No More Learning

Despite one notable success in French with the comedy 'The Surly
Benefactor' (1771), Goldoni's life in France was relatively unprofitable
and ignoble. He became Italian teacher of various royal princesses,
with the utmost uncertainty and delay as to his salaries or pensions.
Yet he could never break the fascination of Paris. The art of the
French actors was a never-failing delight to him. There, at the age
of eighty, in French, he wrote and published his 'Memoirs. ' The
Revolution swept away his negligent patrons. In poverty and utter
neglect he died at last, just as the republicans were ready to restore
his royal pension.
Goldoni was the child of Italy and of the eighteenth century. He
had no serious quarrel with his environment. He was not greatly
superior, in actual character or aspirations, to his associates. His
affection for his devoted wife did not save him from many a wander-
ing passion. The promising prima donnas, in particular, found in him.
an all too devoted instructor and protector. The gaming-table and
the lottery are apparently irresistible to any true Italian, and Goldoni
knew by heart the passions which he ridicules or condemns, though
without bitterness, upon his stage. His oft-repeated claim to have
reformed the Italian theatre meant chiefly this: that between the
lyrical drama of Metastasio on the one hand, and the popular masque
with stock characters on the other,—and while contributing to both
these forms of art,- he did firmly establish the comedy of plot and
dialogue, carefully learned and rehearsed, in which the players must
speak the speech as it is pronounced to them by the poet.
Goldoni himself acknowledges, perhaps not too sincerely, in his
Parisian memoirs, the superiority, the mastership, of Molière. In
truth, the great Frenchman stands, with Aristophanes and Shake-
speare, upon a lonely height quite unapproached by lesser devotees of
Thalia. We must not seek in Goldoni a prober of the human heart,
not even a fearless satirist of social conditions. In his rollicking
good-humor and content with the world as he finds it, Goldoni is
much like Plautus. He is moreover under a censorship hardly less
severe. He dares not, for instance, introduce upon his stage any
really offensive type of Venetian nobleman. As for religious dicta-
tion, the convent must not even be mentioned, though the aunt with


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6478
CARLO GOLDONI
whom the young lady is visiting sometimes becomes as transparent
an idiom as the "uncle" of a spendthrift cockney! The audience,
moreover, demand only diversion, not serious instruction (as Goethe
complains, even of his grave Germans, in the 'Prolog im Theater').
It is remarkable, under all these conditions, how healthy, how kindly,
how proper, most of Goldoni's work is. Doubtless, like Goldsmith, he
could preach the more gracefully, persuasively, and unobservedly,
because he never attempted to escape from the very vices or indul-
gences that he satirizes. But even the most determined seeker for
the moral element in art will find little indeed thereof in Goldoni's
merry comedies. Incredible as it seems to us Puritans, he really
made it his mission to amuse. Thoroughly in love with the rather
ignoble, trivial life of his day, he holds the dramatic mirror up to it
with lifelong optimism and enjoyment. His wit is not keen, his
poetic imagination is slight indeed. Aside from the true dramatist's
skill in construction, in plot, his power lies chiefly in the rapid, clear,
firm outlines of his character-drawing. These characters are for the
most part just about such men and women, such creatures of impulse
and whim, such genial mingling of naughtiness and good intentions,
as we see about us. He never delineates a saint or a hero; hardly a
monster of wickedness. He had never known either, and would not
have been interested if he had. The charm of Goldoni is felt chiefly
in Venice, or at least in Italy, while listening to his comedy and
watching the enjoyment mirrored in the faces of his own audience.
It evaporates in translation, and his plays are meant only to be heard,
not read. To Mr. Howells's own affectionate testimony we may add
his happy citation from Goethe, who is writing from Venice in 1786:
"Yesterday, at the theatre of St. Luke, was performed 'Le Baruffe-Chio-
zotte,' which I should interpret The Frays and Feuds of Chiozza. ' The dra-
matis personæ are principally seafaring people, inhabitants of Chiozza, with
their wives, sisters, and daughters. The usual noisy demonstrations of such
sort of people in their good or ill luck,- their dealings one with another, their
vehemence but goodness of heart, commonplace remarks and unaffected man-
ners, 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 delighted me very much;
and although I did not understand a single allusion, I was nevertheless, on the
whole, able to follow it pretty well. . . 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 one continued laugh and
tumultuous shout of exultation from beginning to end. . . . Great praise
is due to the author, who out of nothing has here created the most amusing
divertissement. However, he never could have done it with any other people
than his own merry and light-hearted countrymen. »
.


