignity,
and were not discontented with the suppression of the
misplaced buffoonery.

9 veral changes took place in the company during
Lent, which brought it as near the point of perfection
as possible.

We changed La Bastona, the mother, for La Bastona,
the daughter, an excellent actress, full of intelligence,
noble in serious parts, and very agreeable in comic
Vitalba, the principal actor, was succeeded by Simo-
netti, who was not so brilliant as his predecessor, but
more décorons, intelligent, and docile. We made an
acquisition of Golinetti for a pantaloon, who was but
indifferent with his mask, but admirable in the character
of young Venetians without one: and we gained also
Lonibardi, who both in figure and talents was unrivalled
in the part of the doctor.

What rendered the company perfect was the acquisi-
tion of Sacehi, the famous harlequin, whose wife was
tolerable in the part of secondary lovers, and whose

200 MEMOIRS OF

sister, though a little extravagant in her action, per-
formed very well in the character of waiting-maid.

" I am now," said I to myself, " perfectly at my ease,
and I can give loose to my imagination. Hitherto I
have labored on old subjects, but now I must create
and invent for myself. I have the advantage of very
promising actors ; but in order to employ them usefully
I must begin with studying them. Every person has
his peculiar character from nature ; if the author gives
him a part to represent in unison with his own, he may
lay his account with success. Well then," continued
I, " this is perhaps the happy moment to set on foot
the reform which I have so long meditated. Yes, I
must treat subjects of character : this is the source of
good comedy ; with this the great Molière began his
career, and he carried it to a degree of perfection which
the ancients merely indicated to us, and which the
moderns have never seen equalled."

Was I wrong in encouraging myself in this manner ?
No : for my inclinations were fixed on comedy, and
good comedy was the proper aim for me. I should
have been wrong had I entertained the ambition of
equalling the masters of the art ; but I merely aspired
to reform the abuses of the theatre of my country, and
this required no great extent of learning to accomplish.
Agreeably with this mode of reasoning, which seemed
to me perfectly just, I cast my eyes round the company
for the actor best adapted to sustain a new character
to advantage. I fixed on Golinetti the pantaloon, not
for the purpose of employing him in a mask which
conceals the physiognomy and prevents a sensible actor
from displaying the passion which he feels in his coun-
tenance, but I admired his behavior in the companies
where I had seen and sounded him ; I believed him

CARLO GOLDONI. 201

possessed of qualifications for an excellent actor, and I
was not mistaken.

I composed, therefore, a comedy of character, under
the title of " Momolo Cortesan." Momoloin Venetian
is the diminutive of Girolamo (Jerome) ; but it is im-
possible to translate the adjective cortesan into any
( it her language. This term cortesan is not a corruption
of the word courtier (courtesan), but is rather derived
from courtesy and courteous. The Italians themselves
are not generally acquainted with the Venetian corte-
san : hence when I committed this piece to the press, I
called it " L'Uomo di Mondo/' and were I to translate
it into French, I should be induced to give it the title
of " The Accomplished Man." Let us see whether I
am mistaken. The true Venetian cortesan is service-
able, officious, and possessed of probity. He is gen-
erous without profusion ; gay without rashness ; fond
of pleasure without ruining himself; he is prepared to
bear a part in everything for the good of society; he
prefers tranquillity, but will not allow himself to be
duped ; he is affable to all, a warm friend and a zeal-
ous protector. Is not this an accomplished man f

I shall be asked whether there are many of these
cortesans at Venice. Yes ; a tolerable number. There
are people possessed of these qualities in a greater or
less degree ; but when we are to exhibit the character
to the public, we must always display it in all its per-
fection.

That any character may be productive of effect on
the stage, it has always appeared to me necessary to
contrast it with characters of an opposite description.
In this piece I introduced a rascally Venetian, who
deceives strangers ; and my cortesan, without being
acquainted with the persons imposed on, secures them

202 MEMOIES OF

from the deceit and unmasks the knave. Harlequin is
not a stupid servaut in this play ; he is an idle fellow
who insists on his sister supporting his vices ; the
cortesan procures an establishment for the girl, and
subjects the lazy fellow to the necessity of working for
his bread. In short, this accomplished man finishes
his brilliant career by marriage, and chooses among
the women of his acquaintance the one with the least
pretensions and the greatest share of merit.

This piece was wonderfully successful, and I was
satisfied. I saw my countrymen renouncing their old
relish for farces ; I saw the announced reform, but I
could not yet boast of it. The piece was not reduced
to dialogue ; and the only part written out was that of
the principal actor. All the rest was outline ; I had
endeavored to suit the actors ; but they were not all
equally qualified to fill the void with skill. There was
not that equality of style which characterizes the pro-
duction of one author ; I could not reform everything
at once without stirring up against me all the admirers
of the national comedy, and I waited for a favorable
moment to attack them boldly with greater vigor and
greater safety. My comedians were to play on the
mainland during the spring and summer ; they were
desirous of my following them ; but I told them, in the
language of Scripture, li Uxorein duxi " (I have taken
a wife).

Another reason confirmed me in my resolution of
remaining at Venice. The proprietor of the theatre
where my comedies were acted in autumn and winter
employed me to write a musical drama for the fair of
the Ascension of that year. I composed this piece
during Lent, and I was desirous of being present at the
execution. It was to be set to music by the celebrated

CARLO GOLDOXI. 203

Galuppi, who wont by the name of Buranello ; but,
recollecting, before delivering it to him, that I was
mistaken in my Amalasonte, and being uncertain
whether I had succeeded in observing all the extrava-
gances which arc called rules in the musical drama, I
wished it to be seen and examined before submitting
it to the public, and I made choice of Apostolo Zeno,
who had then returned from Vienna, where he was
succeeded by Metastasio, as my judge and adviser.

These two illustrious authors effected the reforma-
tion of the Italian opera. Before thein^ nothing but
gods, devils, machines, and wonders were to be found
in these harmonious entertainments. Zeno was the
first who conceived the possibility of representing tra-
gedy in lyrical verse without degradation, and of sing-
ing it without producing weakness. He executed the
project in a manner the most satisfactory for the pub-
lic and the most glorious for himself and his nation.
In his operas we see heroes such as they actually were,
or at least such as they have been handed down to us
by historians ; his characters are vigorously supported ;
his plans always well conducted ; his episodes are
necessarily connected with the main action ; and his style
is masculine and vigorous, and the words of the airs
adapted to the music of his day. Metastasio, who suc-
ceeded him, brought lyrical tragedy to the utmost per-
fection of which it was susceptible; his style is pure
and elegant; his verses flowing and harmonious; an
admirable precision and clearness prevail throughout
his sentiments, and this precision is concealed under
the veil of an apparent facility; he displays the most
affecting energy in the language of the passions; his
portraits, his groups, his rich descriptions, his mild mo-
rality, his insinuating philosophy, his analysis of the

204 MEMOIRS OF

human heart, the profusion and skilful application of
his knowledge : his airs, or rather his incomparable
madrigals, sometimes iu the manner of Pindar and
sometimes that of Anacreon, have all rendered him the
subject of most deserved admiration, and entitled him
to the immortal crown conferred on him by the Ital-
ians and acquiesced in by other nations.

"Were I to venture on comparisons, I should say that,
in his style. Metastasio has imitated Racine, and that
Zeno imitated the vigor of Corneille. Their genius re-
sembled their characters. Metastasio was mild, pol-
ished, and agreeable in company. Zeno was serious,
profound, and instructive. To the latter then I made
my application to analyze my Gustavus. I found
this respectable author in his closet ; he received me in
a very polite manner, and listened to my drama from
beginning to end without uttering a single word. I
could discern, however, from the expression of his
countenance, the good and faulty passages of my work.
"This is good," said he, taking me by the hand; "it
will do very well for the fair of the Ascension."

I understood his meaning, and I was proceeding to
tear my drama to pieces ; but he prevented me, and
told me by way of consolation that my opera, however
indifferent, was a hundred times better than those
which their authors, under the pretext of imitation,
<mly copied from others. He durst not mention him-
self; but I knew the plagiarisms of which he had good
grounds for complaint. I profited by the mute correc-
tions of M. Zeno ; I made a few changes in those places
at which my judge gnashed his teeth; my opera was
given : the actors were good, the music excellent, and
the ballets very gay ; nothing was said of the drama ;
I kept behind my curtain ; I shared in the applause to

CARLO GOLDOXI. 205

which I had no claim ; and I said, by way of quieting
myself, This is not my fuite ; I shall have my revenge
in my first comedy.

The work, which I had in readiness for the return
of my comedians, was "II Prodigo" (The Prodigal).
The subject of this piece was not selected by me from
the class of the vicious, but from that of the ridiculous.
My Prodigal was neither a gamester, a debauchee, nor
magnificent. His prodigality was merely weakness ;
he gave for the sole pleasure of giving f his heart at
bottom was excellent ; but his simplicity and credulity
exposed him to embarrassment and derision. This was
a new character ; I knew the origiuals ; I had seen and
studied them on the banks of the Brenta, among the
inhabitants of those magnificent and delightful country-
houses where opulence shines forth and mediocrity is
ruined. The excellent actor, who had supported so
well \he brilliant character of the Venetian Cortesan,
succeeded admirably in representing the slowness and
apathy of character of my Prodigal. I gave this rich
and liberal individual a knavish and dexterous steward,
who availed himself of the disposition of his master
and furnished him with occasions and means for satis-
fying it. Whenever money was wanted, this easy indi-
vidual . always ended with saying to the traitor who
seduced him: "Carovecchio fe vu "3 that is to say.
"I rely on you, my friend, dt) the best you can." Cer-
tain persons in whose mouths this phrase was familiar
were recognized, and attempts were made to discover
the original. I selected him from the crowd of rich
individuals who are the dupes of their weakness and
their seducers; but an anecdote which I invented hap-
pened, unfortunately for me, to correspond with an oc-
currence in real life, and nearly ruined me. A young

206 MEMOIRS OF

woman, who would have become his wife but for the
decayed state of his affairs, is, with her relations, on a
visit at the Prodigal's house on the Brenta. The lover
offers her a valuable ring, which the lady refuses. Some
time afterwards, the attorney of the Prodigal arrives
from Venice with the news that he has gained his law-
suit. The generous man is desirous of showing his joy
and gratitude, and, having no money, he gives the ring
to the attorney, which he accepts, and then returns
home. In the mean time the lady, having been advised
to accept the trinket, lest the young spendthrift should
dispose of it in an improper manner, returns and men-
tions the ring, and excuses her former refusal ; she
could not receive it without permission ; that permis-
sion she had now obtained — Alas ! the ring is no
longer in his possession ; the lover is inconsolable, the
Prodigal in despair ! What trouble and embarrass-
ment ! This is one of those fortunate situations which
amuse the spectators, which produce revolutions, and
which bring the action naturally to a close.

It was said that this adventure had actually hap-
pened to an individual of high rank, to whom I lay
under considerable obligations. Fortunately, this lord
did not discover the circumstance, or affected not to per-
ceive it. He was interested in my success ; my piece
succeeded ; and he was as well pleased with it as my-
self. My Prodigal had twenty successive representa-
tions when it first came out : it was equally fortunate
when resumed during the carnival : but the characters
in masks complained that I did not give them enough
to do, and that I was on the point of ruining them.
They had their amateurs aud protectors disposed to
defend their cause.

In consequence of their complaints, and agreeably to

CARLO GOLDONI. 207

the plan laid down by me, in the beginning of the comic
year j gave a comedy of intrigue, entitled the " Thirty-
two Misfortunes of Harlequin." The execution of this
fell to Saechi at Venice; and I was certain of its suc-
cess. This actor, known on the Italian stage by the
name of Truftaldin, added to the natural graces of his
action a thorough acquaintance with the art of comedy
and the different European theatres. Antonio Saechi
possessed a lively and brilliant imagination; he played
in comedies of intrigue; but while other harlequins
merely repeated themselves. Saechi, who always ad-
hered to the essence of the play, contrived to give an
air of freshness to the piece, by his new sallies and un-
expected repartees. It was Saechi alone whom the
people crowded to see. His comic traits and his jests
were neither taken from the language of the lower
orders nor that of the comedians. He levied contribu-
tions on comic authors, on poets, orators, and philoso-
phers ; and in his impromptus we could recognize the
thoughts of Seneca, Cicero, or Montaigne; but he pos-
sessed the art of appropriating the maxims of these
great men to himself, and allying them to the simplicity
of the blockhead; and the same proposition which was
admired in a serious author became highly ridiculous
in the mouth of this excellent actor. I speak of Saechi
as of a man no longer in existence; for, on account of
his great age, there remains only to Italy the regret
of having lost him without the hope of ever possessing
his equal.

My piece, supported by the actor above-mentioned,
was as successful as such a comedy could be. The
amateurs of masks and outlines were satisfied with me.
They found more propriety and common-sense in my
Thirtv-two Misfortunes than in the comedies of art.

208 MEMOIRS OF

I observed that what gave the greatest pleasure in my
piece was the accumulation of events upon one another.
I availed myself of this discovery, and gave, fifteen days
afterwards, a second comedy of the same kind, still more
crowded with business and events, as I called it " The
Critical Night; or, The Hundred and Four Events in
the same Night."

This piece might he called the touchstone of the
comedians, for it was labored with such complication
and ingenuity, that ncne but the actors to whom I in-
trusted it could have executed it with the same accuracy
and facility. I experienced the truth of this four years
afterwards. I was then at Pisa in Tuscany. A stroll-
ing company thought proper, by way of paying court
to me, to act this piece. Next day, in a coffee-house
on the quay of the Arno, I heard a person say, " Dio
mi guardi da mal di denti e da Cento e Quattro Acci-
denti" (God keep me from the toothache and The
Hundred and Four Accidents). This proves that the
reputation of an author frequently depends on the exe-
cution of the actors. He ought not to lose sight of that
truth. We require the assistance of one another, and
we ought to entertain for one another reciprocal love
and esteem, servatis servandis.

XV.

I had satisfied the barbarous taste of my country-
men, and laughed in my sleeve at their compliments ;
and I burned with the desire of carrying the reform
completely through. But an event took place this
year, which interrupted for several months the course
of my favorite occupation.

Count Tuo, the Genoese consul at Venice, having

CARLO GOLDOXI. 209

died, the relations of my wife, who were in the enjoy-
ment of credit and influence, demanded the place for
me, and soon carried it.

I was now in the bosom of my country, honored with
the confidence of a foreign republie ; and it required
some time to become acquainted with an employment
of which I was altogether ignorant. The only Genoese
minister at Venice was their consul. I was therefore
charged with everything. I wrote off despatches every
eight days ; I communicated news, and set up for poli-
tician. This trade I learned at Milan, and I had not
yet forgotten it. My accounts, reflections, and conjec-
tures were relished at Genoa, and I was by no means
on bad terms with the diplomatic body at Venice.

My new situation and my new occupations did not pre-
vent me from resuming the thread of my theatrical
pursuits ; and in the carnival of the same year I gave
an opera to the theatre of St. John Chrysostom, and a
comedy of character to that of St. Samuel.

My opera, the title of which was " Orontes, King of
Scythia," had a very brilliant success. The music of
Buranello was divine; the decorations of Jolli superb;
the actors excellent ; not a word was said of the book ;
but the author of the words did not on that account
the less enjoy the good fortune of this charming spec-
tacle.

But at the theatre, when a new piece of mine, called
" The Bankruptcy," was acted at the same time, all the
applauses, all the clapping of hands and bravos, were
for me. In this piece there were far greater numbers
of written scenes than in the two preceding ones. I
proceeded quietly in making my advances towards the
liberty of writing my pieces entirely out ; and notwith-
standing the impediments of masks, I soon accom-
plished my wish.

210 MEMOIRS OF

I was now full of honors and joy ; but you know,
my dear reader, that my happy days have never been
of long duration. When the consulate of Genoa was
offered to me, I accepted it with gratitude and respect,
without demanding what were the emoluments of the
office. This was another of my follies, for which I
paid dearly. I thought of nothing at first but render-
ing myself worthy of the good- will of the republic,
with whose confidence I was honored. I took lodgings
in which I could receive foreign ministers in a suitable
manner. I increased my domestic establishment, my
table, and my retinue. I thought I could not with
propriety act otherwise. In writing after the lapse of
some time to the secretary of state, with whom I cor-
responded, I mentioned the article of my salary ; and I
received for my consolation from the secretary an
answer nearly in the following terms: u Count Tuo
[my predecessor] served the republic for nearly twenty
years without any emolument; the senate were satis-
fied with me ; the government considered it proper
that I should be recompensed, but the Corsican war
rendered the republic unable to defray an expense which
for so long a time it had ceased to provide for."

What sad news for me ! The profits of the consulate
did not amount to a hundred crowns per annum. I
wished to throw up my situation instantly ; but by the
following courier I received a letter from a Genoese
senator, confiding an intricate commission to my care,
and encouraging me to remain in office.

A person intrusted with the affairs of the republic
of Genoa, and who held in a foreign court the commis-
sion of the senate, and full powers from the public
creditors, had abused the confidence of the Genoese,
escaped with considerable sums of money, and been

CARLO GOLDOXI. 211

living for several days quietly at Venice. The senator
sent ine letters of credit for Santin Cambiasio, the
banker, and a power to obtain the body or a seizure of
the goods of his debtor. The commission was deli-
cate, and the execution promised to be attended with
difficulty. I knew my country, however: in a gov-
ernment where there are almost as many primary
tribunals as matters subject to contestation, if the
affair be good, there are means of obtaining justice
without violating the delicacy of the law of nations. I
was listened to, and well served : my client was in-
demnified, and the money and effects passed through
my hands into those of M. Cambiasio, to be disposed
of by the Genoese patrician. This affair, which was
well conducted and happily terminated, did me infinite
honor ; but my unlucky star was not long in over-
whelming me with its influence. In the inventory of
the effects recovered by me, there were two boxes of
gold enriched with diamonds. I was intrusted with the
sale of them. I confided them to a broker; this rascal
pledged them with a Jew, left the duplicates, and made
his escape. I was the responsible person, and it was
requisite to pay for their recovery. M. Cambiasio sup-
plied me with money on account of the senator, and
my father-in-law paid it back again at Genoa out of
the remainder of his daughter's portion which he still
owed me.

I was by no means therefore in easy circumstances
in the beginning of the year 1740 : ami to add to my
misfortune, I was all at once deprived of the best part
of my rents. The war between the French and Span-
iards on the one hand, and the Austrians on the other
began to break out. It was called the war of Don
Philip ; and Lombardy Mas inundated with foreign

212 MEMOIRS OF

troops to install that prince in the possession of Panna
and Placentia. The Duke of Modena joined his forces
To those of the Bourbons. He was a generalissimo of
their army : and. to support the expenses of the war,
he stopped the payment of the annuities of the ducal
bank called Luoghi di Monte.

This void in my domestic affairs threw me into great
consternation. I could no longer maintain my rank in
society. I formed the resolution of setting out instantly
for Modena in quest of money at all hazards, and to
pass on to Genoa, and demand justice. I wrote in con-
sequence to the republic, and demonstrated the in
sity of a journey, I demanded permission to appoint a
substitute in my place, and I waited for the consent of
the senate. In this expectation, and in the midst of
my chagrins and embarrassments, my brother arrived
from Modena, as much dissatisfied as myself with the
suspension of our annuities, and still more piqued at
not having been included in the new promotion made
by his royal highness in his troops. He had quitted the
service altogether, and came to enjoy his tranquillity at
my expense.

On the other haud, I was teased for works by the
comedians. This was my only consolation; but Sacchi
had left us, and the half of his comrades had followed
him. Golinetti, the pantaloon, was no longer with us,
and the most essential actors were all new to me. I
sought out the individual amongst them most capable
of interesting me, and my predilectiou for waiting-
maids induced me to fix on Madame Baccherini, who
succeeded the sister of Sacchi in that character.

She was a young Florentine, extremely pretty, very
gay. and very brilliant, with a plump and round figure,
white skin, dark eyes, a great deal of vivacity, and a

CABLO GOLDOXI. 213

charming pronunciation. She Lad not the skill and
experience of the actress who preceded her, but she was
possessed of a most happy aptitude for improvement,
and she required nothing hut study and time to arrive
at perfection. Madame Baccherini was married as well
as myself. We became friends ; we were necessary to
each other: I contributed to her glory, and she dissi-
pated my chagrin.

It was an established custom amongst the Italian
actors, fur the waiting-maids t<> give several times
every year pieces which were called transformations, as
the Hobgoblin, the Female Magician, and others
of the same description, in which the actress, appear-
ing under différent forms, was obliged to change her
dress frequently, to act different characters and speak
various languages. Of the forty or fifty waiting-maids
whom I could name, not two of them were bearable.
The characters were false, the costumes caricatured,
the languages indistinct, and the whole illusion de-
stroyed. What else was to he expected / for to enable
a woman to support in an agreeable manner such a
number of changes she must be under the real opera-
tion of the charm which is supposed in the piece. My
beautiful Florentine was dying of eagerness to display
her pretty countenance in different dresses. I corrected
her folly at the same time that I endeavored to gratify
it. I invented a comedy, in which, without change of
language or dress, she could support different charac-
ters : an affair which is not very difficult for a woman,
and especially a clever woman.

The title of this piece was " La Donna di Garbo "
(The Admirable Woman). It afforded great pleasure
in the reading; Madame Baccherini was enchanted
with it, but the theatres at Venice were on the point

214 MEMOIRS OF

of closing. The company were to pass the spring at
Genoa, and it was to be acted there for the first time.
I proposed to appear there also at the first representa-
tion, but I became all of a sudden the sport of fortune.
Events of a singular nature overturned my projects,
and I did not witness the representation of my piece
till four years afterwards.

On the removal of the comedians I felt myself lonely ;
for in my then disagreeable situation every company
wearied me. 1 thought only of my journey : my mother
and my aunt stood in no need of my assistance ; my wife
was to follow me, and my brother alone was burden-
some to us all. He entertained the highest idea of him-
self: I was of a different opinion, and he was offended
at my way of thinking. For example, he did not hesi-
tate to ask me to propose him to supply my place dur-
ing my absence from Venice, or to send him to Genoa
to solicit the salary of my office ; but I did not believe
him cut out for either of these commissions, and I went
on as usual, till I should receive letters from Genoa, in
the execution of my project.

The letters arrived, the permission was granted, my
substitute was approved of, and I was satisfied. I re-
solved therefore to go to Modena to demand payment
of my annuities ; to go to Genoa to solicit payment of
my salary ; to be present at the representation of the
Donna di Garbo, as La Baccherini would perhaps re-
quire my assistance, and at any rate would be very
glad to see me. The charms of this delightful actress
added to my eagerness ; I feasted myself with the idea
of seeing her perform this important part in my piece.

But, 0 heavens ! the brother of Madame Baccherini .
was still at Venice. He waited on me ; I saw him in
tears ; he could not pronounce a single word ; he put a

CARLO GOLDOXI. 215

letter from Genoa into my hands, containing an account
of the death of his sister.

After this event I still adhered to my project3 bat I
was not so eager to set out, and even endeavored to
put off my departure. A Boeiety of noble Venetians
had taken a lease of the theatre of St. John Chrysos-
tniu for five years, and demanded an opera from me
for the fair of the Ascension. At first I refused to sat-
isfy them : but on becoming master of my time, I
accepted of the commission, and finished it! a few days
an opera entitled " Statira," which I had in my port-
folio. I was present at the rehearsals and the rep-
resentation of this drama, and I drew the profits of
authorship and received an extraordinary récompense
from these generous lessees. I had reason to be sat-
isfied with this prolongation of my stay in Venice, but
I paid very dear for it in the sequel, and I was in-
debted to my brother for the cruel embarrassment in
which I was placed. He entered my house one day at
two o'clock in the afternoon, and pushed open with his
cane the folding doors of my study. His hat was
drawn over his brow, his countenance was red. his
eyes sparkling, — I knew not whether from joy or
rage. Looking hard at me with a disdainful air,
"Brother," said he, "you will not always treat me
as lightly as you do now." " What do yon mean.
brother? " "I do not compose verses, but every one
has his value, — I have made a discovery." u If it
can be of any use to you. T shall be exceedingly glad."
" Yes, useful and honorable for me, and still more use-
ful and honorable for you." "For me!" "Yes: I
have made an acquaintance with a Kagusan captain,
a man, — a man who has not his fellow. He keeps np
a correspondence with the principal courts of Europe:

216 MEMOIRS OF

he ha? commissions at which you would tremble ; he
is employed to raise recruits for a new regiment of two
thousand Sclavonians : hut, 0 heavens ! if the gov-
ernment of Venice were to discover this, we should he
ruined, — brother, — brother, — I have disclosed the
matter, yon know the importance of discretion."

I wished to suggest a few reflections to him. " Listen
to me," said he, interrupting me ; " there is a captaincy
here open for me ; I have served in Dalmatia, as you
know; this my friend also knows; he knew my uncle
Visinoni at Zara, and he destines a company for me.
But for you," continued he, " it is quite another affair."
" For me / what the devil does he want with me ? n
" He knows you by reputation, he esteems you, you
will be the auditor, the grand judge of the regiment."
"If" "Yes, you."

At that moment the servant entered, and announced
to us that dinner was ready. "The deuce take both
you and the dinner!" said my brother; "we have
business to transact : leave us undisturbed." " But
cannot you defer it," said I, "till after dinner f "
" Not at all : it must wait." " Why ?" " The cap-
tain is coming." " So you have asked him ?" " Yes ;
are you displeased that I have taken the liberty to in-
vite a friend ! " " The captain is your friend, then ! "
" I have no doubt of it." " You have just formed ac-
quaintance with him, and he is your friend already f "
" We soldiers are not courtiers ; we know one another
at first sight; honor and glory form the bond of our
union, and next moment we become friends."

My wife arrived, and entreated us to be done.
" Good heavens ! madam," cried my brother, " this is-
being very impatient." " It is your mother," said
she, " who is growing impatient." " My mother, my

CARLO GOLDOXI. 217

mother, — let her dine and go to bed." "All this, my
brother, smells sadly of gunpowder.1* " I am sorry,
I am sorry ; but the captain cannot be long." A
knock was heard; it was the captain; a number of

compliments and excuses passed, and we sat down to
dinner.

This man had more the appearance of a courtier
than a soldier. He was supple, mild, affected, his
complexion was wan, his face long, his nose aquiline,
and his eyes small, round, aucKgreenish. He was very
gallant, very attentive to the ladies, holding grave dis*
courses to the old women, and saying pleasant things
to the young, yet none of his little stories seemed to
take off his attention from his dinner. We took our
coffee at table ; my brother put me in mind of the
remainder of my stock of wine for the sake of enter-
taining his friend, and the Ragusan, my brother, and
myself went to shut ourselves up in my study.

As the recommendation of my brother did not give
me the most favorable idea of this unknown person,
and as he did not want for address or foresight, he re-
counted to me in a very rapid and elegant preamble,
his name, his country, his condition, his titles, his ex-
ploits, and concluded with showing me the letters-
patent, written in the Italian language, in which he
was empowered to raise two thousand men of the
Illyrian nation for a new regiment in the service of the
power from whom he held the commission. In these
letters the- Ragusan was appointed colonel of the regi-
ment, with the power of naming officers, judge, quarter-
masters, etc., and they contained the signatures of the
sovereign minister and secretary of state of the war
department with the seal of the crown. I was not any
great judge of these foreign signatures, and I was dis-

218 MEMOIRS OF

trustful of a man whom I only saw foi the first time,
and till I should be enabled to verify their authenticity,
I ventured to put a few questions to the captain, who
did not fail to give me satisfactory answers. I first
asked him by what accident my brother and myself
were so fortunate as to interest him in our favor.

11 Your brother." said he. "is a man who may be of
utility to my interests. He is acquainted with Dal-
lnatia and Albania, where he lias served, and these are
two provinces capable of supplying excellent men for
our regiment. I mean to provide him with letters and
money and send him there to recruit." At this my
brother clung round the Bagusan. " You shall see,
my friend, you shall see ; I shall procure for you Dal-
matians. Albanians. Croatians, Molachians, Turks and
devils: let me alone, — Gospodina, Gospodina, dobro,
jutro, Gospodina."

The captain, who was himself a Sclavonian, and
laughed in his sleeve perhaps at this displaced lllyrian
salutation of my brother, smiled, and turning towards
me: " For you. sir," said he, " I do myself an honor
in requesting yon to accept the office of auditor-general
of my regiment. You are bred to the law, and your
situation of consul — But apropos of the place which
you fill,'' continued he, " I have a favor to demand of
you. I am at present in Venice, which is a free coun-
try : but the affair in which I am now engaged is very
delicate, and might give offence to the government on
account of their Dalmatian subjects : I am beset by
spies : I am afraid of being taken by surprise : and if
you could lodge me in your house, I should not perhaps
be secure from the pursuits of the republic, but I should
have time to escape them."

•• Sir," said I, " my lodgings are not sufficiently

CARLO GOLDOXI. 219

commodious." My brother exclaimed, interrupting
me, " I shall give up my room to the captain." I en-
deavored to defend myself, but in vain. Thus the
Bagusan got himself established in my house.

The society of this man was agreeable enough; I
allowed myself to he gained over without difficulty:
and I conld not bring myself to suspect him. I wished,
however, to have nothing to reproach myself with.
Wherever I heard persons mentioned as being concerned
in the secret of the businessman question, I began to
make inquiries. I called on the merchants employed
for the regimental uniforms. I spoke to the officers
engaged by the brevet-colonel. He received one day
a bill of exchange for six thousand ducats, drawn on
MM. Pommer, brothers, German hankers; the bill was
not accepted because they had received no letters, of
advice, but the signatures were exactly imitated. My
belief was at length fixed, and I fell into the snare.
Three days afterwards the Bagusan entered the house
in great agitation and consternation; he had to pay
six thousand livres in the course of the day, and he
could procure no delay ; the officers of the law would
be despatched in pursuit of him ; the nature of the debt
would discover everything; he was in despair, as all
was ruined. I was affected by his discourse, my br< »ther
solicited me, my heart determined me. I made what
efforts I could to raise this sum ; I was fortunate enough
to succeed, I gave it in the course of the day to my
guest, and next day the scoundrel disappeared.

I was plunged in embarrassment : my brother made
inquiries after him to kill him; but he was fortunately
out of danger. All those who were duped by the
Bagusan repaired to my house, and we were forced to
stop their complaints to avoid the indignation of the

220 MEMOIRS OF

government and the derision of the publie. What
resolution could I adopt .' The robber left Venice on
the lôth of September, 1741, and I embarked on the
18th with my wife for Bologna.

XVI.

Sad. thoughtful, and plunged in chagrin, I was
about to pass a most disagreeable night in that courier's

bark, which in former times I had found very comfort -
al >le and very amusing. My wife, who was more reason-
able than myself, instead of complaining of lier situati* >n,
Bought only to console me. Animated by her example
and advice, I endeavored to dispel the regret for the
past by the hope of better fortune in future. I fell
asleep, and I found myself, on awaking, like a man
who lias been shipwrecked and who has saved himself
by swimming.

On arriving at the bridge of Lago Seuro on the Po,
at a league's distance from Ferrara, I took post and
arrived in the evening at Bologna. I was well ac-
quainted with that <-ity. and well known there. The
directors of the theatres called upon me ; they asked me
f»r some of my pieces: I made some difficulty, but I
was in want of money: they took care to offer me
some, and 1 was not backward in accepting it. I con-
fided three of my originals to them to be copied out.
It was necessary to wait : I waited accordingly, and I
did not lose my time.

I was asked at Venice for a comedy without females
and susceptible of military exercises, for a college of
the Jesuits. The pretended captain, who deceived me,
occurred to my mind and furnished me with a subject.
I entitled my piece "The Impostor*': I employed in

CARLO GOLDONL 221

it all the warmth which indignation could possihly in-
spire : I portrayed my brother in vivid characters in it;
I did not span* myself, and I covered my simplicity
with all the ridicule which it deserved. This little
undertaking was of infinite benefit to me; it effaced
from my mind the dark hues with which it was colored
by the wickedness of a knave ; I deemed myself re-
venged. -My piece was concluded; the director.? re-
turned me my manuscripts, and I proposed setting out
for Modena. >*

At Bologna there was an excellent actor who played
pantaloon, and who, being in easy circumstances, pre-
ferred enjoying himself in the fine season, and to eon-
fine his acting to winter. This man, whose name was
Ferramonti, had never quitted me during my stay at
Bologna. He had entered into an engagement with a
company of comedians at Rimini, in the service of the
Spanish camp, and he came to take his leave of me on
setting out.

" You are going to Rimini," said I, " and I am
going to Modena." "What are yon going to do at
Modena?" said he, "they are all in consternation
there ; the duke has left the place." " What, the
duke is not there V " He is engaged in a ruinous
war." " I know that ; but where is he ? " " He is at
Rimini, in the Spauish camp, where he will pass the
winter."

This threw me into great distress. " I have lost my
opportunity through my own fault : I have lost too
much time." " Conic along with me to Rimini," said
Ferramonti, "where you will find a tolerable com-
pany; they ought to know and esteem you. Come
with me. you shall do something for us, and we will do
everything for you."

222 MEMOIRS OF

The proposition did not displease me ; but I wished
to consult my wife. She was a Genoese ; we were on
the road to her relations ; but, poor child ! she was
goodness and complacency personified. Whatever her
husband proposed was approved of by her. Content
to see me tranquil and satisfied, she encouraged me to
follow my new project, and we set out three days after-
wards with the good old Venetian.

On arriving within sight of the ramparts of Rimini,
Ave were stopped at the first advanced post and escorted
to the main guard. There the comedian was set at
liberty on declaring who he was, and my wife and my-
self were sent to the court of Modena. I knew several
persons of all ranks attached to his highness ; ' I was
well received, and even caressed. A lodging was pro-
cured for me, and next day I was presented to that
prince, who received me with kindness, and asked me
the motive which induced me to visit Rimini. I was
not long in telling him the truth ; but I had no sooner
pronounced the words " ducal bank" and " arrears," than
his highness turned the conversation to the theatre, my
piece, and my success; and the audience terminated
two minutes afterwards. I saw that I had nothing to
hope for from this quarter ; I turned my views next
to the comedians, where my expectations were better
realized.

I was invited to dinner with the director, to whom
Ferramonti had spoken a great deal about me. All
the company were present ; the principal female char-
acter was an excellent actress, but very much ad-
vanced in years ; the second actress was a stupid and
badly educated beauty ; Coloinbina was a fresh and
attractive brunette ; she was the waiting-maid.

Everybody asked me for pieces; every one wished

CARLO GOLDOXI. 223

to be the principal subject. To whom was I to give
the preference }. The Count de Grosberg extricated me
fnan my embarrassment. This brave officer, brigadier-
general of the regiment of Walloon guards, in the
army of his Catholic Majesty, was strongly attached
to the theatre. He was a particular protector of har-
lequin. He requested me to labor for that character,
and I did so with the greatest pleasure, as the harle-
quin was good and the protector generous.

The theatre was closed 041 the termination of the
carnival. M. de Gages, who acted along with the
generalissimo as general commandant, kept up the
most exact order, and the most rigorous discipline
throughout the whole army. There was no gaming,
no balls, no suspicious characters. Rimini resembled
a convent. The Spaniards paid their court to the
ladies of the country in the Castilian manner ; and the
ladies were pleased to see the sons of Mars on their
bended knees before them. The societies were numer-
ously attended, but free from tumult, and gallantry
shone forth without scandal.

The German troops quartered in the Bologna ter-
ritories made some movements which alarmed the
Spaniards. In three days the army decamped, and I
remained at Rimini in a state of greater embarrassment
than ever. I was a subject of the Duke of Modena ;
and I was Genoese consul at Venice ; and these two
nations in that war took the side of the Bourbons. I
had every reason to fear being considered by the Aus-
trians as a suspicious character. I communicated my
fears to persons belonging to the country with whom I
was acquainted. Everybody considered them well
founded ; but then how was I t<> act ? Neither horses
nor carriages were to be had. The army had carried
off everything.

224 MEMOIRS OF

I found some foreign merchants in the same predic-
ament with myself. I entered into an arrangement
with them; we agreed to go by sea, and hired a bark
for Pesaro. The weather was favorable, but there
had been a storm the night before, and the sea was
still in agitation. Our women suffered very much ; my
wife spit blood. We anchored in Catholica Roads, the
half of our projected voyage ; and finished our jour-
ney by land in a peasant's cart We left our effects in
charge of some of our domestics, who were to join us
at Pesaro, and we arrived in that town fatigued and
exhausted, without acquaintances and without lodgings,
and yet these were the least of the evils in store for
us. All was in confusion in Pesaro, which had more
people than could be contained in it. There was no
room in the inns, and no furnished lodgings to be had.

Count de Grosberg was at Fano ; all the officers of
my acquaintance were occupied, and the persons at-
tached to the Duke of Modena could only offer me their
table. A Modenese valet, in possession of a garret,
resigned his elegant apartment to me for money.
Next day I left my wife in her garret, and went to
the mouth of the Foglia to see if my goods were ar-
rived. I found my travelling companions there on
the same errand. They had passed the night still
more uncomfortably than myself. No barks from Ri-
mini : no news of our effects. I went back to the
town. Count de Grosberg had returned; he took
compassion on me, and allowed me to lodge with him-
self. At this I was not a little rejoiced; but two
hours afterwards I was plunged again in a terrible
consternation.

I met one of the merchants whom I had seen by
the seashore, and found him in great distress and

CARLO GOLDOXI. 225

tation. "Well, sir," said he, " no news yet?"

"Alas .'"said he, u all is lust: the Austrian hussars
have taken possession of Catholica ; our bark, our
effects and servants, arc in their hands. I have just
now received a letter from my correspondent at Ri-
mini, communicating the news." " 0 heavens ! what
shall we do .' " said I. '• I know not," he replied; and
abruptly quitted me.

I stood thunderstruck. The loss was irreparable
for me ; my wife and myself were very well equipped ;
we had three trunks, two portmanteaus, boxes, and
bandboxes ; and now we were left without a shirt.
Great evils require great remedies. I formed my pro-
ject instantly ; I thought it a good one, and proceeded
to communicate it to my protector. I found him ap-
prised of the invasion of Catholica, and acquainted
him with the loss of my effects. "I shall go and
endeavor to recover them," said I ; "I am not a
soldier, I am not attached to Spain; I require merely
a conveyance for myself and wife." Count de Gros-
berg admired my courage ; and to get rid of us per-
haps, he commenced with procuring for me the pass-
ports of the German commissary, who followed the
Spanish troops for that purpose, and who gave orders
to let me have a chaise. There was no post at that
time ; the drivers concealed themselves. One was
at length discovered, and they forced him to take me.
He was kept all night in M. de Grosberg's stables,
and I set out early next morning.

I have not spoken of my wife since this last acci-
dent, for the sake of not tiring my reader's patience,
but the situation of a woman who loses all at once —
her jewels, dress, and everything belonging to her,
may be easily imagined. However, she was of a

226 MEMOIRS OF

thoroughly good and reasonable temper, and readily ac-
companied me on my journey. The driver, a fair speak-
ing but crafty fellow, came fur us when he was ready,
and exhibited not the slightest mark of discontent ; and
we set out after takinir some breakfast, quite tranquil and
gay. The distance from Pesaro to Catholica was ten
miles : we had gone three of them, when we were
under the necessity of alighting. I ordered the driver
to stop : we got down, and the rascal turned the
horses immediately, set off at a gallop for Pesaro, and
left us in the middle of the highway without either
resource, or the slightest hope of finding any. Not a
living soul was to be seen. Not a peasant in the fields,
not a single inhabitant in any of the houses : every-
l« >dy dreaded the approach of the two armies ; my
wife wept. I raised my eyes towards heaven, and felt
myself inspired. " Courage," said I, " my dear friend ;
we are but six miles from Catholica; we are young
enough and strong enough to walk that distance ; we
must not return. — we must have nothing to reproach
ourselves with.'' She complied with the best grace in
the world, and we continued our journey on foot.

After an hour's walk we came to a rivulet too
broad to be leaped and too deep to be forded by my
wife. There was a small wooden bridge for the con-
venience of foot-passengers, but the planks were all
broken. This did not disconcert me: I stooped
down, my wife put her arms round my neck, I rose
smilinçf. crossed over the stream with inexpressible joy,
and said to myself, " Omnia bona mea mecum porto "
(I carry all my property upon me). My feet and legs
were wet, but it did not signify. We continued our
journey, and after some time came to another stream
like that we had passed. The depth was similar, and

CARLO GOLDOXI. 227

the bridge was equally ruinons. This was no ob-
stacle ; we passed it as we did die former, and with
the same gayety. Rut it was a very different matter
when, close upon Catholica, we came to a torrent of
considerable breadth, which rushed along with great
fury. We sat down at the foot of a tree, till Provi-
dence should afford us the means of crossing it with-
out danger.

