g their elocution, it kept them to some extent aloof from those
low sensual pleasures which were deplorably in vogue amongst them. It
seemed to me, however, that persons of a mature age, holding offices and
posts of public dignity, would do better to extend protection and
encouragement to such performances than to appear themselves upon the
stage. Such was my private opinion. But I did not wish to set up for
being a critic of my neighbours. For the rest, I thanked him for the
honour done me by his amateur society, but begged to decline the office
of director. I gave many reasons for not caring to undertake the
responsibilities of such a post, and reminded him that my interest in
the theatre served only as a distraction from many onerous and painful
duties which I had voluntarily undertaken for the benefit of my numerous
and far from wealthy relatives.

[Illustration: RUZZANTE (1525)

_Illustrating the Italian Commedia dell'Arte, or Impromptu Comedy_]

I do not know how far this candid answer was agreeable to Signor
Gratarol. Much of it must certainly have gone against his grain, and a
good deal he probably took for sarcasm. Nevertheless, he continued on
the note of adulation which annoyed me. "In truth," he said, "I hardly
hoped for your acceptance, knowing how much you value a quiet life. Yet
perhaps you will do me the favour of suggesting some one fit to
undertake the duty." "In my opinion," I replied, "the Marchese Francesco
Albergati would be a very proper man.[57] He is an enthusiastic
amateur, and has great experience in theatrical affairs. He has fixed
his residence at Venice, and is sure to accept the post with pleasure."
"Do you really think him capable?" asked Gratarol with the utmost
gravity, as though we were discussing a matter of vast importance. "Most
capable," I answered. "Pray allow me then," he continued, with the same
ludicrous concern, "to propose Marchese Albergati to my company of noble
amateurs at your recommendation!" "Certainly, if you think fit," I
replied, with difficulty repressing a yawn. The long conversation about
nothing had almost tired my patience out. At length he rose to take his
leave, drowning me in an ocean of compliments. I thanked him for his
visit, and promised to return it, blessing Heaven for his departure.

After Signor Gratarol's banquet, which was described to me as regal in
its pomp, the whole of Sacchi's troupe let their spite loose against
Mme. Ricci. It was a storm o