Chiari had defied the Granelleschi to produce a comedy. Goldoni had taken up his stand upon the popularity of his own plays. Carlo Gozzi conceived the bold idea of writing a fantastic drama upon the old lines of the Commedia dell' Arte, which should fill the theatre of his adoption and restore Sacchi's company to favour. If he succeeded, both Chiari and Goldoni would be hit with the same stone. This was the real origin of the celebrated Fiabe Teatrali. But before engaging in the attempt, Gozzi looked about for a suitable subject. Nothing, he calculated, would floor his antagonists more thoroughly than the exhibition of a dramatised nursery tale by impromptu actors. Therefore, in the spirit of a burlesque duellist, in the true spirit of Don Quixote, he composed his Amore delle Tre Melarancie.

These facts about the genesis of Gozzi's Fiabe need to be insisted on, since French and German critics have distorted the truth. They regard Gozzi as a romantic playwright, gifted with innate genius for a peculiar species of dramatic art. According to this theory, the Fiabe were produced in order to manifest an ideal existing in their author's brain. Minute attention to Gozzi's Memoirs, his explanatory Essays (Opere, vols. i. and iv.), and the preface appended to each Fiaba, shows, on the contrary, that he began to write the Fiabe with the simple object of answering a certain challenge in the most humorous way he could devise. He continued them with a didactic purpose. His keen sagacity and profound knowledge of the Venetian public led him possibly to anticipate success. Yet he knew that the attempt was perilous; and he made it, without obeying preconceived principles, without yielding to any imperative instinct, but solely with the view of giving Chiari and Goldoni a sound thrashing.

If it is worth while studying Gozzi and the Fiabe at all, this point has so much importance that I may be permitted to resume the history of his literary conflict with the two poets. Gozzi opened fire with the Tartana in 1756. Goldoni retorted that he had only made himself ridiculous; unless he proved both his assumption and his argument, he was nothing better than a dog barking at the moon. Gozzi then declared that he was already engaged in the production of a commentary. This circulated in MS. under the form of a satire called the Teatro Comico. Meanwhile Goldoni parried all attacks by pointing to his popularity, and Chiari openly defied the Granelleschi to write a comedy, instead of condemning the plays in vogue. Finally Gozzi, who had become intimately acquainted with the actors in Sacchi's company, resolved to write a scenario, which should rehabilitate the Commedia dell' Arte, parody both Chiari and Goldoni, attract the public in crowds, and prove that a mere fairy tale, treated with romantic gusto, was capable of arousing no less interest than the works of professional playwrights following new-fangled models. The Amore delle Tre Melarancie, produced at the end of January in 1761, rather more than four years after the appearance of the Tartana, was the result.

It is mistaken to suppose that Gozzi was animated by the enthusiasm of a literary innovator. The Fiabe, in spite of their fantastic form, were the work of an aristocratical Conservative, bent on striking a shrewd blow for the Commedia dell' Arte, which he considered to be the special glory of the Italian race. In this respect, we might call Gozzi the Venetian Aristophanes.[74] The Fiabe were his "Clouds," and "Birds," and "Wasps." Goldoni and Chiari were his Euripides and Agathon; perverters of the good old comedy by vulgar realism, false pathos, and meretricious rhetoric. Rousseau, Voltaire, Helvetius, the French philosophes, were his Socrates and Sophists. His art was the expression, not of creative instinct evoking a new type of drama merely for its beauty and romance, but of a militant, sarcastic mind, imbued with the ironical literature of the sixteenth century. Gozzi had little in common with Shakespeare. Truffaldino is no twin-brother of King Lear's fool, nor is Brighella cousin to the grave-digger in Hamlet. These personages belong to the family of masks, whose pedigree dates from immemorial antiquity in Italy. The element of fable, as Gozzi repeatedly informs us, was first adopted by him out of sheer bravado to maintain a certain thesis, viz., that whole nations could be made to laugh and cry over puerilities, when handled with the judgment of a master. Gozzi's true ancestors in art were the Florentine burlesque poets, notably Luigi Pulci. The blending of magic, phantasy, broad comedy and serious tragic interest in the Fiabe allies them to the Morgante Maggiore far more closely than to Marlowe's Doctor Faustus. In them, therefore, we observe the curious literary phenomenon of what at first sight appears to be spontaneous romantic art, but what is really the result of satirical and didactic intention. The preface to L'Augellino Belverde, in which Gozzi takes leave of the Fiabe, clearly explains the case.[75] "I addressed myself to the task of arousing great popular enthusiasm by a tour de force of fancy; and at the same time I wished to cut short the series of my dramatic pieces, from which I derived no profit, and the burden of producing which was beginning to weigh heavily upon me. Besides, it seemed to me that I had fully achieved the end I had proposed to myself from the outset, in the indulgence of the purest capricious and poetical punctilio." Punctilio was the parent of the Fiabe.