Neither carriages, horses, nor carts were to be seen ;
then- was no inn in the neighborhood; we were fa-
tigued, we had passed this day without eating any-
thing, and we were therefore in want of some refresh-
ment. I rose for the purpose of looking about me.
"This torrent," said I, u must necessarily enter the
sea. If we descend its banks, we shall at last come
to the mouth of it." We proceeded accordingly down
the stream, instigated by distress and supported by
hope: and we began to discover sails, which were an
indication of the proximity of the sea. This infused
courage into us, and we quickened our pace. As we
proceeded, we observed the torrent become less and
less agitated, and our joy was not to be contained
when at length our eyes were blessed with the sight
of a boat. It belonged to some fishermen, from
whom we met with a very kind reception. They
carried us over to the opposite bank, ami returned us
a thousand thanks for a paoli which I gave them. A
geeond consolatory circumstance was neither less agree-
able nor less necessary to us. A branch of a tree
attached to a cottage announced a place of refresh-
ment : we procured milk and new-laid (fiZ^, with
which we were highly satisfied.

The repose and Slight nourishment which we had
taken enabled us to proceed on our journey. We

228 MEMOIRS OF

were guided by a lad of the inn to the first advanced
posts of the Austrian hussars. I presented my pass-
port to the sergeant, who detached two soldiers to
escort us, and Ave arrived through fields of trodden
grain, and vines and trees cut down in all directions,
to the quarters of the colonel commandant. This
officer received us at first as he would any two foot-
paesengers ; "but on reading the passport which one of
the soldiers gave him, he requested us to he seated.
Then looking at me with an air of goodness, he ex-
claimed: "What, are you M. Goldoni?" "Alas! I
am, sir." "The author of Belisarius and of the
Venetian Cortesan?" "The same." "And is this
lady Madame Goldoni?" "She is my only remain-
ing property." " I was told that you were on foot."
"It is hut too true, sir."

I then recounted to him the rascally trick which
the driver of Pesaro played us ; I described our sad
journey to him, and concluded with mentioning the
seizure of our property, assuring him that my resources
and my situation in life depended altogether on my
recovering them.

" Not so fast, if you please," said the commandant ;
"why do you follow the army ? Why are you connected
with the Spaniards ? "

As the truth had never yet injured me, hut had al-
ways, on the contrary, "been my support and my defence,
I gave him a short account of my adventures. I men-
tioned my Genoese consulate, my Modena annuities,
my views of indemnification ; and I told him that I
should he completely ruined if I were deprived of the
small remains of my wrecked fortune.

" Console yourself," said he in a friendly tone to me,
" you shall not lose it." My wife rose with tears of

CARLO GOLDONI. 229

joy in her eyes, and I in turn wished to express my
gratitude ; but the colonel would not listen to me. He
ordered my servant and all my property to be sent to
me, but on one condition, that I might take any road
but that of Pesaro. " No, certainly/' said I ; " your
kindness, the obligations which I have—" He would
not give me time to conclude ; he had business, he
embraced me, kissed my wife's hand, and went to
shut himself up in his closet. His valet-de-chambre
accompanied us to a very comfortable inn. I offered
him a sequin, which he very nobly refused, and left us.
An hour afterwards, my servant arrived in tears at
seeing himself free and us haj>py ; our trunk's had been
forced open, but I had the keys. A locksmith soon
put them to rights.

I hired next morning betimes a cart for my passage.
My wife and myself travelled post, and we went to join
our good friends at Rimini. On arriving at the first
advanced post, I was escorted to the main guard of
Rimini. The captain was at table. On learning that
a man who came post was in waiting, he gave orders
for our entrance. The first person whom I saw on
eutering was my friend and countryman M. Borsaii,
who was principal secretary of Prince Lobcowitz, field-
marshal and general commandant of the Imperial army.
M. Borsaii knew that I had passed the winter at
Rimini, and that I left it with the Spaniards. I im-
parted to him my motive for returning, the singular
particulars of my journey, and my intention of visiting
Genoa.

" No," said he ; " so long as we remain here, you
shall not go to Genoa." "What shall I do here?"
said I. " You shall amuse yourself." u That is the
best business, I know ; but still one must be doing

230 MEMOIRS OF

something.'' ''We shall find you something to do;
■\ve have a tolerable theatre here." " Who are the
principal actors .' " u Madame C a salin i is a very good
actress: Madame Bonaldi — " "The waiting-maid,
you mean?" •• Yes." "She is my friend. "Well, I
shall "be glad to see her again/' While M. Borsari
and myself were carrying on this conversation, my wife
did nut feel the greatest ease in the company of the
German officers, who did not prostrate themselves be-
fore the ladies like the Spaniards. She made me a
sign that the conversation was becoming wearisome to
her. We took our leave of the company, and Borsari
did not quit us. My servant was waiting for me at the
door, to inform me that my old lodgings were occupied.
Borsari promised that I should have them again, as he
c< >uld prevail on the officer, who was an acquaintance
of his, to relinquish them for others. In the mean time
he accommodated us in his own house, and gave us a
room beside his own, which we gladly accepted and
occupied for three days.

Next day my friend presented me to his master. The
prince had heard of me. He communicated the plan
of a fête to me, and intrusted me with the management
of it. The empress-queen, Maria Theresa, had just
then married the archduchess, her sister, to Prince
Charles of Lorraine. Marshal Lohcowitz was desirous
of displaying rejoicings at Rimini for this august mar-
riage ; he enjoined me to write a cantata : and he left
the choice of the composer, and the number and quality
of the voices, to Borsari and myself. He left us mas-
ters of everything, and all that he recommended was
order and promptitude. There was a music-master at
Rimini named Ciccio Maggiore, by no means of the
first rank of composers, but who might well pass in

CARLO GOLDOXI. 231

time of war. "We made choice of him for the music,
and ordered two male and two female singers from
Bologna. I composed words to some old music of our
composer, and in a month's time our cantata was exe-
cuted in the theatre of the town, to the satisfaction of
the person who proposed it, and of the foreign officers
and nobility of the place. The composer and myself
Merc very liberally recompensed by the German general ;
hut the Neapolitan, who was by no means a fool, sug-
gested beforehand a means which he had perhaps more
than once put in practice for the augmentation of our
profits. We hound up a considerable number of copies
of our printed cantata : and we went round in a hand-
some coach to present copies to all the officers of the
staff of the different regiments in the town and envi-
rons. We received as the fruits of this proceeding a
purse very decently filled with Venetian sequins, Span-
ish pistoles, and Portuguese pieces, which we divided
equally between us.

In the mean time I received a letter from Genoa, ac-
quainting me that a Venetian merchant, without any
intention of injuring me, solicited my office of consul,
in case I was unwilling to retain it, and offered to do
the duty without any emolument, for the sake of the
title, which, in his situation, was of much greater ad-
vantage to him than it could be to me. The Genoese
senate did not deprive me of the office, but they placed
me in the predicament of either withdrawing, or serving
gratuitously. I adopted the first resolution ; I resigned
the office and never thought of it afterwards.

Besides, I had suffered so much that I was glad to
have an opportunity of enjoying some tranquillity fora
little time. I had money, I had nothiug to do, and I
was happy.

232 MEMOIRS OF

Rimini presented quite a different appearance from
that which it exhibited during; the possession of it by
the Spaniards. There were amusements of every de-
scription : halls, concerts, public games, brilliant socie-
ties. Every description of character, every situation
in life, might find entertainment of some kind or other.
I was fond of my wife, I shared my pleasures with her,
and she followed me everywhere.

The journey to Genoa was now useless ; I was free,
and the master of my inclinations; I possessed a suffi-
ciency of money, and I was induced to carry into
execution a project which I had long entertained.

I wished to visit Tuscany; to go over it and reside
there for some time. I required to get familiarized
with the Florentines and Sienese, who are the living
texts of the pure Italian language. I imparted this
wish to my wife ; I pointed out to her that this jour-
ney brought us nearer to Genoa ; she appeared satis-
fied, and we determined on setting out for Florence.

My wife and myself took post to Castrecarro ; from
thence we crossed the Alps of St. Benedict on horse-
back, and we arrived at length in that fine territory to
which we owe the revival of letters. I will not enlarge
on the beauty and attractions of the city of Florence ;
all writers and travellers do justice to it. Elegant
streets, magnificent palaces, delightful gardens, superb
walks, numerous societies, literature generally culti-
vated, multitudes of curiosities, the arts patronized,
talents held in estimation, a flourishing agriculture, a
rich soil, an important commerce, a rich river run-
ning through the town, a considerable seaport in its
dependencies, handsome men and beautiful women,
gayety, wit. strangers from all nations, amusements of
every description, — it is a charming country.

CARLO GOLDONI. 233

I passed four most delightful months in this city,
where I formed several very interesting acquaintances:
that of the Senator Ruseellai. Auditor of the Jurisdic-
tion ; Doctor Cocchi, a systematic physician and an
agreeable philosopher; the Abbe Grorri, an enlight-
ened antiquary, well versed in the Etruscan language;
the Abbe Lami, author of a literary journal, the best
work of the kind ever seen in Italy.

It was my intention to pass the summer in Florence
and the autumn in Siena; but the desire which I en-
tertained of seeing and hearing the Chevalier Perfetti
determined me to set out in the beginning of the month
of August. >*

Perfetti was one of those poets, only to he met with
in Italy, who compose and deliver verses extempore ;
hut he was so superior to every other person, and
added such science and elegauce to the facility of his
versification, that he gained the honor of being crowned
in the eapitol of Rome; an honor which had never
been conferred on any since the days of Petrarch.

This celebrated man was very aged; he was seldom
to be seen in company, and still less in public. I was
told that he was to make his appearance on Assump-
tion Day at the Academy of the Intronati of Siena.
I set out instantly with my faithful mate; and we
were admitted as strangers to a place in the Academy.
Perfetti was seated in a sort of pulpit ; one of the accad-
emicians addressed him ; and as he could not wander
from the subject of the festival for which the academy
was met, he proposed for argument the rejoicings of
the angels on the approach of the immaculate body of
the Virgin.

The poet sang for a quarter of an hour strophes in
the manner of Pindar, and nothing could be more

234 MEMOIRS OF

surprising ; he was by turns a Petrarch, a Milton, and
a Rousseau ; he was Pindar himself. I was glad that
I had heard him, and I paid him a visit next day. My
acquaintance with him procured me a number of others.
The society of Sienna was delightful. There was not
a gaming party which was not preceded by a literary
conversation ; every one read their own compositions,
or those of others, and the ladies participated in this
as well as the men.

XVII.

I intended to stay only a few days at Pisa, and I
remained three years there. I settled in the place with-
out wishing it, and entered into engagements without
considering what I was about. My comic genius was
not extinguished, but suppressed. Thalia, piqued at
my desertion, despatched emissaries from time to time
to bring me again to her standards. I yielded at length
to the gentle violence of an agreeable seduction, and I
quitted a second time the temple of Themis for that
of Apollo.

I shall use my utmost endeavors to comprise in a
few words the transactions of a period of three years
which alone would require a volume.

I amused myself in examining the remarkable curi-
osities of Pisa the first day after my arrival : the ca-
thedral, which is rich in statues and paintings ; the
singular steeple, which outwardly seems to incline very
much to one side, and which appears straight in the
inside ; the churchyard, surrounded with a superb
portico, and containing earth impregnated with alkali
or calcareous salts, which reduces dead bodies to ashes
in twenty-four hours. But I began to be wearied, for
I knew nobody.

CARLO GOLDOXI. 235

Walking one day near the castle, I observed a num-
ber of coaches round a gateway, and people entering.
On looking in, I saw a vast court with a garden at the
end of it, and a number of persons seated under a sort
of arbor.

I approached nearer; I observed a man in livery,
who had the air and manners of a man of importance.
I asked to whom the place belonged, and why such a
number of people were then assembled.

This very polite and intelligent valet was not long in
satisfying my curiosity. " The assembly which you
sec," said he, " is a colony of the Arcadi of Rome,
called la Colonia Alfea, the JColony of Alpheus, a very
celebrated river in Greece, which flowed through the
ancient Pisa in Ellis."

I inquired whether I could be present at the meet-
ing. u By all means," said the porter; who accom-
panied me himself to the entrance of the garden, and
then presented me to one of the valets of the academy,
by whom I was seated in the circle. I listened atten-
tively, and heard productions of every description. I
applauded the bad as well as the good.

Everybody looked at me, and seemed curious to
know who I was; I was seized with a desire to satisfy
them. The man who procured me the place was not
far from my chair. I called him, and desired him to
ask the person who presided in the assembly whether
a stranger might be permitted to express in verse the
satisfaction which he had experienced. The presi-
dent announced my demand to the assembly, who
readily gave their consent.

I had a sonnet in my head, composed by me in my
youth, under similar circumstances; I hastily changed
a few words to adapt it to the occasion. I delivered

236 MEMOIRS OF

my fourteen verses with the tone and inflection of
voice which set off sentiment and rhyming to the great-
est advantage. The sonnet had all the appearance of
being extemporaneous, and was very much applauded.
I know not whether the sitting was to have been
longer protracted, but all the assembly rose and flocked
round me.

Here was a circle of acquaintances formed at once ; a
number of societies to choose from. That of M. Fabri
was the most useful and agreeable for me. He was
chancellor of the Jurisdiction of the Order of St. Ste-
phen, and he presided over the Assembly of the Arcadi,
under the pastoral title of Guardian.

I saw all the Arcadian shepherds who were that day
assembled in succession : I dined with some and supped
with others. The Pisans are very hind and obliging
to straugers, and they conceived a great friendship and
consideration for me. I announced myself as a Vene-
tian advocate : I told them part of my adventures ;
they saw that I was a man without employment, but
capable of it : they proposed to me to resume the gown
which I had quitted, and they promised me clients and
books. Any foreign licentiate nay practise at the bar
of Pisa : and I undertook boldly to plead as a civil and
criminal advocate.

The Pisans were every way as good as their word,
and I was fortunate enough to satisfy them. I labored
night and day : I had more causes than I could under-
take : I found out the secret of diminishing the burden
to the satisfaction of my clients : I demonstrated to
them the folly of litigation, and endeavored to bring
about a reconciliation with adverse parties. They
paid me for my consultations, and Ave were all of us
satisfied.

CARLO GOLDOXI. 237

Whilst my affairs were ir«»inir on prosperously, and
my el >set was in such a flourishing state as to inspire
my brethren with jealousy, the devil, I believe, sent a
company of comedians to Pisa. I could not abstain
from seeing them, and I was seized with a strong de-
sire to give them something of mine. They were too
indifferent actors for me to think of confiding a comedy
of character to them; but I abandoned to them my
outline of a comedy called " The Hundred and Four
Accidents in one Night" ', and it was on this occasion
I experienced the disagreeable circumstances men-
tioned in a former part of these memoirs. Mortified at
the failure of my piece, £ resolved nevermore to go
near the comedians, or to think of comedy. I redoub-
led my legal assiduity, and I gained three lawsuits
the same month. I also derived infinite honor from a
criminal defence. A young man of family had robbed
his neighbor. A door had been forced, and the young
man was on the point of being condemned to the gal-
leys. The family was respectable, he was an only
son, his sisters were unmarried, all these circumstances
stimulated me to endeavor to save him. After satisfy-
ing the party complaining, I caused the lock of his
apartments to be changed, so that the key of the other
party could open it. The young man had taken one
floor for another, he had opened the door by mistake ;
and, seeing the money spread out, the opportunity had
tempted him.

I began my memorial with the seventh verse of the
Twenty-fifth Psalm : " Delicta juventutis me* et igno-
rantias meas ne memineris, Domine" (Remember not
the sins of my youth, nor my transgressions, 0 Lord).
I strengthened my pleading with classical quotations,
decisions of the Roman law and of the Criminal Cham-

238 MEMOIRS OF

ber of Florence, called II Magistral» degli Otto (the
Tribunal of Eight). I employed both reasoning and
pathos ; he was not a criminal inured to crimes, who
endeavored to palliate his guilt, but a rash and incon-
siderate young man, who owned his fault, and only
asked forgiveness for the sake of the honor of a re-
spectable father and two interesting young women of
quality who were fit for marriage. My youthful robber
was at length condemned to remain in prison for three
months ; the family were very well satisfied with me,
and the criminal judge was pleased to compliment me
on the occasion. This attached me more and more to
a profession which was at once productive of both
honor and pleasure, and a very reasonable profit.

In the midst of my labors and occupations, I received
a letter from Venice, which threw all my blood and
spirits into commotion. It was a letter from Sacchi.
This comedian had returned to Italy ; he knew I was
at Pisa : lie asked me for a comedy ; he even sent me
the subject of one, which he left me at freedom to work
on as I pleased. What a temptation for me ! Sacchi
was an excellent actor ; comedy had been my passion ;
I felt my old taste, my old fire and enthusiasm, reviving
within me. The subject proposed was " The Servant
of Two Masters " : and I easily saw what might be made
< f it with such an actor as Sacchi. I was therefore de-
voured with a desire of trying my hand again — I
knew not what to do --lawsuits and clients crowded
on me — but my poor Sacchi — but " The Servant with
Two Masters " — Well, for this time — but I cannot —
yes. I can. At length I wrote in answer that I would
undertake it.

I labored by day for the bar, and by night at my
play : I finished the piece, and sent it to Venice. No-

CAELO GOLDOXI. 239

body know the circumstance ; my wife only was in the

secret, and she Buffered as much as myself. While I
w irked at my piece, my doors were closed at nightfall,
and I did not pass my evenings in the coffee-house of

the Arcadi. The first time I made my appearance
there, I was reproached for my neglect, and I excused
myself on account of my increase of business. These
gentlemen were very glad to see me employed; hut
still they were unwilling that I should forget the de-
lightful amusement of poetry.

M. Fabri arrived, and was delighted to see me. He
drew a large packet from his pocket, and presented me
with two diplomas which he had procured for me ; the
one was my charter of aggregation to the Arcadi of
Rome, under the name of Polisseno; the other gave
me the investiture of the Fegean fields. I was on this
saluted by the whole assembly in chorus under the
name of Polisseno Fegeio, and embraeed by them as a
fellow-shepherd and brother. The Arcadians are very
rich, as you may perceive, my dear reader ; we possess
estates in Greece : we water them with our labors for
the sake of reaping branches of laurels ; and the Turks
sow them with grain and plant them with vines, and
laugh at both our titles and our songs.

Notwithstanding my occupations, I still composed
sonnets, odes, and other pieces of lyrical poetry from
time to time for the sittings of our academy. But
however much the Pisans might be satisfied with me,
I was not satisfied myself. I must do myself justice, I
have never been a good poet. In point of invention
perhaps I have not been defective, and the theatre is a
proof of it : for my genius took that turn.

Some time afterwards Sacchi communicated to me
the success of my piece. ft The Servant of Two Mas-

240 MEMOIRS OF

ters" was applauded and drew immense crowds, and
he sent me a present which I did not expect ; but he
demanded another piece still, the subject of which he
left entirely to me. He wished, however, as my last
comedy had a comic foundation, that this should have
an interesting fable for basis, susceptible of sentiment
and all the pathos compatible with a comedy. This
was the language of a man ; I kuew him well ; I was
very desirous of satisfying him, and his mode of acting
engaged me still more to him ; but then my closet —
this kept my mind on the rack again. At my last
piece I had said only this once. I had three days to
answer him in. During these three days, walking;
dining, or sleeping, I thought of nothing but Sacchi ;
aud I was obliged to get this object out of my head to
be good for anything else.

I composed on this occasion the piece known in
France as well as Italy under the title of " Harlequin's
Child Lost and Found." The success of this trifle was
astonishing ; it was the means of bringing me to Paris,
and was therefore a fortunate piece for me ; but it shall
never see the light as long as I live, nor even have a
place in my Italian theatre. I composed it at a time
when my mind was agitated. It contained interesting
situations ; but I had not sufficient time to prepare
them with that precision by which good works are
characterized. There were diamonds perhaps in it,
but then they were set in copper; some of the scenes
appeared evidently the work of an author, but the piece
as a whole seemed the production of a scholar. I own
that the winding up of the plot might pass for a model
if the comedy taken altogether were not disfigured by
essential faults. Its principal defect is the want of
probability throughout. I have always judged it with-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 241

»

out prepossession, and I have never allowed myself to
be seduced by the applause lavished on it.

When my piece was finished. I read it attentively
over, and perceived all the beauties which might render

it agreeable, and all the defects with which it abounded.
I sent it, however, to its place of destination. Italy
had just begun to relish the first attempts at the re-
form projected by me. There still were numbers of
partisans of the old comedy, and I was certain that
mine, which did not wander much from the ordinary
and beaten track, would afford pleasure aud even sur-
prise from the mixture of comic and pathetic scenes
which I had artfully introduced. I afterwards learnt
the brilliaut success which it met with, aud I was not
astonished ; but what was my surprise, on arriving in
France, to find that this piece drew crowds, and was
applauded and even extolled to the skies in the Italian
theatre of Paris. It must be owned that we enter
theatres with very different ideas and prejudices ; and
the Frenchmen applaud in the Italian theatre what
they would condemn in that of their own nation.

After sending the Son of Harlequin to M. Sacchi,
who was to father it, I resumed my daily occupations.
I had several causes to despatch, and I began with that
which appeared to me most interesting. The client
whose cause I was engaged in was only a peasant ;
but the peasants of Tuscany are in easy circumstances,
always at law, and pay well. They have almost all
of them leases of their possessions to themselves, their
children, and grandchildren. They give a suitable sum
on entering into possession, and pay an annual quit-
rent. They consider these possessions as their own
property, they are attached to them, they improve them
carefully, aud at the end of the lease the proprietor

242 MEMOIRS OF

derives the advantage. My client had to do with the
pri«»r of a convent, who wished the lease annulled on
the ground that monks are always minors, and that the
land might be let to greater advantage. I discovered
the hidden spring of all this. It was a young widow,
who. under the protection of the reverend father, wished
to dispossess the countryman. I composed a memorial,
which interested the nation, and in which I proved the
importance of preserving leases for lives from infringe-
ment. 1 gained my cause, and derived infinite honor
from my pleading. I was obliged some days afterwards
to go to Florence to solicit an order from the govern-
ment for shutting up a lady in a convent till the termi-
nation of the cause then commenced. She was of age
and a rich heiress, and had signed a contract of mar-
riage with a Florentine gentleman who held a com-
mission in the Tuscan army, and she was desirous of
marrying a young man more to her likintr. While my
client and myself were in the capital, the young lady
contrived to manage matters with her new favorite in
such a way as to elude our proceedings. The lawsuit
assumed another appearance, and threatened to become
serious. We listened to propositions, the lady was
rich, and the affair was amicably arranged.

On returning from Florence. I was obliged to go to
Lucca in another suit. I was glad to have an oppor-
tunity of seeing that republic, which is neither extensive
nor powerful, but which is rich, agreeable, and very
wisely governed. I took my wife along with me, and
we passed six days there in the most agreeable manner
in the world. It was the beginning of May. The day
of the Invention of the Holy Cross is the principal fes-
tival of this town. In the cathedral there is an image
of our Saviour, called II Volto Santo, which is exposed

CARLO GOLDONL 24^>

that day with the most brilliant pomp, and such a num-
ber of voices and musical instruments as I have never
seen equalled either at Venice or Borne. A devout na-
tive of Lucca bequeathed a sum of money for receiving
in the cathedral on that day every musician who comes
forward, and to pay them not according to their talents,
hut the distance from which they come, and the recom-
pense is fixed at so much per League or mile.

When my business was over, and my curiosity grat-
ified, I quitted with regret that charming country,
which, under the protection of the emperor, pro tem-
pore, enjoys the most tranquil liberty, and pos»
the most salutary and exact police. I was glad to see
and show to my wife another very interesting part
of Tuscany. We proceeded through the territories of
Pescia, Pistoia, and Prato. It is impossible to see hills
with a better exposure, estates better cultivated, or
more luxuriant and delightful fields. If Italy be the
garden of Europe, Tuscany is the garden of Italy.

A few days after my return to Pisa, my wife's eldest
brother arrived at Genoa ; he was sent by his parents
to claim performance of my engagement to visit them.
I had been twice absent on business, and I could not
suffer myself to be absent a third time merely on pleas-
ure. My wife said nothing, but I knew the desire which
she had to see her family, and I foresaw the chagrin of
my brother-in-law, if he had been obliged to return
home alone. I arranged matters to the satisfaction of
all three; my wife accompanied her brother to Genoa,
and I remained by myself peaceably occupied with the
business of my closet. I had causes in every tribunal,
clients in every rank of life, the first-rate nobility, the
richest citizens, merchants of the highest credit, parish
priests, monks, rich farmers, and even one of my breth-

244 MEMOIRS OF

ren, who, being implicated in a criminal action, made
choice of me for his defender. Tims the whole town was
on my side : at least anybody would have supposed so,
as I myself most certainly did believe it ; but I soon
perceived that I was grossly mistaken. Through friend-
ship and consideration I had become naturalized in the
hearts of individuals : but I was still a stranger when
these same individuals met in a body. At this time an
old advocate of Pisa departed this life, who, according
to the custom of the country, was nominated the de-
fender of several religious bodies, of corporations and
different houses in the town, all which brought in to
him, in corn, oil, and money, a very respectable sum,
which defrayed the expenses of housekeeping. At his
death, I asked for all these vacant places, that I might
obtain some of them ; but they were all given to Pisans,
and the Venetian was excluded. I was told by way of
consolation, that I had only been two years and a half
at Pisa ; that my adversaries had, for four years at least,
been taking steps for succeeding the deceased ; that en-
gagements had been entered into on the subject ; and
that the very first opportunity I should be satisfied.
All this might be very true; but it was singular that,
out of twenty places, I could not procure oue. This
event threw me into ill-humor, and indisposed me to
such a degree that I no longer looked on my employ-
ment in any other light than as a casual and precarious
mode of subsistence.

One day, as I was busied in reflections of this nature,
a stranger, desirous of speaking to me, was announced.
I observed a man nearly six feet high and broad in pro-
portion, crossing the hall, with a cane in his hand, and
a round hat, in the English fashion. He entered with
measured step into my closet. I rose. He made a

CARLO GOLDOXI. 245

picturesque gesticulation by way of preventing me from
putting myself under any constraint. He advanced,
and I requested him to be seated. Our conversation
began in this way : —

" Sir," said he, "I have not the honor of being"known
to you; but you must be acquainted with my father and
uncle at Venice. I am your humble servant, Darbes."
" What ! M. Darbes, the son of the director of the post
of Friuli; the boy who was supposed lost, who was so
much sought after, and so much regretted?" "Yes,
sir, that same prodigal, who has never yet prostrated
himself before his father." " Why do you defer
affording him that consolation?" "My family, my
relations, my country, shall never see me, till I return
crowned with laurels." "What is your profession,
sir ? "

He rose, and struck his round belly with his hand,
and in a tone which was a compound of haughtiness
and drollery, said to me, " Sir, I am an actor." " Every
description of talent is estimable," said I, " if he who
possesses it has attained distinction." " I am," he re-
plied, "the pantaloon of the company now at Leghorn;
I am not the least distinguished of the company, and
the public is pleased to flock to the pieces where I make
my appearance. Medebac, our manager, travelled a
hundred leagues in quest of me; I bring no dishonor
on my relations, my country, or my profession; and
without boasting, sir [striking his belly again as be-
fore], Garelli is dead, and Darbes has supplied his
place."

I wished to compliment him, but he threw himself
into a comic posture, which set me a laughing and
prevented me from continuing. "It is not through
vanity," he resumed, " that I make a boast of my ad-

246 MEMOIRS OF

vantages at present to you ; I am an actor, and I am
speaking to an author whose assistance I want."
"You want my assistance?" "Yes, sir, I come to
ask a comedy from you ; I have promised my com-
panions to obtain a comedy from Goldoni, and I am
desirous of keeping my word."

" You wish one?" said I, smiling. " YTes, sir, I
know you by reputation; you are as kind as you are
able, and I know you will not refuse me." " I am
occupied with business, and cannot gratify you." " I
respect your occupations: you will compose the piece
at your leisure, when you frel inclined."

He laid hold of my box while we were talking, took
snuff from it, slipped into it several golden ducats, shut
it again, and threw it down on the table with one of
those gesticulations which indicate a wish to conceal
what one would be very glad to have discovered. I
opened my box and refused to accept the money.
" Do not be displeased, I earnestly beg of you," said
he ; " this is merely to account of the paper." I wished
to return the money ; this gave rise to various postures
and bows ; he rose, withdrew, gained the door and dis-
appeared.

What was to be done in such a case ? I adopted,
I think, the best resolution the affair admitted of. I
wrote to Darbes that he might rely on the piece which
he had demanded from me ; and I requested to be in-
formed whether he wished it for a pantaloon in a mask,
or without one. Darbes soon answered me ; he could
not throw any gesticulations or contortions into his
letter, but it was singular in its way. " I am to have
then," said he, '• a comedy from Goldoni. It will be
the lance and buckler, with which I shall challenge all
the theatres of the world — How fortunate I am !

CARLO GOLDONL 247

I betted a hundred ducats with our manager, that I
should obtain a piece from Goldoni ; if I gain the bet,
the manager must pay, and the piece is mine. I am
young, and not yet sufficiently known; but I will
challenge Rubini, the pantaloon of St. Luke, and Cor-
rini, the pantaloon of St. Samuel in Venice ; I will
attack Ferramonti at Bologna, Pasini at Milan, Bel-
lotti, known by the name of Tiziani, in Tuscany, and
even Golinetti in his retreat, and Garelli in his grave. "

He concluded by telling me that he wished his
character to be that of a young man without a mask,
and he pointed out as a model an old comedy of art,
called "Pantalon Paroncin."

This word paroncin, both in the literal translation
and the character, corresponds exactly with the French
word petàt-maîùre ; for parou, in the Venetian dialect,
is the same aspatrone in Tuscan, and maître in French ;
and paroncin is the diminutive of paron, as petit- maître
is the diminutive of maître.

lu my time the Venetian paroncini played the same
part at Venice as the petit-maîtres at Paris ; but every-
thing changes.

There are now none in France, and perhaps they
exist no more in Italy.

I composed a piece for Darbes under the title of
" Tonin Bella Grazia," which may be translated, " The
Elegant Antonio."

I finished my work in three weeks, and carried it
myself to Leghorn , a town with which I was well ac-
quainted, being but four leagues from Pisa, and where
I had friends, clients, and correspondents. Darbes, to
whom I sent notice of my arrival, called upon me at
the inn where I lodged ; I read over my piece to him ;
he appeared very well satisfied with it, and with many

248 MEMOIRS OF

ceremonies, bows, and broken words, be very gallantly
gave me tbe bet which he had gained, and, to avoid
my thanking him, ran out instantly, under the pretext
of communicating the piece to the manager.

XVIII.

After my conversation with Darbes, I looked at
my watch. It was two o'clock. I could not, at such
a late hour, break in on any of my friends, and I gave
orders to have something brought me from the kitchen
of my inn. As they were covering the table. M. Me-
debac was announced. On entering, he overpowered
me with politeness, and invited me to dine with him.
The soups were already on my table, and I thanked
him. Darbes, who accompanied the manager, took-
my hat and cane, and presented them to me. Medebac
insisted on his part ; Darbes laid hold of my left arm
and the other by the right : they locked me between
them, dragged me along, and I was forced to accom-
pany them.

On entering the manager's, Madame Medebac came
to receive us at the door of her antechamber. This
actress, as estimable on account of her propriety of
conduct as her talents, was young and handsome. She
received me in the most respectful and gracious manner.
We sat down to a very respectable family dinner,
which was served up with the utmost order and neat-
ness. They had advertised for that day a comedy of
art ; but, by way of compliment to me, they changed
the bills, and gave out " Griselda" ; adding, " A tragedy
by M. Goldoni." Although this piece was not alto-
gether mine, my self-love was flattered, and I went to
see it in the box destine i for me.

CARLO GOLDOXI. 249

I was extremely well pleased with Madame Mede-
bac, who played the part of Griselda. Her natural
gentleness, her pathetic voice, her intelligence, her
action, rendered her altogether an interesting object in
my eyes, and raised her as an actress above all whom
I had ever known. I complimented Madame Medebac
and her husband. This man, who was acquainted
with my works, and to whom I had confided the morti-
fications experienced by me at Pisa, made a very in-
teresting proposal to me a few days afterwards. I
must mention it to my reader ; for it was in conse-
quence of this proposal of Medebac that I renounced
the profession followed by me for three years, and that
I resumed my old occupation.

" If you are determined on quitting Tuscany," said
Medebac one day to me ; "if you mean to return to the
bosoms of your countrymen, your relations, and friends,
I have a project to propose to you, which will at least
prove to you the value which I set on your person and
talents. There are two play-houses at Venice," con-
tinued he; "I engage to direct a third, and to take a
lease of it for five or six years, if you will do me the
honor of laboring for me."

The proposition appeared to me flattering ; and it
required no great offer to turn the scale in favor of
comedy. I thanked the manager for the confidence
he reposed in me ; I accepted the proposition ; we
made an agreement, and the contract was instantly
drawn up. I did not sign it at that moment, for I
wished to communicate it to my wife, who had not
yet returned. I knew her docility, but I owed her
my esteem and friendship. When she arrived, she
approved of it, and I sent my signature to Leghorn.

My muse and pen were thus again at the disposal of

250 MEMOIRS OF

an individual. A French author will, perhaps, think
this a singular engagement. A man of letters, it will
be said, ought to be free, and to despise servitude and
constraint. If this author be in easy circumstances
like Voltaire, or cynical like Rousseau, I have nothing
to say to him ; but if he be one of those who have no
objection to share in the profits derived from the sale
of their works, I beseech him to have the goodness to
listen to my justification. The highest price of ad-
mission to the theatre in Italy does not exceed the sum
of a Roman paoli, ten French sous. All those, it is
true, who go to the boxes, pay the same sum in enter-
ing; but the boxes belong to the proprietor of the thea-
tre, and the receipts cannot be considerable ; so that the
author's share is hardly worth the looking after. Men
of talents in France have another resource ; gratifica-
tions from the court, pensions, and royal presents.
But there is nothing of this kind whatever in Italy ;
and hence the description of people the best qualified
perhaps for mental excellence remain sunk in lethargy
and idleness.

I have sometimes been tempted to look upon myself
as a phenomenon. I abandoned myself, without re-
flection, to the comic impulse by which I was stimu-
lated; I have, on three or four occasions, lost the
most favorable opportunities for improving my situa-
tion, and always relapsed into my old propensity ; but
the thought of this does not disturb me ; for though
in any other situation, I might perhaps have been in
easier circumstances, I should never have been so
happy. I was very pleased with my new situation,
and my agreement with Medebac. My pieces were to
be received without any power of rejection, and to be
paid for without waiting the result. One représenta-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 251

tion was the same to me as fifty ; and if I bestowed
more attention and zeal in the composition of my
works, to insure their success, I was stimulated solely
by the love of glory and honor.

I connected myself with Medebac in the mouth of
September, 1746, and I was to join him at Mantua in
the month of April in the following year. I had thus
six months' time to arrange my affairs at Pisa, to de-
spatch the causes in hand, to give up others which I
could not retain, to take leave of my judges and clients,
and to bid a poetical adieu to the Academy of the
Arcadi. I discharged every duty, and set out after
Easter. Before quitting Tuscany, I was anxious once
more to pay a visit to the city of Florence, the capital.
In taking leave of my acquaintances, it was proposed
to me to visit the Academy of the Apatisti. It was
not unknown to me ; but I wished to see that day
the sibillone, a sort of literary amusement which takes
place from time to time, and which I had never yet
seen. The sibillone, or great sibyl, is a child of only
ten or twelve years of age, who is placed on a tribune
in the middle of the assembly. Any one of the persons
repsent puts a question to the young sibyl ; the child
must pronounce some word on the occasion which
becomes the oracle of the prophetess, and the answer
to the proposed question. These answers of a boy,
without time for reflection, are in general destitute of
common-sense; but an academician beside the trib-
une rises up, and maintains that the sibillone has
returned a very proper answer, and undertakes to give
an immediate interpretation of the oracle.

That the reader may have some idea of the Italian
imagination and boldness, I shall give some account
of the question, the answer, and the interpretation, the
day when I was present.

252 MEMOIRS OF

A person who, like myself, was a stranger, asked the
sibyl to inform him why women weep with greater. ease
and more frequently than men. The only answer
which the sibyl returned was straw ; and the interpreter,
addressing the author of the question, maintained that
nothing could be more decisive or satisfactory than
the oracle. This learned academician, who was a tall
and lusty abbé of about forty, with a sonorous aud
agreeable voice, spoke for nearly three quarters of an
hour. He went into an analysis of different sleuder
plants, and proved that straw surpassed them all in
fragility ; he passed from straw to women ; and in a
mauner equally rapid and luminous, entered into an
anatomical view of the human body. He explained
the source of tears in the two sexes. He proved the
delicacy of fibres in the one, and the resistance in the
other. He concluded with a piece of flattery to the
ladies who were present, in assigning the prerogatives
of sensibility to weakness, and took care to avoid say-
ing anything of their having tears at command.

I own that this man surprised me. It was impossi-
ble to display more erudition and precision in a matter
which did not seem susceptible of it. These are tricks,
I am willing to admit, something in the taste of the
masterpiece of an unknown author (chef -cV œuvre d'un
inconnu) ; but it is not the less true that such talents
are rare and estimable, and that they only want en-
couragement to rise to a level with many others, and
carry those who possess them down to posterity.

On returning to my lodgings the same day, I found
a letter from Pisa, informing me that my trunks were
at the custom-house of Florence. I sent them off
next day for Bologna, and arrived at Mantua towards
the end of April.

CARLO GOLDONI. 253

Medebac, who impatiently expected me, received me
with joy, and procured me lodgings with Madame Bal-
Letti. She was an old actress, who, under the name
of Fravollctta, had excelled in the characters of wait-
ing-maids. She had left the Stage, and was in easy
circumstances, and, at the age of eighty-five, still pos-
sessed remains of beauty and an attractive wit. She
was mother-in-law to Miss Silvia, the delight of the
Italian theatre at Paris, and mother-in-law to M. Bal-
letti, who distinguished himself in Venice as a dancer,
and afterwards in France as an actor.

I passed a month at Mantua very uncomfortably,
and almost always confined to bed. The air of that
marshy country did not agree with me. I gave the
manager two new comedies composed by me for him.
He appeared satisfied with them, and allowed me to go
to Modena, where he was to pass the summer. I was
wise in leaving Mantua, for I felt relieved on reaching
the second station, and I arrived at Modena in perfect
health.

The war was now over. The Infante Don Philip
was in possession of the duchies of Parma, Piacenza,
and Guastalla. The Duke of Modena had returned to
his dominions ; the ducal bank proposed an arrange-
ment with the annuitants ; and I was glad to have an
opportunity of attending myself to my own interests.

Towards the end of July Medebac and his company
arrived at Modena, where I gave him a third piece ; but
I kept my novelties for Venice. I had there laid the
foundation of an Italian theatre, and it was there I in-
tended to labor in the construction of that new edifice.
I had no rivals to contend with, but I had prejudices
to overcome.

If my reader has had the complaisance to follow me

254

MEMOIRS OF

thus far, the matter which I have now to offer to his
attention will engage him perhaps to continue his
kindness towards me. My style will be always the
same, without elegance and without pretension, but
animated by zeal for my art, and inspired by a love of
truth.

PART THE SECOND.

I.

„ HAT a satisfaction for me to return at the end
RÇ of five years to my country, winch had always
Z2 been dear to me, mid which improved in my
eyes after every absence. After my last de-
parture from Venice, my mother took apartments for

herself and sister in the court of St. George,

the

neighborhood of St. Mark. The quarter was beautiful,
and the situation tolerable ; and I joined my dear
mother, who always caressed me, and never com-
plained of me. She questioned me respecting my
brother, and I made similar inquiries of her ; neither
of us kuew what had become of him. My mother be-
lieved him dead, and shed tears ; but I knew hiin
somewhat better, and was certain that he would one day
return to be a burden to me. In this I was not deceived.

Medebac had taken the theatre of St. Angelo, which
was not over large, was less fatiguing to the actors,
and contained a sufficient number of people to produce
adequate receipts. I have forgotten the piece which
was represented at the opening of the theatre. I
only know that the company, being strangers, had to
straggle with very able rivals, and had the greatest
difficulty in obtaining protectors and partisans.

Darbes, who acted the Venetian characters, had al-

256 'MEMOIRS OF

ways been well received and even applauded hitherto
in them : hut he had never yet played without a mash,
and the absence of this was precisely what was most
calculated t<> set him off to advantage. He durst nut
act in the characters composed by me for Golinetti in
the theatre of St. Samuel. In this respect I thought
him quite right ; for first impressions are not easily
effaced, and comparisons ought, as far as possible,
carefully to be avoided. Darbes could only therefore
appear in the Venetian piece which I had composed
for him. I was afraid that "The Elegant Antonio"
would not equal the " Cortesan Veneziano/' but we
could only make a trial.

We began to put it in rehearsal. The actors were
quite overcome with laughter, and I laughed heartily
myself. We thought the public would follow our ox-
ample ; but the public, which is said to have no opinion
of its own, was quite firm and decided against this
piece at its first representation, and I was obliged in-
stantly to withdraw it. In similar circumstancas I have
never been disgusted either with the spectators or
actors, but have always begun coolly to examine my-
self. I saw this time that I was clearly in the wrong.
This unfortunate comedy is in print. So much the
worse for me and for those who take the trouble of
reading it. I shall only observe, in atonement for
my fault, that when I wrote this comedy, I had been
four years out of practice ; my head was occupied
with my professional employment, I was uneasy in
mind and in bad humor, and, to add to my mis-
fortune, it was approved of by my actors. We were
sharers in the folly, and we were equal sharers in
the loss.