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CARLO GOLDONI
6479
Of Goldoni's one hundred and sixty comedies, only a scanty hand-
ful have been tolerably translated in English. As accessible and
agreeable an introduction as any, perhaps, is the version of four not-
able plays by Miss Helen Zimmern in the series Masterpieces of
Foreign Authors. ' The 'Memoirs' have been fairly rendered by John
Black, and this version, considerably abridged, was served up by Mr.
Howells in 1877 among his series of Choice Autobiographies. ' Mr.
Howells's introductory essay appeared also in the Atlantic Monthly.
It has been drawn upon somewhat in the present sketch.
William Grandlan
Lawton.
FIRST LOVE AND PARTING
From the Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni'
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 firearms had been
made use of and dangerous wounds received. As the country
where 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.
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 pleasure. . . The six
gentlemen of our party proposed another species of entertainment.
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 account, and they left
me the power of choosing the pieces and distributing the char-
acters. I thanked them, and accepted the proposition; and with
the approbation of his Excellency and my chancellor, I put myself


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6480
CARLO GOLDONI
at the head of this new entertainment. I could have wished some-
thing 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 everywhere, even
without music, I put the airs into recitative; 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 distributed 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. Fortu-
nately, I had composed two small pieces in which I played two
parts of character, and redeemed my reputation. The first of these
pieces was 'The Good Father,' and the second 'La Cantatrice. '
Both were approved of, and my acting was considered passable
for an amateur. I saw the last of these pieces some time after-
wards at Venice, where a young advocate thought proper to give
it out as his own work, and to receive compliments on the sub-
ject; 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
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 be-
came 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 of which I saw a convincing proof. The fatigue of our jour-
ney 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 without marrying her.


## p. 6481 (#467) ###########################################

CARLO GOLDONI
6481
THE ORIGIN OF "MASKS » IN THE ITALIAN COMEDY
From the Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni ›
THE
HE 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 diver-
sion 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, employment, and effects of these
four masks. Comedy, which in all ages has been the favorite
entertainment of polished 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, 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
extempore 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 always been a
Venetian, the Doctor a Bolognese, and Brighella and Harlequin
Bergamasks; and from these places, therefore, the comic person-
ages called the four masks of the Italian comedy were taken
by the players. What I say on this subject is not altogether
the creature of my imagination; I possess a manuscript of the
XI-406


## p. 6482 (#468) ###########################################

6482
CARLO GOLDONI
fifteenth century, in very good preservation and bound in parch-
ment, containing a hundred and twenty subjects or sketches of
Italian pieces, called comedies of art, and of which the basis of
the comic humor is always Pantaloon, a Venetian merchant; the
Doctor, a Bolognese jurisconsult; 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 the Doctor,
called by the Italians the two old men, represent the part of
fathers, and the other parts where cloaks are worn. The first is
a merchant, because Venice in its ancient times was the richest
and most extensively commercial country of Italy. He has
always preserved the ancient Venetian costume; the black dress
and the woolen 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
beard, which was considered as an ornament in those remote
ages, has been caricatured and rendered ridiculous 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 mer-
chant; and Bologna was selected because in that city there
existed a university, which, notwithstanding the ignorance of the
times, still preserved the offices and emoluments of the profess-
ors. In the dress of the Doctor we observe the ancient costume
of the university and bar of Bologna, which is nearly the same
at this day; and the idea of the singular mask which covers his
face and nose was taken from a wine stain which disfigured the
countenance of a jurisconsult in those times. This is a tradition
still existing among the amateurs of the comedy of 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 be found among the lower orders of that part of the country.
Brighella represents an intriguing, deceitful, and knavish valet.
His dress is a species of livery; his swarthy mask is a caricature
of the color of the inhabitants of those high mountains, tanned
by the heat of the sun. Some comedians, in this character, have
taken the name of Fenocchio, Fiqueto, and Scapin; but they


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CARLO GOLDONI
6483
have always represented the same valet and the same Bergamask.
The harlequins have also assumed other names: they have been
sometimes Tracagnins, Truffaldins, Gradelins, and Mezetins; but
they have always been stupid Bergamasks. Their dress is an
exact representation of that of a poor devil who has picked up
pieces of stuffs of different colors to patch his dress; his hat cor-
responds 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 Italian 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 per-
former, either in joy or sorrow: whether he be in love, cross, or
good-humored, the same features are always exhibited; and how-
ever he may gesticulate and vary the tone, he can never convey
by the countenance, which is the interpreter 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 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 delighted; with time and patience I brought
about a reconciliation between them; and I had the satisfaction
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 amateurs, who had the merit of giving themselves an inter-
est to sketched comedies.


