used the curiosity of the whole
city and gave it a _succes de scandale_, to the enmity of great people
whom he had imprudently defamed, and finally to the artifices of an
acting company who saw their way to making money out of these
conflicting interests. I was victimised, as will appear in the course of
my narration, for the truth of which I can refer to a crowd of worthy
witnesses. I lost control over my play. I saw it bandied about from hand
to hand. Condemned to inactivity by magistrates of the State, I had it
turned before my eyes, against my will, into a vile engine for
inflicting pain upon a person of whom I had never once thought while
composing it. Indeed, the part I played in the affair would furnish
forth the subject of another comedy, with me for protagonist.
Well, soon after I had placed the manuscript in Sacchi's hands, he told
me that it had passed the official revision and had been licensed for
the stage. Only some eight or ten lines were struck out. This happens to
every play which is referred to the censors of the State. Nothing
occurred which called its character in question, or suggested that it
was more than a comedy with traits of satire upon society in general.
Sacchi announced the new play to the public, and its capricious title
whetted their interest. I distributed the roles between the actors of
the troupe; but later on, this assignment of parts was altered, without
my knowledge or consent, in order to fit the cap which Signor Gratarol
constructed for himself upon its fabricator's head. The actors saw their
way to pointing a caricature, undesigned by me, by shifting the role of
Don Adone from one player to another. Looking only to receipts at the
door of the theatre, they were dead to every other consideration.
After distributing the roles, I had to read the comedy aloud. This is
necessary; for players are so made among us that, unless they catch the
spirit of their parts from the author, they are sure to spoil them by
some misconception of their values. The reading took place at Sacchi's
lodgings. Mme. Ricci appeared in all her glory, and established herself
at my right hand. I shall not enlarge upon the characters and plot of
the _Droghe d'Amore_, because the play will be found among my works in
print. Suffice it to say, that when I had toiled onward to the sixteenth
scene of the first act, where Don Adone makes his appearance on the
stage, Mme. Ricci began to writhe upon her seat. One wo
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