Poor Darbes was very much mortified, and it be-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 257

came necessary to console him. I instantly began a
now piece of the same sort, and in the mean time I
made him appear with his mask in a new comedy
which did him great honor and was eminently suc-
cessful. This was "The Prudent Man." a piece in
three acts, and in prose. This comedy had the great-
est success in Venice. The declamations with which
it abounded were nut in the taste of good comedy, "but
Darhes could not possibly have been more at his ease
in displaying the superiority of his talents in the differ-
ent shades which he had to express. Nothing more
was necessary to procure him the general character of
the most accomplished actor then on the stage. But
to establish his reputation still more, it was necessary
to exhibit him in a situation where he could shine with
his countenance unmasked. This was my project, and
the principal aim I had in view. While Darhes was
in the enjoyment of the applause he derived from his
Prudent Man, I lahored at a piece for him entitled
" The Venetian Twins."

I had had sufficient time and opportunities to exam-
ine into the different personal characters of my actors.
In Darhes I perceived two opposite and habitual move-
ments in his figure and his actions. At one time he
was the gayest, the most brilliant and lively man in
the world ; and at another he assumed the air, the man-
ners, and conversation of a simpleton and a blockhead.
These changes took place quite naturally, and without
reflection. This discovery suggested to me the idea
of making him appear under these different aspects in
the same play. The play was extolled to the very
skies. The incomparable acting of Darhes contributed
infinitely to its success. His glory and his joy were at
their height. The director was not less pleased to

258 MEMOIRS OF

witness the complete success of his undertaking, and I
had my share also in the general satisfaction in seeing
myself caressed and applauded a great deal more than
I deserved.

I had given three new pieces since my return to
Venice without having my tranquillity disturbed by
any criticism ; but during the Christmas holidays,
when those who had no employment were deprived of
the amusement of the theatres, several pamphlets
against the author and the players made their appear-
ance. It was the company of Medebac which was
principally aimed at. They called it the Company of
Rope-Dancers ; and these expressions were the more
malicious, as they had some sort of truth for their
foundation. Madame Medebac was the daughter of a
rope-dancer. The uncle who acted Brighella had been
clown ; and Darbes was married to the sister-in-law
of the principal of these tumblers. This family, how-
ever, though educated in a perilous and disreputable
situation, were most exemplary in their morals, and
were nowise defective in point of education. Medebac,
who was a good actor, and the friend and countryman
of these people, observing that several of them pos-
sessed talents for comedy, advised them to change
their situation. To this they agreed, and Medebac
took upon himself to form them. The new actors
made the most rapid progress under him, and in a short
time were enabled to make head against the oldest and
most respectable companies in Italy. Was it fair to
reproach this company, which had always behaved most
respectably, and now had attained great proficiency,
with their former profession ? This was pure malice,
and proceeded from the jealousy of their rivals. They
were dreaded by the other theatres of Venice, who,

CARLO GOLDOXI. 259

unable to ruin thorn, were mean enough to treat them
with contempt. When I first saw these co sm indaao
Leghorn, I was as much attached to them on account
of their talents as their conduct ; and I endeavored to
raise them, through their own care and my efforts, at
that degree of consideration which they every way
merited. But all these efforts of the enemies of Mede-
bac were vain. The comedians gained every day a
■firmer footing ; and the play which I am about to men-
tion completely established their credit and enabled
them to enjoy the most perfect tranquillity.

We opened the carnival of the year 1748 by the
" Vedova Scaltra" (The Goming Widow). Several
of my plays had been very fortunate, but none of them
equalled this. It had thirty successive representations ;
and was everywhere represented with the same suc-
cess. The commencement of my reformation could not
be more brilliant. I had another play still to give for
the carnival. It was of importance that the close of
it should not disappoint the expectations which the
success of the beginning of the year gave rise to. I
hit upon a work perfectly calculated to crown my
labors.

I had seen at the theatre of St. Luke a piece called
" Le Putte de Castello " ( The Girls of the Quarter of
Castello). This was a popular comedy, the princi-
pal subject of which was a Venetian girl without
talents, morals, or address. The work made its ap-
pearance before the theatres were placed under the con-
trol of a censor. Character, plot and dialogue, every-
thing was faulty, everything was dangerous. It was
a national comedy, however. It amused the public,
and served to draw crowds, who laughed at the misap-
plied jokes. I was so much pleased with the public,

260 MEMOIRS OF

who began to prefer comedy to farce, and decency to
scurrility, that, to prevent the mischief which this
piece was calculated to produce in minds yet undecided,
I gave one in the same style, but respectable and in-
structive, which I called, " La Putta Onorata " (The
Respectable Girl), and which was calculated to prove
an antidote to the poison of " The Girls of the Quar-
ter of Castello."

In some of the scenes of this comedy I painted the
Venetian gondoliers from nature in a very entertaining
manner to those who are acquainted with the language
and maimers of my country. I wished to be recon-
ciled to this class of domestics, who were deserving of
some attention, and who were discontented with me.
The gondoliers at Venice are allowed a place in the
theatre, when the pit is not full ; but as they could not
enter at my comedies, they were forced to wait for
their masters in the streets or in their gondolas. I
had heard them myself distinguish me with very droll
and comical epithets ; and having procured them a few
places in the corners of the house, they were quite de-
lighted to see themselves brought on the stage, and I
became their friend. The piece had all the success which
I could desire. It was impossible to conclude the sea-
son with greater brilliancy. My reform was now far ad-
vanced. What a happiness and pleasure for me ! While
I worked on the old plots of the Italian comedy, and only
gave pieces partly written and partly sketched, I was
allowed the peaceable enjoyment of the applause of the
pit : but when I announced myself for an author, an
inventor, and poet, the minds of men awoke from their
lethargy, and I was supposed worthy of their attention
and their criticisms. My countrymen, so long ac-
customed to trivial farces and gigantic representations,

CAELO GOLDOXI. 261

became all at once the most rigid censors of my pro-
ductions. The names of Aristotle, Horace, and Cas-
telvetro were re-echoed in every circle, and my works
became the subject of the conversation of the day. I
might he excused from mentioning, at this distance of
time, those verbal disputes, fleeting as the wind, which
were soon stifled by my successes ; but I am not dis-
pleased to have an opportunity of adverting to them
for the purpose of informing my readers of my mode
of thinking with respect to the rules of comedy, and
of the method I laid down in carrying them into exe-
cution. The unities requisite for the perfection of the-
atrical works have in all times been the subject of dis-
cussion among authors and amateurs. The censors of
my plays of character had nothing to reproach me
with in respect to the unity of action and of time; but
they maintained that in the unity of place I had been
deficient. The action of my comedies was always con-
fined to the same town; and tlîe characters never de-
parted from it. It is true, they went from one place to
another; but all these places were within the same
walls ; and I was then and am still of opinion, that in this
manner the unity of place was sufficiently observed.

In every art and every discovery experience has
always preceded precepts. In the course of time a
method has been assigned by writers to the practice of
the invention, but modern authors have always pos-
sessed the right of putting an interpretation on the
ancients. For my part, not finding, either in the poet-
ics of Aristotle or Horace, a clear and absolute precept
founded on reason for the rigorous unity of place, I
have always adhered to it when my subject seemed to
me susceptible of it ; but I could never induce myself
to sacrifice a good comedy for the sake of a prejudice

262 MEMOIRS OF

which might have rendered it bad. The Italians would
never have been so rigidly disposed towards me, es-
pecially in the case of my first productions, had they
not been provoked by the injudicious zeal of my par-
tisans. They extolled my pieces greatly beyond their
merit, and well-informed people only condemned their
fanaticism. The disputes grew more and more warm
on the subject of my last piece. My champions main-
tained that the " Putta Onorata n was a faultless comedy,
and the rigoriste maintained that the protagonist was
injudiciously chosen. 1 ask pardon of my readers for
here making use of a Greek word, which ought to be
known, but which is very little used. It is not to be
found in any dictionary that I know of; but it has been
frequently used by celebrated authors of my country.
The term "protagonist" is employed by Castelvetro,
Crescimbeui, Gravina, Quadrio, Muratori, Maffei, Me-
tastasio, and many others, to signify the principal sub-
ject of the piece. The utility of this Greek word, which
comprises the meaning of six words in one, is evident ;
and I request permission to avail myself of it for the
purpose of avoiding the monotony of a phrase which
in the course of my work might at length become
wearisome. It was said that the character of the Pro-
tagonist was ill-chosen, because it was selected from
the class of vicious or ridiculous characters. " The Re-
spectable Girl," on the other hand, was virtuous and
interesting from her morals, her mildness, and her posi-
tion, and I had failed, it was said, in the object of my
comedy, which is, to hold vice up to abhorrence, and
to correct failings. My censors were in the right ; but
I was not in the wrong.

My object was to begin by flattering the country for
which I was employed, and the subject was new, agree-

CARLO GOLDONI. 263

al>lp. and national. T proposed a model to my specta-
tors for their imitation. If we succeed iu inspiring a
love of probity, is it not better to endeavor to gain
hearts by the charms of virtue than by the horror of
vice ? In speaking of virtue, I do uot mean an heroical
virtue, affecting from its distresses, and pathetic from
its diction. Those works which in French are called
dramas have certainly their merit ; they are a species
of theatrical representation between tragedy and comedy,
and an additional subject of entertainment for feeling
hearts. The misfortunes of the heroes of tragedy in-
terest us at a distance, but those of our equals are cal-
culated to affect us more closely. Comedy, which is
an imitation of nature, ought not to reject virtuous and
pathetic sentiments, if the essential object be observed
of enlivening it with those comic and prominent traits
which constitute the very foundation of its existence.
Far be it from me to indulge the foolish presumption
of setting up f »r a preceptor. I merely wish to impart
to my readers the little I have learned, and have my-
self done; and in the most contemptible books we
always find something deserving of attention.

The Venetian language, which I used in the comedy
of the " Putta Onorata," and in several other plays, is
undoubtedly the mildest and most agreeable of all the
dialects of Italy; its pronunciation is clear, delicate.
and easy, its words abundant and expressive, and its
phrases harmonious and ingenious : and as the char-
acter of the Venetian nation is distinguished for gayety,
their language is in the same manner distinguished for
lightness and pleasantry.

This does uot prevent the language from being sus-
ceptible of treating in an elevated manner the most
grave and interesting subjects. The advocates plead

264 MEMOIRS OF

in Venetian, and the harangues of the senators are de-
livered in the same idiom; hut without derogating
from the majesty of the throne or the dignity of the
bar, our orators possess a happy faculty of associating
the most agreeable and interesting graces with the
most sublime eloquence.

II.

Of all my pieces the " Yedova Scaltra" was the most
fortunate : hut it also underwent the most severe and
dangerous criticisms. My adversaries, or those of my
comedians, made an attempt which would have ruined
all of us, if I had not been courageous enough to step
forward in defence of the common cause. At the
third representation of the second season of this piece,
the play-bills of St. Samuel announced a new comedy,
called " The School fox Widows." I was told that it
was a parody of my piece, hut it was no such thing, it
was my widow herself, with the same plot and the
same incidents. Nothing was changed but the dia-
logue, which was filled with insulting invectives
against me and my comediaus. One actor uttered a
few phrases of my original, another added silly stuff.
Some of the bon-mots and pleasantries of my piece
were repeated, and a cry was set up in chorus of " Stu-
pid ! stupid ! " This work cost no trouble to the author,
who had merely followed my plan, and whose style
was not superior to my own : applause, however, burst
forth from every quarter, and the sarcasms and satiri-
cal traits were received with laughter, cries of bravo,
and reiterated clapping of hands. I was in my box,
covered with my mask. I kept silence, and called the
public ungrateful; but I was in the wrong; for this

CARLO GOLDOXI. 265

inimical public was none of mine. Three fourths of
the spectators were composed of people who had an
interest in my ruin; for Medebac and myself had to
struggle against six other theatres in the same city.
Each of them had its several friends and adherents;
and those who were not interested were amused with
the scandal.

I instantly formed my resolution. I had resolved
to answer no criticisms ; but I might have been re-
proached with cowardice, had I not attempted to stop
the torrent which then threatened to overwhelm me.
I returned home, and gavç orders to my family to sup
and retire to bed, and leave me to myself. I imme-
diately shut myself up in my closet, and seized my
pen in dudgeon, which I did not quit till I imagined
myself avenged. I put my apology into action, and
composed a dialogue with three characters, under the
title of " Apologetic Prologue of the Cunning Widow."'
I did not dwell on the stupidity of the work of my
enemies. My first endeavor was to point out the dan-
gerous abuse of theatrical liberty, and the necessity
of a police to preserve decency in theatres. I had
remarked in this wicked parody certain expressions
which could not but shock the delicacy of the republic
with respect to strangers. The people of Venice, for
example, use the word " Panimbruo " by way of insult
to Protestants. It is a vague word, somewhat like that
of Huguenot in France ; and the g< >nd< ilier of my lord,
in " The School for Widows," thought proper to call
his master Panimbruo. The other strangers were not
treated with more ceremony ; and I was sure that my
observations could not fail to effect the object which I
had in view. After advocating the interest of civil
society, I defended my own cause, and set forth the in-

2(315 MEMOIRS OF

justice which I had experienced. I opposed reason to
satire, and answered insults by decent reflections. On
the completion of my work. I did not present it to gov-
ernment. I avoided everything like the conflict of
jurisdictions and protections. I therefore sent my
pamphlet to the press, and addressed my complaints
to the public. I could not conceal my project, which
was known and dreaded, and every means was re-
sorted to to prevent its execution.

Medebae had a protector in the first order of the
nobility and in the first officers of state, who ought to
have favored me ; but he was afraid lest my temerity
should occasion my own ruin and that of his protege.
He did me the honor to visit me. and advised me at
first to withdraw my Prologue, but when he saw that
I was determined, he informed me that I ran the risk
of displeasing the supreme tribunal to which the police
of the state is intrusted. I was. however, firm in my
resolution and not to be shaken by anything ; and I
told his excellency very frankly, that my work was in
the press : that my printer was known : and that the
government might seize my manuscript if it thought
proper ; but that if this was attempted, I should in-
stantly set out to have it printed in another country.
This nobleman was astonished at my firmness. He
knew me ; he was kind enough to rely on me ; he took
me by the hand witli an air of confidence, and left me
to prosecute my wishes. The day following, my
pamphlet made its appearance. Three thousand copies
were thrown off. and I gave orders for their distribution
gratis at all the coffee-houses, theatres, and other places
of assembly, and to my friends, protectors, and acquaint-
ance. " The School for Widows" was instantly sup-
pressed, and, two days afterwards, an order was issued

CARLO GOLDOXI. 267

by the government for the license of theatrical pro-
ductions. My •• Cunning Wid< w " was more applauded
and drew greater crowds than ever; our enemies were
humbled, and we redoubled our zeal and activity. If
my reader should be curious to know the author of
"The School for Widows," I cannot satisfy him. I
shall never name those whose intentions have been
directed to ruin me.

The termination of the carnival of 1749 was ap-
proaching. We went on admirably, and had the ad-
vantage over all the other theatres ; but, after the
battles which we had gained, something brilliant was
requisite to crown my year. The malice of my enemies
had given me too much occupation to allow me to
execute the project of a brilliant close, which I had
sketched. I found a comedy in my portfolio which by
no means satisfied me, and which I was therefore
unwilling to hazard. I should have wished the re-
mainder of the carnival filled up with old plays ; but
Medebac told me that, as we had only given two new
plays in the course of the year, and as the public which
seemed satisfied with the defence of " The Cunning
Widow " would not perhaps be equally disposed to
pardon us for our want of novelty, it would be abso-
lutely necessary to obviate this reproach by closing with
a new comedy. To these suggestions, winch were not
without foundation, I at once yielded. I gave ''The
Fortunate Heiress," a comedy in three acts, and in
prose. It fell, however, as I had foreseen ; and as the
publie easily forget those who have contributed to their
amusement, and never pardon those who have wearied
them, we were on the point of closing our theatre under
very unpleasant circumstances.

Another event of a much more disagreeable nature

268 MEMOIRS OF

and much more dangerous consequences happened to
disturb our repose at the some time. Darbes, who
was an excellent actor and one of the pillars of the
company, was demanded from the republic of Venice
by the Saxon minister for the service of the King of
Poland. He had to set out instantly, and quitted us
abruptly to prepare for his journey. Medebac's loss
was the greater, as we knew of no person capable of
supplying his place, and the boxes for the ensuing year
began to be thrown up.

Piqued at the ill-humor of the public, and presuming
something on my own worth, in the closing address
delivered by the principal actress, I promised, in very
indifferent verses, but very distinctly and positively,
that, next year, I would bring out sixteen new pieces.
When I entered into this engagement, I had not a
single subject in my head. However, there was no
alternative but keeping my word, or destruction. My
friends trembled for me, my enemies smiled ; I com-
forted the former, and laughed in my turn at the others.
You will see how I extricated myself. This was a
terrible year for me, and the remembrance of it still
makes my flesh creep. Sixteen comedies of three acts
each, and each act filling up, according to the custom
of Italy, two hours and a half of representation. But
what alarmed me the most was the difficulty of finding
an actor equal in point of ability and agreeable qualities
to the one we had lost. Every endeavor was used by
Medebac and myself to discover a suitable person on
the continent of Italy ; and at length we found out a
young man who played the character in which we were
deficient in strolling companies with applause. We
brought him to A'enice for trial. He acquitted himself
very well with his mask, and still better with his

CARLO GOLDONL 209

countenance uncovered. His voice and figure were
good, and he sang delightfully. This was Antonio
Mattiuzzi, called Collalto, of the city of Vicenza. This
man. who had received a good education and was not
deficient in abilities, only knew the old comedies of
intrigue, and required to be instructed in the new kind
introduced by me.

I attached myself to him, and took him under my
care. He placed an implicit reliance on me. His
d< tcility pleased me more and more ; and I followed the
company to Bologna and Mantua, for the sate of com-
pleting the formation of my new actor, who had become
my friend. During the five' months which we passed
in these two cities of Lombardy I did not lose my time,
but continued laboring night and day, and we returned
towards the commencement of autumn to Venice, where
we were expected with great impatience. We opened
the theatre with a piece entitled " II Teatro Comico "
(The Comic Theatre). I had announced it as a comedy
in three acts, but in reality it was only apiece of poetry
thrown into action, and divided into three parts. It
was my intention, in composing this work, to place it
at the head of a new edition of my theatre ; but I was
pleased to have also an opportunity of instructing those
who are not fond of reading, and engaging them to
listen to maxims and corrections from the stage, which
w< mid have wearied them in a book. The piece finished
with applause. I have not time to mention the com-
pliments of my friends and the astonishment of my
enemies. My object at present is not to boast of my
projects, but to state the maimer in which they were
carried into execution.

A few days afterwards, we gave the first representa-
tion of the " Donne Pontigliose " ; or, " The Punctilious

270 MEMOIRS OF

Ladies." I composed this comedy during my residence
at Mantua, and it was acted in the theatre of that
t< >\vn by way of trial. It was received with great pleas-
ure, but I ran the risk of drawing on myself the indig-
nation of one of the first ladies of the country, who, a
short time before, had been in the situation of one of
the females of the piece. Every one fixed their eyes on
her box; but, fortunately for me, she possessed too
much good sense to give any furtherance to the malice
of the evil-disposed, and warmly applauded all the
passages which could bear an application to her. The
same thing happened afterwards t<> me at Floreuce and
Verona ; and in each of these cities it was believed that

I had taken the subject of my play from among them.
This is an evident proof that Nature is everywhere the
same, and that, if we consult her, we shall never fail
in our characters. This piece was not so fortunate at
Venice as elsewhere, and that for very good reasons.
The wives of the patricians are in a situation which
secures them from having their pre-eminence called in
questi< >n at home ; and they are unacquainted with the
punctilios of the provinces.

I had taken tins piece from the class of nobles, but
the following from the middle class. It was in Italian,

II La Bottega di Cafe" (The Coffee-House), and it had
a very brilliant success. The assemblage and contrast
of the characters could not fail to please. That of the
backbiter was placed to several well-known individuals.
One of them vowed vengeance agaiust me, and I was
threatened with swords, knives, and pistols ; but, curi-
ous perhaps to see sixteen new plays in one year, they
gave me time to finish them. At a time when I was
looking out for subjects of comedy everywhere, I recol-
lected having seen the " Liar " of Corneille, translated

CARLO GOLDOXI. 271

into Italian, represented at Florence in a private thea-
tre; and as a piece which we have seen acted is more
easily retained, I remembered very distinctly those
places with which I had been the most struck. I recol-
lect having said, when I saw it, "This is a good com-
edy, hut the character of the Liar is susceptible of a
much crreater degree of comic humor." As I had not
much time to hesitate respecting the choice of my sub-
jects, I fixed on this; and my imagination, which was
then very quick and ready, instantly furnished me with
such an abundance of matter for comedy, that I was
tempted to create a new u Liar." But I rejected my
project. To Corneille I was indebted for the first idea,
and I respected my master, and considered it an honor
to work after him; adding, however, what seemed
necessary for the taste of my nation and for the success
of my piece, which had all the applause I could possi-
bly desire. The subject of a liar, which was less vi-
cious than comic, suggested another to me of a more
wicked and dangerous nature ; I mean the flatterer.
Rousseau's was unsuccessful in France, but mine was
very well received in Italy ; for this reason : the French
poet treated the subject more as a philosopher than a
eomic author; whereas I endeavored, in inspiring hor-
ror for the vice, to enliven at the same time the piece
by comic episodes and prominent traits.

The following comedy is altogether different in kind
from the preceding; for it is taken from among the
class of the ridiculous, — an alternation which is not
without its use in the production of several works.
The " Famiglia del l'Antiquario " (The Antiquary's
House) was the sixth of the sixteen projected plays.
I called it at first merely " The Antiquary" from the pro-
tagonist; but, fearful lest the disputes between his wife

272 MEMOIRS OF

and daughter-in-law should produce a double interest,
I gave a title to the comedy which embraced the whole
at once, especially as the failings of the two wives and
that of the head of the family set off one another, and
contributed equally to the humor and the morality of
the work'. The word " antiquarian77 is equally applied
in Italy to those who devote their learning to the study
of antiquity, and those who pick up, without knowl-
edge, copies for originals and trifles for precious monu-
ments. I took my subject from among the latter.

III.

For some time the novel of " Pamela" had been the
delight of the Italians, and my friends urged me strongly
to turn it into a comedy. I was acquainted with the
work, and felt no difficulty in seizing the spirit of it,
and approximating the objects ; but the moral aim
of the English author was not reconcilable with the
manners and laws of my country. A nobleman in
London does not derogate from his nobility in marrying
a peasant : but at Venice a patrician who should marry
a plebeian would deprive his children of the patrician
nobility, and they would lose their right to the sover-
eignty. Comedy, which is, or ought to be, a school
for propriety, should only expose human weaknesses
for the sake of correcting them: and it would be un-
justifiable to hazard the sacrifice of an unfortunate
posterity under the pretext of recompensing virtue. I
renounced, therefore, the charm of this novel, but ne-
cessitated as I then was to multiply my subjects, and
surrounded both at Mantua and Venice by persons
who instigated me to labor upon it, I willingly con-
sented. I did not, however, begin the work till I had in-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 273

vented a denouement which, instead of being dangerous,
might serve as a model to virtuous lovers, and render
the catastrophe both more agreeable and more interest-
ing. The comedy of " Pamela " is a drama, according
to the French definition ; Hut the public found it inter-
esting and amusing, and of all my works yet given, it
was the most successful.

After a sentimental piece, I gave one founded on the
usages of civil society, under the title of "Il Cavalière
di bnon gusto,77 which might be translated in French,
"L'Homme de Gout77 (The Man of Taste). This
title, it is true, would in France announce a person ac-
quainted with the sciences and fine arts ; whereas the
Italian of good taste, whom I paint in my piece, is a
man who, with a moderate fortune, contrives to pos-
sess a charming house, select servants, an excellent
cook, and shines in society as an affluent individual,
without injuring any one or deranging his affairs.
There are curious individuals in the piece anxious to
conjecture his secret, and slanderers who attack his
fame; and the latter are of the number of those who
frequent his table and profit by his generosity. This
piece succeeded tolerably well, but it was its misfor-
tune to follow " Pamela,77 which had turned everybody's
head. It was more fortunate when resumed the fal-
lowing- year. The same thing happened to ''The
Gamester,77 which was the ninth comedy of my en-
gagement ; but as it did not rise again like the other,
I myself coincided with the public in regarding it as a
piece condemned without remedy.

In the comedy of " The Coffee-House," the third
piece of this year, I had very happily introduced a
gamester, and the character was acted by our new
pantaloon, without a ina.ik, in a very agreeable and

274 MEMOIRS OF

interesting manner. Believing that I had not then
said enough on the subject of this unfortunate passion,
I proposed to treat the matter mure thoroughly; but
the episodical gamester of "The Coffee- House " had
the advantage of the one which was the principal sub-
ject of the piece. I may be allowed also to add that
all sorts of games of hazard were then tolerated at
Venice ; and that the famous Eidotto, which enriched
some and ruined others, but which drew gamesters
from the four quarters of the world, and threw money
into circulation, was then also in existence. It was
unadvised in me, therefore, to lay open the consequen-
ces of this (langerons amusement, and still more the
tricks of certain gamblers, and the artifices of the bro-
kers ; and in a city of two hundred thousand souls, my
piece could not fail to have a number of enemies.
The republic of Venice has since prohibited games of
hazard and suppressed the Eidotto. This suppression
may be complained of by certain individuals ; but to
prove the wisdom of this measure, it is only necessary
to state that those very members of the grand council
who are fond of gaming gave their voices in favor of
the new law. 1 do not state this with a view to excuse
the failure of my piece by arguments foreign to the sub-
ject. It fell, and consequently it was bad ; and it is
no small matter for me that of sixteen comedies, it was
the only one which failed. The public called (tut for
"Pamela " : but I refused to gratify the wish. I was
jealous of fulfilling my engagement, and I had still
seven new pieces to give.

After the failure of my last piece it was said that
Goldoui's fire was exhausted : that he began to decline;
that he would end badly, and that his pride would be
humbled. This last expression alone gave me any

CARLO GOLDOXI. 275

displeasure. I might be accused of imprudence in
having contracted an engagement which might cost me
the loss of my health, or that of my reputation ; hut as to
pride, I never possessed any, or at least, I could never
perceive it. I treated this libel with contempt; but I
was more and more convinced of the necessity of re-
establishing the interest, gayety, instruction, and the
old credit of my theatre. All these views were fulfilled
in the comedy of " The True Friend," which was an-
nounced at the opening of the carnival. I derived the
plot from an historical anecdote, and I treated it with
all the delicacy the subject demanded. This is one of
my favorite plays ; and I had the pleasure of seeing
the public of the same opinion with myself: and in-
deed I was astonished that I could bestow the necessary
time and care on it in so laborious a year for me. But
the "Finta Ammalata " (The Feigned Invalid), by
which it was followed, cost me no less trouble, and was
attended with equal success.

Madame Medebac, who furnished me with the sub-
ject of it, was an excellent actress, strongly attached to
her profession, but she was subject to fits of ennui :
she was often ill, often imagined herself so, and some-
times nothing ailed her but her fits, which she had at
her command. In this last case we had only to pr< >-
pose giving a fine character to a subaltern actress, and
she recovered instantly. I took the liberty of drawing
Madame Medebac herself; she partly saw it, but as
she found the part charming, she accepted it, and rep-
resented it admirably. Notwithstanding the sim-
plicity of the subject, this piece was generally well re-
ceived, and extremely applauded. Perhaps it owed its
success to the actress, who took a pleasure in playing
her own character, and exhibited it without the smallest

276 MEMOIRS OF

effort or constraint. The physicians of different charac-
ters, and a deaf quidnunc of an apothecary, who mistook

everything that was said to him, and preferred the
reading of gazettes to that of prescriptions, contributed
no less to the success.

After the comedy of " Pamela," and more especially
during the equivocal success of " The Man of Taste,"
and the failure of " The Gamester," my friends abso-
lutely iusisted that I should give another play borrowed
from some novel, that I might, as they said, spare my-
self the trouble of invention. Wearied with their so-
licitations, I at last told them that, instead of reading
a novel for the sake of composing a play, I should pre-
fer composing a piece from which a novel might be made.
Some began to laugh, and others took me at my word.
" Give us, then," said they, "a novel in action; a piece
as full of plot as a novel." " I will do so." " In ear-
nest ?" " Yes, in earnest." "On your honor? " " On
my honor."

I returned home, and, warm with my promise, I be-
gan the play and the novel at the same time, without
having the subject of either the one or the other. " I
must," said I to myself, " have a great deal of intrigue ;
I must surprise and astonish, and at the same time ex-
cite an interest ; I must have the comic combined with
the pathetic. A heroine would excite a stronger inter-
est than a hero; but where shall I seek her? We shall
see : but in the mean time let us adopt an unknown
lady for protagonist": and I immediately wrote down
on my paper, u LTncognita, a comedy; act first, scene
first." " This woman should have a name, let us give
her that of Rosaura ; but is she to make her appearance
alone, to give the first account of the argument of the
play ! No, that is the fault of the ancient comedies ;

CARLO GOLDOXI. 277

we must make her enter with — yes, with Florindo
— Rosaura and Florindo." Id this way I began "The
Incognita," and continued it in the same manner, con-
structing a vast edifice without knowing whether it
would turn out a temple or an exchange. Each scene
produced another: one event gave birth to four; and
at the end of the first act the picture was sketched, and
required nothing but to be filled up. I was myself as-
tonished at the quantity and novelty of the anecdotes
with which my imagination supplied me.

At the end of the second act I began to think of the
denouement, and to prepare something which, while it
was unexpected, should not appear to tall from the
clouds. My friends were satisfied, and so were the
public; and everybody owned that my piece might
have furnished sufficient materials for a novel of four
large volumes, octavo.

But it became necessary to leave these sentimental
pieces, and return to character and true comedy ; and
more particularly as the end of the carnival was ap-
proaching, and the theatre required to be enlivened and
brought to the level of everybody. " La Donna Volu-
bile" (The Capricious Lady) was the last but one of the
season. We had an actress in the company, the most
capricious woman in the world, whom I merely copied ;
and Madame Medebac, who knew the original, was not
sorry, with all her goodness, to have an opportunity
of laughing a little at her companion. This character
is in itself comical, but, if not supported by interesting
and agreeable situati< >ns, extremely apt to become weari-
some. We may ridicule changes in dress and enter-
tainments, but to render a changeable woman a subject
of comedy, the ridicule must arise from the caprice of
her mind. A woman who is in love one moment, and

278 MEMOIRS OF

no longer so the next, who utters maxims, and who is
inflamed with a passion quite the reverse of her first
way of thinking, forms a proper subject for comedy.
The winding-up of this piece is suitable to the folly
which is proposed to be corrected. Rosaura decides
at length for marriage, but everybody shuns her and
refuses to have her. Madame Medebae played the
character admirably. Her natural mildness was ex-
cellently adapted to the silliness of the Capricious
Woman, and the piece produced all the effect which I
could desire.

I had but another comedy to give to conclude the
year, and fulfil my engagement. We were at the last
Sunday of the carnival but one, and I had not written
a line of this last piece, nor even imagined the subject
of it. I sallied out of my house that day, and, by way
of recreation, repaired to the square of St. Mark. I
looked round to see if any of the masks or jugglers
might furnish me with the subject of a comedy, or some
sort of spectacle for Shrovetide. I observed under the
arcade of the clock a man with whom I was instantly
struck, and who furnished me the subject I was in quest
of. This was an old Armenian, ill-dressed, very dirty,
and with a long beard, who ran about the streets of
Venice, selling tire dried fruits of his country, which he
called abagigi. This man, who was to be found every-
where, and whom I had myself so frequently met, was
so well known and so much despised, that when any
one wished to laugh at a girl desirous of a husband, he
proposed to her Abagigi in derision. This was enough
to send me home satisfied. On entering my house, I
shut myself up in my closet, and began a low comedy,
which I called " I Pettigolezzi " (The G< >ssips). Under
this title it has been translated into French by M. Ric-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 279

coboni the younger, and represented at the Italian the-
atre in Paris. The translator very properly changed
the character of Abagigi, which was unknown in
France, into that of a Jew dealer in spectacles; but

neither the French Jew nor the Italian Armenian is
the protagonist ; and they are only serviceable in carry-
ing forward the plot of the piece, which succeeded in
both languages. I could only give it on Shrove Tues-
day for the first time, and with it we closed the carnival.
The concourse was so extraordinary that day that the
price of boxes was tripled and quadrupled, and the ap-
plause was so tumultuous that the passengers were in
doubt whether they were the expression of satisfaction
or a general disapprobation. I was seated very tran-
quilly in my box, surrounded by my friends, who wept
for joy. A crowd of people came in quest of me, obliged
me to leave the place, dragged and carried me in spite
of all my endeavors to the Ridotto, exhibited me from
one hall to another, and lavished a profusion of com-
pliments on me, which I should willingly have escaped
if possible. I was too much fatigued to support such
a ceremony; besides, as I was ignorant of the origin
of this enthusiasm of the moment, I was displeased to
think that this piece should be preferred to so many
others of which I was more fond. But I soon discerned
the true motive of this general acclamation. It was
the triumph of the fulfilment of my engagement.

IV.

At the age of forty-three I had a great facility
both in invention and execution, but still I M'as a man
subject to infirmities like others. The assiduity of my
labors at length undermined my health, and I fell sick,

280 MEMOIRS OF

and paid the penalty of my folly. I was always sub-
ject to tits of spleen, which attacked body and mind at
once ; but I felt a renewal of them at this time with
more violence than ever. I was literally worn out
with fatigue, but still my wretched state was, in a
great measure, occasioned by the chagrin which I felt.
I must conceal nothing from my readers.

I had given sixteen pieces in the course of a year.
The director, it is true, did not demand them ; but
still he profited by them. What benefit had I de-
rived ? Not a farthing beyond the annual stipulation,
not the smallest gratification. I received abundance
of praise, and a profusion of compliments, but not the
most trifling acknowledgment. I was displeased at
this, but I said nothing. However, we cannot live on
glory alone ; and I had no other resource but an edition
of my works. Who would suppose that in this I should
meet with opposition from Medebac, and that some of
his protectors should approve of the opposition ? This
man disputed my right of authorship under the pretext
of having purchased my works. Of the period of our
engagement there was still some time to run ; I could
not, or rather I was unwilling, to enter into a litiga-
tion with persons whom I should have occasion to see
every day : I was too great a lover of peace to sacrifice
it to interest ; and I yielded my pretensions, and was
satisfied with the permission of printing every year a
single volume of my comedies. From this singular
permission I discovered that Medebac counted upon
my remaining attached to him during my whole life ;
but I waited the expiration of my fifth year to take
my leave of him. I gave the manuscripts of four of
my pieces to Antonio Bettinelli, the bookseller, who
undertook the first edition of my " Theatre," and pub-
lished the first volume at Venice in 1751.

CARLO GOLDONL 281

Our company were to pass the spring and summer
at Turin. I thought that a change of air and the
pleasure of the journey might contribute to the restora-
tion of my health. I followed the company at my own
expense; and, in the intention of visiting Genoa, I
took my dear companion along with me. I was unac-
quainted with Turin, which I found a delightful place.
The uniformity of the buildings in the principal streets
produces a charming effect. The scpuares and churches
are exceedingly beautiful ; the citadel is a superb
promenade ; and the royal residences, both in town and
country, display great magnificence and taste. The
inhabitants of Turin are very kind and polite: they
have much of the manners and customs of the French,
and speak the language familiarly ; and on the arrh al
of a Milanese, a Venetian, or a Genoese, they are in
the habit of saying, "He is an Italian."

My pieces were represented at Turin with applause,
to crowded audiences ; but there were a set of singular
beings, who, at every one of my productions, observed,
" This is good, but it is not Molière." This was doing
me more honor than I deserved, for it had never en-
tered into my head to compare myself with the French
author. I knew that those who pronounced this vague
and ridiculous judgment, merely went to the theatre
for the sake of making the circuit of the boxes, and
indulging in conversation. I was acquainted with
Molière, and respected this master of the art as highly
as the Piedinontese, and I was seized instantly with a
desire to give them a convincing proof of it. I im-
mediately composed a comedy in five acts, and in verse,
without masks or change of scene, of which the title
and principal subject were Molière himself. The argu-
ment was taken from two anecdotes of his private life :

282 MEMOIRS OF

the one, his projected marriage with Isabelle, the
daughter of Bejard ; and the other, the prohibition of
his " Tartuffe." These two historical facts accord so
well together that the unity of action is perfectly ob-
served. The impostors of Paris, alarmed at the comedy
of " Molière," knew that the author had sent to the
camp, where Louis XIV. then was, to obtain permis-
sion for its representation, and they were afraid lest the
revocation of the prohibition should be obtained. I
employed in my piece a person of the name of Pirlon,
a hypocrite in every sense of the word, who introduces
himself into the authors house, discovers to La Bejard
Molière's love for her daughter, of which she was yet
ignorant, engages her to quit her companion and
director; behaves in the same manner to Isabelle,
holding up to her the situation of an actress as the road
to perdition, and endeavors to deceive La Foret, their
waiting- woman, who, more adroit than her mistresses,
dupes the duper, inspires him with a love for her, and
takes his cloak and hat from him to give to Molière,
who appears on the stage with the dress of the impos-
tor. I was bold enough to exhibit in my piece a much
more marked hypocrite than that of Molière; but hypo-
crites had then lost a great deal of their ancient credit
in Italy. During the interval between the fourth and
last acts of my comedy, the " Tartuffe n of Molière is
acted on the theatre of the Hôtel de Bourgogne ; all
the characters of my piece make their appearance in
the fifth act. for the purpose of complimenting Molière:
Pirlon, concealed in a closet, where lie was expecting
La Foret, is forced to come forth in the presence of all
th«- spectators, ami is assailed with the sarcasms which
In- bo richly deserved; and Molière, to add to his joy
and happiness, marries Isabelle, in spite of the mother,
who aspired to the conquest of her future son-in-law.

CARLO GOLDOXI. 283

In this piece are to be found several details of the
life of Molière. The character of Valerio is Baron, an
actor of Molière's company. Leander is a copy of La
Chapelle, a friend of the author, and often mentioned
in the account of his life ; and Count Lasca is one of
the Piedmontese who judged of pieces without seeing
them, and instituted an awkward comparison between
the Venetian and French authors, that is to say, be-
tween the scholar and the master. This work is in
verse : I had composed tragi-comedies in blank verse,
but this is the first comedy which I composed in rhyme.
As its subject was a French author, who wrote largely
in that style, it became necessary to imitate him; and
I found nothing that approached the Alexandrines but
the Martellian verses, of which I have already spoken
in the first part of these memoirs. On the conclusion
of my piece, and the distribution of the parts, I wit-
nessed two rehearsals at Turin, and set out for Genoa
without seeing it acted. The actors, and a few of the
townspeople, were let into the secret of the character
of Count Lasca. I charged them to acquaint me with
the result ; and I learned, a few days afterwards, that
the piece had the greatest success ; that the original of
the criticism was discovered, and that he had been
candid enough to avow that it was deserved.

I remained the whole summer at Genoa, leading a
most delicious and completely idle life. How delight-
ful it is, especially after much severe labor, to pass a
few days without doing anything! But the autumn
was fast approaching ; the season began to grow more
cool, and I resumed the road to my workshop.

On arriving at Venice, I found my first volume in
print, and money in the hands of my bookseller. I
received at the same time a gold watch, a box of the

28-4 MEMOIRS OF

same metal, a silver board with chocolate, and four
pair of Venice ruffles. These were presents from
those to win. m I had dedicated my four iirst comedies.
Medebac arrived a few days after me, and spoke highly
of the pleasure which "Molière" gave at Turin. I
had a strong desire to see it myself; and we brought
it out at Venice in the month of October, 175] . This
piece contained two novelties, the subject and the
versification; for the Martellian verses were at that
time forgotten. The monotony of the csesural panse,
the great frequency of the rhyme, and the perpetual
recurrence of couplets, disgusted the ears of the Italians
during the lifetime of the inventor, and every person
was prejudiced against me for pretending to revive
a mode of versification already proscribed. But the
effect gave the lie to this anticipation ; my verses were
equally well relished with the piece, and "Molière"
was classed by the public voice along with u Pamela."
Were I permitted to pronounce my own opinion of the
relative worth of my comedies, I should have a great
deal to say in favor of the ll Padre di Famiglia" (Fa-
ther of a Family) ; but, taking the decision of the
public respecting my works for my guide, I am forced
to rank it only in the second class of my comedies. I
bestowed all the care which my observation and my
zeal inspired me with on this interesting subject; and
I was even tempted to call my piece the " School for
Fathers " ; but great masters have alone a right to
give Schools; and I might possibly be deceived as
well as the author of the u School for Widows." I
had seen in the world indulgent mothers, unjust step-
mothers, spoiled children, and dangerous preceptors ;
I grouped all these different objects in a single picture,
and in the conduct of a wise and prudent father, I

CARLO GOLDONI. 285

exhibited a strong instance of the proper punishment
of vice and the example of virtue. In this comedy
there is another father, by way of episode, who con-
tributes to the development and winding-up of the
plot This father has two daughters j the one brought
up at home, and the other educated at an aunt's, by
which a convent is meant, as this word dare not, in
Italy, be pronounced on the stage. The first turns
• nit well, but the other has every possible defect con-
cealed under the mask of hypocrisy. My intention
was to give the preference to a domestic education ;
and this was perfectly understood by the public, and
met with their approbation To this moral and criti-
cal piece an interesting and virtuous subject suc-
ceeded, which was infinitely relished, and which the
public placed in the first class of my productions : this
was " The Venetian Advocate."