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6484
CARLO GOLDONI
――――――
PURISTS AND PEDANTRY
From the Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni'
Μ΄
Y JOURNEY to Parma, and the pension and diploma conferred
on me, excited the envy and rage of my adversaries.
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 funeral. 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 tor-
mented me, but the partisans of the different theatres of Venice.
I was defended by literary men, who entertained a favorable
opinion of me; and this gave rise to a warfare in which I was
very innocently the victim of the irritation which had been ex-
cited. My system has always been never to mention the names
of my adversaries: but I cannot avoid expressing the honor
which I feel in proclaiming those of my advocates. Father
Roberti, a Jesuit, at present the Abbé Roberti, one of the most
illustrious poets of the suppressed society, published a poem in
blank verse, entitled 'Comedy '; and by dwelling on the reforma-
tion effected by me, and analyzing several scenes in my pieces,
he encouraged his countrymen and mine to follow the example
and the system of the Venetian author. Count Verri, a Milanese,
followed the Abbé Roberti. .
Other patricians of Venice
wrote in my favor, on account of the disputes which were every
day growing warmer and warmer.
. Every day witnessed
some new composition for or against me; but I had this advan-
tage, that those who interested themselves 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 mother's milk
the use of a very agreeable and seductive patois, which however
was not Tuscan. I learned by principle, and cultivated by read-
ing, the language of the good Italian authors; but first impres-
sions will return at times, notwithstanding every attention used
in avoiding them. I had undertaken a journey into Tuscany,
where I remained for four years, with the view of becoming
familiar with the language; and I printed the first edition of my


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CARLO GOLDONI
6485
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 per-
petually reproached with the original sin of Venetianism.
Amidst all this tedious trifling, I recollected one day that
Tasso had been 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 soci-
ety. I was then in my closet, and I turned my eyes towards
the twelve quarto volumes of the works of that author, and ex-
claimed, “Oh 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 Dictionary della Crusca, where I found
more than six hundred words, and a number of expressions, ap-
proved of by the academy and rejected by the world; I ran over
several ancient authors considered as classical, whom 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 della Crusca: his 'Jerusalem Delivered '
is read by everybody, while nobody thinks of reading his 'Jeru-
salem Conquered. '
A POET'S OLD AGE
From the Memoirs of Carlo Goldoni ›
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 delivered of it by degrees; I can-
not 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 evening.
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


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6486
CARLO GOLDONI
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 narcotic 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 re-
placed by an opposite or indifferent idea; and the agitation of the
mind once calmed, the senses become tranquil and are deadened
by sleep.
But this remedy, however excellent, might not be 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 bear a resemblance
to my physical: I dread neither cold nor heat, and I neither
allow myself to be inflamed by rage nor intoxicated by joy. . .
press.
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
This last chapter does not therefore touch on the events
of the current year; but I have still some duties to discharge.
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 and even some of my protectors.
I beg pardon of them: if I have done so without their permis-
sion, it is not through vanity; the occasion has suggested it; their
names have dropped from my pen, the heart has seized on the
instant, and 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 Count Alfieri did me the honor to
call on me; I knew his talents, but his conversation impressed on


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CARLO GOLDONI
6487
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 Euripides, and after these great
models he has framed his tragedies. They have gone through
two editions in Italy, and are at present in the press of Didot at
Paris. I shall enter into no details respecting them, as they may
be seen and judged of by every one.
During my convalescence M. Caccia, a banker in Paris, my
friend and countryman, sent me a book addressed to him from
Italy for me. It was a collection of French epigrams and madri-
gals, translated into Italian by the Count Roncali, of the city of
Brescia in the Venetian dominions. This charming poet has
merely translated the thoughts; he has said the same things in
fewer words, and he has fallen upon as brilliant and striking
points in his own language as those of his originals.
I had the honor of seeing M. Roncali twelve years ago at
Paris, and he allows me to hope that I shall have the good for-
tune to see him again. This is infinitely flattering to me; but
I earnestly entreat him to make haste, as my career is far
advanced, and what is still worse, I am extremely fatigued. 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 I flatter myself that I shall
see my volumes 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 construction of my pieces
has been that of not disfiguring nature, 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 improve-
ment 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 disposi-
tion; I have always preserved my coolness of character; at my
age I read little, and I read only amusing books.


