saved much confusion of tongues, and we hence
know no such schism between written and spoken language such as exists
in Italy. Even in translation, however, much as Goldoni's plays suffer,
their life and movement, their excellent dramatic action, and their
marvellous play of character, are not lost. To understand, however, how
eminently they are fitted for the boards, it is needful to see them
acted. Those who have witnessed either Ristori, or her younger and more
modern rival, Eleonora Duse, in "Pamela" or "La Locandiera," will not
easily forget the dramatic treat. Goethe in his Italian journey, while
at Venice relates how he witnessed a performance of "Le Barufe Chiozote,"
and how immensely he was struck with the stage knowledge possessed by
Goldoni, and with his marvellous truth to the life that surged around
him. "This author," writes Goethe, "merits great praise, who out of
nothing at all has constructed an agreeable pastime." It has been
objected by foreign critics that Goldoni's dialogue is sometimes a
little dull and tame. Charles Lever, for example, could never be brought
to find Goldoni amusing. It is, however, more than probable that a very
accurate acquaintance with Italian is required to appreciate to the
full the manner in which the plays are written, the way in which each
person's conversation is made to fit his or her character. "La Donna di
Garbo" (the title may be rendered as "A Woman of Tact") is a case in
point. This young person seizes on the peculiar hobby or weakness of the
people around her, and plays on it in her talk. Desirous, for weighty
reasons, of becoming the wife of the young son of a great family, this
"woman of tact" gets herself hired as a chambermaid in the household,
and so pleases every member of it that all are in the end glad to assist
her in gaining her cause. The extreme simplicity of Goldoni's plots
is truly astonishing. None but a true adept in human nature and stage
artifice could hold audiences, as he does, spell-bound with interest
over such everyday occurrences as he selects. His comedies recall one of
Louis Chardon's articles in Balzac's "Grand Homme de Province a Paris,"
beginning, "_On entre, on sort, on se promene._" People go and come,
talk and laugh, get up and sit down, and the story grows meanwhile so
intensely interesting, that for the moment there seems nothing else in
the world worthy of attention. And the secret of this? It lies in one
word: Sympathy. Goldoni him