In my comedy of " The Prudent Man " I had given
a specimen of my old profession of criminal advocate
in Tuscany ; in the present I wished to recall to the
recollection of my countrymen that I had also been a
civil practitioner at the bar of Venice. This piece
gave universal satisfaction; and my brethren, accus-
tomed to see the gown ridiculed in the old comedies
of intrigue, were pleased with the honorable point of
view in which I now exhibited it. Still, however,
the intention of the author and the effect of the work
were called in question by the evil-disposed. One
person, in particular, exclaimed that my piece was an
attack on the bar ; that my protagonist was an imagi-
nary being, whom no person living could imitate ; and
that I had exhibited an incorruptible advocate, by way
of drawing the public attention to the weakness and
avi lity of so many others. He even mentioned the

286 MEMOIRS OF

most respectable names at the bar, in point of talents,
as those wh< >se probity was the most to be suspected.
It will scarcely be believed that the author of the
criticism belonged himself to this respectable body ; the
fact, however, is but too true ; and this audacious man
had even the impudence to make a boast of it : he was
punished by universal contempt, and obliged to change
his profession.

Let us pass from one fortunate piece to another
which was not less fortunate, "II Feudatario" (The
Feudatary) • the principal subject of which is a pre-
sumptive heiress of a fief fallen into the hands of
strangers. The differences between the lady and the
possessor of the estate in question are arranged by a
marriage between these two persons; but the piece
contains incidents of a very interesting nature, and it
is enlivened by characters and scenes of a comical,
new, and original description. I derived this provision
of ridicule from a residence, some years before, at
Sanguinetto, a fief of Count Leoni, in the Veronese,
when I was there employed by that nobleman in draw-
ing up a legal report. I know not whether this comedy
is equal in point of merit to the " Padre di Famiglia";
but its success was greater, and I am therefore bound
to respect the opinion of my judges.

The same fortune also befell the u Figlia Obbedi-
ente "' (Obedient Daughter) : inferior also in my opinion
to the " Padre di Famiglia," but which was equally
successful with the foregoing comedy. On inquiring
into the cause of this phenomenon, I am led to impute
it to the pleasure received from the comic scenes with
which the two last plays abound, whereas the princi-
pal merit of the other is of a critical and moral nature.
This is a proof that in general we prefer amusement to

CARLO GOLDOXI. 287

instruction. In this last comedy the principal subject
is far from being very interesting, for it is destitute of
suspension, as the winding-up of the plot is foreseen
at the commencement of the action. It owed its fortune
entirely to the original and very comic episodes with
which it abounded. Rosaura, the heroine of the play,
sacrifices her love to her respect f >r her father, who
docs not condemn the inclination of his daughter; but
in the absence of her lover he engages her to a rich
stranger, and he is the slave of his word. The person
to whom Rosaura is destined by her father is of so
singular a character that it would have been thought
improbable and unnatural if the original had not been
recognized. In his extravagance there is nothing to
detract either from his morals or his probity : he is
even noble, just, and generous ; but his manners, his
monosyllabic conversation, his injudicious prodigality,
his whimsical though sensible reflections, rendered him
highly comic, and the subject of general conversation.
How could I lose sight of such an original ? I brought
him forward, but with every regard to decency, and
those who knew him and were even attached to him
could not complain of me. Another personage, not
so noble, but not less comic, contributed to increase
the amusement of the comedy. This was the father
of a dancer, proud of the wealth of his daughter,
derived, as he said, from her talents, without dero-
gating from her virtue. When sick at Bologna, I
was visited in my convalescence by this man, who
never ceased speaking to me of princes, kings, and the
like, and of the excessive delicacy of his daughter. I
returned his visit as soon as I was able to go out.
His daughter was not at home ; but he showed me her
plate. " Observe," said he, "all these silver dishes;

288 MEMOIBS OF

everything is silver with us, even the very warming-
pan is silver." Could I forget the father satisfied,
the daughter happy ; and virtue recompensed ? This
episode is very well connected in the piece with that
of the extraordinary man, and both contributed to the
success of the obedient daughter, who manies her
lover with the approbation of her father. The piece
was applauded, and with it we closed the autumn
of 1/51.

V.

During the Christinas holidays, an adventure took
place extremely fortunate for Medebac, and agreeable
for myself. Marliani, the Brighella of the company,
was married; and his wife, who, like himself, had
been a rope-dancer, was a very pretty and amiable
young Venetian, full of wit and talents, and with the
happiest disposition for the stage. I took her under
my care, and composed a piece for her début. Madame
Medebac supplied me with interesting and affecting
ideas when I wished for comic scenes of a simple and
iunocent description ; and Madame Marliani, who was
lively, witty, and naturally artful, gave a new flight to
my imagination, and encouraged me to labor in that
species of comedy which requires a display of finesse
and artifice.

I began with the " Serva Amorosa," or " The Gen-
erous Waiting- Maid " ; for the adjective amoroso-a, in
Italian, is applied to friendship as well as love. This
piece met with the most complete success, and Cora-
liua was very much applauded in it ; but she became
all at once, from this circumstance, a formidable rival
for Madame Medebac. The wife of the director was
entitled to some consolation ; and it was our duty, be-

CARLO GOLDONL 289

sides, to encourage and flatter the actress who for three
years had been the principal support of our theatre. I
gave out, therefore, immediately, a comedy expressly
written for her, called "La Moglie Saggia" (The Sen-
sible Wife). The piece was universally and con-
stantly applauded, and the directress was immediately
cured of her jeal >us frenzy.

I still felt at that time, and have ever since con-
tinued to feel, the consequences of the excessive fatigue
I sustained in composing my sixteen comedies. I re-
quired a change of air, and I went to join my comedians
at Bologna. On my arriva] in this town I entered a
coffee-house facing the church of St. Petronius. No
one knew who I was. A few minutes after my en-
trance, a nobleman of that country came in, and
addressing himself to five or six persons of his ac-
quaintance, seated round a table, he said to them in
good Bolognese, "Have you heard the news, un-
friends ? " He was asked what he alluded to, and he
answered, " Goldoui has just arrived." " That is of no
consequence to me," said one. " What is that to us? "
said another. The third answered more politely, "I
should be very glad to see him.'' "A fine object to see,
truly ! " said the two former. " He is the author of
those beautiful comedies,"' said the other. Here he
was interrupted by the man who had not yet spoken,
and who exclaimed aloud, " 0 yes, the great author!
the magnificent author, who has suppressed masks and
ruined comedy ! '' At that moment Doctor Fiume
arrived, who said, while he embraced me, '; Welcome,
my dear Goldoni." The person who had expressed a
desire to know me advanced towards me, and the
others stole out one by one without saying a word.
I was highly amused with this little scene. I was

290 MEMOIRS OF

glad to see the doctor, who some years before had
been my physician, and I made the best return I could
to the polite Bolognese, who had expressed so good an
opinion of me. We all went out together to call on
the Marquis d'Albergati Capacelli, a senator of Bo-
logna.

This nobleman, well known in the republic of let-
ters, from his translations of several French tragedies,
from several good comedies of his own composition,
and still more from the high opinion entertained of
him by Voltaire, independently of his science and his
genius, possessed an admirable talent for theatrical
declamation. There were no actors or amateurs then
in Italy who equalled him in representing tragedy
heroes, or lovers iu comedy. His country, whose de-
light he was. had the pleasure of enjoying his talents
sometimes at Zola and sometimes at Medicina, his es-
tates : where he was seconded by male and female
amateurs, whom he animated by his intelligence aud
experience. I was fortunate enough to contribute to
his pleasure, having composed five pieces for his
theatre, of which I shall give some account at the end
of this second part. M. d' Albergati always showed
great kindness and friendship for me. I made his
honse my home whenever I went to Bologna, and, in
our present distance from each other, he has not for-
gotten me. having addressed one of his comedies to
me, preceded by a very charming epistle, with which I
have every reason to be highly flattered.

During my stay in Bologna I did not lose my time,
I labored for my theatre, and composed, among other
things, a comedy entitled "I Pontigli Domestici,'' (The
Domestic Disputes), with which we opened, at Venice,
the comic year 1752. I passed from an interesting

CARLO GOLDONL 201

subject to one of a comic nature. I had seen a very
rich man with an only daughter, win» was young and
pretty, and who possessed a line talent f<>r poetry, to
whose marriage he would not give his consent, that he
might have the sole enjoyment of this charming muse.
He held literary assemblies in his house. Every one
went with pleasure for the sake of the daughter; but
the ridiculous behavior of the father was quite insuffer-
able. When the young lady recited her verses, this
infatuated man used to rise from his seat: he would
look about him to the right and left, and enjoin strict
silence. A sneeze discomposed him ; he was offended
if snuff were taken f and he exhibited such a variety of
gestures and contortions, that it was the most difficult
thing in the world to refrain from laughter. When the
verses of the daughter were finished the father was the
first to applaud them, and then he left the circle.
Without the smallest consideration for those poets who
were reciting their compositions, he went behind the
chairs of all present, expressing himself loudly, and
with the utmost indecorum, in such terms as these:
" Did you hear my daughter .; What do you think of
her ? This is quite another thing ! " I was several
times present at scenes of this nature; but the last
which I witnessed took rather au unfortunate turn : for
the authors quarrelled in good earnest, and quitted the
place very abruptly. This foolish father determined i m
a journey to Rome, that his daughter might be crowned
in the capitol. He was prevented by the relations of
the family; and the government having at length in-
terfered in, the business, the lady was married in spite
of him; the consequence of which was. that fifteen
days afterwards he fell sick and died of chagrin.

On this anecdote I composed a comedy under the

292 MEMOIRS OF

title of <kIl Poeta Fanatico" (The Fanatical Poet), in
which I was induced to give the father aise a taste of
some kind or other for poetry, for the sake of throwing
more gayety into the piece : this work, however, is by
no means equal to the " Metromanie " of Piron ; but, on
the contrary, one of my most indifferent comedies. It
met, however, with some suet-ess at Venice ; but this
was owing to the entertainment which I had thrown
into the principal subject. Collalto acted a young im-
provisatore, and in the delivery of his verses pleased
by the graces of his singing. The servant was also a
poet, and his compositions and burlesque impromptus
were very amusing; but a comedy without interest,
intrigue, or suspense, notwithstanding the beauties of
particular parts, is still, after all, a poor piece. Why
was it printed then ? Because the booksellers lay hold
of everything, without so much as consulting the au-
thors, even during their own lifetime.

On the arrival of the Christmas holidays of the year
1751, it became time to put Medebac in mind that the
end of our engagement was approaching, and to give
him notice not to rely on me for the following year.
I spoke to him in an amicable way, and without any
formality. He answered me very politely that he was
sorry for it, but that I was the master of my own in-
clinations. He did his utmost, however, to induce me
to remain with him, and even sent several of his friends
to speak to me on the subject ; but my resolution was
firmly fixed ; and during the ten days of relaxation I
entered into an agreement with his excellency Ven-
dramini, a noble Venetian, and proprietor of the the-
atre of St. Luke.

I had still to labor for the theatre of St. Angelo
till the close of 1752: and I discharged my duty so

CARLO GOLDOXI. 293

well that I gave more pieces to the director than he
had time to act, and he had some remaining which he
used after our separation. Madame Medebac was still
unwell ; her ill-humors became every day more trouble-
some and ridiculous : she laughed and wept in the
same instant, and uttered cries and exhibited grim-
aces and contortions. The good people of the family
thought her bewitched, and sent for exorcists. She
was loaded with relics, and played with these pious
monuments like a child of four years of age. Seeing
the principal actress unable to appear on the stage, I
composed, at the opening of the carnival, a comedy for
Coralina. Madame Medebac made her appearance in
good health on Christmas Day ; but ou hearing that
" La Locandiera," a new piece, composed for Coralina,
was given out for the following day, she took to her
bed again with a new species of fits, which completely
exhausted the patience of her mother, husband, rela-
tions, and servants. We opened the theatre then on
the 26th of December with " La Locandiera," a word
derived from locanda, which has the same signification
in Italian as hôtel garni in French. There is no word,
however, in the French language to indicate the man
or woman who keeps one of those hotels ; and in
translating this piece into French it would be neces-
sary to take the title from the character, and call it
"The Dexterous Woman7' (Femme Adroite). The
success of this piece was so brilliant that it was not
only placed on a level with, but even preferred to every-
thing which I had yet done in that species of comedy
where artifice supplies the place of interest. It would
perhaps be scarcely credited, without reading it, that
the projects, proceedings, and triumph of the heroine
of the piece could all take place, with probability, in

294 MEMOIRS OF

the space of twenty-four hours. I was perhaps flat-
tered in Italy ; but I was told that it was the most
natural and best conducted of all my pieces, and that
the action was completely supported and perfect in
every respect.

From the jealousy with which Madame Medebac
viewed the progress of Coralina, this last piece, one
might have thought, would have killed her outright ;
but as her disorder was quite singular in its kind, she
quitted her bed in two days and demanded the repre-
sentation of the " Locandiera" to be stopped for the
purpose of again giving out " Pamela." The public
was not highly satisfied with this ; but the director did
not think proper to oppose the desire of his wife, and
"Pamela" appeared again on the theatre after the
fourth representation of a fortunate and new comedy.
These little pieces of kindness will every now and then
take place where despotism disdains to yield to reason.
For my part I had nothing to say in the business ; the
dispute related to two of my daughters, and I was a
tender father to both the one and the other.

VI.

I passed from the theatre of St. Angelo to that
of St. Luke, where there was no director, but where
the actors shared the receipts ; and the proprietor of
the house, who enjoyed the benefit of the boxes, paid
their salaries in proportion to their merits, or the
length of their services. This patrician was the per-
son with whom I had to act. I gave him my pieces,
which were instantly paid for, before even being read.
My emoluments were almost doubled ; I enjoyed the
full liberty of printing my works, and I was not

CARLO GOLDOXI. 295

obliged to follow the company to the continent. My
situation was therefore become much more lucrative,
and at the same time infinitely more honorable.

But what is there in this world without its disad-
vantages ! The principal actress of the company was
almost fifty. They had lately received a charming
Florentine, but for second parts only; and I ran the
risk of being obliged to give subordinate characters to
this young woman, and those of lovers to the old
actress. Madame Gandini, the first actress, had the
good sense to do herself justice ; but her husband
declared, in high terms, that he would not allow his
wife to sustain the slightest injury; and the proprietor
of the theatre, who had the right to decide, was afraid
of discharging two old persons, to whom the company
had been much indebted.

I spoke to M. Gandini in private, and asked him
how long he thought his wife capable of enjoying her
situation and her profits. "My wife," said he, "may
yet shine on the stage for these ten years." "Very
well," said I ; "I am authorized by the proprietors to
secure to Madame Gandini her salary and her situation
for the space of ten years. I engage, for my part, to
bring her forward in characters calculated to gain
applause ; but then you must leave me at liberty to
employ her as I please." "No, sir," he answered
abruptly; "my wife is the principal actress, and I
would rather be hanged than see her degraded." .So
saying, he turned his back to me in a rude and indec-
orous manner. I swore that I would be even with
him ; and you will see, in the third piece of this year,
whether I kept my word.

The company were to pass the spring and summer
at Leghorn, and I calculated on remaining at Venice,

296 MEMOIRS OF

where my first object was to look after the edition of
my works. The two first volumes had been published
by Bettinelli the bookseller, and I was on the point of
taking the manuscript of the third to him ; but what
was my astonishment when I was told by this phleg-
matic man. with the most chilling indifference, that he
could no longer receive any more copy from me ; that
he was to receive it from the hands of Medebac; and
that he was to continue the edition on account of this
comedian. On recovering from my surprise, and when
my indignation was succeeded by a calm. " Take care,
friend," said I to him; "yon are not rich, and have
children ; do not ruin yourself, do not force me to ruin
you." He persisted, however, in his resolution. Bet-
tinelli. whom I had too early, perhaps, allowed to
receive the privilege of printing my works, had been
gained over by money : and I had therefore to contend
against the director, who contested the right of prop-
erty of my pieces, and against the bookseller, who
was empowered to publish them.

I should, without doubt, have gained my suit, but
this would have required litigation, and chicanery is
the same all the world over. I took the shortest
method; for I went instantly to Florence, and com-
menced a new edition, leaving Medebac and Bettinelli
at liberty to continue the one at Venice : but I pub-
lished a prospectus which threw both of them into
consternation ; for I announced corrections and altera-
tions. I applied at Florence to a M. Paperini, a very
respectable printer and a worthy man. We con-
cluded our agreement in two hours' time, and in the
month of May, 1753, we had the first volume in the
press. This fortunate edition of ten volumes, octavo,
by subscription, and at my expense, was extended to

CARLO GOLDO'I. 297

seventeen hundred copies ; and on the publication of
the sixth volume, it was completely filled up. I had
five hundred subscribers at Venice, and the entry of
my edition was prohibited in the territories of the
republic. This proscription of my works in my own
country may appear singular ; but it was a mere affair
of commerce. Bettinelli had found protectors to se-
cure to him his exclusive privilege, and the body of
booksellers seconded him, because mine was a foreign
edition.

Notwithstanding, however, this prohibition, and all
the precautions of my adversaries, every time that one
of my volumes issued from the press, five hundred
copies were despatched to Venice. An asylum for
them had been found on the banks of the Po ; a com-
pany of noble Venetians went in quest of the contra-
band commodity to the Venetian confines, introduced
it into the capital, and made the distribution in open
day; for the government would not interfere in an
affair which was more ridiculous than interesting.

When I was at Florence, and my new company at
Leghorn, I visited them occasionally, and put into
the hands of the principal actress two comedies which
I found leisure to compose, notwithstanding the fa-
tiguing and assiduous attention which my edition re-
quired from me. We all met at Venice in the begin-
ning of the month of October, and the first new piece
which we gave was " L'Avaro Geloso" (The Jealous
Miser). I drew the protagonist of this piece from
nature. I became acquainted with his portrait and
his history at Florence, where this man lived to the
disgrace of humanity. He was charged with two
vices equally odious, but which, from the contrast
between his passions, placed him in highly comic situ-

298 MEMOIRS OF

ations. The infamy of this character is calculated to
excite disgust ; however, the piece would still have
succeeded, but the actor to whom the part was in-
trusted was exceedingly deformed, and in no estima-
tion with the public. I thought I acted properly in
choosing, for a wicked character, a man who answered
that description pretty well himself, and I imagined
that his leanness, his ill looks, and his broken voice
would suit tolerably well with the part. In this,
however, I was much deceived. Some time after-
wards I gave the same part to Rubini, who acted the
Venetian characters : and the same piece, which com-
pletely failed at its début, became afterwards one of
the favorite pieces of that excellent actor.

My enemies, who were not sorry at the unfortunate
issue of my first piece, and the partisans of the thea-
tre of St. Angelo, observed, with a sort of malicious
joy, that I would repent having quitted a company to
whom I was indebted for the success of my works.
None of these observations gave me the smallest un-
easiness. I was sure of silencing them with my third
piece ; but in the mean time I was in great apprehen-
sion for the second, which I was about to give. This
was the " Donna di Testa Debole, 6 la Yedova Infatu-
ata" (The Silly Woman, or Infatuated Widow). The
piece fell at its first representations, as I had foreseen ;
and I unfortunately saw my prognostication too well
verified.

I perceived, when it was too late, the circumstances
which were unfavorable for me and my comedians.
They were not yet sufficiently instructed in the new
method necessary for my comedies : I had not yet had
time to infuse into them the taste, tone, or natural
and expressive manner which distinguished the actors

CARLO GOLDOXI. 299

of the theatre of St. Angelo. Another circumstance
was still more remarkable. The theatre of St. Luke
was much larger, and from that circumstance every-
thing simple and delicate in action, everything refined,
agreeable, and truly comic, lost much of its attrac-
tion. It was natural to suppose that the public in
time would reconcile themselves to the situation, and
listen with more attention to regular and natural
pieces ; but it was requisite to make a strong impres-
sion at first by vigorous subjects, by actions which,
without being gigantic, rose above the level of ordi-
nary comedy.

This was my first project ; but the publication of my
works did not leave me the master of my wishes, and
it was not till my third piece that I made the requisite
effort of imagination to install myself with honor in the
new theatre, where I had to carry through reform and
support my reputation. Having this object in view, I
looked out for a subject capable of supplying me with
comic and interesting situations and showy exhibitions.
I had perused the modern history of Salmon, translated
from the English into Italian : but I did not find there
the fable which forms the subject of my piece. In
that instructive work, however, I acquired information
respecting the laws, manners, and customs of the Per-
sians ; and from the details of the English author, I
composed a comedy entitled ' ' La Sposa Persiana n
(The Persian Spouse).

The subject of this piece is not heroic : a rich finan-
cier of Ispahan, of the name of Machmout, engages
and forces Thamas, his son, to marry against his will,
Fatima, the daughter of Osman, an officer of rank in
the army of the Sophi. This is what we every day
see in our pieces ; a young lady betrothed to a young

300 MEMOIRS OF

man whose heart is already preoccupied. However,
the names of Fatima, Machmout, and Thamas began to
lead the public to expect something extraordinary ; and
the saloon of the financier furnished with a sofa and
cushions in the Mahometan style, and the dresses
and turbans in the Oriental costume, announced a
strange nation, and whatever is strange naturally ex-
cites curiosity. Thamas had a Circassian slave of the
name of Hircana, to whom he was tenderly attached,
and who, notwithstanding her servitude, proudly re-
fused to allow her lover and master to share her favors
with other women, not even with the one his father
destined for his spouse. This comedy was highly suc-
cessful, and was represented so long that some curious
individuals had time to transcribe it, and it appeared
in print without a date some time afterwards.

I owed the flattering reception of this piece to Madame
Bresciani, who acted the character of Hircana, and for
whom I had conceived and executed it. Gandini would
not allow the prerogatives of his wife to be encroached
on ; and this would have been all very well if Madame
Gandini had not been on the verge of fifty ; but to
avoid disputes, I gave a character to the second actress
greatly superior to that of the first. I was highly rec-
ompensed for my pains ; for it was impossible to rep-
resent a strong and interesting passion with more force,
energy, and truth than was displayed by Madame Bres-
ciani in this important character. This actress, who,
to her talents and information, added the advantage of
a sonorous voice and a charming pronunciation, pro-
duced such an impression in this fortunate comedy,
that she always went afterwards by the name of Hir-
cana. The interest taken by the public in the charac-
ter of Hircana might lead to a suspicion that I had

CARLO GOLDONI. 301

mistaken the title of the piece, or weakened the prin-
cipal action. Fatiina, however, is the protagonist,
and Hircana the antagonist ; but the illusion was not
in unison with this arrangement, and thé slave of
twenty-five triumphed over the spouse of fifty.

The public, always attached to the charming Cir-
cassian, was sorry to see her leave the stage with a
sigh, and would have wished to know whither she went
and what became of her. I was asked for the sequel
to the " Persian Spouse," and yet it was not the spouse
which interested the curious. I should have willingly
contented them, but could not. Gandini was piqued
against the public and against me, whom he accused
of having played him a cursed trick ; for I had had,
he said, the diabolical art to sacrifice his wife without
his perceiving it. It was not my intention to injure
hiin. I merely wished to force him to accept the ad-
vantageous offer which I proposed to him, and I was
in reality doing him a service, notwithstanding his
brutality. More obstinate than ever, this unreasonable
man informed the proprietor of the theatre that his wife
would not act in the sequel to the " Persian Spouse," of
which he had heard. He met with a very unfavorable
reception from his excellency Vendramini ; and the
comedian, who could not give vent to his rage against
his superior, took his watch to pieces and threw it, as
he left the house, against a glass door, which he broke.
But he did still worse than this ; he went to the Saxon
minister, who was in want of actors for King Augustus
of Poland, and engaged himself and his wife for Dres-
den. Both of them immediately disappeared without
the least notice. No one was disposed to regret them,
and least of all myself ; for by their departure I was
left in perfect freedom to labor as I pleased, and I ac-

302 MEMOIRS OF

cordingly gratified m y countrymen with the sequel which
was so much desired by them.

I entitled the second piece on this subject, " Hircana
at Julia." Julfa, or Zulfa, is a town a league distant
from Ispahan, and inhabited by a colony of Armenians,
whom Schah-Abas invited into Persia for the advan-
tage of trade. Hircana, forced to leave Ispahau, forms
the resolution of repairing to Julfa, where at last
Thamas makes her an offer of his hand. Her joy is
at its height. They are now both satisfied ; and the
public thanked me with reiterated applauses for having
terminated the catastrophe of Hircana in a satisfactory
manner. But, next day, the very same public were
asking if this spouse of Thamas was to be happy, if
Machmout would pardon his son for all the displeasure
he had caused him to experience, and if he would re-
ceive favorably a woman who had thrown his house
into trouble and desolation. The novel, it was said,
was greatly advanced, but not yet finished. I was
aware of this also, and had foreseen the consequence
so well, that I had a third piece quite arranged in my
imagination, which I gave the following year under the
title of " Hircana at Ispahan." This was so successful
that it greatly surpassed the two others, still possessing
the same interest, and leaving nothing more to be
desired by the friends of the Circassian.

This third Persian comedy did not make its appear-
ance on the stage till a year after the second, and three
years after the first ; but I have placed them here in
succession, that my readers may have a distinct view
at once of the three different actions on the same sub-
ject. The success of the last was even greater, if pos-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 303

VII.

I MUST return to the year 1753, from which I was
induced to wander, that I might not interrupt the con-
tinuity of "The Three Persians." The public de-
manded verses : there was no alternative : and in the
eroding carnival 1 gave " 11 Filosofo Inglese" (The
English Philosopher). The theatre represented a
street in the city of Loudon, with a coffee-house and a
bookseller's shop. At that time a translation of the
English '* Spectator," a periodical work, was in the
hands of everybody at Venice. The women of Venice,
who till then were no great readers, began to relish
that work, and to become^ philosophers. I was de-
lighted to see criticism and instruction admitted to the
toilets of my dear countrywomen, and this induced me
to compose the piece in question.

In the beginning of the year 1/54 I received a letter
from my brother. For twelve years I had had no news
of him ; and he gave me then an account of himself
from the battle of Veletri, in which he was present, in
the suite of the Duke of Modena, to the day in which
he thought proper to write to me. This letter was
dated from Rome, in which city he had married the
widow of a lawyer, by whom he had two children ; a
boy of eight and a girl of five years of age. His wife
was dead; he was tired of residing in a country where
military men were neither useful nor held in estima-
tion ; and he was desirous of living beside his brother,
and of presenting him the two shoots of the family of
Groldoni. Far from being piqued at a silence and
neglect of twelve years, I instantly felt an interest in
these two children, who might perhaps stand in need
of my assistance. I invited my brother to return to

304 MEMOIES OF

my house ; I wrote to Rome, that he might "be supplied
with the money he stood iu need of; and in the month
of March of the same year I embraced with real satis-
faction this brother, whom I had always loved, and
my niece and nephew, whom I adopted as my children.
My mother, who was still alive, felt a lively pleasure
in seeing again a son whom she no longer reckoned
among the living ; and my wife, whose goodness and
sweetness of disposition never varied, received these
two children as her own, and took care of their edu-
cation.

Surrounded with all that was most dear to me, and
contented with the success of my works, I was one of
the happiest men in the world ; but I was, at the same
time, extremely wearied. I was still suffering from
the immense fatigue which I had undergone for the
theatre of St. Angelo ; and the verses, to which I
had unfortunately accustomed the public, cost me in-
finitely more trouble than prose. My spleen began to
attack me with more than usual violence. The new
family, which I maintained in my house, rendered my
health more than ever necessary to me, and the dread
of losing it augmented my complaint. My attacks
were as much of a physical as a moral nature. Some-
times my imagination was heated by the effervescence
of the bodily fluids, and sometimes the animal economy
was deranged by apprehension. Our mind is so inti-
mately connected with our body, that if it were not for
reason, which belongs to the immortal soul, we should
be mere machines. In my present state I required ex-
ercise and amusement. I resolved on a short journey,
and I took all my family with me.

On my arrival at Modena I was attacked with a
defluxion in mv chest. Evervbodv was in an alarm

CARLO GOLDOXI. 305

for me, but I was nowise alarmed myself; and this is
the way in which I have been all my lifetime : pos-
sessing a great deal of courage when in danger, and
suffering from ridiculous apprehensions when in good
health. I got rid of my indisposition, but I had no
time for amusement. My comedians were at Milan,
where I went to join them ; having my wife, my
brother, and his two children, always along with me.
The expense nowise alarmed me, as my edition went
on successfully, and money poured in upon me from all
quarters. Money has never been long stationary with
me. " The Persian Spouse" had the same success at
Milan as at Venice, and I was overwhelmed with praise,
with offers of friendship, and presents. My health was
improving, my spleen subsided, and I led a delicious
life ; but this state of happiness, prosperity, and tran-
quillity was not of long duration.

The company of the theatre of St. Luke made an
acquisition of an excellent actor, of the name of An-
geleri, a native of Milan, who had a brother at the bar,
and whose relatives were of great respectability in the
middle class of that place. This man was subject to
fits of spleen, and I had several conversations with him
at Venice on the extravagance of our malady. I met
with him on my arrival at Milan, and found him worse
than ever. He was tormented between the desire of
displaying the superiority of his talents and the shame
of appearing on the theatre of his native place. He
suffered infinitely from seeing his companions ap-
plauded, and having no share himself in the applause
of the public. This spleen gained ground every day,
and the conversations which we had together tended
also to excite mine. He yielded at length to the im-
pulse of his genius, and exposed himself in public. He

306 MEMOIRS OF

played with great applause, and, on returning behind
the scenes, he dropped down dead. The stage was
empty ; the actors did not make their appearance ; the
news gradually spread ; and at last reached the box
where I was. " 0 heavens ! Augeleri dead ? My com-
panion in spleen!" I rushed out like a madman, and
proceeded without knowing where. I reached home
without being conscious of the way I took. Everybody
perceived my agitation ; and when I was asked the
cause of it, I cried out repeatedly, " Angeleri is dead ! "
and threw myself upon my bed. My wife, who knew
my disposition, endeavored to tranquillize me, and ad-
vised me to be bled. I believe I should have done well
to have followed her advice ; but in the midst of the
phantoms which harassed me to a degree that almost
suspended respiration, I was still sensible of my folly,
and ashamed of having yielded to it. Notwithstanding
my endeavors to call reason to my assistance, the revo-
lution was so violent that I was seized with real illness,
and my mind was more difficult to cure than my body.

Doctor Baronio, my physician, after frequently em-
ploying all the resources of his profession, cured me
thoroughly one day by an advice which he gave me.
" Consider your disease," said he, " in the light of a
child who comes forward to attack you with a drawn
sword. If you be on your guard, he cannot hurt you;
but if you lay open your breast to him, the child will
kill you ! " This apologue restored me to health, and
I have never forgotten it. I have found its use in
every stage of my life ; for this cursed child sometimes
threatens me yet, and it costs me some efforts to dis-
arm him.

During the progress of my recovery at Modena, and
in the intervals of my fits at Milan, I never lost sight

CAELO GOLDONI. 307

of my theatre. I returned to Venice with a sufficiency
of materials for the year 1754 : and our theatre opened
with a piece called " La Villégiatura n (The Country
Excursion). I had observed, in my journey, a number
of country houses along the banks of the Brenta, where
all the pomp of luxury was displayed. In former times
our ancestors frequented these spots for the sole purpose
of collecting their property, and their descendants go
there merely to spend theirs. In the country they keep
open table, play high, give balls and theatrical enter-
tainments, and the Italian cicisbeo system is there in-
dulged without disguise or constraint, and gains more
ground than elsewhere. I .gave a view of all these
circumstances shortly afterwards in three consecutive
pieces. In the first there is no interest; but the de-
tails of a gallant nature are very amusing, and the
variety of characters introduced gives rise to incidents
and dialogues of a highly comic nature, and furnishes
an opportunity for the display of much just and enter-
taining criticism. My object was seen through and
applauded, and the piece, though in prose, met with
more success than I could have imagined.

I prepared for the carnival a comedy in prose, the
subject of which did not appear to me adapted for verse.
I allude to the " Vecchio Bizzarro" : this word bkzarro
sometimes in Italian has the signification of the French
word bizarre, and means capricious, fantastical, and
even extravagant ; but it is much more frequently used
to express what is gay, amusing, and brilliant ; and
the best translation for my " Vecchio Bizzarro," is "The
Amiable Old Man." I recollected the " Cortesan Vene-
ziano," given by me fifteen years before to the theatre
of St. Samuel, and represented by Golinetti with so
much applause; and I was desirous of composing a

308 MEMOIRS OF

piece in the same style for Rubini, who acted Panta-
loon in the theatre of St. Luke. But Golinetti was
a young man, and Rubini fifty at the least ; and as I
wished to bring him forward in this piece without a
mask, it was necessary to adapt the character to his
age. Those men who have been amiable in their youth
are proportionably so in their old age ; and of this Ru-
bini himself was a proof, for he was as agreeable on
the stage as delightful in company.

I expected that this play would at least be equally
successful with "The Cortesan " ; but in this expec-
tation I was sadly deceived. Rubini, who had never
appeared without a mask, was so constrained and em-
barrassed in his acting, that he displayed neither grace
nor art nor common-sense. The piece fell in the most
cruel and humiliating manner for both himself and
me : it was with the greatest difficulty that it was
allowed to go on to the conclusion, and when the cur-
tain was lowered, nothing but hisses were to be heard.
I escaped with all possible expedition from the theatre,
to avoid disagreeable compliments, and repaired to the
Ridotto. I mixed, concealed beneath my mask, in the
crowd which assembles there on leaving the theatres,
and I had sufficient time and opportunity to hear the
eulogies with which both myself and my piece were
honored. I went from one gaming-table to another,
and I found myself the universal subject of conversa-
tion. "Goldoni is done," said some; " Goldoni has
emptied his bag," said others. I recognized a nasal
voice which proceeded from a mask, and declared aloud
that "the portfolio was exhausted." He was asked
what portfolio he alluded to. "The manuscript," said
he, "from which Goldoni has drawn everything that he
has yet produced." Notwithstanding the desire which

CARLO GOLDOXL 309

every one seemed to have to laugh at my expense, this
declaration of the nasal mask turned the current of ridi-
cule completely against himself. I sought for criticism,
but I could hear only the effusions of ignorance and
animosity.

On returning home, I passed the night in meditating
on the means of being revenged on my ill-natured critics.
I was at length successful, and at break of day I began
a comedy of five acts, and in verse, entitled " II Festino"
(The Citizen's Ball). I sent it, act by act, to the copy-
ist. The comedians got off their parts in proportion as
the work proceeded: on the fourteenth day the play was
advertised, and on the fifteenth it was acted. It was
a complete exemplification of the axiom "Facit indig-
natio versus." This piece was still founded on the
eieisbeo system. A husband forces his wTife to give a
ball to her eieisbeo. I contrived to have in a saloon
adjoining the ball-room an assembly of fatigued dancers.
I turned the conversation to the " Vecchio Bizzarro," —
1 repeated all the ridiculous things which I heard at the
Ridotto; I kept up a dispute for and against the piece
and the author, and my defence met with the approba-
tion and applause of the public.

In this manner I gave a proof that my " bag was not
empty," and that my u portfolio was not exhausted."
Listen to me, my fellow-laborers ; we have no other
means of being revenged on the public, but by com-
pelling them to applaud us.

VIII.

Amidst my several daily occupations, I never lost
sight of the impression of my works. In my Florence
edition I had published the pieces composed by me for

310 MEMOIRS OF

the theatres of St. Samuel and St. Angelo ; and I be-
gan now to send to the press the productions of the two
first years of my new engagement with that of St. Luke.
This edition in octavo, under the title of "New Theatre
of M. Goldoiii." was undertaken by Pitteri, a bookseller
of Venice. I supplied him with sufficient materials foi
six months, and then went to join my comedians, who
were passing the spring at Bologna.

On arriving at the bridge of Lago-Scuro, a league
from Ferrara, where certain duties are demanded, I
forgot to submit my truuk to an examination, and I was
taken into custody on leaving the village. I had a
small store of chocolate, coffee, and tapers. These
were contraband commodities, and liable to confisca-
tion. This subjected me to a considerable fine ; and in
the dominions of the church the revenue -officers are by
no means lenient. The custom-house officer, who had
peace-officers along with him, on searching my trunk,
found several volumes of my comedies, which he ex-
tolled as highly delightful. He acted himself in private
parties. On my naming myself, he was surprised, en-
chanted, and kindly disposed towards me ; and he gave
me reason to entertain the most favorable hopes. Had
he been alone, he would have set me instantly at lib-
erty ; but as it was, the guards would not have consented
to lose their dues. The officer ordered my trunk to be
packed up again, and took me with him to the custom-
house. The director of the customs was not there :
my protector went himself to Ferrara in quest of him ;
and he returned in three hours' time with an order for
my liberation, on paying a small sum of duty for my
provisions. I wished to recompense the officer for the
service he had rendered me ; but he refused two sequins
which I requested him to accept, and even my choco-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 311

late, which I offered to share with him. All I could
do, therefore, was to thank and admire him: I wrote
his name down in my memorandum-hook ; I promised
him a copy of my new edition, an offer which he ac-
cepted with gratitude, and I entered my chaise, resumed
my journey, and arrived in the evening at Bologna.

In this city, the mother of science and the Athens
of Italy, complaints had been made some years "before
of my reformation, as having a tendency to suppress the
four masks of the Italian comedy. This sort of comedy
was in greater estimation at Bologna than elsewhere.
There were several persons of merit in that place, who
took a delight in composing outlines of pieces, which
were very well represented there by citizens of great
ability, and the delight of their country. The amateurs
of the old comedy, on seeing the rapid progress of the
new, declared everywhere that it was unworthy of an
Italian to give a blow to a species of comedy in which
Italy had attained great distinction, and which no other
nation had ever yet been able to imitate. But what
made the greatest impression on the discontented was
the suppression of masks, which my system appeared
to threaten. It was said that these personages had for
two centuries been the amusement of Italy, and that it
ought not to be deprived of a species of comic diversion
which it had created and so well supported.

Before venturing to give any opinion on this subject,
I imagine the reader will have no objection to listen for
a few minutes to a short account of the origin, employ-
ment, and effects of these four masks. Comedy, which
in all ages has been the favorite entertainment of pol-
ished nations, shared the fate of the arts and sciences,
and was buried under the ruins of the empire during
the decay of letters. The germ of comedy, however,

312 MEMOIRS OF

was never altogether extinguished in the fertile bosom
of Italy. Those who first endeavored to bring about
its revival, not finding, in an ignorant age, writers of
sufficient skill, had the boldness to draw out plans, to
distribute them into acts and scenes, and to utter, ex-
tempore, the subjects, thoughts, and witticisms which
they had concerted among themselves. Those who
could read (and neither the great nor the rich were of
the number) found that in the comedies of Plautus
and Terence there were always duped fathers, debauched
sons, enamored girls, knavish servants, and mercenary
maids; and, running over the different districts of Italy,
they took the fathers from Venice and Bologna, the
servants from Bergamo, and the lovers and waiting-
maids from the dominions of Rome and Tuscany.
Written proofs are not to be expected of what took
place in a time when writing was not in use ; but I
prove my assertion in this way : Pantaloon has al-
ways been a Venetian, the Doctor a Bolognese, and
Brighella and Harlequin, Bergamasks ; and from these
places, therefore, the comic personages called the four
masks of the Italian comedy were taken by the players.
What I say on this subject is not altogether the crea-
ture of my imagination: I possess a manuscript of the
fifteenth century, in very good preservation, and bound
in parchment, containing a hundred and twenty sub-
jects, or sketches of Italian pieces, called comedies of
art, and of which the basis of the comic humor are
always Pantaloon, a Venetian merchant ; the Doctor, a
Bolognese juris-consult; and Brighella and Harlequin,
Bergamask valets, the first clever and sprightly, and
the other a mere dolt. Their antiquity and their long
existence indicate their origin.

With respect to their employment, Pantaloon and

CARLO GOLDOXI. 313

the Doctor, called by the Italians the two old men,
represent the part of fathers, and the other parts where
d<»aks are vrorn. The first is a merchant, because
Venice in its ancient times was the richest and most
extensively commercial country of Italy. He has al-
ways preserved the ancient Venetian costume; the
black dress and the woollen bonnet are still worn in
Venice : and the red under-waistcoat and breeches,
cut out like drawers, with red stockings and slippers,
are a most exact representation of the equipment of
the first inhabitants of the Adriatic marshes. The
heard, which was considered as an ornament in those
remote ages, has been caricatured, and rendered ridic-
ulous in subsequent periods**.