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6488
CARLO GOLDONI
THE CAFÉ
[A few of the opening scenes from one of the popular Venetian comedies
are here given with occasional abridgment. They illustrate the entirely prac-
tical theatrical skill of Goldoni's plots, his rapid development of his characters,
and the sound morality which prevails without being aggressively prominent.
The permanent scene represents a small open square in Venice, or a
rather wide street, with three shops. The middle one is in use as a café. To
the right is a barber's. The one on the left is a gambling-house. Beyond the
barber's, across a street, is seen the dancers' house, and beyond the gamblers'
a hotel with practicable doors and windows. ]
Ridolfo, master of the café, Trappolo, a waiter, and other waiters
R
IDOLFO Come, children, look alive, be wide awake, ready to
serve the guests civilly and properly.
Trappolo - Master dear, to tell you the truth, this early
rising doesn't suit my complexion a bit. There's no one in sight.
We could have slept another hour yet.
-
―――――
Ridolfo They'll be coming presently. Besides, 'tis not so
very early. Don't you see? The barber is open, he's in his
shop working on hair. And look! the playing-house is open too.
Trappolo-Oh, yes, indeed. The gambling-house has been
open a good bit. They've made a night of it.
Ridolfo-Good. Master Pandolfo will have had a good profit.
Trappolo-That dog always has good profit. He wins on the
cards, he profits by usury, he shares with the sharpers. He is
sure of all the money of whoever enters there. That poor Signor
Eugenio he has taken a header!
Ridolfo Just look at him, how little sense he has! With a
wife, a young woman of grace and sense,—but he runs after every
petticoat; and then he plays like a madman. But come, go roast
the coffee and make a fresh supply.
Trappolo-Shan't I warm over yesterday's supply?
Ridolfo No, make it good.
Trappolo - Master has a short memory. How long since this
shop opened?
—
Ridolfo You know very well. 'Tis about eight months.
Trappolo-Then 'tis time for a change.
Ridolfo What do you mean by that?
-
Trappolo — When a new shop opens, they make perfect coffee.
After six months,- hot water, thin broth. [Exit. ]
Ridolfo He's a wit. I'm in hopes he'll help the shop. To
a shop where there's a fun-maker every one goes.
-


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CARLO GOLDONI
6489
Pandolfo, keeper of the gambling-house, comes in, rubbing his eyes
sleepily
Ridolfo - Master Pandolfo, will you have coffee?
Pandolfo-Yes, if you please.
Ridolfo - Boys, serve coffee for Master Pandolfo. Be seated.
Make yourself comfortable.
Pandolfo - No, no, I must drink it at once and get back to
work.
Ridolfo Are they playing yet in the shop?
Pandolfo - They are busy at two tables.
Ridolfo - So early?
Pandolfo
-
Ridolfo-What game?
Pandolfo-An innocent game: "first and second" [i. e. , faro].
Ridolfo And how does it go?
Pandolfo For me it goes well.
Ridolfo - Have you amused yourself playing too?
Pandolfo-Yes, I took a little hand also.
Ridolfo - Excuse me, my friend; I've no business to meddle in
your affairs, but it doesn't look well when the master of the
shop plays; because if he loses he's laughed at, and if he wins.
he's suspected.
-
Ridolfo
night?
They are at it since yesterday.
Pandolfo I am content if they haven't the laugh on me. As
for the rest, let them suspect as they please; I pay no attention.
Ridolfo Dear friend, we are neighbors; I shouldn't want you
to get into trouble. You know, by your play before you have
brought up in the court.
Pandolfo I'm easily satisfied. I won a pair of sequins, and
Iwanted no more.
-
—
Ridolfo - That's right. Pluck the quail without making it cry
out. From whom did you win them?
Pandolfo A jeweler's boy.
Ridolfo - Bad. Very bad. That tempts the boys to rob their
masters.
Pandolfo -Oh, don't moralize to me. Let the greenhorns stay
I keep open for any one who wants to play.
at home.
And has Signor Eugenio been playing this past
Pandolfo He's playing yet. He hasn't dined, he hasn't slept,
and he's lost all his money.