At this point I shall introduce a translation of L'Amore delle Tre Melarancie. There are several reasons for doing so. First, although it only exists For us in the compte rendu of the author, and is therefore a description rather than a literal scenario, a very good idea can be gained from it of the directions given by a poet to extempore actors. Secondly, it shows the four Venetian masks, Pantalone, Tartaglia, Truffaldino, and Brighella, in action, together with the servetta Smeraldina. Thirdly, it is interesting for the light thrown upon Gozzi's controversy with the two poets in the critical observations he has interspersed. These I shall enclose in brackets, so that the scenario of the play may be distinguished from extraneous matter.

V.

A REFLECTIVE ANALYSIS
OF THE FABLE ENTITLED
THE LOVE OF THE THREE ORANGES.
A Dramatic Representation divided into Three Acts.[76]

PROLOGUE.
(A boy comes forward and makes this announcement.)
Your faithful servants, the old company
Of players, feel sore shent and full of shame;
Behind the scenes they stand with downcast eye
And hang-dog faces, dreading words of blame;
They blush to hear the folk say: "We are dry!
Each year those fellows feed us with the same
Musty old comedies that stink of mould!
We will not be insulted, laughed at, sold!"
I swear by all the elements to you,
Kind public, that to win your love once more,
They'd let their teeth be drawn, and eyeballs too!
They sent me to say this—nay, do not roar,
Restrain your wrath, sweet gentle audience, do;
Lend me your ears three minutes, I implore;
When I have spoken what I'm sent to say,
Deal with me as you list, I won't cry nay!
We've lost all sense and knowledge how to please
The public on our scenes, in this mad age.
The plays that took last year now seem to freeze;
And something quite brand-new is all the rage.
The wheel of taste and fashion, as one sees,
Moves with a wind no prophet can presage;
We only know that when the world's agog,
Our throats are moist and stomachs filled with prog.
Taste rules this year that all the modern plays
Should be crammed full with intrigue, strange events,
Fresh characters, adventures that amaze,
Wild, thrilling, unexpected incidents;—
Dumbfounded by these laws, we stand at gaze,
Huddling together timorous in our tents;
And yet because we must have bread to eat,
We've come with our old wares your wrath to meet.
I know not, gentle listener, who it is
Hath rendered us unfit to charm your ear:
To us who once enjoyed your courtesies,
So many and so sweet, it seems most queer.
Is Poetry perchance to blame for this?
Well, well; all things are doomed to disappear;
Mortals must learn to bear and bide their fate;
Yet, ah! your hatred is a scourge too great!
For our part, we'll leave nothing new untried;
We'll don the poet's singing-robes and bays,
If this may give us back your grace denied;
Nay, we are poets in these latter days!
Our breeches shall be sold and ink supplied,
Our coats we'll change for paper to write plays;
And if we've got no genius, well, what's that?
So long as you are pleased, all's right, that's flat.
Our purpose 'tis with new-pranked comedies,
Fine things, ne'er seen before, to fill our stage.
Don't ask when, where, and how we met with these,
Or who inscribed the pure Phœbean page;
After fine weather when the deluges
Of rain descend, Lo, new rain! cries the sage;
Yet though he thinks it new rain, 'tis quite plain
That rain is nought but water, water rain.
Not all things keep one course through endless time.
What's up to-day, to-morrow shall be down.
Your great-great-grandsire's garment Mode, the mime,
Steals from his picture-frame to deck the town.
'Tis taste, opinion, gusto make sublime,
Make beautiful, what tickles prince and clown;
And we can swear upon the book our plays
Have ne'er appeared in these or other days.
We've plots and arguments to turn old folk
Back to their infancy and nurse's arms;
Parents who kindly bear their children's yoke
Will bring the babes to listen to our charms;
High solemn geniuses we daren't invoke,
Nor will their absence cause us great alarms;
Why should we snuff at pence? Whether they scent
Of ignorance or learning, we're content.
On strange and unexpected circumstance
You shall sup full to-night; on wonders wild,
Whereof you may have heard or read perchance,
Yet never seen by woman, man, or child;
Beasts, birds, and house-doors shall your ears entrance
With verses by crowned poet's labour filed;
And if Martellian verses they shall prove,
These must compel your plaudits and your love!
Your servants wait, impatient to begin;
But first I'd like the story to rehearse;
Ah me! I quake and tremble in my skin—
You're sure to hiss me or do something worse!
The Love of the Three Oranges!—I'm in,
And don't repent the plunge, although you curse.
Imagine then, my darlings, heart's desires,
You're sitting with your granddams round your fires.

[The touch of satire in this prologue, directed against poets who were trying to trample down Sacchi's company of improvisatory players, is too obvious, and my intention of supporting the latter by introducing the series of my dramatised nursery-tales upon the theatre is too evident, to call for detailed commentary. In the choice of my first fable, which I took from the commonest among the stories told to children, and in the base alloy of the dialogues, the action, and the characters, which are obviously degraded of set purpose, I wanted to ridicule Il Campiello, Le Massère, Le Baruffe Chiozzotte, and many other plebeian and very trivial pieces by Signor Goldoni.]

FIRST ACT.