The second old man. called the Doctor, was taken
from among the lawyers, for the sake of opposing a
learned man to a merchant ; and Bologna was selected,
because in that city there existed a university, which,
notwithstanding the ignorance of the times, still pre-
served the offices and emoluments of the professors.
In the dress of the Doctor. Ave observe the ancient cos-
tume of the university and bar of Bologna, which is
nearly the same at tins day : and the idea of the sin-
gular mask which covers his face and nose was taken
from a wine stain which disfigured the countenance of
a juris-consult in those times. This is a tradition still
existing among the amateurs of the comedy uî art.

Brighella and Harlequin, called in Italy the two
Zani, were taken from Bergamo : because, the former
being a very sharp fellow, and the other a stupid
clown, these two extremes are only to he found among
the lower orders of that part of the country. Bri-
ghella represents an intriguing, deceitful, and knavish
valet. His dress is a species of livery ; his swarthy

314 MEMOIRS OF

mask is a caricature of the color of the inhabitants of
those high mountains, tanned by the heat of the sun.
Some (•« «medians, in this character, have taken the
name of Fenocchio, Fiqueto, and Scapin; but they
have always represented the same valet and the same
Bergamask. The harlequins have also assumed other
names ; they have been sometimes Traeagnins, Truf-
faldins, Gradelins, and Mezetins ; but they have always
been stupid Bergamasks. Their dress is an exact rep-
resentation of that of a poor devil who has picked up
pieces of stuffs of different colors to patch his dress ;
his hat corresponds with his mendicity, and the hare's
tail with which it is ornamented is still common in the
dress of the peasantry of Bergamo.

I have thus, I trust, sufficiently demonstrated the
origin and employment of the four masks of the Ital-
ian comedy ; it now remains for me to mention the
effects resulting from them. The mask must always
be very prejudicial to the action of the performer either
in joy or sorrow; whether he be in love, cross, or
good-humored, the same features are always exhibited ;
and however he may gesticulate and vary the tone, he
can never convey by the countenance, which is the in-
terpreter of the heart, the different passions with
which he is inwardly agitated. The masks of the
Greeks and Romans were a sort of speaking-trumpets,
invented for the purpose of conveying the sound through
the vast extent of their amphitheatres. Passion and
sentiment were not, in those times, carried to the
pitch of delicacy now actually necessary. The actor
must, in our days, possess a soul ; and the soul under
a mask is like a fire under ashes. These were the
reasons which induced me to endeavor the reform of
the Italian theatre, and to supply the place of farces

CARLO GOLDOXI. 315

with comedies. But the complaints became louder and
louder; I was disgusted with the two parties, and I
endeavored to satisfy both; I undertook to produce
a few pieces merely sketched, without ceasing to give
comedies of character. I employed the masks in the
former; and I displayed a more noble and interesting
comic humor in the others ; each participated in the
species of pleasure with which they were most de-
lighted ; with time and patience I brought about a
reconciliation between them; and I had the satisfac-
tion, at length, to see myself authorized in following
my own taste, which became, in a few years, the most
general and prevailing in Italy. I willingly pardoned
the partisans of the comedians with masks the injuries
they laid to my charge; for they were very able ama-
teurs, who had the merit of giving themselves an in-
terest to sketched comedies.

I was most disgusted with those persons of quality
who called for vengeance against me for having rid*
iculed the cicisbeo system, and ventured to attack the
nobility. I was not desirous of excusing myself in
this respect, and still less of correcting myself; but I
entertained too high a value for the suffrage of the Bo-
lognese, not to endeavor to convert the discontented,
and to deserve their esteem. I invented a comedy, the
subject of which was worthy of a country where the
arts, sciences, and literature were more generally cul-
tivated than elsewhere. I selected for the subject of
my piece " Terence the African"; as I had, several years
before, selected the French Terence. This comedy is one
of my favorites ; it cost me infinité labor, and procured
me a great deal of satisfaction ; it merited the general
eulogium of the Bolognese : could I then possibly re-
frain to give it the preference ? Content with the sue-

316 MEMOIRS OF

cess of my " Terence," I returned to Venice, and passed
the rest of the summer at Bagnoli, a superb estate in
tlif district of Padua, belonging to Count Widiman,
a noble Venetian, and a feudatory in the imperial
dominions. This rich and generous nobleman was
always accompanied by a numerous and select society.
They represented plays, and he himself bore a part in
them ; and, notwithstanding his natural seriousness,
there was not a harlequin of them all more gay and
nimble than himself. He had studied Sacchi, and
imitated him to admiration. I supplied little sketches ;
but I durst not venture to play in them. Some ladies
of the party obliged me to take the character of a
lover; I satisfied them, and thus enabled them to
laugh, and enjoy themselves at my expense. I was
piqued ; and next day I sketched a small piece, entitled
" The Fair" ; and in place of one character for myself,
I took four, — a stage-doctor, a sharper, a stage-man-
ager, and a ballad-monger. In the first of these char-
acters I mimicked the jugglers of the square of .St.
Mark ; and I uttered under the mask of the fourth
several allegorical and critical couplets, concluding
with the complaint of the author against them for
laughing at me. This pleasantry was approved of;
and thus I took my revenge in my own way.

I quitted the company of Bagnoli about the end of
the month of September, and returned borne, to be
present at the opening of my theatre. The first,
novelty we gave was 4" Il Cavalière Giocondo" (The
Merry Gentleman), a piece which I should perhaps have
forgotten, if I had not seen it printed against my will
in the edition of Turin : it was not damned outright at
its first representation : it was in verse, and displeased
nobody, but 1 myself was disgusted with it. After this

CARLO GOLDOXI. 317

piece in verse, I gave one which, notwithstanding the
disadvantage of prose, pleased very much, and was
eminently successful.

I gave three other pieces on the same subject;
and the following are their titles : "Le Smanie della
Villégiatura" (The Country Mania); u Le Avven-
ture della Canipagna" (The Adventures of the Coun-
try); and " II Kitorno della Campagna" (The Return
from the Country). In Italy, and at Venice in a par-
ticular manner, this mania, these adventures and
regrets, furnish an abundance of ridiculous matter
worthy of comedy. It is hardly possible in France to
have any idea of the extent of this fanaticism, which
converts the country into a display of luxury rather
than a scene of rural enjoyment. Since I have been
at Paris, however, I have seen people win», without
having an inch of ground to cultivate, kept up country-
houses at a great expense, in which they ruined them-
selves as well as the Italians ; and my piece, in giving
an idea of the folly of my countrymen, may admit of
this incidental deduction, that in every country where
people of moderate fortunes attempt to vie with the
opulent, they will infallibly be ruined.

IX.

I was called to Parma in the month of March, 1756,
by order of his royal highness the Infante Dou Philip.
This prince, who maintained a very numerous and
able French company, was also desirous of having an
Italian comic opera. He did me the honor to employ
me in the composition of three pieces for the opening
of this new entertainment. On arriving at Parma I
was conducted to Colorno, where the court then was,

318 MEMOIRS OF

and introduced to M. du Tillot, intendant-gencral of
the house of his royal highness, who was afterwards a
minister of state, and advanced to the title of Marquis
de Felino. This worthy Frenchman, full of intellect,
talents, and probity, received me with kindness ; gave
me a very pretty apart ment ; destined me a seat at
his table, and directed me to M. Jacobi, then intrusted
with the management of the entertainments, for my
instructions. The same day I went to the court-
comedy, and saw, for the first time, French actors. I
was enchanted with their acting, and astonished at the
silence which prevailed in the theatre. I do not recol-
lect the name of the comedy which was that day repre-
sented ; but on seeing, in one of the scenes, a lover
warmly embrace his mistress, this action, which is
natural and allowable tu the French, but prohibited to
the Italians, pleased me so much that I called out,
" Bravo I " as loud as I could. My indiscreet and un-
known voice shocked the silent assembly. The prince
wished to know whence it came : I was named, and
the surprise of an Italian author was considered par-
donable. This sally was the means of my general
introduction to the public. I went behind the scenes
after the conclusion of the performance, where I was
soon surrounded with people, and I thus formed a
number of acquaintances, who made my residence in
Parma very agreeable to me, and whom I regretted
at parting. I had the honor, some days afterwards, of
kissing the hands of the infante, infanta, and the prin-
cess-royal, their daughter. I enjoyed for some time
the pleasures of Colorno, and then retired to Parma, to
labor without interruption.

I was liberally recompensed for my time and my
trouble ; and I left Parma with letters-patent of poet,

CARLO GOLDONI. 319

and actual servant of his royal highness, and with an
annual pension which the reigning duke had the good-
ness to continue to me.

X.

Mr journey to Parma, and the pension and diploma
conferred on me, excited the envy and rage of my ad-
versaries. They had reported at Venice, during my
absence, that I was dead : and there was a monk who
had even the temerity to say he had been at my fu-
neral. On arriving home safe and sound, the evil-
disposed began to display their irritation at my good
fortune. It was not the authors, my antagonists, who
tormented me, but the partisans of the different thea-
tres of Venice.

I was defended by literary men, who entertained a
favorable opinion of me; and this gave rise to a war-
fare in which I was very innocently the victim of the
irritation which had been excited. Every day wit-
nessed some new composition for or against me : but I
had this advantage, that those who interested them-
selves for me, from their manners, their talents, and
their reputation, were among the most prudent and
distinguished men in Italy. One of the articles for
which I was most keenly attacked, was a violation of
the purity of the language. I was a Venetian, and I
had had the disadvantage of sucking in with my moth-
er's milk the use of a very agreeable and seductive
patois, which, however, was not Tuscan. I learned
by principle, and cultivated by reading, the language
of the good Italian authors ; but first impressions will
return at times, notwithstanding every attention used
in avoiding them. I had undertaken a journey into

320 MEMOIRS OF

Tuscany, where I remained for four years, with the
view of becoming familiar with the language; and I

printed the first edition of my works at Florence, under
the eyes and the criticism of the learned of that place,
that I might purify them from errors of language.
All my precautions were insufficient to satisfy the
rigorists : I always failed in one thing or other ; and I
was perpetually reproached with the original sin of
Venetianism.

Amidst all this tedious trifling I recollected, one day,
that Tasso had heen worried his whole lifetime by the
academicians della Crusca, who maintained that his
"Jerusalem Delivered " had not passed through the
sieve, which is the emblem of their society. I was
then in my closet, and I turned my eyes towards the
twelve quarto volumes of the works of that author, and
exclaimed, " 0 heavens ! must no one write in the
Italian language, who has not been born in Tuscany?"
I turned up mechanically the five volumes of the dic-
tionary de la Crusca, where I found more than six
hundred words, and a number of expressions, approved
of by the academy, and rejected by the world : I ran
over several ancient authors considered as classical,
which it would be impossible to imitate in the present
day without censure ; and I came to this conclusion,
that we must write in good Italian, but write at the
same time so as to be understood in every corner of
Italy. Tasso was therefore wrong in reforming his
poem to please the academicians de la Crusca : his
"Jerusalem Delivered " is read by everybody, while
nobody thinks of reading his " Jerusalem Conquered."

In the ensuing carnival, I received a letter from

Rome. Count , having engaged to uphold the

Tordinona theatre in that capital, fixed his eyes on me.

CARLO GOLDONI. 321

He demanded from me pieces for his comedians, and
invited me to repair to Rome to direct them.

I had never yet visited Rome ; and the conditions
proposed to me were highly honorable. Could I re-
fuse so favorable and advantageous an opportunity?

I could not engage myself, however, without an
avowal to the patrician who confided to me the inter-
ests of his theatre at Venice. I imparted the project
to him, and assured him that I would not fail to sup-
ply his comedians with novelties. He readily gave his
consent, and even displayed great satisfaction on the
occasion.

I accepted the invitation accordingly, and demanded
information respecting the construction of the Tordi-
nona theatre, and the actors who were to perforin in it.

The person who corresponded with me gave me no
information on these two points, which appeared to me
of some importance : he supposed that, on arriving at
Rome, I could blow comedies as glasses are blown in a
manufactory; and he merely informed me that he had
taken care to have handsome apartments for me in the
best quarter of Rome, in the house of a very polite and
very worthy abbé, who, from his knowledge, would be
able to render my residence in Rome highly agreeable
and interesting.

I accepted the proposition ; and being precluded
from laboring for the Roman actors, of whom I knew
nothing, I employed my time for the comedians of
Venice.

MEMOIRS OF

XL

I knew that for some years my comedies had been
represented at the Capranica theatre, and that they
were applauded there as well as at Venice. I was,
therefore, about to combat against myself, and I was
desirous of acting in such a manner that my presence,
and the care bestowed by me, should incline the public
in favor of the new theatre, which was to open under
my direction. I had never hazarded my works with-
out knowing the actors by whom they were to be rep-
resented ; and I wrote again for instruction respecting
the character and the aptitute of the comedians who
were destined for me.

I was informed, in answer, that Count was him-
self unacquainted with the actors, the greatest part of
whom were Neapolitans, who would not make their
appearance in Rome till the latter end of the month of
November. In the same letter I learned that the count
did not demand new pieces from me, that I might
bring with me those which I had lately composed for
Venice ; that I should see and examine the company
myself, and that in the space of a month the theatre
might be opened.

I embarked in the beginning of October with my
wife : I did not wish to go alone, and I could not have
company more to my liking. We first went to Bo-
logna, whence we may go to Rome either by the way
of Florence or Loretto ; I preferred the latter road, as
I was anxious to satisfy at once both my devotion and
my curiosity. The small town of Loretto has the ap-
pearance of a perpetual fair of chaplets, medals, and
images. It seems that all those who traverse this

CARLO GOLDONI. 323

country are bound to purchase these holy commodities
to regale strangers with them. In purchasing my store
of them, like other people, I amused myself with in-
terrogating my merchant on the profit of his trade.
" Alas, sir," said he to me, "there was a time when,
through the grace of the good Virgin Mary, those in
our situation made rapid fortunes ; but for several years
the Mother of God, irritated at our sins, has abandoned
us ; the sale diminishes every day ; all that we can do
is to keep soul and body together : and if it were not
for the Venetians, we should be obliged to shut up
shop." When all my purchases were well assorted and
tied up, my merchant presented me what he called a
conscientious bill. I paid him without much hag-
gling : the good man made the sign of the cross with
the money which I gave him, and I went away very
much edified. I showed my purchase to the Abbé
Toni of Loretto, from whom I learned that the mer-
chant, having perceived I was a Venetian, had made
me pay for my goods a third more than the ordinary
price. It was late, and I was in haste to continue my
journey, so that I had no time to go and tell my re-
ligious friend that he was a knave.

I continued my route for Rome, and on my arrival

in that capital I wrote to Count . He sent his

valet- de -chambre next day to me, and invited me to
dine with him. A coach was in waiting at my door to
take me, and I dressed, set out, and found all the come-
dians assembled at his house. After the usual ceremo-
nies I applied to the person nearest me to learn from
him his employment. " Sir," said he with an air of
importance, " I play Punch." " What, sir," said I to
him, u Punch ! in the Neapolitan language ?" " Yes,
sir," he replied, " in the same way as your Harlequins

324 MEMOIRS OF

speak in Bergamask or Venetian. I have been, I may
say without boasting, the delight of Rome for upwards
of teu years. M. Francisco here plays la Popa (the
waiting-maid), and M. Petrillo acts the mothers and
sober-minded women, and for teu years we have been
the support of the theatre of Tordinona."

My couutenance fell immediately, and I looked at
the count, who was as embarrassed as myself. " I
perceive, now that it is too late, the inconveniences of
our situation," said he to me ; " but we must endeavor
to remedy matters as far as possible." I gave the
Neapolitan and Roman actors to understand that, for
some time, masks had not been employed in my pieces.
''Never mind; do not let that alarm you," said the
celebrated Punch; " we are not puppets; we neither
want judgment nor memory ; let us see what you want
with us."

I drew from my pocket the comedy which I had
destined for them, and offered to read it. Everybody
prepared to hear me ; and I read " La Yedova Spiri-
tosa," The comedy gave infinite pleasure to the
count ; and the comedians, not daring perhaps to say
what they thought of it, acquiesced in the determina-
tion of the person who had the power of selecting the
pieces. The parts were instantly ordered to be copied
out, and the comedians withdrew. When seated at
table I did not conceal from the count my fear that we
had both of us committed a piece of imprudence, he in
sending for me to Rome and myself in coming.

Whilst the comedians were learning their parts I
thought only of seeing and examining everything in
Rome, and visiting those to whom I had letters of
recommendation. 1 had a letter from the minister cf
Parma for Cardinal Porto-Carrero, the Spanish am-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 325

bassador, and another from Prince Rezzonico, the
nephew of the reigning pope, for Cardinal Charles
Rezzonico, his brother.

I began by presenting this last letter to the Cardinal
Padrone, who received me with kindness and the same
familiarity with which I was honored by his illustrious
relations of Venice. He was not long in procuring me
an opportunity to visit his holiness, and I was pre-
sented a few days afterwards alone and in a private
closet ; a favor which is very unusual. This Venetian
pontiff, whom I had the honor of knowing in his epis-
copal city of Padua, and whose exaltation had been
celebrated by my Muse, gave me the most gracious
reception. He conversed with me for three quarters
of an hour, always speaking to me of his nephews and
nieces, and charmed with the news which I communi-
cated to him.

His holiness touched a bell on his table, which was
the signal for my departure. I took my leave with
many bows and expressions of thanks ; but the holy
father did not seem satisfied : he moved his feet and
hands, coughed, and looked at me, yet said nothing.
What a blunder I had committed! Enchanted and
overpowered with the honor conferred on me, I had
forgotten to kiss the foot of the successor of St.
Peter. I recovered at length from my absence, and
prostrated myself. Clement XIII. loaded me with
benedictions, and I departed mortified at my stupidity
and edified by his indulgence. I continued my visits
for several days. Cardinal Porto Carrero made me
an offer of his table and the use of his coach. The
same offer was made me by the chevalier Carrero, the
Venetian ambassador, and I availed myself of the
offers, and particularly of the carriages, which are as

326 MEMOIRS OF

necessary at Rome as at Paris. I saw every day car-
dinals, princes, princesses, and foreign ministers; and
immediately after my reception I was visited, next
day, by valets who came to compliment me on my ar-
rival, and to whom it was necessary to give from three
to ten paoli according to the rank of their masters,
and to those of the Pope three sequins. This is the
custom of the country ; the sum is fixed, and there is
no abatement.

In the course of my visits I did not fail to examine
the precious monuments of that city, formerly the
capital of the world, and now the principal seat of the
Catholic religion. I shall not dwell on the chef -d'oeu-
vres known to everybody, but shall confine myself to
an expression of the effect produced on my mind and
senses by the view of St. Peter's of Koine.

I was fifty-two when I first saw this temple ; from
the age of reason to that time, I had heard it spoken
of with enthusiasm; I had read the historians and
travellers by whom it is described in a suitable manner.
I imagined, therefore, that on seeing it myself my sur-
prise would be diminished by anticipation; but it so
happeued that all the descriptions fell below the actual
impression it made on me; and that everything which,
when at a distance, appeared to me described with
exaggeration, rose in grandeur when I actually viewed
it. I am no connoisseur in architecture, and I shall
not attempt to make a display of terms of art to ex-
plain the cause of the delight which I felt; but I am
certain that it was the effect of the accuracy of propor-
tion displayed throughout such an immense extent.
If the objects of construction and ornament excite
our admiration, the sanctuary of that church is in an
equal degree productive of devotion. The bodies of

CARLO GOLDOXI. 327

St. Peter and St. Paul repose in the vaults of the
chief altar; and the Romans, who are everything
hut devout, never fail to appear there frequently in
testimony of their veneration for the princes of the
apostles.

My landlord, for example, would not have failed,
for all the gold in the world, to attend prayers every
day in the cathedral. He was fond of pleasure, and
on returning home, as late as midnight, he would rec-
ollect that he had not visited his patrons. He lived
in a quarter of the town at a great distance from St.
Peter's; hut that did not signify: he always went, and
after prayers at the door returned home satisfied.

I must introduce this man to my readers, who pos-
sessed some singularities, hut who had an excellent
heart and was unequalled in sincerity. He was the
Abbé , the correspondent of several German bish-
ops on datary business : he furnished me with a suite
of apartments consisting of four rooms with eight
windows in front looking into the Corso, the finest
street in Rome, where everybody assembled to see the
races of Barbary horses, and to enjoy the masks in
Shrovetide. The Abbé had a wife and a charm-
ing daughter ; he was not rich, but he kept good
cheer, and I boarded with him. There was every day
on his table a dish made by himself, and which he
never failed to announce to his guests as a dish for the
advocate Goldoni, dressed by the hands of his servant

; adding, that nobody should touch it without the

advocate's permission. He gave concerts : Miss

sung delightfully, and she was seconded by voices and
instruments of the first merit, which in Rome may be
found in abundance in all classes and all ranks.

These parties of pleasure were always, according to

328 MEMOIRS OF

the account of my dear abbé, ordered for the advocate
Goldoni, and I could not vex him more than by dining
out or passing the evening in any other house. One
day, when I came home to tell him that I had engaged
to dine out, he wished himself at the devil and scolded
my wife. "Nobody shall eat,"' said he, "of the dish
which I prepared for the advocate Goldoni." He then
entered his kitchen, and, looking with a distressed air
at the delicious dish which he had taken so much
pleasure in preparing, he was at last seized with a tit
of rage and threw the stewpan into the court. On
my return home in the evening the abbé was in bed
and refused to see me. Everybody laughed, but I felt
very uneasy; however, the servant at that instant
having delivered me an invitation to go next day to
the rehearsal of my piece, and that interesting me
considerably more than the other circumstance, I soon
forgot the abbé, and slept very tranquilly.

I repaired to Count 's to be present at the re-
hearsal of my piece. The comedians were there : they
had studied their parts, and got them by heart. I was
flattered by their attention, and I resolved to second
their zeal and give them all the assistance in my
p< >wer. They began ; Donna Placida and Donna Lui-
gia ; these female parts were acted by two young
Romans, a journeyman barber and a journeyman
carpenter. Good Heaven ! what extravagant declama-
tion ! what awkward gestures ! No truth, — no intel-
ligence. I ventured to speak in general terms of the
bad taste of their mode of declamation. Punch, who
was always the orator of this company, replied very
briskly, " Every one has his manner, sir, and this
happens to be ours." I formed my resolution in
silence : I merely observed to them that the piece ap-

CARLO GOLDOXI. ■ 329

peared to me to be too long, and this was the only
point in which we were agreed. I abridged it at least
a good third, to spare me the trouble of hearing it;
and, tiresome as the task was, I was present at every
one of the rehearsals, even at the last one in the
theatre.

All the theatres are opened in Rome on the same
day, the 26th of December. I was tempted not to go,
but the count had destined me a place in his box and
I could not decently refuse to be present. I went
accordingly, and found the house fully lighted and the
curtain about to be drawn. There were, at most,
not more than a hundred persons in the boxes and
thirty in the pit. I had been informed beforehand
that the Tordiuona theatre was the resort of coal-
heavers and sailors, and that, without Punch, none of
the lovers of farce would attend. Still, however, I
was inclined to believe that an author sent for ex-
pressly from Venice would excite cariosity and attract
spectators from the centre of the town ; but my actors
were sufficiently known in Rome. When the curtain
was drawn the actors made their appearance, and
played in the same manner as they had rehearsed.
The public became impatient aud asked for Punch,
and the piece went on worse and worse. I could bear
it no longer ; I began to feel myself growing unwell,
and I asked the count's permission to withdraw,
which he readily granted me, and even made me an
offer of his coach. I quitted the theatre of Tordiuona
and went to join my wife, who was in that of
Aliberti.

My wife, foreseeing the failure of my piece as well
as myself, had gone to the opera with the daughter of
my landlord. On my entering their box they per-

330 • MEMOIRS OF

ceived, by my countenance, the chagrin which I felt,
without my having spoken to them. " Console your-
self," said the young lady to me, laughing, "things
are not better here : the music does not please at all, —
there is not one agreeable air, recitative, or ritornello ;
Buranello has sadly forgot himself this time." She
was skilled in music and capable of judging for herself;
and I saw that everybody there was of her opinion.

The pit of Home is dreadful ; the abbés decide in a
vigorous and noisy manner; there are no guards or
police ; and hisses, cries, laughter, and invectives re-
sound from all quarters of the house. But it must be
owned that he who pleases the churchmen may deem
himself fortunate. I was at the first representation of
the " Ciccio of Mayo" in the same theatre, and the ap-
plauses were as violent as the censures had formerly
been. A part of the pit went out at the close of the
entertainment, to conduct the musician home in tri-
umph, and the remainder of the audience stayed in
the theatre, calling out without intermission, u Viva
Mayo ! " till every candle was burnt to the socket.
What would have become of me, had I remained at
Tordinona till the conclusion of my piece ! I trembled

when I thought of this. I called on Count next

day. fully determined never to expose myself again to
a similar danger. Fortunately I had to do with a just
and reasonable man, who himself saw the impossibility
of deriving any advantage from his comedians without
allowing them to proceed in their own way. I shall
state, in a few words, the arrangement to which we
were obliged to have recourse.

It was agreed that the Neapolitans should give their
usual sketches diversified with musical interludes, the
subjects of which I should arrange from parodied airs ;

CARLO GOLDONI. 661

and this project was in a few flays carried into execu-
tion. We found the best scores of my comic operas in
the music shops. Rome is a nursery of singers. We

procured two g 1 and six tolerable ones. The first

interlude we gave was " Areifanfano Re di Pazzi," the
music by Buranello. This little spectacle afforded
great pleasure, and the theatre of Tordinona succeeded
in a way that prevented the count from being a great
loser. I had failed in Tordinona, and this was a mor-
tifying chagrin for me; but I was indemnified by the
actors of Capranica. This theatre, which for several
years had devoted itself to my pieces, was then acting
the comedy of " Pamela." The play was bo well acted
and afforded such pleasure, that it alone supported the
theatre from its opening to^the close, that is, from the
26th of December to Shrove Tuesday.

Every time that I went was a new triumph for me.
The actors of Capranica, whom I had extolled to the
skies because they were deserving of it, entreated me
to have the goodness to compose a piece for their the-
atre. They were in no want of a comedy from me,
because they had all those which I printed every year
1o choose from ; but it was a kindness they wished to
show me by way of gratitude, for the profits which
they had derived from my works. I consented To
gratify their desire without appearing to have any idea
«;f their intention. I asked them if they had any sub-
ject to give me which might be agreeable to them.
They proposed the continuation of ' ' Pamela." I prom-
ised to furnish them with it before my departure : I
kept my word and they were satisfied : I was not less
so with the noble and generous manner in which they
recompensed me for my trouble. This comedy appears
in the collection of my works under the title of "Pamela

332 MEMOIRS OF

Maritata." I did not witness the representation of this
piece ; I learned, however, that its success was less brill-
iant than that of the preceding part of " Pamela/' and
this did not astonish me. There was more study and
refinement in the second, and more interest and action
in the first. The one was adapted for the theatre and
the other for the closet. I Leg pardon of those who
commissioned it, if I disappointed them in their views.
I gave them the choice of their subject, and I cannot
reproach myself with having neglected it.

XII.

The carnival begins almost universally throughout
all Italy, toward the end of December or beginning of
January. At Rome the time of gayety or folly, dis-
tinguished for the liberties of the masks, does not
commence till Shrovetide ; the mask is only tolerated
from two to five o'clock in the afternoon. At night-
fall every person ought to appear without a mask ; and
it may be said that the carnival of Rome lasts only
.twenty-four hours, but this short time is admirably
well employed. It is impossible to form an idea of
the brilliancy and magnificence of these eight days.
Throughout the whole length of the Corso four rows of
richly decorated carriages are to be seen; the two lat-
eral rows are merely spectators of the two which pass
up and down in the middle. A number of masks on
foot, by no means of the lower orders, ran about along
the pavement singing and uttering every sort of drollery
and buffoonery, and throwing profusion of sweetmeats
into the carriages, which return the volleys with inter-
est ; so that in the evening the streets are covered with
brayed sugar. In the same place and during the same

CARLO GOLDOXI. 333

days the horse-racing takes place for a prize of a piece
of stuff, of gold or silver. The horses are free, and
without guides ; but, trained to the course, irritated by
the points of steel which goad them, and animated by
the shouts and clapping of hands of the multitude,
they start of their own accord from the palace of
St Mark, and run to the gates of the city, where
they are stopped, when the prize is adjudged to the
foremost.

I was fortunate enough to enjoy this delightful sight
without leaving my room ; my landlord destined a
balcony for me in the hall of his apartments, and
fixed a label in large letters over it containing these
words: " Balcony for the Advocate Goldoni." There
were but eight windows, and the Abbe had in-
vited sixty individuals. Those who entered paid no
attention to the placard ; every one endeavored to get
the first seat, and my poor abbé was very much em-
barrassed to keep a place for me. I could have gone
into my own room, with his wife and my own, but
he would not hear of such a thing, and insisted on my
coming to the hall. On entering I found every corner
full, but, after some arrangement, I got a place. On
the appearance of ladies afterwards we were obliged to
give them the preference ; and I made way as well as
the rest, and remained without a place. The abbé,
quite in a fury, took me by the hand and dragged me
into the room, displaced his wife and daughter, and
pushed me, whether I would or not, to the front of the
balcony, where he seated himself beside me and con -
tinued to point out, from time to time, the carriages of
princes, princesses, and cardinals, whose coachmen he
knew, and to name the horses whose device he was
enabled to distinguish.

334 MEMOIRS OF

"When all was over, the abbe's embarrassment be-
came serious; for none of the company thought of
going away. He had asked a number of them to sup-
per, and he did not recollect either the names or the
number of those whom he had invited. Among the
company were several musical amateurs ; and a vocal
and instrumental concert was struck up. Everything
went on well, but still nobody thought of going away.
"What was to be done ? The poor abbé came to me in
the utmost consternation, and consulted with me on
the subject of his embarrassment. " This is nothiug,
my friend," said I to him; ''you have committed a
piece of folly, and you must pay for it." "But then,
forty or fifty — " "Courage, my dear abbé." said I,
"courage; send for violins; cover a little sideboard
with all expedition : set the company a dancing and
extricate yourself the best way you can." He ap-
proved of my proposal; the ball was given; the re-
freshments were found sufficient ; the night was spent
brilliantly, and everybody went away well pleased.

We were near the close of the carnival, and we spent
these last days of gayety with one another in the most
agreeable manner. On the arrival of Lent we changed
decorations, but we did not amuse ourselves the less.
Everywhere music and card-tables were to be found.
The most common game was mouche, called the Beast.
I remarked there a degree of politeness towards women
which I have never elsewhere observed. If a lady is
in danger of being the beast, a small card is played to
save her from this disagreeable predicament.

I quitted Rome on the 2d of August, to the great
regret of my host, from whom I experienced the great-
est kindness. He never ceased to write to me, and
he sent me every year Roman almanacs to the day

CARLO GOLDOXI. ôoO

of his death. In returning to my country I took the
road through Tuscany, and I felt an infinite pleas-
ure in seeing again that delightful country, where for
four years I had been so agreeably occupied. I saw

nearly all my old friends. I turned off a little from
my road to revisit Pisa, Leghorn, and Lucca. I began
to hid adieu to Italy, without knowing that I was to
quit it forever.

I had scarcely time to breathe when I was again
summoned to labor. I arrived on the first day of Sep-
tember, and the theatre was to be opened on the 4th
of the following month. I had done nothing yet. I
was too agreeably occupied at Rome to find leisure to
write. I was laborious; but I have always been fond
of pleasure, and, withoutrlosing sight of my engage-
ments, I availed myself of my moments of liberty. I
knew that I possessed great facility, and I always la-
bored with more ardor when I was limited in point of
time.

It must also be owned that time, experience, and
habit had so familiarized me with the art of comedy,
that, after inventing the subjects and selecting the
characters, all the rest was mere routine for me. At
first I went through four operations before finishing the
composition and correction of a piece. First operation :
the plan, with the division, three principal parts, the
exposition, the intrigue, and the winding-up. Second
operation : the division of the action into acts and
scenes. Third : the dialogue of the most interesting
scenes. Fourth : the geueral dialogue of the whole of
the piece. It frequently happened that, in this last
operation, I changed all that I had done in my second
and third ; for ideas succeed one another ; one scene
produces another ; one chance expression furnishes a

336 MEMOIRS OF

new thought. After some time I became enabled to
reduce the four operations to one alone ; having the
plan and the three divisions in my head, I began at
once, Act the First, Scene the First, and proceeded
straight on to the conclusion, with this maxim always
in view, that all the lines ought to terminate in a fixed
point, that is, in the winding-up of the action, which is
the principal part for which all the machines are put in
motion. I have rarely been disappointed in my catas-
trophies. This I may boldly say, as it has been uni-
versally allowed, and the matter seems to me by no
means attended with difficulty. It is very easy to have
a fortunate winding-up, when it has been well prepared
in the beginning of the piece, and never lost sight of
in the course of the work.

I began then, and finished in fifteen days, a com-
edy of three acts, in prose, entitled " Gl' innamorati"
(The. Lovers). The title promised nothing new, for
there are few plays without love ; but I knew none
where the lovers resemble those which I drew in this.
Lr.ve would be the most dreadful scourge on the face
of the earth, were all lovers as impassioned and miser-
able as the two principal characters of my comedy. I
knew the originals, however, and had seen them at
Rome, where I was the confidant of both. I was the
witness of their passion and affection, and frequently of
their fits of raving and ridiculous transports. I had
more than once witnessed their quarrels, cries, and des-
peration, with torn handkerchiefs, broken glasses, and
knives drawn. My lovers are extravagant, but they
are not the less true. I am willing to allow that there
is more truth than probability in this work ; but, from
the certainty of the fact, I imagined it possible to rep-
resent a picture which should dispose some to laugh,

CARLO GOLDOXI. 337

and inspire others with fear. Such a subject in France
would not have been supportable. In Italy it was con-
sidered somewhat exaggerated, and I heard several per-
sons of my acquaintance boast of having been nearly
in the same situation. I was nut wrong then in paint-
ing, in strong colors, the follies of love in a country
where the heart and the head are more than anywhere
else heated by the power of the climate.

XIII.

With " La Donna Stravagaute " (The Capricious
Woman) we opened the carnival of 1760. The prin-
cipal character of the piece was so wicked, that the
women would not have allowed it to be natural, and
I was obliged, therefore, to say that it was pure in-
vention. This piece was pretty successful, and would
have been more so, but Madame Bresciani, whose nat-
ural disposition was a little capricious, imagined her-
self portrayed in it, and the work suffered from her ill
humor. I soon made reparation for my injuries to-
wards this excellent actress. I composed a Venetian
piece, entitled " Le Baruffe Chiozzote" (The Dis-
putes of the People of Chiozza). This low comedy
produced an admirable effect. Madame Bresciani,
notwithstanding her Tuscan accent, had acquired the
Venetian manners and pronunciation so well, that she
afforded as much pleasure in low as in genteel comedy.
I had been coadjutor of the criminal chancellor at
Chiozza in my youth ; an office corresponding with
that of substitute of the lieutenant-criminel. My situ-
ation brought me in contact with that numerous and
tumultuous population of fishermen, sailors, and low
women, whose only place of assemblage was the open

338 MEMOIRS OF

street. I knew their manners, their singular language,
their gayety, and their malice ; I was enabled to paint
them accurately ; and the capital, which is only eight
leagues distant from that town, was perfectly well
acquainted with my originals. The piece had the
most brilliant success ; and with it we closed the car-
nival.

On the Ash -"Wednesday following, I was at one of
those spare suppers with which our Venetian epicures
commence their Lent collations. We had every fish
which the Adriatic Sea or the Lake di Garda could
supply. The conversation turned on plays, and the
modesty of the author, who was one of the guests, was
not spared. Wearied with hearing the same thing over
and over again, and by way of putting a stop to com-
pliments and eulogies without end, I imparted to the
society a project which I had just conceived. The wine
and other liquors had elevated the minds of the com-
pany ; but they became instantly silent, and listened
attentively to me. It was a new edition of my " The-
atre " which I wished to speak to them about. I en-
deavored to be as brief as possible ; but I said enough
to make my meaning understood. I was applauded
and encouraged, and paper and ink were sent for. The
party was composed of eighteen individuals, without in-
cluding myself ; a subscription-paper was immediately
drawn up ; each individual subscribed for ten copies ;
and by this manœuvre I procured a hundred and eighty
subscriptions. This was the origin of my Pasquali
edition, of which I have spoken enough in the Preface
to these Memoirs. I will not exhaust the reader's pa-
tience further at present, but proceed to communicate
a letter which I received some days afterwards from
Ferney.

CARLO GOLDOXI. 339

Perhaps you may imagine it was from M. de Vol-
taire. In that case you are mistaken. I have received
several letters from that great and wonderful man;
but at that time I had not the honor to correspond
with him.

The letter of which I am speaking was signed Poin-
sinet. I knew nothing of him, but he announced him-
self as an author. He spoke of several pieces com-
posed by him for the comic opera at Paris : he said
he was on a visit to his friend, at Ferney, from whom
he had instructions to mention a number of things ;
and he requested me to return an answer to him at
Paris.

He wrote to me on the subject of a translation of all
my theatrical works into French, which he had in con-
templation. He asked me bluntly, and without any
ceremony, for the manuscripts of my pieces not yet
printed, and for the communication of any anecdotes
respecting myself. I was at first induced to believe
myself honored in the wish expressed by a French au-
thor, to enter upon a translation of my works ; but I
could not help thinking his demands a little premature:
and, being personally unacquainted with him, I returned
an answer, couched in respectful terms, but sufficient
to dissuade him from his undertaking.

I informed M. Poinsinet, that I was engaged in a
new edition, with corrections and alterations, and that
my pieces were, besides, full of the diiferent Italian di-
alects, which rendered it almost impossible for a stran-
ger to execute a translation of my " Theatre."

I thought this sufficient : by no means ; for I re-
ceived à second letter from the same author, dated from
Paris : "I shall expect from you, sir, the changes and
corrections which you propose to make in your new

340 MEMOIRS OF

edition. With respect to the different Italian dialects,
do not alarm yourself; I have a servant who has gone
over all Italy, and can explain them to me to your
satisfaction." I was very highly offended at this pro-
posal, and supposed that the French author was laugh-
ing at me. I went instantly to Count de Baschi, the
French ambassador at Venice, and communicated to
him the two letters of M. de Poinsinet, requesting him
to inform me what sort of a man he was.

I do not recollect what his excellency told me with
respect to M. Poinsinet, but he delivered me a letter
which he had received with the despatches from his
court. This was a very agreeable piece of news for
me, and I shall proceed to give an account of it.

The letter delivered to me by the French ambassa-
dor was from M. Zanuzzi, the principal actor of the
Italian theatre at Paris. This man, equally respecta-
ble for his character and his talents, had carried with
him, into France, the manuscript of my comedy, en-
titled " Harlequin's Child Lost and Found." This
piece he had presented to his companions, by whom it
was approved of and acted. It had given great pleas-
ure, he told me, and had confirmed the reputation
long enjoyed by my works in that country, where a
desire was felt to have me.

M. Zanuzzi, after this introduction, informed me
that he was empowered by the principal gentlemen of
the king's bedchamber, intrusted with the regulation
of theatrical entertainments, to offer me an engage-
ment for two years, with an honorable salary.

Count Baschi described to me, at the same time,
the eagerness which the Duke d'Aumont, the first gen-
tleman of the chamber on duty, displayed to procure
me ; and he added, that, in case of any difficulty, he

CARLO COLDOXI. 341

would make a demand in form to the government of
the republic.

For a long time I had been desirous of seeing Paris,
and I was at first tempted to answer in the affirmative ;
hut I did not feel myself exactly at liberty to follow
my own inclination exclusively, and I demanded some
time for consideration.

I was in the receipt of a pension from the Duke of
Parma, and I had an engagement at Venice. I was,
therefore, under the necessity of asking the prince's
permission, and obtaining the consent of the noble
Venetian who was the proprietor of the theatre of
St. Luke. Neither of these I considered as difficult
to obtain ; but I loved my country, where I was cher-
ished, caressed, and applauded. The criticisms against
me had ceased, and I was in the enjoyment of a delight-
ful tranquillity.

The engagement in France was only for two years ;
but I could easily see, that when once expatriated, I
should find it very difficult to return. My situation
was precarious, and required the exertion of painful
and assiduous labors, and I trembled at the dreary days
of old age, when our powers diminish and our wants
increase.

I spoke to my friends and protectors at Venice. I
explained to them that I did not look upon my journey
to France in the light of a journey of mere pleasure,
but that I was prompted to accept of it from the neces-
sity of securing to myself an establishment.

I added, to those who seemed desirous of retaining
me at Venice, that, as an advocate, I could pretend
to every sort of employment, and even to a place in the
magistracy ; and I concluded my harangue with a
sincere and decisive declaration, that, if thev would

342, MEMOIRS OF

undertake to secure me an establishment at Venice,
either under the title of office or pension, I should
prefer my country to the whole universe.

I was listened to with attention and interest. My
reflections were approved of as just, and my behavior
considered respectful. Every one untertook to en-
deavor to satisfy me. Many meetings were held on
my account; and the following is the result of them.