## p. 6490 (#476) ###########################################

6490
CARLO GOLDONI
Ridolfo [aside]- Poor young man! [Aloud. ] And how much
has he lost?
Pandolfo A hundred sequins in cash: and now he is playing
on credit.
Ridolfo - With whom is he playing?
Pandolfo With the count.
Ridolfo And whom else?
Pandolfo - With him alone.
Ridolfo It seems to me an honest man shouldn't stand by
and see people assassinated.
Pandolfo — Oho, my friend, if you're going to be so thin-
skinned you'll make little money.
Ridolfo I don't care for that.
-
――
-
-
Till now I have been in serv-
ice, and did my duty honestly. I saved a few pennies, and with
the help of my old master, who was Signor Eugenio's father,
you know, I have opened this shop. With it I mean to live
honorably and not disgrace my profession.
•
-
Pandolfo [answering]-At your service.
Ridolfo - For mercy's sake, get poor Signor Eugenio away
from the table.
Pandolfo For all me, he may lose his shirt: I don't care.
[Starts out. ]
Ridolfo And the coffee-shall I charge it?
Pandolfo - Not at all: we'll deal a card for it.
Ridolfo I'm no greenhorn, my friend.
Pandolfo - Oh well, what does it matter? You know my vis-
itors make trade for you. I am surprised that you trouble your-
self about these little matters. [Exit. ]
A gentleman, Don Marzio, enters
Ridolfo [aside] - Here is the man who never stops talking,
and always must have it his own way.
Marzio Coffee.
Ridolfo At once, sir.
Marzio- What's the news, Ridolfo ?
――
―――
-
[People from the gambling-shop call "Cards! »]
―
Ridolfo I couldn't say, sir.
Marzio -Has no one appeared here at your café yet ?
Ridolfo - 'Tis quite early still.
――――――


## p. 6491 (#477) ###########################################

CARLO GOLDONI
6491
Marzio-Early?
Early? It has struck nine already.
Ridolfo - Oh no, honored sir, 'tis not seven yet.
Marzio-Get away with your nonsense.
Ridolfo I assure you, it hasn't struck seven yet.
Marzio-Get out, stupid.
-
Ridolfo - You abuse me without reason, sir.
Marzio I counted the strokes just now, and I tell you it is
nine. Besides, look at my watch: it never goes wrong. [Shows it. ]
Ridolfo - Very well, then; if your watch is never wrong,—it
says a quarter to seven.
Marzio
What? That can't be. [Takes out his eye-glass and
looks.
―
-
Ridolfo - What do you say?
Marzio My watch is wrong. It is nine o'olock. I heard it.
Ridolfo - Where did you buy that watch?
Marzio I ordered it from London.
Ridolfo
They cheated you.
Marzio-Cheated me? How so? It is the very first quality.
Ridolfo - If it were a good one, it wouldn't be two hours
wrong.
――――――――
Marzio
It is always exactly right.
Ridolfo But the watch says a quarter to seven, and you say
it is nine.
Marzio- My watch is right.
Ridolfo - Then it really is a little before seven, as I said.
Marzio-You're an insolent fellow. My watch is right: you
talk foolishly, and I've half a mind to box your ears.
is brought. ]
[His coffee
Ridolfo [aside]—Oh, what a beast!
Marzio - Have you seen Signor Eugenio ?
Ridolfo-No, honored sir.
Marzio-At home, of course,
uxorious fellow! Always a wife!
coffee. ]
petting his wife.
What an
Always a wife! [Drinks his
He's been gambling all
Ridolfo - Anything but his wife.
night at Pandolfo's.
Marzio-Just as I tell you. Always gambling.
Ridolfo [aside] - "Always gambling," "Always
"Always his wife,"
"Always" the Devil; I hope he'll catch him!
Marzio He came to me the other day in all secrecy, to
beg me to lend him ten sequins on a pair of earrings of his
wife's.


## p. 6492 (#478) ###########################################

6492
CARLO GOLDONI
Ridolfo - Well, you know, every man is liable to have these
little difficulties; but they don't care to have them known, and
that is doubtless why he came to you, certain that you would
tell no one.
Marzio Oh, I say nothing. I help all, and take no credit
for it. See! Here are his wife's earrings. I lent him ten
sequins on them. Do you think I am secured?
Ridolfo
I'm no judge, but I think so.
Marzio Halloa, Trappolo. [Trappolo enters. ] Here; go to
the jeweler's yonder, show him these earrings of Signor Euge-
nio's wife, and ask him for me if they are security for ten sequins
that I lent him.
Trappolo-And it doesn't harm Signor Eugenio to make his
affairs public?
Marzio I am a person with whom a secret is safe. [Exit
Trappolo. ] Say, Ridolfo, what do you know of that dancer over
there?
-
Ridolfo I really know nothing about her.
Marzio-I've been told the Count Leandro is her protector.
Ridolfo To be frank, I don't care much for other people's
affairs.
―
Marzio-But 'tis well to know things, to govern one's self
accordingly. She has been under his protection for some time.
now, and the dancer's earnings have paid the price of the pro-
tection. Instead of spending anything, he devours all the poor
wretch has. Indeed, he forces her to do what she should not.
Oh, what a villain!
Ridolfo But I am here all day, and I can swear that no one
goes to her house except Leandro.
Marzio - It has a back door. Fool! Fool! Always the back
door. Fool!
Ridolfo I attend to my shop: if she has a back door, what
is it to me?