In a republican state favors are only granted by a
majority of votes. Those who demand them must
wait a long time before they can be balloted ; and
with respect to pensions, when there is any competi-
tion, the useful arts are always preferred to agreeable
talents. This was enough to determine me to renounce
all expectations from this quarter.

I wrote to Parma, and obtained the desired permis-
sion. With a little effort I overcame the opposition
of the proprietor of the theatre of St. Luke ; and when
I was at full liberty, I engaged with the French am-
bassador, aud wrote in consequence to M. Zanuzzi at
Paris. It was but just, however, that I should' allow my
actors and their master time to provide themselves with
an author, and I fixed my departure from Venice for
the month of April, 1761.

I then set out from Venice with my wife and
nephew. On arriving at Bologna, I fell sick. I was
forced to compose a comic opera, which partook
strongly of my fever. Fortunately, the opera only
was buried. On recovering my health, I continued my
journey. I passed through Modena, where I merely
renewed my power of attorney to my notary on account
of the assignment to my nephew, and next day I set
off for Parma. I passed eight days in that town very
agreeably. I had dedicated my new edition to the

CARLO GOLDÔNI. 343

Infante Don Philip : I had the honor to present him
With the two first volumes; and I kissed their royal
highnesses' hands. I then saw. for the first time, the
Infante Don Fernando, at that time hereditary prince,
and now reigning duke. He did inè the honor to con-
verse with me, and to congratulate me on my journey
to France. " You are very fortunate," said he; " you
Will see the king my grandfather." I augured, from his
gentleness, that this prince would one day turn out the
delight of his subjects : and I have not heen mistaken.
The Infante Don Fernando is adored by his people, and
the august archduchess, his spouse, has carried the
public felicity and the glory of this government to
their utmost height.

I had volumes with me to present to her highness
the Princess Henrietta of Modena, Duchess Dowager of
Parma, and latterly Landgravine of D'Armstadt. The
princess, who resided at Borgo San Domino, between
Parma and Piacenza, was then at Corte Maggiore,
her country-house. I went several miles out of my
road to pay my court to her. I met with a very
favorable reception, and was honored with comfortable
lodgings for myself and people. We passed three
days there very delightfully. The ladies and gentle-
men of the court, who were in the habit of acting my
plays on the theatre of the landgravine, were anxious
to treat me with an entertainment ; but the heat was
excessive, and I was desirous of reaching Piacenza.
On arriving in that city, we were overpowered with
kind attentions and new pleasures. The Marquis
Casati, who was one of my subscribers, expected me
with impatience. We found everything which we
could wish for in his house ; excellent lodgings, good
cheer; and delightful company. The marchioness and

344 MEMOIRS OF

her daughter-in-law were studious in the extreme to
please us ; we remained there four days, and we could
hardly prevail on them to allow us to proceed ; hut we
had lost too much time already, and we had spent no
less than three months since leaving Venice. "Not-
withstanding, therefore, the insupportable heat, we
were obliged to set out again.

When at Piacenza, it became necessary to choose by
what road I should proceed to France. My wife was
desirous of seeing her relations before we quitted Italy ;
and I therefore preferred the road by Genoa to that of
Turin, for her sake. We passed eight days in a very
gay manner in the native place of my wife ; hut the
period of separation was attended with many sighs and
tears. It was the more distressing, as our relations
never expected to see us again. I promised to return
in two years, but they did not believe me. At last,
amidst adieus, embraces, tears, and cries, we embarked
in the felucca of the French courier, and set sail for
Antibes, steering along the shore which the Italians
call La Riviera di Genova. We were driven from the
roads by a hurricane, and almost cast away in doubling
Cape Noli. The unfavorable state of the weather pre-
vented us from proceeding on our voyage. The courier,
who durst not delay his journey, took a horse, and went
on by land, and exposed himself to the difficulty of
crossing mountains still more dangerous than the sea.
For forty-eight hours every idea of re-embarking was
out of the question. The sea still continuing boister-
ous, I went down to Nice, where the roads were practi-
cable. I quitted the felucca, and sought for a carriage.
We found one hy chance, which had arrived the day
before. It was the berlin which conveyed to Nice the
famous Mademoiselle Deschamps, on her escape from

CARLO GOLDOXI. 345

the prison of Lyons. I was told a part of her story.
I slept in the room destined for her, and which she
refused to accept on account of a hug which she dis-
covered on entering it. I found the carriage very com-
fortable; and I bargained for my fare to Lyons, on
condition of being allowed to go by Marseilles, and to
stay there a few days. The driver belonged to that
country ; so that we had little difficulty in coming to an
agreement. I set out from Nice next day, and crossed
the Var, which separates France from Italy. Here I
reiterated my adieu to my own country, and invoked
the shade of Molière to be my guide in that of his.

PART THE THIRD.

I.

X entering the kingdom of France, I was soon
struck with the French politeness. I had ex-
perienced several disagreeable circumstances at
the Italian custom-houses : but I was visited in
two minutes at the harrier of St. Laurent, near the Var,
and my trunks were not rummaged. On arriving at Ami-
bes, I received unspeakable attenion from the command-
ant of that frontier place. I wished to show him my
passport. ' ' I can dispense with that, sir," said he ; " you
are anxiously expected at Paris, and you must quicken
your journey." I proceeded onwards, and slept the first
night at Vidauban. Supper was brought in. We had no
soup on the table ; my wife required some, and my nephew
was also desirous of having it. On calling for it, we found
that no person takes soup in France in the evening.
My nephew maintained that supper took its name from
soup, and that consequently there ought to be soup at
every supper. The landlord, who understood nothing
of these distinctions, made his bow, and went out.

My young man was correct in the main, and I amused
myself in entering on a short dissertation respecting
the etymology of supper and the suppression of soup.
" The ancients," said I, u made only one meal a day,

CARLO GOLDONL 347

the cœna, which was served up in the evening ; and as
this repast always began with soup, the French changed
the word ccena into supper. In progress of time luxury
and gluttony multiplied the number of meals; soup
was taken from the sapper, and added to the dinner,
and the ccena is now in France merely a supper with-
out soup." My nephew, who kept a little journal of
our travels, did not fail to enter in his memorandum-
book this piece of erudition of mine, which, however
whimsical it may appear, is not destitute of truth.

We set out next day from Vidauban at an early hoar,
and arrived in the evening at Marseilles. M. Cornet,
the Venetian consul in this town, waited on us without
delay ', he offered us apartments in his house, which,
from a sense of delicacy, we were induced to refuse ;
but, being tormented in the course of the night by the
insupportable vermin which sting and infect at the
same time, we were obliged to accept of the generous
offer of the brother of our gond friends of Venice.

We enjoyed the sight of Marseilles for six days. Its
situation is agreeable ; it carries on a rich commerce ;
its inhabitants are very amiable, and the port is a mas-
terpiece of nature and art.

Continuing our journey, we passed through Aix.
We merely passed in a carnage on the superb prome-
nade called the Cours ; and we arrived at an early hour
at Avignon.

I had been now four months from Venice. Part of
the time I was confined to my bed at Bologna, but I
had taken a great deal of amusement since my recovery,
and I began to be afraid lest the slowness of my jour-
ney should injure me in the minds of those who were
expecting me at Paris. On arriving at Lyons, I found
a letter from M. Zanuzzi lying there for me ; it was

348 MEMOIRS OF

full of reproaches, somewhat keen I must own, but
not so sharp as I deserved. Man is an inconceivable

and indefinable being-. I cannot explain to myself the
motives which sometimes induce me to act against my
principles and against my interest. With the best in-
tentions in the world to give myself entirely up to
whatever I am interested in, I am stopped or turned
from my road by the merest trifles. An innocent
pleasure, a piece of respectful complaisance, a feeling
of curiosity, a friendly advice, an engagement of little
moment, are none of them to be considered as vicious ;
but there are cases and circumstances in which what-
ever withdraws the mind from what it is employed on
may be considered dangerous : and I have never been
able to shut my mind against yielding to these seduc-
tions. I ought to have set out from Lyons the instant
after I received that letter: but how could I possibly
quit one of the most beautiful cities in France without
viewing it ? Could I omit visiting those manufactories
which supply Europe with their stuffs and their de-
signs ? I lodged in the royal park, and remained there
ten days ; did it require ten days. I may be ashed, to
examine what was worth observation in Lyons? No :
but that time was hardly sufficient to allow me to
accept all the dinners and suppers which those rich
manufacturers vied with each other in giving me. Be-
sides, I injured no person. My salary was not to com-
mence till my arrivai in Paris : and supposing the
Italian comedians to be in want of me, I was certain
that by activity I should be enabled to indemnify them
on my arrival. But this want was at an end ; for,
during my journey, the comic opera had been united to
the Italian comedy ; the new branch gained ground on
the old ; and the Italians, who were before the support

CARLO GOLDOKL 349

of this theatre, became only the accessories of the
entertainment. I was informed of this innovation at
Lyons, though not so minutely as to enable me to form
an idea of all the unpleasant circumstances with which
the change would affect me. I even imagined that my
countrymen would consider their honor at stake, would
vie in emulation with their new comrades, and I sup-
posed them perfectly enabled to sustain the conflict.
Animated by this confidence, with my usual gayety
and courage I took the road to the capital ; and the
beauty of the journey, and the fertility of the plains
throug-fi which I passed, filled my mind with the most
cheerful ideas and flattering hopes.

On arriving at Yillejuif, I found M. Zanuzzi, and
Madame Savi, the principal actress of the Italian com-
edy. They made my wife and myself take a place in
their carriage ; my nephew followed in miue ; and we
alighted at the Faubourg St. Denis, where they both
lodged in the same house. My arrival was celebrated
the same day by a very gallant and gay supper, to
which part of the Italian comedians were invited. "We
were fatigued, but we partook with pleasure of the de-
lights of a brilliant society, in which were blended the
French sallies with the noise of Italian conversation.

Restored after the fatigues of the journey by that
delicious nectar which may well gain for Burgundy the
name of the Land of Promise, I passed a sweet and
tranquil night. On awaking, my mind was in as
agreeable a state as it had been in during my dreams.
I was in Paris ; I was happy ; but I had yet seen
nothing, and I was dying to view the place. I spoke
to my friend and host. " We must begin," said he,
" with paying visits: we must wait for the carriage."
" By no means," said I; "I shall see nothing in a

00

0 MEMOIRS OF

coach ; let us set out ou foot." " But the distance is
great." " Never mind it." " It is hot." " That can-
not be helped." In fact, the heat was this year equal
to that of Italy ; but it was a circumstance of little
moment for me. I was then only fifty-three ; I was
strong, healthy, and vigorous, and curiosity and impa-
tience lent me wings.

In crossing the Boulevards, I had a glimpse of that
vast promenade which surrounds the city, and affords
to passengers the coolness of the shade in summer, and
the heat of the sun in winter. I entered the Palais
Royal. What crowds ! what an assemblage of people
of every description ! what a charming rendezvous !
what a delightful promenade Î But with what a sur-
prising view my senses and mind were struck on ap-
proaching the Tuileries ! I saw the whole extent of
that immense garden, which has nothing to be com-
pared with it in the universe ; and my eyes were unable
to measure the length of it. I hastily ran through its
alleys, its thickets, its terraces, basins, and borders. I
have seen very rich gardens, superb buildings, and
precious monuments ; but nothing can equal the mag-
nificence of the Tuileries. On leaving this enchant-
ing place I was struck with another spectacle, — - a
majestic river, numerous and convenient bridges, vast
quays, crowds of carriages, a perpetual throng of
people. I was stunned by the noise, fatigued with
the distance, and overpowered by the excessive heat.
I was bathed in perspiration without being aware
of it.

We crossed the Pont Royal, and entered the Hôtel
d'Aumout. The duke was at home. This principal
gentleman of the king's bedchamber, who was in his
year of duty, had sent for me to Paris ; and he received

CARLO GOLDOXI. 351

me with kindness, and has always continued to honor me
with his favor. It was late, and we had not sufficient
time to pay all the visits which we projected. We called
a coach and drove to Mademoiselle Camilla Veronese's,
where we were expected to dinner. It was impossi-
ble to be more gay and amiable than Mademoiselle
Camilla. She acted waiting-maids in the Italian the-
atre, and she was the delight of Paris on the stage,
and of every society which had the felicity of enjoying
her company. We sat down to dinner. The guests
were numerous, the dinner delicious, and the company
amusing. We took coffee at table, and did not quit it
till we went to the theatre.

The Italian theatre was then in the street Mau-
conseil. It was the old" Hôtel de Bourgogne, where
Molière displayed his talents and skill. That I might
have a better opportunity of knowing my Italian ac-
tors, I took apartments near the theatre ; and in that
house I had the good fortune to possess a charming
neighbor whose company has always been highly use-
ful and agreeable to me. This was Madame Ricco-
boni, who, having renounced the theatre, delighted
Paris with her novels, which for purity of style, deli-
cacy of images, truth of passion, and the art of inter-
esting and amusing her readers at the same time, raised
her to a level with whatever was most valuable in
French literature. I applied to Madame Eiccoboni
to give me some preliminary account of my Italian
actors. She knew them thoroughly, and favored me
with a description which I afterwards discovered to
be perfectly correct and worthy of her candor and
discretion.

On the comic-opera days I observed an astonishing
crowd of people, and on other days the house almost

où2 MEMOIRS OF

empty. This, however, did not alarm me. My dear
countrymen only gave well-known pieces, and outlines
of an indifferent description, such as I had reformed in
Italy. "I shall give," said I to myself, "character,
sentiment, plot, management, and style." I commu-
nicated my ideas to my comedians. Some of them
encouraged me to follow my plan, and others asked
only for farces. The first were lovers who were de-
sirous of written pieces ; the second, comic actors who,
unaccustomed to learn anything by heart, were am-
bitious of shining without taking the pains of studying.
I proposed to wait a little before commencing my task.
I demanded four months' time to examine the public
taste, to ascertain the mode of pleasing Paris ; and
during that time I did nothing but run about, pry into
everything, and enjoy myself.

Paris is a world of itself: everything there is on a
large scale, the good and bad both in abundance.
Whether you go to theatres, promenades, or places of
pleasure, you find every corner full. Even the churches
are crowded. In a town of eight hundred thousand
souls there must necessarily be more of both good and
bad people than anywhere else ; and it rests with our-
selves to make our choice. The debauchee will find it
easy to gratify his passions, and the virtuous man will
meet with encouragement in the exercise of his virtues.
I was neither so fortunate as to rank with the latter,
nor so wretched as to give myself up to irregularity.
I continued to live at Paris in my usual manner, fond
of decent pleasures, and esteeming worthy and honor-
able men. Every day I felt myself more and more
confounded in the ranks, the classes, the manners of
living, and the different modes of thinking. I no
longer knew what I was, what I wished for, or what I

CARLO GOLDONI. 353

was becoming. I was quite absorbed in the vortex. I
saw the necessity of returning to myself, but I could
find no means of doing so, or rather, I did not attempt
it. Fortunately for me, the court went to Fontaine-
bleau, whither the different actors were obliged to
repair. I followed them with my little family, and I
found, in this delightful abode, the repose and tran-
quillity which I had sacrificed to the amusement of the
capital. I saw every day the royal family, the princes
of the blood, the grandees of the kingdom, the French
and foreign ministers, all assembled at the castle, and
was present at the royal dinners ; they followed the court
to mass, to the theatre, to hunting-parties, without
embarrassment, constraint, or confusion.

In the course of this visit the Italians gave u Harle-
quin's Child Lost and Found." This piece, which was
very successful at Paris, did not meet with the like suc-
cess at Fontainebleau. It was an outline ; the comedi-
ans thought proper to incorporate some of the jokes of
the " Coca Imaginaire,'7 which displeased the court,
and ruined the piece. This is the great inconvenience
of comedies of this description. The actor who plays
from his own head speaks sometimes at random, spoils
a scene, and damns a piece. I was not attached to
this work ; on the contrary, I have said enough in the
first part of these Memoirs, to prove in how little
estimation I held it ; but still I was sorry to see the
first piece of mine ever given at court unsuccessful.
This troublesome event proved still more strongly
the necessity of giving pieces fully written. I returned
to Paris with a firm and determined mind ; but I had
not to do with my comedians of Italy ; I was no
longer the master at Paris, as 1 had been in my own
country.

354 MEMOIRS OF

II.

On returning to Paris I looked with another eye on
that immense city, its population, its amusements, and
its seductions. I had had time for reflection, and to
learn that the confusion in which everything appeared
at first to me proceeded neither from the nature nor
manners of the people, but from the curiosity and im-
patience to which my giddiness was attributable. I
was obliged frankly to own that it is impossible to
enjoy Paris, and be amused in it, without a sacrifice
of either time or tranquillity. I had formed, on my ar-
rival, too many acquaintances ; I proposed to preserve
them, but to enjoy them in moderation: and I des-
tined my mornings to labor and the rest of the day to
company. I took apartments at the Palais Royal ;
my study looked into the garden, which was very dif-
ferent then from what the late improvements have
made it, but which possessed peculiar beauties which
some people still regret. Notwithstanding my occu-
pation, I could not avoid bestowing a look every now
and then at that delightful alley which was animated
every hour by so many different objects. The break-
fasts at the Café de Foi (the Faith Coffee-House) were
taken under my window. People of every description
resorted there to repose and refresh themselves. I
overlooked also the famous chestnut-tree, called the
Tree of Cracow, round which the newsmongers used
to flock with their news, and to trace trendies, camps,
military positions, and divide Europe as their fancy
led them, with their canes on the sand. These vol-
untary abstractions were sometimes useful to me.
They afforded an agreeable repose to my mind, and I
returned to my labor with more vigor and more gayety.

CARLO GOLDOXI. 355

I was now preparing for my début ; and it was
incumbent on me to make my first appearance on the
French sta.çfe with some new production which might
correspond with the opinion of me previously enter-
tained by the public. My actors were still divided in
opinion. Some persisted in their preference of written
pieces, while others approved of outlines. A meeting
was called on my account, and at which I was present.
I showed them the indecency of introducing an author
without dialogue ; and it was agreed that I should
begin with a finished piece. I was now satisfied ; but
I still foresaw that the actors, who had lost the habit
of getting their characters by heart, without any mal-
ice or improper intention on their part, would second
my views very imperfectly. I found myself, there-
fore, under the necessity of confining my ideas, and
limiting myself to a subject of no great boldness of
conception, that I might not hazard a work which
should require too great accuracy in the execution,
flattering myself with the idea of bringing them grad-
ually to the reform which I had carried into effect in
Italy. With this view, I composed a comedy in three
acts, entitled " Paternal Love ; or, The Grateful Wait-
ing-Maid." It had only four representations. I wished
to take my departure immediately ; but how could I
leave Paris, which had so fascinated me ? My engage-
ment was for two years, and I was tempted to remain
the whole of the period. The most of the Italian
actors asked only for outlines: the public were accus-
tomed to them, the court suffered them, and why
should I have refused to comply with the established
practice ? " Well then," said I, " let us compose out-
lines, if they will have them : every sacrifice seems
nothing, every pain seems supportable for the pleas-
ure of remaining two years in Paris."

356 MEMOIRS OF

It cannot bo said, however, that my amusements
prevented me from discharging my duty. In the space
of these two years I produced twenty-four pieces, the
titles of which, and their fate, are to be found in the
" Theatrical Almanac" (Almanach des Spectacles).
Eight of these pieces were successful, and they cost
me more labor than if I had written them entirely
out. I could only please by interesting situations, and
a comic humor artfully prepared and secured from
the caprices of the actors. I was more successful than
I could have expected ; but whatever was the success
of my pieces, I seldom went to see them. I preferred
good comedy, and frequented the French theatre for
the sake of amusement and instruction. I had a free
admission to the theatre : an honor conferred on me on
my arrival in Paris. This was the more flattering for
me, as nobody could then have foreseen that I would
one day be enrolled in the catalogue of their authors.
I found this national spectacle equally well supplied
with tragic and comic actors. The Parisians spoke
with enthusiasm of their departed actors of celebrity.
It was said that Nature had destroyed the moulds in
which she cast these great men ; but iu this they were
mistaken. Nature produces the mould, the model, and
the original at the same time, and renews them at
pleasure. This is the way in all ages : we always
regret the past, and complain of the present, — such is
human nature.

The first time I went to the French theatre " The
Misanthrope" was acted, and the part of Alceste was
performed by M. Grandval. This very able and very
popular and esteemed actor, having served out his time,
had retired on a pension. After a few years, he was
seized with a desire of making his appearance again on

CARLO GOLDOXL 35/

the stage, and this was the «lay when thai event took
place. He was excessively applauded at his first en-
trance; and it was easy to Bee the estimation in which
he was held by the public. But at a certain age " spiri-
tus promptus est, caro autem infirma" ; and this is the
reason why I did uot mention him before. Formypart,
I thought him excellent, and I preferred him to a num-
ber of others on account of his excellent voice; my ear
was not yet familiarized with the French language; I
lost a great deal in company, and still more at the the-
atre. Fortunately, I was acquainted with "The Misan-
thrope." It was the piece I esteemed the most in the
works of Molière, a piece of unequalled perfection, and
which, independently of the regularity of the plot and
the beauties of the composition, possesses the merit of
invention and novelty of character. The comic authors,
ancient and modern, before his time, brought the vices
and detects of humanity, in general, on the stage;
Molière was the first to ridicule the manners of his own
a<re and country. I saw with infinite pleasure the rep-
resentation at Paris of this comedy, which I had so
often read and admired in the closet. I did uot under-
stand all that the comedians uttered, and especially
those who displayed a volubility which, however much
applauded, was very painful to me; but I understood
enough to admire the precision, the dignity, and the
spirited action of those incomparable actors. "Ah!"
said I then to myself, "if I could only see one of my
pieces acted by such performers; the best of my pieces
is not equal to the worst of Molière; but the zeal and
activity of the French actors would do more for it than
I could expect from the Italians.11 This is the school
of declamation : there is nothing forced in the action or
expression; feet, arms, and eyes, and mute scenes; all

MEMOIRS OF

9 St ' Si - Drooled by art under the

itun . [leftta /.he enchanted,

.sly for two things, either to he able to
oom] se] si tors, or 1 ne my country-

men capable of imitating them. Which would be the
most difficult 1 T....- atom oould determine

this difficulty.

In : i d ean time I was assiduous in my attendance
at the French theati _ : be-

fore. "The Father of a Family.'" by If. Diderot : a new
and successful comedy. 1 s g t rally said at Paris
that this was an imitation of the piece composed by me
under the same title, which was printed in my works.
..t to the thear. -. bo g \ but 1 oould perceive no
my play. The public were unjust when
they accused this poet and philosopher of plagiarism,
is sus km was infused into them by a criticism
hit:.'. u Literary Y< .:" Ànnéf littéraire). Diderot
produced some his benne ■ entitled " The

N ..- rai S d ". ... F. in speaking of it in bis peri-

stated that there was a great resemblance
the French H rhe True Friend n of

■ JdonL Frerou contrasted the French and Italian
scenes, and Iv - tived from the same

En concluding this article the journalist ob-
..: the author o{ ~ The Natural Son" promised
: grw "Al'./ F that Guldom bad also

q a play with that title: and that it would be seen
hance tum out the same. M.
1 1 . . - far from Wing under th SE :y of cross-

A'.ps for comic subjects to relieve his mind with
s - upations. Three years afterwards

hega .. F ...;." which had no re-

gonist was a

CABLO GOLDONL ■>■>.)

mild, wise, and prudent man, whose character and con-
duct were equally instructive and exemplary. Thai of
M. Diderot, on the other hand, was a harsh and severe
father, who pardoned nothing, and gave his malediction
to his son. He was one of those wretched beings who
exist in nature, but whom I should never have dared to
bring on the Btage. I did M. Diderot justice: I en-
deavored to undeceive those who supposed his " Father
of a Family" to be taken from mine; but I said noth-
ing respecting his " Natural Son." The author was
displeased with Freron and me; he wished to give vent
to his rage, and to let it tall on one or other of as.
The preference was given to me. He printed a " Dis-
course "ii Dramatic Poetry fn in which he treated me
somewhat harshly. "Charles Groldoni," he said, " bas
written in Italian a comedy, or rather a farce, in three
acts." In another place In- said, u ( iharles I roldoni has
composed some sixty tarées." It was easy to see thai
this light way of treating me and my works was ex-
pressive of the consideration in which he held them,
and that he called me Charles Goldoni as we name
Pierre le Roux in Rose and Colas. He is the only
French writer who did not honor me with his Kindness.
I was vexed to see a man possessed of such distin-
guished merit prejudiced against me. I did what I
could to have an opportunity of meeting him, not with
the view of complaining of his treatment of me, but to
convince him that. I did not deserve his Indignation. I
endeavored to procure an introduction to those houses
which he was in the habit of frequenting; but I was
never so fortunate as to tall in with him. At. length,
tired of waiting, I called upon him at lus own house.
I entend one day, escorted by M. Duni, win; was one
of his friends. After being announced and received,

360 MEMOIRS OF

the Italian musician presented me as a literary man of
his country, desirous of forming an acquaintance with
those who were at the head of French literature. M.
Diderot vainly endeavored to conceal the embarrassment
into which he was thrown by my introducer. He could
not, however, shrink from what the rules of politeness
and society prescribed in such a case. We spoke of
different matters, and at last the conversation fell on
dramatic works. Diderot honestly owned to me that
some of my pieces had caused him a deal of chagrin ;
I courageously answered him that I perceived this.
" You know, sir," said he, " what it is for a man to be
wounded in his most delicate part." " Yes, sir," replied
I, "I am aware of that; I understand you; but I have
nothing to reproach myself with." " Come, come,"
said M. Duni, interrupting us, "these literary bicker-
ings ought not to be carried any further ; both of you
ought to follow Tasso's advice : —

' Ogni trista memoria omai si taccia ;
E pongansi in obblio le andate cose.'

c Let no disagreeable remembrances be recalled ; and let every-
thing past be bnried in oblivion.' "

M. Diderot, who understood Italian sufficiently,
seemed to subscribe with a good grace to the advice
of the Italian poet : we finished our conversation with
reciprocal expressions of friendship, and both M. Duni
and myself parted from him very well satisfied with
what had taken place.

I have all my life endeavored to make up to those
who had either good or bad reasons for avoiding me ;
and whenever I have succeeded in gaining the esteem
of a man prepossessed against me, I have considered
that day as a day of triumph.

CARLO GOLDOXI. 361

On parting from M. Diderot, I also took leave of M.
Duui, and repaired to a literary assembly, of which I
was an associate, and where I was that day to dine.
This society was not numerous, as there were but nine
of us: M. de la Place, who edited the "Mercure de
France" ; M. de la Garde, who had the department of
theatrical criticism in the same work ; M. Saurin, of the
French Academy ; M. Louis, perpetual secretary of the
Royal Chirurgical Academy; the Abbé de la Porte,
author of several literary works ; M. Crebillon, the
younger; M. Favart, and M. Jouen. The last-men-
tioned was not distinguished for his talents, but famous
for the delicacies of his table. Each member of the
society received in turn the whole of the others in his
house, and gave a dinner* to them ; aud as the sittings
were held on Sundays, they were called Dominical
meetings, and we were called Dominicals. We had no
other regulations among us than those of good company ;
but it was agreed that no women should enter our meet-
ings. We were aware of their charms, and we dreaded
the soft enticements of the fair sex. Our Dominical
meeting was held one day at the hotel of the Marchion-
ess de Pompadour, of whom M. de la Garde was the
secretary. We were just sitting down to dinner, when
a carriage entered the court, in which we perceived a
female. We recognized in her an actress of the opera,

in high estimation for her talents, and distinguished foi-
es " o

her wit and amiable behavior in company.

Two of the members went down stairs and escorted
her up to us. On entering, she asked, in a jocular
manner, to be permitted to dine with us. Could we
refuse her a plate Ï Each of us would have given up
his own, and I should not have been the last to do
this. This lady was irresistibly engaging. In the

362 MEMOIRS OF

course of the dinner she demanded to be admitted into
the society : and she arranged her peroration in so now
and singular a manner that she was received with
acclamation. During the dessert we looked at the
clock ; it was half past four.' Our new associate did
not act that day, Lut she was desirous of going to the
opera } and the society were almost all disposed to
accompany her. The only one who displayed no
eagerness to go was myself.

" Ah, M. Italian," said the lady, laughing, " you arc
not fond of French music then ? " "I possess no great
knowledge of it," said I; "I have never been at the
opera; but I hear a deal of singing wherever I go,
and all the airs only serve to disgust me." " Let
us see," said she, "if I can overcome any of your
prejudices against our music." She immediately began
to sing, and I felt myself delighted and enchanted.
What a charming voice ! It was not powerful, but
just, touching, and delightful. I was in ecstasy.
" Come," said she, " embrace me, and follow me to
the opera." I embraced her, and went to the opera
accordingly. I was at length present at this enter-
tainment, which several persons could have wished
me to see before everything else, and which I should
not, perhaps, have seen so soon, if it had not been for
this circumstance. The actress whom we had received
into our society took three of our brethren with her
into her box, and I seated myself with two others in
the amphitheatre. This part, which takes up a part
of the theatres in France, is in front of the stage, in
the form of a semicircle, and the seats, which are well
furnished and commodious, are raised in gradations
above one another. This is the best place in the house
for seeing and hearing. I was contented with my situ-

CARLO GOLDONI. 363

ation, and I pitied the audience in the pit, who were
on their feet, and closely crowded, and who were not
to blame for their impatience. The orchestra began,
and I found the harmony of the instruments of a su-
perior kind, and very accurate in point of execution.
But the overture appeared to me cold and languid: I
was sure it was not Kameau's; for I had heard his
overtures and ballet airs in Italy. The action com-
menced ; and, notwithstanding my favorable situation,
I could not hear a word. However, I patiently waited
for the airs, in the expectation that I should at least
be amused with the music. The dancers made their
appearance, and I imagined the act finished, but heard
not a single air. I spoke of this to my neighbor, who
laughed at me, and assured me that we had had six in
the different scenes which I had heard. "What!"
said I, " I am not deaf; the instruments never ceased
accompanying the voices, sometimes more loudly, and
sometimes more slowly than usual, but I took the whole
for recitative." " Look, look, there is Vestris," said
he, "the most elegant, able, and accomplished dancer
in Europe." I saw in reality, in a country-dance, this
shepherd of the Arno triumphing over the shepherds
of the Seine: but two minutes afterwards three charac-
ters sang all at the same time. This was a trio, which
I confounded, perhaps, in the same manner with the
recitative. The first act then closed.

As nothing takes place between the acts of the
French opera, they soon began the second act. I
heard the same music, and felt the same weariness.
I gave up altogether the drama and its accompani-
ments, and began to examine the entertainment taken
as a whole, which I thought surprising. The princi-
pal male and female dancers had arrived at an astonish-

364 MEMOIRS OF

ing pitch of perfection, and their suite was very numerous
and very elegant. The music of the choruses appeared
to me more agreeable than that of the drama. I recog-
nized the psalms of Corelli, Biffi, and Clari. The
decorations were superb, the machines well contrived,
and admirably executed. The dresses were very rich,
and the stage was always well filled with people.
Everything was beautiful, grand, and magnificent, ex-
cept the music. At the end of the drama there was a
sort of chacone sung by an actress who did not appear
among the characters of the drama, and seconded by
the music of the choruses and by dancing. This
agreeable surprise might have enlivened the piece ; but
it was a hymn rather than an air. When the curtain
fell, I was asked by all my acquaintances how I liked
the opera. My answer flew from my lips like light-
ning, " It is a paradise for the eyes, and a hell for the
ears."' This insolent and inconsiderate reply made
some laugh, and others turn up their noses. Two
gentlemen belonging to the king's chapel thought it
excellent. The author of the music was not for from
me, and perhaps overheard what I said. I was very
much concerned, for he was a worthy man. Requiescat
in pace! I was present some days afterwards at the
representation of u Castor and Pollux " ; and the drama,
which was perfectly well written, and acted with supe-
rior decorations, reconciled me a little with the French
opera. I soon perceived the difference between the
music of Eameau and that which had given me so much
displeasure. I was very intimate with that celebrated
composer, for whose talents and science I had the
highest consideration ; but we must be sincere. Ea-
meau distinguished himself, and produced a great revo-
lution in France in instrumental music ; but he made
no essential changes in vocal music.

CARLO GOLDOXI. 365

It was supposed that the French language was not
adapted to the new taste which it was wished to intro-
duce in singing. This was believed by Jean Jacques
Rousseau, as well as others ; and he was astonished
to see this error refuted in the music of the Chevalier
Gluck. But this learned German musician merely
paved the way for the introduction of Italian music,
and it was reserved for M. Piccini and M. Sacchini to
complete the reform which the French seem to enjoy
more and more every day. I have lengthened out this
digression without perceiving what I was about. I
am not a musician, but I am fond of impassioned
music; if an air affect or amuse me, I listen to it with
delight, and never examine whether it is French or
Italian. There is but one music in my opinion.

III.

I became every day more and more acquainted with
the advantages of Paris, and every day my attachment
to it increased. The two years of my engagement,
however, were drawing to a close, and I considered the
necessity of again changing my country as indispen-
sable. The Portuguese ambassador had employed me
for his court, and made me a present of a thousand
crowns for a small work which had been successful at
Lisbon. I had every reason for supposing that I should
not be refused in a country where theatrical entertain-
ments were then in vogue, and where talents were re-
warded. The Chevalier Tiepolo, the Venetian ambas-
sador, on the other hand, perpetually urged me to return
to my country, where I was beloved, and where my
return was warmly desired. His embassy was at an
end, and he would have taken me along with him, and

366 MEMOIRS OF

maintained and protected me ; but he was dangerously
ill : he took his leave of the court, sinking under the
pressure of his illness, and went to Geneva to consult
the famous Tronchin, where he finished his days, to
the great regret of the republic and the French court,
by both of whom he was held in the highest estimation.
During this state of indecision a lucky star flew to
my assistance. I became acquainted with Mademoiselle
Sylvestre, reader to the late dauphiness, mother of
Louis XVI. This lady, the daughter of the principal
painter of Augustus, King of Poland and Elector of
Saxony, had been employed at Dresden in the educa-
tion of her august mistress, and enjoyed in France all
the credit to which her talents and good conduct so
properly entitled her. Mademoiselle Sylvestre, who
knew Italian thoroughly, was well acquainted with my
works, and being of a kind and obliging disposition,
took an interest in my welfare. I had spoken to her
of my attachment to Paris, and the regret with which
I should abandon it : and she engaged to mention me
at court, where my name was not unknown. Eight
days afterwards she sent for me to Versailles, whither
I repaired without delay. I alighted at the king's
small stables {petites écuries), where Mademoiselle
Sylvestre lived in family with her relations, who were
all in the service of the royal family. After a most
gracious, kind, and hearty reception, our first conver-
sation terminated in the f< blowing result ; and in tins
way an affair of great importance for me was begun
and ended on this fortunate day. The dauphiuess was
acquainted with me ; she had seen my pieces repre-
sented at Dresden ; she caused them to be read to her,
and her reader did not fail t<> embellish them, and to
throw in now and then something or other in favor of

CARLO GOLDONL 367

the author. She succeeded so well with her mistress,
that this princess promised to honor me with her pro-
tection, and to attach me to the court.

The dauphiness could have wished to employ me in
the instruction of her children, bat they were too young
to attempt a f< ifeign language. The daughters of Louis
XV. had been taught the principles of the Italian lan-
guage by M. Hardiun, the king's librarian at Versailles.
They had a relish fur Italian literature, and the dau-
phiness, availing herself of this fortunate circumstance,
sent me to the Duchess of Narbonne, whom she had
prepossessed in my favor, that I might be introduced
to Madame Adelaide of France. The Duchess of Nar-
bonne then attended on lier, and is at present a lady
of honor. I had the honor of being acquainted with
the Duchess of Narbonne at the court of Parma. She
received me kindly, and presented me the same day to
her august mistress ; and I was instantly received into
the service of the French princesses. Xo salary was
mentioned, and I asked none. I was proud of so hon-
orable an employment, and sure of the kindness of my
august scholars. I took my departure, therefore, very
well pleased with what had taken place, and communi-
cated the adventure to my wife, who knew the value
of it as well as myself. I bade adieu to the Italian
theatre, which was not, perhaps, sorry at getting rid
of me, and I received with sincere pleasure the com-
pliments of all those who took an interest in my welfare.

The Chevalier Gradenigo, who succeeded M. Tiepolo
as Venetian ambassador, knew better than any other
person the consequence to which such a fortunate event
might lead. This illustrious patrician was the intimate
friend of the Duke de Chuiseul : he recommended me
to that minister, who was at the head of two of the

368 MEMOIRS OF

most considerable departments, foreign affairs and war,
and who enjoyed, with great justice, the highest credit
at the court of France, and the utmost consideration
throughout the rest of Europe. With such an honor-
able employment and such powerful protection, I
ought to have made a brilliant fortune in France. If
I have only acquired a very moderate fortune, it has
been my own fault. I was at court, but I was not a
courtier.

Madame Adelaide was the first who took lessons in
the Italian language. I had not yet lodgings at Ver-
sailles ; she sent a post-chaise for me ; and it was in
one of those vehicles that I nearly lost my sight. I
was foolish enough to read in the chaise ; the book I
was then engaged with was Jean Jacques Rousseau's
letters from the Mountain, and I felt considerably in-
terested in it. One day I lost all at once the use c f my
eyes ; the book fell out of my hands, and I could not
even see to pick it up. I gave myself up for lost. I
still possessed, however, enough of the visual faculty
to enable me to distinguish the light; I got out of my
chaise, and proceeded to the apartments of Madame
Adelaide, which I entered quite disconcerted and in
the utmost agitation. The princess perceived my dis-
tress, and was kind enough to inquire the cause of it.
I durst not tell her of my situation ; I hoped I should
be able to discharge my duty in some way or other. I
found my seat in its place, and I seated myself as usual.
Having discovered the book I was to read, I opened it,
when, 0 heavens ! everything appeared white to me.
I was thus at last forced to own my misfortune. It is
impossible to paint the goodness, sensibility, and com-
passion of this great princess. She sent to her chamber
for eye-water ; she allowed ine to bathe my eyes : she

CARLO GOLDONL 369

drew the curtains in such a way that a sufficiency
of light to distinguish different objects was all that
remained. My sight gradually returned : I saw but
little, though I was enabled to see sufficiently for my
puqjose at that time. It was not the eye-water which
performed the miracle, but the kindness of the princ
which imparted strength to my mind and penses.

I resumed the book, which I found myself enabled
to read ; but Madame Adelaide would not allow me t<»
do so. She gave me leave to depart, and recommended
me to her physician. In a few days I recovered the
complete use of my right eye, but I have lost the other
forever. I am thus blind of one eye, a slight incon-
venience which does not give me much uneasiness .
but there are cases in-which it heightens my defects
and adds to my awkwardness. It is at the gaming-
table that I am most troublesome to others. The
candle must be placed on my right side, and if there
happen to be a lady in company in the same predica-
ment with myself, she dares not own it, but she con-
siders my preteusi >n ridiculous. At brelan, where the
candles are placed in the middle of the table, I can see
nothing. At whist or tresset, where partners are
changed, I must carry the candle with me. Inde-
pendently of my defective sight, I possess other sin-
gularities ; I dread heat in winter, and cold in summer
— I must have screens to secure me from the fire, and
an open window in the evening gives me a cold during
the most violent heats. I know not how the ladies
whom I have the honor of knowing can suffer me, and
allow me to draw a card, to be of their party. It is
because they are good and kind, and because I play
at all games ; refuse no match ; am not frightened at
deep play, and not less amused when I play for small

370 MEMOIRS OF

sums : because I am not a bad player, and, notwith-
standing my defects, am one of the best-natured men
in company.

After six months' service, I got lodgings in the castle
of Versailles. I received the apartments destined for
the accoucheur of the dauphiness. whom that princess
could dispense with, on account of the ill-health of the
dauphin. In the month of May. of the same year,
1765, the court made a short excursion to Marly. I
accompanied the princesses, and enjoyed the delightful
situation of that place. After seeing the garden of the
Tuileries and the park of Versailles. I thought that
nothing would surprise me : but the position and beau-
ties of the garden of Marly made such an impression
on me, that I should have given the preference to that
enchanting spot, if the remembrance of the richness
and extent of the others had not regulated my com-
parisons. Those who have seen this castle, its gar-
den, its immense parterre, its compartments, its designs,
its jets-d'eau, and its cascades, will do me justice;
and the accurate descriptions which we have of it con-
firm the judgment of it formed by me.

What adds to the pleasures and delights of this rural
abode is the gaming-house. Every person who is
known may enter: and there are corners for those who
cannot, or are not disposed to penetrate into the circle.
I preferred one of these by-corners, to see for the first
time the arrival of the king and his attendants. It
was a striking sight. The king entered, accompanied
by the queen, the princes, princesses, and the whole
court, and took his seat at the great table, surrounded
by all that was distinguished in the kingdom. The
queen made a party that day at cavagnol. The dau-
phiness and princesses had different gaming-tables.

CARLO GOLDOXI. 371

They discovered me in my corner, and requested me to
cspine forward, and I saw myself confounded amid the
crowd of nobles, ministers, and magistrates. They
played lansquenet at the king's table, where every one
by turns held the hand. It was said that Louis XV.
was fortunate at play : I wait d till he held the bank ;
I ventured six louis-d'ors on my account in favor of the
bank, and I gained. The king went out, and the royal
family foil- >wed him. The rest of the company remained
and played in any way and f< w any sum they ch< tse. One
lady remained a day and two nights at the same table,
ordering chocolate and biscuits, that she might nourish
at the same time her body and her passion.

Although pleasure was the primary object of this
agreeable excursion, I had my regular hours for labor-
ing with the princesses. One day I was met by one i f
my august scholars in the passage, as she was going
to dinner. She looked at me and said, "By and by"
(à tantôt). Tantosto, in Italian, means " immedi-
ately " ; I thought the princess meant to take her les-
son on rising from table : I remained in waiting with
as much patience as my appetite would permit. At
length the principal lady in waiting made me enter at
four o'clock in the afternoon. On opening her book,
the princess put a question to me, which she was in
the daily habit of doing, where I had dined that day.
" Nowhere, madam," said I. "What! you have not
dined ! " " Xo, madam." " Are you unwell ?" " No,
madam." " Why have you not dined, then? " " Be-
cause, madam, you did me the honor of saying à tantôt
to me." " Does not this expression, when used at two
o'clock, mean about four o'clock in the afternoon ! "
" Perhaps it may, madam ; but this term in Italian
signifies immediately." The princess smiled, shut her

372 MEMOIRS OF

book, and sent me to dine. There are both French
and Italian terms which bear a resemblance to one
another, and yet have quite a different meaning. I
still fell into some of these qui pro quos, and I may
say that the little French I know was acquired by me
(luring- the three years I was employed in the service
of the princesses. They read the Italian poets and
prose writers ; I stammered out a bad translation into
French : they repeated it gracefully and elegantly, and
in this exercise the master learned more than the
scholar.

On returning to Versailles, the health of the dauphin
seemed to be on the recovery. He was fond of music,
and the dauphiness took care to provide some for his
amusement. I composed an Italian cantata, which I
got set to music by an Italian composer, and I pre-
sented it to that princess, who, in accepting it, had the
goodness to invite me to hear it executed in her room
after supper.

I learned on this occasion a piece of etiquette of
which I was before ignorant. I entered the apart-
ments of the princess at ten o'clock at night, and pre-
sented myself at the door of the closet of the nobility.
The doorkeeper did not prevent me from entering.
The dauphin and dauphiness were at table, and I took
a convenient station to see them sup. A lady in wait-
ing came up to me, and asked if I was entitled to ad-
mission in the evening. "I do not know, madam,"
said I, " the difference between admission by day and
in the evening; the princess herself commanded me to
repair to her room after her supper, — I have come too
soon, perhaps ; I did not know the etiquette." " Sir,"
replied the lady, " there is none for you. you may re-
main." I own that my self-love was not a little grati-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 3/3

fied on this occasion. I remained. When the prince
and princess had finished supper, I was called, and my
cantata was performed. The dauphiness played the
harpsichord, Madame Adelaide accompanied her on the
violin, and Mademoiselle Hardy (afterwards Madame
de la Brasse) sang. The music gave pleasure, and
compliments were paid to the author of the words,
which I received very modestly. On my preparing to
go away, the dauphin had the goodness to detain me.
He sang himself, and I had the good fortune to hear
him. But what did he sing I A pathetic air from an
oratorio called ll The Pilgrim at the Sepulchre."

This prince was declining every day, but he was pos-
sessed of fortitude; and the desire of quieting the minds
of the court respecting his situation made him conceal
his sufferings, and assume a cheerful look in public.

The king passed six weeks regularly every summer
at Compiegne, and as many in autumn at Fontaine-
bleau. These rural excursions were called the great
journeys, because all the departments and all the
offices of the ministry were removed there, and the
foreign ministers also accompanied the court.

Both took place this year, 1765, after the short ex-
cursion to Marly, and the journey to Compiegne was
brilliant and magnificent in the highest degree. The
Compiegne journey began with an appearance of gay-
ety, but it terminated with a circumstance of great
distress. The dauphin1 s health grew worse and worse
every day. He thought exercise would do him good,
but the fatigue completely exhausted him. I had lost
one protector, and I saw myself on the point of losing
another. I became melancholy, and I could find nothing
in the situation where I was to enliven me. The forest
of Compiegne is superb; but it seemed to me too much

374 MEMOIRS OF

trimmed, too uniform, and too remote from the town.
There was a want of society, hut everybody was
gloomy like myself. I began even to he alarmed for
my health. My melancholy was gaining ground on me.

IY.

The court had scarcely returned to Versailles before
they began to talk of the journey to Fontainebleau.
It was fixed for the 4th of October; but the ill-health
of the dauphin rendered it a matter of uncertainty.
This amiable and complaisant prince was grieved to
think that the king should be deprived of any of his
pleasures, and that the inhabitants of Fontainebleau
should lose the profits which they were in the habit
of deriving from the presence of the court and the in-
flux of strangers. Whenever Fontainebleau was men-
tioned, notwithstanding his illness, he endeavored to
assume a gayety. and to appear in good health. But
1 was not deceived by this, and there were numbers
more who thought as I did. The journey, however,
was determined on, and carried into effect accordingly.
It would be unjust and unreasonable to suppose that
the king and royal family were less interested than
others in the health and tranquillity of this prince, in
whom their happiness was centred; but it is natural
that those who are most concerned about the preserva-
tion of any object should not see the whole of the dan-
ger, and they might have flattered themselves that a
change of air and amusement might contribute to the
health of the patient.

They set out, then, for this castle in the beginning
of October. The situation, and the pleasures with
which it abounds, rendered this journey delightful for

CARLO GOLDOXI. 375

some days. The different theatrical amusements at
Paris were also exhibited by turns, and the authors
brought out their new productions there in preference.
We had theatrical entertainments four times a week,
and we entered by means of tickets of admission issued
by the captain of the guards or duty.

In the midst of our gayety, our pleasures and
amusements, everything changed its appearance before
our visit was half over. The dauphin could no longer
support with indifference the fire which was inter-
nally consuming him : his courage became useless, his
strength abandoned him ; he was unable to quit his
bed ; there was a general consternation ; his disease
made a most alarming progress, and all the resources
of the faculty were exhausted. They then had re-
course to prayers, and the Archbishop of Sens, now a
cardinal, went every day in procession, followed "by
an immense crowd, to the chapel of the Virgin, at the
extremity of the town. They vowed to elevate a tem-
ple there, if the intercession of the Mother of God
restored the health of the dying prince ; hut it was
written in the decrees of Providence that he should
now finish his career ; and he died at Fontainebleau
towards the end of December.

I was in the castle at this fatal moment. The loss
was great, and the desolation general. A few minutes
after this event took place, I heard " The dauphin,
gentlemen ! n called out throughout the whole length
of the apartments. I was thunderstruck ; I neither
knew what I was nor where I was. This was occa-
sioned by the Duke de Berry, the eldest sou of the
defunct, who had now become the presumptive heir of
the crown, making his appearance, bathed in tears, for
the sake of consoling the afflicted people. This visit,

376 MEMOIRS OF

which was to have ended in the middle of November,
was prolonged to the end of the year. All were eager
to leave the place ; I participated in the general feel-
ing : bat I gave way to those whose service was more
necessary, and set out the last of all. This year was
exceedingly inclement. A great deal of snow fell, and
the roads were covered with ice. The horses could
not keep their footing : and I took two days and one
night in performing a journey which in general does
not occupy more than seven hours.

On arriving at Versailles. I was instantly visited by
a servant of the keeper of the castle, who, in the name
of his master, demanded the key of my apartments from
me. On the dauphin's death, the office of accoucheur
to the dauphiness became necessarily suppressed : that
princess had no longer any right to dispose of the
apartments : I could not therefore enjoy them, and
they Mere apparently destined for some person of more
consequence than myself. I deemed it improper to
enter into any conversation on the subject with the
man who delivered the message to me, and I sent him
away with an answer that I was in want of rest. 1
turned the subject over in my mind during the night,
and, on reflection. I thought, in the present distressing
circumstances of the court, it would be indecent in
me to prefer complaints or to demand protection. I
therefore took lodgings at once in the town, and
gave up the key of my apartments. Italian was no
longer thought of by the princesses : however, I durst
not remove from Versailles: my finances were in a
wretched state : I had received an order for a hundred
louis-d'ors on the royal treasury : but this was the only
thins I had ever received. I was in want of every-
thing, but durst demand nothing.

CARLO GOLDOXI. 377

I saw my august scholars from time to time, and
they still looked on me with kindness, but I no longer
labored with them. I knew not how to make my
situation known to them, and the princesses were too
distressed themselves to think of me. My Italian rev-
enues came but slowly in ; my friend Sciugliaga lent
me a hundred sequins, and I waited patiently fur a time
when trouble should give place to serenity.

But the distress was not yet at an end ; one misfor-
tune succeeded another. The dauphiness fell a victim
to her grief, and was buried in the same grave with her
husband. The death of the King of Poland, father to
the Queen of France, happened some time afterwards,
and that of his august daughter filled up the measure
of public affliction. Could I approach the princesses
to speak of my own situation ? No ; and though I
could have done so, my heart would not have allowed
me ; I entertained too much respect for their grief, and
I had too high a confidence in their goodness, not to
bear my sufferings in silence. I measured my desires
by my means, and with the exception of the hundred
sequins which I owed to a friend, I was in debt to
nobody. The dark clouds began at length to dissipate.
The mournings were over, and the court gradually
resumed its former amenity. The princesses had the
goodness to send for me. I received a present of a
hundred louis-d'ors in a box of wrought gold, and a
settled provision for me was mentioned. The prin-
cesses demanded for me the titles and emoluments of
Italian instructor for the royal family. The minister
of Paris and of the court objected to this, which, he
said, would be a new office at court, and a new burden
on the state. I could have demanded a thousand
things, but I demanded nothing, and continued to

3/8 MEMOIRS OF

serve, to want, and to hope. Three years elapsed
before my august protectresses could procure me an
annual income.

They sent for the minister. " We do not want,"
said they, " to create a new office for a man who has
yet to serve, but to recompense a man who has already
served." They demanded six thousand livres a year
for me. The minister said it was too much. " I dare
say," said he, " M. Goldoni will be contented with four
thousand francs." The princesses took him at his
word, and the affair was instantly concluded. I was
satisfied. I went to return my thanks to the princesses,
who were still more satisfied than myself; and they
had the goodness to assure me, that, in one way or
other, I should have all their nephews and nieces for
scholars, and that the salary which I had obtained was
but the commencement of the favors which they hoped
I should one day enjoy. If I have not profited by this
favor, it has been my own fault ; I was ill skilled in
asking ; I was at court, but I was not a courtier. The
first time ray order was paid at the royal treasury, I
only received thirty-six hundred livres, four hundred
being retained for the tax of the twentieth. On speak-
ing, perhaps, I should have obtained an exception
from this duty. I said nothing, however, and things
have always remained on their own footing.

My income was not very considerable, but I must be
just. What had I done to merit it ? I had quitted
Italy for France. The Italian theatre did not suit me,
and my return to Venice was open to me. I became
attached, however, to the French nation ; three years
of an easy, honorable, and agreeable service procured
me the pleasure of remaining there. Had I not reason
to believe mvself fortunate ! And had I not reason to

CARLO GOLDOXI. 379

be satisfied ? Besides, the princesses told me I should
have their nephews for scholars ; there were three
princes and two princesses. What happy prospecte !
What well-founded hopes ! "Was this not enough to
satisfy my ambition f Why should I have solicited
for offices or commissions to which the natives had a
better right than a stranger ? I have never demanded
any favors either for myself or my nephew, but under
circumstances when an Italian was entitled to be pre-
ferred to a Frenchman. As soon as my income was
fixed, the princesses gave over the Italian, and em-
ployed in other studies the hours formerly destined to
me. I was now at liberty to go where I pleased, and
I had a wish to return to Paris; but I amused myself
tolerably well at Versailles, and I remained there some
time longer. It is generally said at Paris that a Ver-
sailles life is very dull, that people grow weary there,
and know not what to do with themselves. I can
prove the contrary : those who are discontented with
their situation will find every place wearisome ; those
who take a delight in their occupation will find them-
selves as comfortable at Versailles as anywhere else ;
and those who have nothing to do may employ their
mornings usefully or agreeably in the castle, the pub-
lic offices, and in the park, and may everywhere find
interesting objects and variety of pleasure.

I returned to settle at Paris, but I still kept one foot
fast at Versailles. It was my interest to pay my court
to my august protectresses, and to see whether the
Italian literature and language could gain any partisans
among the young princes and princesses. The study
of foreign languages is not considered one of the neces-
sary branches of education at the court of France, but
as an amusement conceded to those who are desirous

,380 MEMOIRS OF

of it, and capable of profiting by it. One of the three
princes only seemed disposed to learn Italian, and the
Abbé de Landonviller, of the French Academy, had the
care of him. The abbé employed his mode of teach-
ing languages which he published in 1768; he suc-
ceeded admirably, and the prince made an astonishing
progress.

I endeavored to translate some scenes of my u Thea-
tre," but I have never been able to relish translations, and
labor seems ever disgusting to me, without the charm
of imagination. Several persons applied to me for
permission to translate my comedies under my eyes,
agreeably to my opinions, and on condition of sharing
the profit. Since my arrival in France up to the pres-
ent day, a single year has never passed in which two
or more translators have not made such a proposition
to me. On my arrival in Paris, I even found one per-
son who had the exclusive privilege of translating me,
and had published some of his translations. I endeav-
ored to disgust all of them with an undertaking of
which they knew not the difficulties.

Ox aniving in Paris, I did not think I should fix
my residence there ; but having decided on remaining,
it became necessary to endeavor to procure some situa-
tion for my brother's son, whom I loved as if he were
my own. He was kind and docile ; he had gone
through his studies at Venice ; he was fit for some
good employment ; I was not rich enough to purchase
an office for him, and I wished to avoid, if possible,
the unpleasant circumstance of entering into competi-
tion for favors with the French. There was a pro-

CARLO GOLDONI. 381

fessor of the Italian language in the Royal Military
School ; M. Conti, who tilled that situation, was my
friend; he wished to retire, hut he was not entitled to
a pension till he had served twenty years, and he could
not, therefore, demand it. The employment was good ;
it was an eligible situation fur a young man ; I was
anxious that my nephew should obtain it, but there
were difficulties to be overcome. I implored the pro-
tection of Madame Adelaide of France ; that princess
recommended me to the Duke de Choiseul, and in fif-
teen days' time M. Conti received his pension, and my
nephew his place. By this means I had opportunities
of seeing at my ease two establishments worthy of the
magnificence of the French monarchs, the Royal Mil-
itary School and the Hospital for Invalids, the cradle
and the grave of the defenders of their country. The
nobility destined to the military life are educated in the
former, and the aged and wounded in war are relieved
in the other ; thearts and sciences, and everything that
is useful in education, form the young minds in the
one ; in the other, attention, repose, and all the com-
forts of life, are enjoyed by the veterans, as a recom-
pense for their past services. This last establishment
was founded in the reign of Louis XIV. ; the other in
the reign of Louis XV. The Hospital for Invalids is
decorated with a magnificent temple, which would
hold an honorable rank even in Rome ; and the four
great refectories of the soldiers are as curious as the
kitchens in which the food for these worthy persons is
cooked.

It afforded me great pleasure to pass a few days in
these two royal establishments, which are so close to
each other, and of which I knew the governors and
principal persons employed ; but after my nephew had

382 MEMOIRS OF

been there twenty-two months, considerable changes
were made in the Military School ; the humanity classes
were transferred to the college of La Flèche, and the
Italian class was altogether suppressed. This was not
owing to the fault of the professor, who was recom-
pensed with a pension of six hundred francs.

I was told that the Duke de Choiseul was aware of
these projected changes when he gave the place to my
nephew, and that he conferred on us an employment
which would be suppressed, for the sake of procuring
us this little favor. This minister, considering me as
under the protection of the princesses, manifested great
kiudness for me ; he did me the honor to tell me, when
I called on him to return him my thanks : " Your
nephew's affairs are now in a good way ; how are your
own ! " I answered him, I enjoyed an income of thirty-
six hundred livres per annum. He began to laugh.
u This is no income," said he ; " we must have some-
thing else for you ; we must take care of you." I have
never, however, had anything further ; but this is my
own fault ; I must return to the burden of my song :
I was at court, but not a courtier.

My nephew, who was without any employment,
labored with me till something else should turn op.
The maxim which I had adopted, and with which I
had inspired him, never to mix in the herd of competi-
tors, rendered success more difficult. I was intimate
at Versailles with M. Genet, the head and director of
the office for translation, to which he gave a new form
and a solid consistency, and which was placed entirely
under his control. This respectable father, who divided
his time between the duties of his office and the educa-
tion of his children, recollecting that I had once done
him a slight service, took an opportunity of recom-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 383

pending me for it. Since the acquisition of Corsica an
office had been established at Versailles for the affairs
of that island, and an interpreter well acquainted with
the two languages was wanted. The gentleman at the
head of this office applied to M. Genet to procure one
for him; my worthy friend, mindful of me, proposed
my nephew, who was accepted and introduced without
any difficulty. This young man seemed destined to
encounter nothing but reforms and suppressions. The
office for Corsica was abolished shortly afterwards ;
the affairs of finance were given to the comptroller-
general, and the civil administration was transferred to
the war department. The interpreter was transferred
there. This inspection ^vas annexed to the office of
M. Campi, principal secretary for controverted affairs.
My nephew endeavors to render himself useful : he is
fortunate enough to please his superiors, from whom
he has received various proofs of kindness. If my
journey to France had been productive of no other ad-
vantage than that of settling this dear youth, I should
still be pleased with having undertaken it.

I was attached to France from inclination, and I
became still more strongly so through gratitude. The
Chevalier Gradenigo, the Venetian ambassador, not-
withstanding his anxiety for my accepting the proposi-
tions of his countrymen, could not but approve of my
resistance, and undertook to justify me with his friends
and my protectors. This minister's commission was
nearly at an end ; the embassies of the republic last
only four years. M. Gradenigo was beloved by the
court and ministry of France, who were desirous that
he should remain some time longer. The king was
even disposed to apply for his stay, and the minister
had a courier in readiness to despatch for that purpose.

384 MEMOIRS OF

The ambassador felt the utmost respect and gratitude
f. >r these marks of honor, but he could not give his
consent ; the laws of the republic are immutable ; the
successor was on his way ; M. Gradenigo had therefore
no option, and was obliged to set out, and the prepara-
tions for his audience of leave were far advanced. The
Duke de Choiseul. minister for foreign affairs, deemed
this ceremony costly, troublesome, and entirely useless,
and the kin»- was of the same opinion. M. Gradenigo
was installed a knight or chevalier by his majesty with-
out the usual pomp, and he paid his visits to the royal
family and the princes of the blood as a private indi-
vidual. This is the era of the suppression of public
audiences for ordinary ambassadors.

This ambassador was succeeded by the Chevalier
Sebastian Mocenigo, Avho came from Spain, wnither
he was despatched on his first embassy by the republic
of Venice. He was of a very illustrions, ancient, and
rich family : he was clever, intelligent, amiable, a good
musician, and sang charmingly. But — he experienced
some things of an unpleasant nature, which he did not
perhaps deserve.

I was invited to London, the only place in Europe
which can dispute precedency with Paris, and I should
have liked to see it : but I heard great marriages
talked of at Versailles, and as I had been at all the
funerals of the court, I wished not to be absent in a
time of rejoicing. Besides, I was not asked for by the
King of England, but by the managers of the opera,
who were anxious to attach me to it. I endeavored,
however, to turn the favorable opinion which they en-
tertained of me to some account ; I assigned good rea-
sons by way of excuse, and I offered them my services
on condition of remaining in France. My proposition

CARLO GOLDOXI. 385

was accepted. They asked me for a new comic opera,
and employed me to arrange all the old dramas which
they had adopted for the current year. They said
nothing respecting my recompense, and I did not men-
tion it. I applied myself to the work; the English
were satisfied with me ; I was highly pleased with
their return. This correspondence was continued for
several years, and an end was not put to it till the
directors were succeeded by others, on which occasion
I received an unequivocal mark of their satisfaction, as
they paid me for an opera which it was impossible for
them then to use. This direction was in the hands
of women, and women are amiable in every country.
The most agreeable and finished work which I sent
to them was, in my opinion, a comic opera, entitled
" Yictorina " ; and I received from London compliments
and thanks without end on account of it. M. Piccini,
who set it to music, wrote to me from Naples that he
never read a comic drama from which he derived so
much pleasure. The success, however, did not cor-
respond with the prepossession of the directors or my
own.

Sometimes I see bagatelles, seemingly destitute of
meaning, extolled to the skies ; and at other times
well-written pieces fail, because the subject is too
melancholy for tears, or not sufficiently gay to elicit
laughter. AYhat are the precepts of the comic opera ?
What are its rules ! It has none. All is done by rou-
tine : I know from experience, and ought to be be-
lieved : e.rperto crede Roberto. Shall I be told that
the Italian comic operas are mere farces, unworthy of
being put in comparison with the poems which go by
that name in France ! Let those who know the Ital-
ian language give themselves the trouble of going

386 MEMOIRS OF

over the six volumes which contain the collection of
my works of this nature, and they will see, perhaps,
that the subjects and the style are not so contemptible.
They are not, it is true, good dramas, hut they are
capable of being made so. I never thought of com-
posing any from taste or choice, and I never labored
on them but from motives of complaisance or interest.
When we are possessed of talents, we must turn them
to some account ; a history painter will not refuse to
draw a baboon, if he be well paid for it.

The Italian theatre is as fortunate in actors as
authors, and all are well treated and well recompensed.
The poets and musicians enjoy the ninth of the re-
ceipts for a piece of five or three acts, the twelfth for
a piece of two acts, and the eighteenth for a piece of
one act ; besides, two annual pensions have been es-
tablished at the Italian theatre, one for the author of
the words, and another for the author of the music
of the greatest merit. At this theatre authors enjoy
another considerable advantage ; they never lose the
right to their pieces ; they always enjoy the fixed
share ; they give tickets gratis for every representation
of their works ; and the pieces which have not been
refused by the public are placed in the repertory of
the week, so that they never fall. In consequence of
these advantages, I have been more than once tempted
to yield to the solicitations of several musicians, who
frequently, very frequently, almost every day indeed,
asked me for some work for the comic opera; after
much thinking, revising, and thoroughly examining,
I imagined I had fallen upon the routine necessary to
please the French, and I composed a small piece in
two acts, called the " Bouillotte." This word is not
to be found in any dictionary, but it is well known at

CARLO GOLDOXI. 387

Paris ; it is a game at cards, a brelan at five, the tricks
of which are neither fixed nor marked. He who loses
his stake goes out and is succeeded by another; in
these parties of bouillotte there are generally three or
four persons, who do not play at first, who wait for
the going out of the unfortunate before they begin
playing, and all go out successfully. This perpetual
movement, and the number of people interested in the
same game, occasion a sort of agitation or boiling
(bouillonnement) which has given rise to the name
" bouillotte."

So long as nothing more than dialogue was neces-
sary, I succeeded tolerably well; and I thought I
might venture my prose on a theatre where the public
are indulgent to strangers. But in a comic opera airs
were necessary, and good music required good poetry.
I knew the mechanism of French versification. I had
surmounted all the difficulties which a foreign ear must
experience, and I had selected good models for imita-
tion. I set myself to work, and composed couplets,
quatrains, whole airs ; and after all the pains taken by
me, I saw that my Muse in a French dress had not
that fire, that grace and facility, which an author ac-
quires in his youth, and brings to perfection in his
mature'years. I became sensible of my imperfections,
and gave up my work ; and I renounced forever the
charms of French poetry. I might have confided my
subject to some one who would have perhaps taken
the charge of the versification ; but then to whom
could I apply ? An author of the first rank would
have changed my plan, and an inferior author would
have spoiled it. Besides, it was a trifle which I did
not care much for, and I soon forgot it. I found it in
the rummaging among my papers which my Memoirs

388 MEMOIRS OF

occasion mo to make : and as I communicate all my

productions to my readers, I make it a point of con-
science not to conceal this abortion. If any of my
readers deem this subject worthy of his attention, I
leave him full power to do with it what he pleas, s :
and if he will have the goodness to consult me, I shall
tell him sincerely my opinion, even at the risk of dis-
pleasing him, which has happened to me more than
once under similar circumstances. Beware, my friends,
of those young people, those inferior authors, who
come to consult you. They do not want your advice,
but compliments and applauses. If you endeavor to
correct them, yon will soon see with what obstinacy
they maintain their opinions, and what a coloring they
give to their faults ; and if you persist, they at last
conclude you to be a fool.

YI.

I have already announced that preparations for
great marriages were making at court in the year 1/70,
a time when the Archduchess of Austria. Marie An-
toinette of Lorraine, came as a dauphiness to fill this
kingdom with joy. glory, and hope. By the qualities
of her head and her heart, she gained the esteem of the
king, the affection of her husband, the friendship of
the royal family, and by her beneficence she merited
the public admiration. This virtue, which in our
days has become the ruling passion of Frenchmen,
seems to have excited an emulation in souls possessed
of sensibility from the example set by that august
princess.

These nuptials were celebrated with a pomp worthy
of the grandson of the French monarch and the daugh-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 389

ter of the Empress of Germany. I saw the richly
decorated temple, the majestic view of the royal ban-
quet, the ball in the gallery, and the gaming parties
in the apartments. There were illuminations every-
where, and fireworks of the greatest beauty. Torre,
an Italian artificer, on this occasion, carried the pyro-
technical art to the highest perfection.

The new court -theatre was opened at the same
time. It is a superb building, but the architecture is
more majestic than convenient for the spectators. It
ooght to be seen when dress or masked balls are given.
The theatre, on these occasions, is decorated with the
same ornaments as the rest of the house, and the
whole forms an immense saloon, enriched with col-
umns, looking-glasses, and gildings, which prove the
grandeur of the sovereign by whom it was ordered,
and the taste of the artist by whom it was executed.
In the rejoicings on this august marriage the French
poets made court and city resound with their songs.
My Muse was desirous of awaking; I endeavored to
do something also; and I composed Italian verses,
but I did not dare to print them. Among the infinite
number of compositions which appeared every day.
some were excellent, while others were not so much as
read. I was unwilling to augment the number of the
latter, and I presented my verses in manuscript. The
dauphiness received them with kindness and gave me
to understand, in very good Italian, that I was not
unknown to her.

It would seem that the happy star which then shed
its influence over this kingdom inspired me with zeal,
ambition, and courage. I then conceived the project
of composing a French comedy; and I had the te-
merity to offer it to the French theatre. The word

390 MEMOIRS OF

u temerity " is not too strong oil this occasion : for must
it not be regarded in this light, that I, a stranger, who

had never set foot in France till the age of fifty-three,
with merely a confused and superficial knowledge of
that language, should venture, after a lapse of nine
years, to compose a piece for the principal theatre of
the nation ? You are aware, I suppose, my reader, that
I am speaking of " The Surly Benefactor" (Bourru
Benifaisant), a fortunate piece, which crowned my
labors, and set the seal to my reputation.

It was given for the first time at Paris on the 4th of
November, 1771, and next day at Fontainebleau ; and
it had the same success at the court and in the city.
1 received a gratification of one hundred and fifty
louis-d'ors from the king, and my right of authorship
brought me in a handsome sum at Paris. My book-
seller treated me with great liberality, and I was over-
powered with honor, pleasure, and joy. I tell the
truth, and make no concealment; false modesty is as
odious in my eyes as vanity. I will not attempt any
extracts from a comedy which is everywhere acted,
and in everybody's hands.

My comedy could not have been more successful.
I had been fortunate enough to find in nature a char-
acter every day to be met with, which, however, had
escaped the vigilance of ancient and modern authors.
They imagined, perhaps, that a rude and surly indi-
vidual, from the inconvenience which he occasions to
society, would be disgusting on the stage ; and, con-
sidering the character in this point of view, they have
acted wisely in not bringing it forward. I should
have followed their example, had other views not
inspired me with the hope of turning it to account.
The beneficence constitutes the principal object of my

CARLO GOLDOXI. 391

piece ; and the vivacity of the beneficent individual fur-
nishes the comic humor which is inseparable from
comedy. Beneficence is a virtue of the soul; rough-
ness is hut a constitutional defect ; both arc compatible
in the same subject ; on these principles I formed my
plan, and the sensibility of my protagonist was what
alone rendered him supportable.

On the first representation of my comedy, I con-
cealed myself, as I had always doue in Italy, behind
the curtain; I saw nothing, but I heard my actors and
the applauses of the public; I stalked backwards and
forwards during the whole time of the play, quicken-
ing my steps in passages of interest and passion, sat-
isfied with the actors, and echoing the applauses of
the public. At the conclusion of the play I heard
clapping of hands and shouts of applause without end.
M. Dauberval, who was to conduct me to Fontaine-
bleau, arrived. 1 imagined he came to urge my de-
parture ; but he came for a very different purpose.
"Come, sir," said he, "you must exhibit yourself."
"Exhibit myself! to whom?" "To the public,
which calls for you." " Xo, no, friend, let us take our
departure with all expedition ; I could not support — "
Here M. le Kain and M. Brizard laid hold of me, and
dragged me on the stage. I had seen authors undergo
a similar ceremony with courage ; but I was not accus-
tomed to it. In Italy poets are not called to appear
on the stage for the purpose of being complimented
by the audience; I could not conceive how a man
could, as it were, say tacitly to the spectators, "Here
I am, gentlemen, ready for your applause."

After supporting tor several seconds a situation of
the greatest constraint and singularity, I at last retired
and crossed the stage, to gain the coach which was

392 MEMOIRS OF

in waiting for me. I met numbers of people who
were seeking me. I distinguished no one; I accom-
panied my guide, and entered the coach, in which my
wife and nephew were already seated. At the success
of my piece they wept for joy, and at the account of
my appearance on the stage they were ready to die of
laughter. I was fatigued, and required some repose ;
I wanted sleep : my soul was satisfied and my mind
tranquil: I should have passed a happy night in bed,
but in the carriage I closed my eyes and was awaked
again every moment by the jostling. In short, after
a good deal of dozing, talking, and yawning, I arrived
at Fontainebleau, where I immediately went to bed.
After dining, and a short walk. I repaired to the castle
to witness the representation of my piece, and kept
always behind the curtain.

I have spoken of its success at court. It was not
allowable at that time to applaud in presence of the
king : but it was easy to see. from the movement and
the countenances of the spectators, the effect whieh
the piece produced on them. Next day the Marshal
de Duras did me the honor to present me privately to
the king in his closet. His majesty aud all the royal
family bestowed on me fresh proofs of their usual lib-
erality. I returned to Paris to witness the second
representation of my piece. That day several symp-
toms of ill-fiumor were exhibited in the pit. I was
in my usual place. M. Feuilli came down and told
me not to be uneasy, for it was nothing but a cabal.
" What ! *' said I, " there was nothing of this kind at
the first representation." " Those who are now jeal-
ous were not then afraid of you," said the actor ; " they
laughed at the idea of a foreigner attempting to write
a French comedy, and the cabal was not then organ-

CARLO GOLDOXL 393

ized ; but you have nothing to fear," added he, " the
blow has taken effect, and your success is certain/' In
reality, the piece met with increasing success till the
twelfth representation, when it was withdrawn by the
actors and myself, for the sake of reproducing it in a
more advantageous season.

Nobody said anything against my play, but it was
the subject of much conversation. Some said it was
a piece of my Italian theatre ; others thought I had
written it in Italian and translated it into French.
The collection of my works may convince the former
of the contrary, and I shall now proceed to undeceive
the latter, if there- >till be any who retain that opinion.
I not only composed my piece in French, but I
thought in the French manner when engaged in it.
It has the stamp of its origin in the thoughts, in the
imagery, in the manner, and in the style.

I wrote then and conceived this piece in French,
hut I was not so bold as to produce it without con-
sulting persons capable of affording me both correc-
tion and instruction. I even availed myself of their
opinions.

Nearly about this time M. Eousseau, of Geneva, re-
turned to Paris. Every person was eager to see him,
but he was net visible to all. I knew him only by
reputation, but I had a strong desire to converse with
him, and would gladly have shown my piece to a man
so well acquainted with the French literature and lan-
guage.

It was necessary to inform him beforehand, to insure
a favorable reception ; I therefore adopted the resolu-
tion of writing to him, and expressing, my desire to
form an acquaintance with him. He returned a very
polite answer, informing nie that he never left his home

394 MEMOIRS OF

or went anywhere, but that, if I would give myself the
trouble to climb four pair of stairs in the Hôtel Plâtrèire,
in the street Plàtrière, it would be doing him a great
pleasure. I accepted the invitation, and called on him
a few days afterwards.

I will here give an account of my conversation
with the citizen of Geneva. The result is not, indeed,
very interesting : my piece was only mentioned inci-
dentally, and without alluding to any consequences;
but I avail myself of this opportunity of mentioning
this extraordinary man, who possessed talents of the
very highest order, with incredible prejudices and weak-
nesses.

I ascended to the fourth story of the house he de-
scribed. On knocking, the door was opened by a
woman who was neither young nor pretty nor pre-
possessing.

I asked if M. Rousseau was at home. " He is, and
he is not," said the woman, whom at most I took for
his housekeeper, and who asked my name. On giving
it. she said, "You were expected, sir; and I shall
instantly announce you to my husband." On entering a
moment afterwards, I discovered the author of ''Emile"
busied in copying music. This I was previously in-
formed of, and I saw it with silent indignation. He
received me in a frank and friendly manner, and as he
rose he held out some sheets tome, and said, " See, sir,
if anybody can copy music like me; I defy any one to
show anything from the press divided as beautifully
and exactly as I do it : come, let us warm ourselves,"
he continued, and with one step we were close to the
h re.

The fire was low, and he demanded fresh wood,
which was brought in by Madame Rousseau. I rose

CARLO GOLDOXI. 395

and offered my chair to her. " Do not disturb your-
self/' said the husband, " my wife has her concerns to
attend to."

My heart was grieved to see a man of letters em-
ployed as a copyist, and his wife acting as a servant.
It was a painful spectacle for me, and I could neither
conceal my astonishment nor my pain, though I said
nothing. As he was not wanting in penetration, he
perceived that something was passing in my mind ; he
questioned me, and I was forced to tell him the cause
of my silence and astonishment.

" What! " said he, "you pity me because I am em-
ployed in copying 'I You imagine that I should be
better employed in composing books for people incapa-
ble of reading them, and supplying articles to unprinci-
pled journalists ? You are mistaken; I am passionately
fond of music; I copy from excellent originals; this
enables me to live, and serves to amuse me ; and what
more should I have ? But what are you yourself
doing?" continued he. " You came to France to la-
bor for the Italian comedians, who are lazy fellows
and do not want your pieces. Eeturn again to your
own country ; I know that you are wished for, that you
are expected — "

" Sir," said I, interrupting him, " you are in the
right ; I ought to have quitted Paris in consequence of
the carelessness of the Italian actors, but other views
have detained me. I have been composing a piece in
French." " You have composed a piece in French ! "
said he, with an air of astonishment, "and what do
you mean to do with it?" "Give it to the theatre."
"To what theatre?" "To the French Theatre."
" You were reproaching me just now with losing my
time, but you seem to be losing yours without any

396 MEMOIRS OF

benefit whatever.'' "My. piece is received." " Is it
possible 1 I am not, however, astonished at it; the
actors arc destitute even of common-sense ; they receive
and reject merely at random ; it is received, perhaps,
but it will not he acted; and so much the worse for
you if it be played." " How can you form any judgment
of a piece with which you are unacquainted Î " "I
know the taste of both the Italians and the French;
they are too dissimilar, and, with your permission, your
age is not the time to begin to write and to compose in a
foreign language.7' " Your reflections are just, sir. bnt
these difficulties may be surmounted. I confided my
work to men of abilities and theatrical experience, who
appeared satisfied with it." " They merely flatter and
deceive you ; you will be their dupe. Show me your
piece : I am sincere and honest, and will tell you the
truth."

This was precisely what I was aiming at, not for the
sake of consulting him, but to see whether he would
persist, after reading my piece, in his want of confidence
in me. The manuscript was in the hands of the
copyist of the French Theatre, and I promised to If.
Rousseau that he should have a sight of it as soon
as it was returned to me. My intention was to keep
my word with him, and I shall explain why I did not
do so.

There appeared, about three years ago, a book en-
titled "The Confessions of J. J. Rousseau, citizen of
Geneva, containing anecdotes of his life, written by
himself." In this work he does not spare himself; he
even advances singularities with respect to himself
which might be injurious to him if his celebrity did not
elevate him above criticism. But I am acquainted with
one circumstance which happened to him in the latter

CARLO GOLDOXI. 397

years of his life, that is not to be found in his " Con-
fessions." The author has perhaps forgotten it, or had
not had time to insert it among the rest, as his book is
posthumous. This anecdote does not concern me par-
ticularly, but I mention it because it prevented me from
communicating my comedy to M. Rousseau.

This learned stranger had Mends and a number of
admirers at Paris. M was both a friend and ad-
mirer ; he loved, esteemed, and pitied him at the same
time, being acquainted with his distress as well as his

talents. M proposed to the Genevese author very

elegant and commodious furnished apartments, near the
garden of the Tuileries ; and that it might not shock
the delicacy of his friend, he offered them to him for
the same price as that he paid for the lodgings he occu-
pied. M. Rousseau perceived the intention of the gen-
erous man, rejected the offer abruptly, and exclaimed

that he would not be deceived. M , who was also

a philosopher, and being a Frenchman could unite
politeness with his philosophy, did not allow himself
to be chagrined at the refusal ; he knew the man, and
pardoned him his foibles; he continued to call on him,
and good-naturedly climbed up to the fourth story to
enjoy his conversation.

He had heard of the " Confessions of J. J. Rousseau,"
and entertained a desire to see the whole or part of
them ; and having himself, in his portfolio, characters
of the age composed by him, in the manner of Theo-
phrastus and La Bruyère, he proposed to his friend
the reading of their respective works. M. Rousseau

accepted the proposition, but on condition that M

would be satisfied with a frugal supper at the Hôtel

Plâtrière. M observed that they would be more

comfortable at his house. " That may be," said the

398 MEMOIRS OF

other, but you must sup with me, or the reading shall
not take place. The only concession I can make,"
he added, "is to allow yon to bring a bottle of your
wine, for they give me very "bad wine where I am
lodged."

The complaisant Frenchman agreed to everything ;
but unfortunately he was too kind, too polite, having
sent a basket with six: bottles of excellent wine and six
bottles of Malaga. This surprise put the Genevese in
ill-humor. When the Frenchman arrived, he was
not backward in perceiving it, and asked some expla-
nation. "We two," said Rousseau, " cannot drink
twelve bottles of wine ; I have taken one from your
basket, which is enough for a moderate supper ; send
back the remainder instantly, or you shall not sup with
me."

The threat was not very alarming, but it was the
reading which interested the guest; his servant was
at hand, and he gave him the basket to carry back.
Rousseau was satisfied, and began first to read. The
sending back the wine was attended with much loss of
time ; they were interrupted by Madame Rousseau,
who wanted the table for the supper ; they could have
read without a table, but the supper was served up in-
stantly. It consisted of a pullet and a salad, and noth-
ing more. When the supper was over, it was M 's

turn to read ; he read a chapter, which was applauded
as very good; he read a second, and M. Rousseau rose,
and walked backwards and forwards with a discon-
tented and displeased air. When interrogated respect-
ing the cause of his anger, he said, "It is unbecoming
to insult respectable people in their own house."
"What," said the other, "do you complain of?"
" You have not a fool to deal with," replied the phi-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 399

losopher; "this is my portrait, which you have been
drawing in exaggerated colors, with satirical traits, —

it is shocking, it is unworthy ! *'

" Gently, my good sir/' said the Frenchman. " I
love and esteem you, and you know me; the person
whom I have been portraying is one of those harsh,
troublesome, and hitter individuals who an- so fre-
quently met with in society.*1 " Yes. yes," replied M.
Rousseau, " I am aware that I pass for a character of
this kind in the minds of the ignorant ; I pity and
despise them, but I cannot hear that a man like you,
that a friend, real or pretended, should come to laugh
at me."

It was in vain for M to speak ; he could gain

nothing; the head of- the other was disordered, they
quarrelled seriously, and at last a very sharp corre-
spondence took place between them.

I was intimate with the French author. I saw him
the day after his rupture with M. Rousseau in a com-
pany where we frequently met; he communicated to
us what had taken place. Some laughed, and others
made observations on it. It furnished me also with
food for reflection. Rousseau was blunt ; he had even
owned it in his dispute with his friend ; he had only to
appropriate to himself the beneficence also, and then
he would have said that I wished to portray him in
my play. I carefully, therefore, avoided exposing my-
self to the effects of ill-humor, and I never saw him
again. This man had received the most excellent
qualities from nature, and he gave striking proofs of it ;
but he was of the Protestant Reformed religion, and
he composed works which were not orthodox. For
this he was obliged to leave France, which he had
adopted as his country; and this disaster chagrined

400 MEMOIRS OF

him. He believed he was treated with injustice "by
mankind, whom he consequently was led to despise,
and this feeling could not be of any advantage to him.
What a number of generous offers and protections he
refused! His garret became dearer in his eyes than a
palace. Some discovered grandeur of soul in his con-
duct, while others saw only pride in it. At all events
he was much to be pitied; his weaknesses did injury
to nobody, and his talents rendered him respectable.
He died as he lived, like a philosopher ; and the repub-
lic of letters is indebted to the generous individual who
honored his ashes.

In the month of May, 1771, the marriage of the Count
de Provence, the grandson of Louis XV., and brother
of the dauphin, with Maria Louisa of Savoy, eldest
daughter of the King of Sardinia, was celebrated at
Versailles. This important event redoubled the joy of
the French, for the prince in question was beloved by
his country, and rendered himself still more interesting
by his virtues and talents ; and the princess, from her
abilities and her information, became the delight of
her husband.

In the year 1771, and in the midst of the court rejoic-
ings, Madame Louisa, daughter of Louis XV., quitted
the world, and shut herself up for life in a cloister. She
selected the most humble and austere of all the orders.
This pious princess took the veil of St. Theresa,
among the Carmelites of St. Denis. She had no reason
to fear that the royal abode would prevent her from
exercising her piety and her virtues ; but the corruption
of our age required an august example to bring timid
souls back to the way of perfection, and God made
choice of a princess of the blood of the Bourbons for
their encouragement.

CARLO GOLDOXI. 401

VIL

I had done nothing since the success of my " Surly
Benefactor." I said jokingly, that I wished to repose
on my laurels ; but it was the fear of not succeeding a
second time as well as the first, which prevented me
from satisfying the desires of my friends and myself.
At length I yielded to the Solicitations of others and
my own self-love. I cast my eyes on the " Ostenta-
tious Miser,'' a character so frequently to he met with
in nature, that I had only to fear the too great num-
ber of originals. I took my protagonist from among
the class of upstarts, to avoid the danger of coming in
contact with the higher classes. This piece, which is
very little known, and which many people would wish
to know, underwent singular adventures.

The first person to whom I showed it when it was
fit to appear, was M. Preville. I had destined the
character of the marquis for him, and I was anxious to
have his opinion of that character, and of the whole of
my comedy. He seemed to me satisfied with both. I
observed to him how difficult it would be to represent
naturally the character he was going to undertake. " I
am acquainted," said he, "with this precious sort of
nature." After the encouragement of this valuable ac-
tor, I read my piece to the whole of the comedians as-
sembled : it had votes for and against, and was received
subject to correction. I was not accustomed to this sort
of reception. " However," said I to myself, " no pride,
no obstinacy." I retracted one thing here, added an-
other there, corrected, polished, and embellished my
work. A second reading took place, and the piece
was received and placed in the repertory for the jour-
ney to Fontainebleau.

402 MEMOIRS OF

It was to be acted among the first at the Court Thea-
tre. M. Proville fell sick on arriving there: he re-
mained a month confined in bed, but recovered towards
the end of the visit, and "The Ostentatious Miser"
was destined for the eve of the king's departure. All
the ministers, strangers, and people in office had taken
their departure : the actors were fatigued ; they had no
great desire to study, and still less to rehearse. I saw
the critical situation of my piece, and very modestly
demanded if it were possible to suspend the represen-
tation of it. There were no others on the repertory,
and I was made to believe that it could not be dis-
pensed with.

I went to the first representation, and took my or-
dinary position in the bottom of the theatre, behind
the curtain. So few people were present, that the fa-
vorable or unfavorable impression made by the piece
could not be perceived, and it finished without any sign
of either approbation or reprobation. I returned home
without seeing any one. Everybody packed up for
their departure, and T did the same ; and we all took
our departure accordingly. On the road I had time
for reflection : the freezing coldness with which my
work was listened to, might proceed from the empti-
ness of the house, ami the circumstances of the moment;
but I saw that some of the actors had mistaken their
characters. I have nothing to say with respect to M.
Preville, as his part was extremely difficult, and he had
not sufficient time to familiarize himself with those
broken phrases which require a deal of ingenuity to
make the audience comprehend what the actor does
not pronounce. My great fault was in not remonstrat-
ing and using interest to prevent my piece from being
acted at Fontainebleau. Thus, in recapitulating my

CARLO GOLDONL 403

mistakes, I wrote to the actors oil my arrival in Paris,
and I instantly withdrew my piece.

My Mends were impatiently desirous of seeing my

'• Ostentations Miser" on the Btage of Paris; and they
'.vert- all displeased to learn that I had withdrawn it.
They grumbled, they solicited, they teased me to allow
it to be again represented, and I was informed, by way
of encouragement, of the number of pieces which,
though unfortunate at their first representation, after-
wards recovered. They were in the right, perhaps,
and I should have followed their advice and satisfied
their wishes, if the actors had given me any reason to
think they were desirous of again appearing in it ; but
they were apparently as much disgusted with it as
myself: it was horn under an unfortunate planet, the
influence of which I dreaded. I condemned it, there-
fore, to oblivion, and my rigor went so far that I refused
it to those persons who demanded a reading of it. I
could not, however, resist the demand of one of the
principal nobles of the kingdom, whose prayers are
commands. I did homage to him with my comedy,
the reading of which was undertaken by a lady. She
acquitted herself with the facility and grace which are
natural to her ; but on the first entrance of the mar-
quis, she was taken by surprise at the singularity of
the character, of which she had not received any pre-
vious idea.

M. laid hold of the original, and read this and

all the other scenes where this character is introduced,
with such ease and precision that he might have been
taken for the author of the work. 1 own that I could
not contain my joy and my admiration. Every person
was satisfied with the reading; I was in a house dis-
tinguished for kindness and attention, and I could
expect nothing but compliments.

404 MEMOIRS OF

The marriage of the Count d 'Artois, the brother of
Louis XVI. with Maria Theresa of Savoy, the daughter
of the King of Sardinia and the sister of madame, was
celebrated in the month of November, 1773, at Ver-
sailles. About this time the Chevalier John Mocenigo,
the Venetian ambassador, came to succeed the Cheva-
lier Sebastian Mocenigo, his younger brother, whose
embassy was expired. This new minister of the re-
public was one of my old protectors ; he had given me
the most undoubted proofs of his benevolence ; he had
lodged me and my family a long time in his house ;
and with the Balbi, the Quirini, the Berengan, and the
Barbarigo families, he protected my first Florence edi-
tion, and facilitated its entrance into the city of Venice,
notwithstanding the barbarous war earned on against
me by the booksellers. I received a fresh mark of his
kindness for me on the occasion of his marriage with
the niece of the Doge Loredan, when he wrote me the
following note : —

" The most serene Doge has permitted me to invite a few of
my friends to the nuptials ; you are of the numher; I request
your presence ; you will find your place."

I did not fail. There was a table for a hundred
guests in the banqueting-hall, and another for twenty-
four, the honors of which were done by the Doge's
nephew; I was of the last party; but at the second
course we all quitted our place and repaired to the great
hall, making the tour of that immense apartment, and
seating ourselves behind one another. I in particular
enjoyed the kindness which was lavished on an author
who had been so fortunate as to give pleasure.

I have always felt a kindness for my countrymen,
and welcomed them to my house. I have more than
once been deceived, it is true, but unprincipled individ-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 405

uals have never disgusted me with the pleasure of ren-
dering myself useful ; and I natter myself that no Ital-
ian ever went away from me dissatisfied. Enchanted
with being in France, I love to converse from time to
time with the people of my own country, or Frenchmen
who can speak Italian.

Our Italian literature is very much relished in France,
and our hooks well received and paid for ; the libraries
of Paris are stocked with them. The late M. Floncel
possessed a library of sixteen thousand volumes, all in
the Italian language. M. Molini, an Italian bookseller
in the capital, carries on a considerable trade in Italian
books. The number of copies of my comedies sold in
this country is prodigious ; and the eagerness displayed
in subscribing to the new and superb edition of the
works of Metastasio is still more so.

To the joy diffused by the marriage of the three
princes throughout the kingdom, the most gloomy sad-
ness succeeded. Louis XV. feimij the small-pox soon
broke out ; the kind was the most malignant and com-
plicated, and this king, who possessed the most vigor-
ous and excellent constitution, fell a victim to the
violence of this scourge to mankind. What an afflic-
tion for France, which had conferred on him the title
of " Well-beloved " ! What a desolation for his family,
by whom he was adored ! What a loss for his old ser-
vants, who were more attached to him through senti-
ment than duty ! He was the most forgiving king, the
most tender father, and the kindest master ; the quali-
ties of his heart were excellent, and his mental advan-
tages were great. But Providence has given him a
successor possessed of numerous virtues. Goodness,
justice, clemency, benevolence, are duties imposed on
all those whom God has destined for the government

406 MEMOIRS OF

of mankind : it is his personal qualities for which he is
chieîly distinguished; his merits, his correct conduct,
his zeal for the public good, and for the peace and tran-
quillity of Europe: his religion and moderation, the
probity which he exacts, the example which he gives.
— these are rare virtues, and much more esseutially use-
ful to the state than the spirit of conquest : they are
inexhaustible sources of praise and immortal glory.

Alas ! what vicissitudes in human life ! Here I am
obliged to commemorate a fresh subject of dread and
grief. The three daughters of Louis XV., who never
quitted their father's bed during his illness, began to
display the same symptoms, and incur the same danger.
These princesses were too interesting not to excite a
general alarm respecting their situation. God preserved
them to us ; God snatched from the arms of death this
heroic example of filial love. The princesses passed
the period of their convalescence at Choisi. I partici-
pated in the general grief at this melancholy conjuncture,
and I went in their train to breathe the salutary air of
that delightful place.

On returning to Paris, I heard of a projected mar-
riage between Madame Çlotilde, the sister of the King
of France, and the Prince of Piedmont, the presump-
tive heir of the crown of Sardinia. This piece of news
was very interesting to me, and I went to A'ersailles
for the sake of being better informed respecting it. The
account was verified, but a mysterious silence was ob-
served, and it was not till seven mouths before the mar-
riage that I received orders to attend on the princess,
for the sake of giving her some instruction in the Italian
language. I obeyed ; but what could she learn in the
space of seven months ? I took care not to proceed in
the common way with her. She was well acquainted

CARLO GOLDOXI. 407

with the French grammar, and T only taught her the
auxiliary verbe of the Italian. I made her read a great
deal; the remarks and short digressions which I inter-
mixed with this reading were of more ose to her, in my
opinion, than along catalogue of rules and seholastie
difficulties.

My readings had still a more important and interest-
ing tendency : I made her acquainted with the classical
Italian authors by name, related anecdotes respecting
them, and mentioned the titles of their works ; and I
endeavored to instruct her in the Italian manners and
customs. This kind and complaisant princess had a
wonderful facility in learning, and a very excellent
memory. I went every day, and she made an aston-
ishing progress : but xmr conferences were frequently
interrupted by jeweliers, dealers in trinkets, painters,
and shopkeepers. Sometimes I entered the room to
witness the choice of stuffs, the price paid for jewels,
and the resemblance of the portraits. 1 endeavored to
derive some advantage from these very inconveniences;
I made her repeat in Italian the names of what she had
seen, what she had priced, and what she purchased or
refused.

We had other circumstances to call off our attention,
— a journey to Rheims, for the consecration of the
king, and the birth of the Duke d'Àngoulême. This
prince, son to the Count d'Artois, was the first fruit of
the three marriages of the French princes, and, as his
birth could not fail to be interesting to the state, the
rejoicings were proportionate to the public joy. My
august scholar, notwithstanding all these interruptions,
contrived to turn her time to considerable profit She
pronounced Italian tolerably well, and read it still bet-
ter. She could read and understand the epithalamiums

408 MEMOIRS OF

destined for her by the Piedmontese poets. The mar-
riage was celebrated by deputy towards the end of
August, 17T5. in the chapel of Versailles. The publie
rejoicings were super!» and magnificent The princess

departed, universally adored and regretted. All who
had ever served, or approached her presence, received
marks of her goodness. It is not extraordinary that
in so great a crowd some one should be forgotten ; but
it was unfortunate that this accident should happen
to me.

With respect to my services and expenses, I de-
manded nothing, and I received nothing, but still I was
persuaded that I should not be a loser. I kept myself
quiet, therefore, and said nothing. Persons who inter-
ested themselves in my affairs grew impatient at my
silence, and took steps to know the course I ought to
adopt. They had more penetration than myself, and
their mediation was of great utility to me. It was be-
lieved at court that my pension of thirty-six hundred
livres obliged me to serve the whole royal family. They
were not aware that it was given me by way of recom-
pense for having taught Italian to the princesses. Those
who were intrusted with the outlays for the princess of
Piedmont were convinced that I deserved to be recom-
pensed ; but the affairs relating to that princess Mere
settled : the only recourse was to wait in patience : I
was to be employed for Madame Elizabeth and the sister
of the king, and this was the occasion for which I
ought to reserve my demands.

I waited long, and still kept my apartments at Ver-
sailles. The day at length came when I received
orders to wait on the Princess Elizabeth. This young,
lively, gay, and amiable princess was of an age much
more inclined to amusement than application. I had

CARLO GOLDOXI. 409

been present at the Latin lessons which were given to
her, and I perceived that she possessed a great faculty
in learning anything, hut that she disliked to dwell on
minute and trilling difficulties. I followed, with very
little variation, the mode adopted by me with the
Princess of Piedmont ; I did not torment her with
declinations and conjugations calculated to disgust her ;
she wished to make an amusement of her occupation,
and I endeavored to make my lessons agreeable con-
versations. When my comedies were read, in the
scenes of two characters, the princess and her maid of
honor read and translated each their part ; and when
there were three characters a lady of the company
took the third. I translated the others when there
happened to be moror This exercise was useful and
amusing ; but can we flatter ourselves that young peo-
ple will long be amused with the same thing f "We
passed from prose to verse. Metastasio occupied my
august scholar for some time. I endeavored to satisfy
lier, and she was deserving of it ; for it was the most
gentle and agreeable service in the world.

I was growing old, however ; the air of Versailles
did not agree with me ; the winds which prevail there,
and which blow almost without intermission, attacked
my nerves, excited my old hypochondria, and subjected
me to palpitations. I was forced to quit the court, and
return to Paris, where the air we breathe is less keen,
and is more suitable to my temperament. My nephew,
though employed in the war-office, could succeed me ;
he had done so with the princesses, and I was certain
of the goodness of Madame Elizabeth. This was the
time to settle my affairs, and 1 did not forget myself on
the occasion. 1 presented a bill to the king, whieh
Mas patronized by the princesses. The queen had even

410 MEMOIRS OF

the goodness to interest herself for me, and the king
granted me an extraordinary gratification of six thou-
sand livres, and an annuity of twelve hundred livres
during the life of myself and nephew.

VIII.

In the year 1777 a new comic opera was demanded
from me for Venice. I had resolved not to compose
any more, but, imagining that the same work might
be of utility to me at Paris, I consented to satisfy my
friends, and composed a piece calculated to please in
an equal degree the two nations. Its title was " I
Volponi n (The Foxes). They were courtiers jealous
of a stranger, to whom they showed a vast deal of
politeness, by way of amusing him, while they plotted
his ruin. This piece contained interest, intrigue, and
gayety, and inculcated an important moral lesson.

It was then in agitation to bring to Paris the actors
of the Italian comic opera, whom we call I Buffi, and
who are here Buffoons (Bouffons). This expression
would be considered as insulting in Italy, but it is not
so in France. It is merely a bad translation. The
music of the good daughter of M. Piccini of the colony
of M. Sacchini, and the progress which the taste for
Italian singing made every day at Paris, determined
the directors of the opera to introduce this foreign en-
tertainment, which was represented on the great theatre
of this city. I was intimately flattered with this pro-
ject, and I had the temerity to believe myself necessary
to its execution. Nobody knew more of the Italian
comic opera than myself. I was aware that for several
years nothing had been given in Italy but farces, of
which the music was excellent and the poetry wretched.

CARLO GOLDOXI. 411

I saw what was wanting to render this entertainment
agreeable at Paris. New words were wanting, new
dramas in the French taste. I had performed this
task more than once for London, and I was secure of
my purpose, Nobody can be more useful than myself
on a similar occasion. I knew from experience how
dime alt and laborious this work was; hut I should
have applied to it with infinite pleasure for the sake of
the thing itself, and the honor of my nation. Besides,
there was every reason to suppose that, if the opera of
Paris sent for foreign actors, they would not be eon-
tented with their old music, but would employ M. Pic-
cini, who was here, or M. Saccbini, who was at London,
in the composition of new.

I kept my comic opera therefore in readiness, and I
was almost certain that I should he employed in the
composition of others ; for I did not think it suitable
to the dignity of the principal theatre of this nation to
entertain the public for a length of time with the music
which had been already sung in the concerts and parties
of Paris. I was in expectation, therefore, of being
spoken to, consulted, and engaged. Alas ! nobody
ever said a word to me on the subject. The Italian
actors arrived at Paris. I knew some of them, but I
did not go to see them. I was not present at their de-
but. Some of them were good, and some indifferent ;
their music was excellent ; but the entertainment did
not succeed, as I had fi treseen, on account of the dramas,
which were of a nature to displease the French and to
dishonor Italy.

My self-love might have been flattered at seeing my
prediction verified, but I was in reality very much dis-
tressed at it. 1 was too meat a lover of the comic
opera, and I should have heeu enchanted to have heard

412 MEMOIRS OF

Italian music to Italian words ; but then such words
were requisite as could be read with pleasure, and
translated into French without a blush. Translations
of these wretched operas were printed and published.
The best translation was the most insupportable ; for
the more accurately the translators endeavored to render
their text, the more the dulness of the originals be-
came evident. I supposed this Italian company would
leave the place at the close of the year ; but their en-
gagement was probably for two, and they remained all
the following year. During this second year they did
me the honor to bring me one of their wretched dramas
to patch up : but it was too late, the evil was done,
and this species of entertainment was cried down. I
might have supported it in its beginning, but I did not
believe it was in my power to raise it after the crisis
which it had experienced.

I must also own that I was piqued at having been
forgotten at the proper moment. I do not recollect
having for a long time experienced a similar degree of
mortification. Some said, by way of consolation, that
the directors of the opera thought this employment
beneath me. The directors knew nothing of the mat-
ter they had in hand ; if they had had the goodness to
have consulted me, I should have shown them that
they wanted an author and not a cobbler. Others told
me (perhaps without any foundation for saying so) that
it was feared Goldoni would be too dear. I should
have labored for the honor of the thing, had they known
how to go to work with me ; I should have been high-
priced had they haggled with me; but my labors would
have indemnified them : and I think I may venture to
say that this entertainment would have been still in
existence at Paris.

CARLO GOLDOXI. 413

In the month of January, 1778, there were rejoicings
at court and in the city for the birth of the Duke
of Berry, son of the Count d'Artois. But what was
the joy of the French when the pregnancy of the queen
was declared the same year ! She was delivered in the
month of December of a princess, who was instantly
named Maria Theresa Charlotte of France, with the
title of madame, the daughter of the king. This first
fruit of the king's marriage was considered as the pre-
cursor of the dauphin, who was impatiently expected,
and who, after three years, crowned at last the wishes
of the French. The rejoicings on this occasion, and
on the queen's recovery, corresponded with the circum-
stances of the times. France was then engaged in a
war which she did "not provoke, but which she was
obliged to continue for the honor of the nation —

Alas ! I am seized with a violent palpitation this
very moment, — this is an habitual ailment with me, I
cannot go on —

I resume the chapter which I left off yesterday. My
palpitation has been more vehement and of longer du-
ration this time than usual. It attacked me at four
o'clock in the afternoon, and did not leave me till
two o'clock in the morning. The palpitation is not
periodical ; it attacks me several times in the year, in
all seasons, and at ail times, sometimes when fasting,
sometimes at dinner, sometimes after dinner, and very
rarely during the night. But what is most singular in
its symptoms, I feel when it is coming on a commotion
in my bowels, my pulse rises and beats with alarming
violence, my muscles are in convulsion, and my breast

is oppressed.

I feel when it is going to stop a beating in my head,
and my- pulse gradually returns to its natural state.

414 MEMOIRS OF

There are no gradations in the attacks or in the cessa-
tion. It is an inconceivable phenomenon, which can
be explained by a comparison with swooning.

Accustomed to this infirmity, which is more alarm-
ing than painful, I learned to bear it without dread,
and, by way of drawing my attention from it, I gen-
erally continued my dinner if it attacked me at table,
or continued my game if taken by surprise in com-
pany. Nobody perceived the state I was in, and as
at my age we must learn to put up with our enemies,
I made no attempts to get cured, lest in endeavoring
to avoid the Gulf of Scylla, I should fall into that of
Charybdis. But I was seized with a palpitation of
thirty-six hours' continuance about four years ago, and
this appearing in rather a serious light to me, I had
recourse to my physician. Af. Guilbert de Preval, the
regent of the College of Physicians of Paris, stopped
it instantly, and without giving me anything which
could at all derange my system ; he merely retarded
the attacks in future, and diminished the duration of
them. M. Preval has made himself enemies in the
body to which he belongs. It is said that there is a
law aim rag them that no member of their society shall
make use of new remedies without communicating
them to his brethren. This M. Preval has not done,
through fear perhaps lest his remedy should become
useless, like so many others in the hands of everybody.
He distributes it in his house. The poor are there
relieved, and the rich are not subjected to extortion.
Happy the man. it is said, whoso physician is his
friend. M. Preval is the friend of all his patients, as
he is the friend of humanity.

CARLO GOLDOXI. 415

IX.

On leaving Venice I left my niece in a convent
there. On attaining the age of twenty, an age when
it became necessary to decide whether she chose the
cloister or to mix in the world, I interrogated her
from time to time in my letters respecting lier inclina-
tions. She professed to have no other will than mine.
As I had no wish hut to satisfy her, I thought there
was something mysterious concealed under this sem-
blance of modesty, and I requested one of my pro-
tectors to have the goodness to sound her with address.

All that he could draw from her was, that so long
as she was in chains she would never communicate
her way of thinking. From this I conjectured that she
was not fond of the convent. So much the better: I
possessed only entailed property, which may he given
as a portion, hut the nuns take nothing hut ready
money.

I wrote a letter to the lady at the head of the con-
vent ; and the senator to whom I intrusted it went
with his lady to the convent and brought her away
with them to their house. When there, she did not
express herself in the clearest terms ; but, however, as
much so as her modesty would permit. She did not
wish to be married, but she disliked the convent.

My niece could not long remain in a patrician
family, and she was boarded in a very prudent and
respectable one. M. Chiaruzzi, the landlord of Made-
moiselle Groldoni, took care of my affairs at the same
time and his wife attended to those of the young woman.
In two years his wife died, and the husband demanded
my niece in marriage. She seemed satisfied, and I

416 MEMOIRS OF

was completely so : my nephew and myself assigned
to him all our Italian property, and we set our hands
to the necessary writings before M. Lormeau, a notary
at Paris. The signature of a man of his probity was
a lucky omen to the new couple ; and in reality the
marriage turned out very happy.

This event was necessary for my tranquillity. I
had taken the charge of the two children of my brother.
I saw my nephew in a tolerable situation under my-
self, and I was glad to see my niece settled. My
satisfaction would have been at its height if I could
have been present at the marriage ; but I was too old
for a journey of three hundred leagues.

I am well, thank God; but I require precautions
for my strength and health. I read every day, and
consult attentively the " Treatise on Old Age," by M.
Robert, doctor-regent of the faculty of Paris.

Our physicians in general take care of us when we
are unwell, and endeavor to cure us ; but they do not
embarrass themselves with our regimen when we are
in good health. From this book I derived instruction
and correction. It showed me the degree of vigor
which I might still possess, and the necessity of taking
care of it. The work is composed in the form of
letters; when I read it, I imagined the author speak-
ing to me : in every page, I fall in with and recognize
myself; the advices are salutary without being bur-
densome : li*j is not so severe as the school of Salerno,
and does not prescribe the regimen of Louis Cornaro,
who lived a hundred years as a valetudinary that he
might die in good health.

M. Robert is a very wise and intelligent man; he is
one of those who have studied Nature with the utmost
attention, and best know her course. I became ac-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 417

quainted with him at the house of M. Fagnan, one of
the principal secretaries of the royal treasury, where
we frequently met one another; and Madame Fagnan,
his widow, who is possessed of talents, graces, and
good sense, still continues to receive the intimate friends
of her husband with the same cordiality.

An interesting discovery was made at this time.
M. de Montgolfier was the first who darted a globe
into the air. The globe rose higher than the eye could
reach, at the mercy of the winds, and supported itself
till the extinction of the name and smoke by which it
was fed. This first experiment gave rise to other
speculations. M. Charles, a very learned physician,
employed inflammable air. The globes filled with this
gas require no management to preserve them for a
greater length of time, and are secure from catching
fire. There were men possessed of sufficient courage
to confide their lives to the curds which supported a sort
of basket, and who allowed themselves to be fastened
to the frail balloon, subject to evident danger and
events impossible to be foreseen. The Marquis d'Ar-
landi and M. Pilastre de Rosier made the first attempt,
according to the method of M. de Montgolfier; and
M. Charles shortly afterwards took flight himself, by
means of his inflammable air.

I could not look at them without trembling. Be-
sides, what was the use of all this risk and courage !
If we can only fly at the mercy of the wind, and can-
not direct the machine, the discovery, however admi-
rable, will remain of no utility, and a mere plaything.

The rage of discoveries has taken possession of the
minds of the Parisians to such a violent degree that
they run after everything miraculous. Some time ago
there was a belief in the existence of somnambulists,

418 MEMOIES OF

Who spoke sensibly, and to the purpose, with persons
awake, and had the faculty of divining the past and
for» îseein y the future. This illusion did not make any
great progress: but there was another almost at the
same time which imposed on all Paris.

A letter dated from Lyons announced a man who
had f<»und out a way to walk on water dry-fo<>ted. and
proposed to make the experiment in the capital. He
demanded a subscription to indemnify him for his ex-
penses and trouble ; the subscription was instantly
filled up, and the day fixed on for his crossing the
Seine. This man did not make his appearance on the
day fixed for that purpose, and pretexts were found for
prolonging the farce. It was at length discovered that
a wag of Lyons had taken this way of amusing himself
with the credulity of the inhabitants of Paris. His
intention was not apparently to insult a city of eight
hundred thousand inhabitants ; and we may suppose
he assigned good reasons, by way of excuse, for the
joke, as nothing serious happened to him. What in-
duced the Parisians to believe in this invention was
the "■ Journal de Paris." which announced it as a truth
confirmed by experiments. The authors of this jour-
nal were themselves deceived, and justified themselves
amply in publishing the letters by which they were
imposed ou. witli the names of those who wrote and
addressed them to their office. Three years afterwards
a stranger came to Paris who in reality, in the sight
of au immense number of people, crossed the river
dry-footed. This man made a mystery of the means
employed by him in his experiment. He carefully con-
cealed the shoes used by him in cr<»ssing. Probably
he wished to sell his secret at a high price; but the
small advantages which could be derived from it did

CARLO GOLDOXI. 419

not seem to deserve the trouble. It is not unlikely
that he had beneath his two feet something of the shape
of a boat or canoe. We may find 1 >< »at^ at all rivers
where we want to cross them. We seldom require any
extraordinary assistance for this purpose : and when
we do we cannot always carry about with us these
machines, which are neither light nor of easy carriage.
This experiment, however, afforded a fresh justification
to the authors of the " Journal de Paris," who had fore-
Been the possibility of this discovery.

X.

I AM now drawing near to the conclusion of my
Memoirs, and I support with courage the fatigue of a
task which begins to weary me ; but a fatal event,
which it is now incumbent on me to mention in this
place, makes me feel the disagreeable nature of the
burden which I have imposed on myself.

In the year l/eo" Madame Sophia of France departed
this life. What a loss for the court ! What an afflic-
tion for her affectionate sisters ! Her virtues rendered
her respectable, and her gentleness of disposition in-
spired all who knew her with love and confidence.
Her benevolent heart anticipated the wants of indi-
gence, and she made incredible efforts to conceal her
wit under the veil of piety and modesty. This princess
was lamented and regretted by all who had the honor
of approaching her, and by myself not less than others.
I found some consolation with Madame Tacher and the
Marchioness of Chabot, her daughter, who had the
same cause for affliction that I had. The conversation
of these ladies renewed the memory of my loss, and
their kindness for me alleviated my grief.

420 MEMOIRS OF

It is not, however, usual -with me to be affected in
the keenest manner at the death of my friends or
relations. I possess a feeling disposition; and the
smallest ailment, the slightest inconvenience which
happens to them, affects and grieves me in the extreme;
whereas I look coolly on death as the tribute we owe
to nature, and against which we must derive consola-
tion in our reason. How happens it then that I am
still as much afflicted for the loss of my august scholan
as the first day afterwards ? In the justice which I
render to merit, am I to be suspected of self-love or
vanity? Alas ! my friends do me the favor to believe
that it proceeds rather from gratitude.

In the year 1783 the opera of "Dido," written by
M. Marmontel, and set to music by M. Piccini, was
represented for the first time. It is, in my opinion,
the masterpiece of the one and the triumph of the
other. Xo musical drama approaches nearer to real
tragedy than this. M. Marm< >ntel has imitated nobody ;
he has appropriated the fable to himself, and given it
all the probability and regularity of which such a work
is susceptible. Some say that Marmontel took his
drama from Metastasis >, but they are mistaken. " Dido "
was the first work of the Italian poet ; we discover in
it strong marks of a superior genius, but we may re-
mark at the same time the errors of youth ; and the
French author would not have succeeded had he en-
deavored to imitate it.

" The Marriage of Figaro" had the greatest success
at the French Theatre, because the author put before
this title that of " The Frolicsome Day " (Folle Jour-
née). Nobody is better acquainted with the defects of
his piece than M. Beaumarchais himself; he has given
proof of his talents in this department ; and had he

CARLO GOLDONI. 421

wished to make a regular comedy of his " Figaro," he
would have succeeded as well as another : but he
merely attempted to divert the public ; and this object
he completely attained. The success of this comedy
was extraordinary in every respect. At the comic
theatres of Paris two or three pieces are regularly acted
every day; hut "Figaro" constituted the sole enter-
tainment : the puhlic flocked to it two or three hours
before the drawing up of the curtain, aud waited three
quarters of an hour later than ordinary without being
wearied or betraying the slightest symptoms of discon-
tent. It is now at its eighty-sixth representation, and
is applauded as much as ever ; and what is most sin-
gular, those very persons-who criticise it at leaving the
theatre are the first to return and to amuse themselves
with what they have been censuring.

M. de Beaumarchais gave, some years before, a
comedy entitled u The Barber of Seville," and the
same Spaniard who bore the name of u Figaro," con-
stituted the principal subject of " The Frolicsome Day."
The former of these two pieces was highly relished and
applauded. The author had been implicated in a law-
suit, and defended his cause himself; the papers writ-
ten by him were gay, droll, and excellently composed ;
they were universally read, and the general subject of
conversation. He had the address to insert in "The
Barber of Seville," under feigned names, anecdotes
which recalled the memory of his lawsuit, and covered
his adversaries with ridicule ; all which contributed
very much to the success of his piece. In " The Mar-
riage of Figaro" there were no sarcasms levelled against
individuals, but an abundance against all descriptions
of people. Nobody, however, could complain, as the
criticisms were directed against vice and ridicule which

422 MEMOIRS OF

were everywhere to be met with. Those who find
themselves in the predicament which is the object of
the general satire, have no right to complain.

The connoisseurs and amateurs of the correct models
complained loudly against these two works, which, as
they said, had a tendency to degrade the French theatre :
they observed their countrymen carried away by a sort
of fanatical contagion ; and they dreaded lest the disease
should become universal. Experience, however, has
demonstrated the contrary. There were exhibited at
the same time, on the boards of the French Theatre,
new plays of a very different description, which met
with all the success that could be expected : for ex-
ample, " The Coriolanus" of M. de la Harpe, " The
Seducer" of M. Bievre, " The Difficult Avowals," and
" The False Coquette " of M. Vigé. This last author
was even encouraged by the public ; these first displays
of his talents were considered as in the very best tasle,
tone, and style, and such as to give every reason to
hope that he would prove himself the prop of good
comedy.

Towards the close of the year 1784, whilst I was
engaged in the second part of my Memoirs, one of my
friends spoke to me of a business very much connected
with that I was employed in.

A literary gentleman whom T have not the honor
of knowing sent one of my comedies, translated by
him into French, to M. Courcelle of the Italian theatre,
requesting the actor to present it to me, and to get it
acted if I was pleased with his translation, with the
understanding, as he very kindly chose to state, that
the honor and profit were to belong to the author.
The piece in question was entitled in Italian ''Un
Curioso Accidente" (A Droll Adventure). The trans-

CARLO GOLDOXI. 423

lation appeared to me exact ; the style was not in my
manner, but every one has his own. The translator
changed the title into that of " The Dupe of Himself,"
which I do not disapprove. I gave my consent to the
representation, the comedians received it at the reading
with acclamation ; it was given the following year,
and completely foiled. One part of the piece which
occasioned the greatest pleasure in Italy shocked the
Parisian public ; I know the French delicacy, and I
ought to have foreseen the consequence, but as the
translation was executed by a Frenchman, and it was
applauded by the actors, I allowed myself to be guided
by them. Had I been present at the rehearsals, I
should have anticipated the danger ; but I was unwell,
and the comedians were eager to produce it. I had
distributed several tickets for the first representation,
and nobody came to give me any information respect-
ing it. This did not look well. I went to bed, how-
ever, without learning anything of the event ; but my
barber, with the tears in his eyes, gave me an account
of the solemn condemnation of the piece. I instantly
withdrew it ; and as I felt myself a good deal better
that day, I dined with a very good appetite.

Long accustomed both to a favorable and unfavor-
able reception from the public, I can do that public
justice without any sacrifice of my tranquillity. The
most disagreeable part of the business was that no-
body called on me, or inquired how my recovery was
going on. I wrote to my friends to learn whether my
piece had incensed them against me. It was, on the
contrary, the excess of their friendship and sensibility
which prevented them from giving vent to their cha-
grin before me. When we saw one another again, I
was obliged to assume the office of consoler.

424 MEMOIRS OF

The public rejoicings induced me to quit my room,
and indemnified me for the illness and the unpleasant
circumstances experienced by me. The queen was
delivered of another prince; on the 27th of March,
1785, the Duke of Normandy was born. The usual
illuminations took place at Paris, but certain rich indi-
viduals distinguished themselves on this occasion in a
new and noble manner. The fronts of their palaces
were adorned from top to bottom with a number of
illuminated designs, executed with great skill. It was
impossible for decorations to be more striking or splen-
did. This new taste will, in all probability, be con-
tinued at Paris, and every one will wish, in future, to
have such a modish illumination as his circumstances
can afford.

Fashion has always been the rage of the French.
They give the ton to all Europe in whatever relates to
theatres, decorations, dress, trinkets, and everything
where pleasure is concerned. The French are every-
where imitated. In the beginning of every season
there is to be seen, in the Mercery Street at Venice, a
dressed figure, which is called the French doll {poupée
da France). This is the prototype which every
woman follows, and whatever resembles this original
is considered beautiful. The Venetian women are as
fond of changes as the French ; the tailors, mantua-
makers, and millinery shops take advantage of this;
and if France does not supply a sufficiency of modes,
the Venetian tradesmen contrive to make some slight
change on the doll, and to pass off their own ideas for
transalpine. When I gave at Venice my comedy en-
titled " The Country Mania," I spoke a great deal of a
female dress, which was called "the marriage." This
was a dress of a plain stuff, with a garniture of two

CAKLO GOLDONI. 425

ribbons of different colors, the model of which was
taken from the doll. On my arrival in France I in-
quired if such a fashion had ever existed. Nobody
knew anything of it; there had never been such a
fashion ; it was pronounced ridiculous, and I was even
laughed at for asking. I experienced the same morti-
fication in speaking of the Polish dresses, which were
adopted by the women in Italy when I left it. Twelve
years afterwards, when I saw the Polish dresses at
Paris, I was quite charmed with them. The mode in
dress, it is true, experienced a long interregnum in
Prance ; but it has again resumed its ancient empire.
What a number of changes in a short time ! Polish
and Jewish dresses, furs, English and Turkish dresses,
frocks, pierrots, hats of a hundred shapes, bonnets
without number, and head-dresses ! — head-dresses !

This part of the female dress, so essential for the
setting off their grace and beauty, was some time ago
at the highest point of perfection. It is now, I beg
pardon of the ladies for saying so, insupportable in my
eyes. The tousled hair, and toupees which fall over
their eyebrows, disfigure them sadly. Women are
wrong, in my opinion, in following any general mode
of dressing their heads; every one ought to consult
her glass, to examine her features, and adapt the ar-
rangement of her hair to the style of her countenance,
and make her hair-dressers follow her orders. But
before my Memoirs leave the press, perhaps the female
head-dresses, and many other fashions, will have
changed ; the size of the buckles and the brims of the
hats will be diminished, the female dresses will be
more noble and dignified, and the breeches of the gen-
tlemen will be made larger.

426 MEMOIRS OF

XI.
I return to my regimen, — you will say here also,
perhaps, that I ought to omit it, — you are in the
right ; but all this is in my head, and I must be de-
livered of it by degrees ; I cannot spare you a single
comma. After dinner I am not fond of either working
or walking. Sometimes I go to the theatre, but I am
most generally in parties till nine o'clock in the even-
ing. I always return before ten o'clock. I take two
or three small cakes with a glass of wine and water,
and this is the whole of my supper. I converse with
my wife till midnight ; I very soon fall asleep, and
pass the night tranquilly. It sometimes happens to
me, as well as every other person, to have my head
occupied with something capable of retarding my
sleep. In this case I have a certain remedy to lull
myself asleep; and it is this: I had long projected
a vocabulary of the Venetian dialect, and I had even
communicated my intention to the public, who are still
in expectation of it. While laboring at this tedious
and disgusting work, I soon discovered that it threw me
asleep. I laid it therefore aside, and I profited by its nar-
cotic faculty. Whenever I feel my mind agitated by any
moral cause, I take at random some word of my national
language, and translate it into Tuscan and French. In
the same manner I pass in review all the words which
follow in the alphabetical order, and I am sure to fall
asleep at the third or fourth version. My recipe has
never once failed me. It is not difficult to demonstrate
the cause and effect of this phenomenon. A painful
idea requires to be replaced by an opposite or indiffèr-
ent idea ; and, the agitation of the mind once calmed,
the senses become tranquil, and are deadened by sleep.

CARLO GOLDOXI. 427

But this remedy, however excellent, might not he
useful to every one. A man of too keen and feeling a
disposition would not succeed. The temperament must

be such as that with which nature has favored me.
My moral qualities hear a resemblance to my physical;
I dread neither cold nor heat, and I neither allow my-
self to he inflamed by rage uor intoxicated by joy.

I am now arrived at the year 1787. which is the
eightieth of my age, and that to which I have limited
the course of my Memoirs. I have completed my
eightieth year : my work is also finished. All is over,
and I proceed to send my volumes to the press. This
last chapter does not, therefore, touch on the events of
the current year ; but I have still some duties to dis-
charge. I must begin with returning thanks to those
persons who have reposed so much confidence in me as
to honor me with their subscriptions.

I do not speak of the kindness and favors of the king
and court : this is not the place to mention them. I
have named in my work some of my friends aud even
some of my protectors. I beg pardon of them : if I
have done so without their permission, it is not through
vanity : the occasion has suggested it ; their names
have dropped from my pen, the heart has seized on
the instant, aud the hand has not been unwilling. For
example, the following is one of the fortunate occasions
I allude to. I was unwell a few days ago ; the Couut
Alfieri did me the honor to call on me; I knew his
talents, but his conversation impressed on me the
wrong which I should have done in omitting him. He
is a very intelligent and learned literary man, who
principally excels in the art of Sophocles and Euripi-
des, and after these great models he has framed his
tragedies. They have gone through two editions in

428 MEMOIRS OF CARLO GOLDONL

Italy, and are at present in the press of Didot at Paris.
I shall enter into no details respecting them, as they
may he seen and judged of hy every one.

I have undertaken too long and too laborious a work
for my age, and I have employed three years on it,
always dreading lest I should not have the pleasure of
seeing it finished. However, I am still in life, thanks
to God, and T Hatter myself that I shall see my vol-
umes, printed, distributed, and read. If they be not
praised, I hope at least they will not be despised. I
shall not be accused of vanity or presumption in daring
to hope for some share of favor for my Memoirs ; for,
had I thought that I should absolutely displease, I
would not have taken so much pains ; and if in the good
and ill which I say of myself, the balance inclines to
the favorable side, I owe more to nature than to study.
All the application employed by me, in the construc-
tion of my pieces, has been that of not disfiguring na-
ture, and all the care taken by me in my Memoirs has
been that of telling only the truth. The criticism of my
pieces may have the correction and improvement of
comedy in view ; but the criticism of my Memoirs will
be of no advantage to literature. However, if any
writer should think proper to employ his time on me
for the sole purpose of vexing me, he would lose his
labor. I am of a pacific disposition ; I have always
preserved my coolness of character ; at my age I read
little, and I read only amusing books.

THE END.

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