ry kindly if I consented to withdraw my
little works from publication. I was somewhat surprised, because I knew
that the Cavaliere Farsetti was a lover of good literature. Count
Widiman, on the other hand, had declared himself a partisan of Goldoni.
Nevertheless, I readily assented to their request, and promised to bury
my two pamphlets in oblivion. I added, at the same time, that I felt
sure that Goldoni, when he was aware of this act of generosity on my
part, would begin hostilities against me, trusting to his numerous and
enthusiastic following.

I was not mistaken when I made this prophecy. It soon became evident
that Goldoni intended to carry on the war against us lovers of pure
writing in all the _Raccolte_ which appeared from time to time in
Venice. He also introduced affected and unpleasant types of character
upon the stage under Florentine names, and otherwise jeered at us in the
coarse little poems which he styled his _Tavole Rotonde_. Confiding in
his popularity and the influence of those fine gentlemen whom he called
his "beloved patrons," he hoped to revenge himself on me and to suppress
my _Tartana_.

To break my promise given to the two Cavalieri, and to publish the
satirical pieces I have described above, was out of the question. So I
prepared myself for a guerilla warfare, something after Goldoni's own
kind, but more witty and amusing. I judged it better to fight the
quarrel out with short and cutting pieces, which should throw ridicule
upon my adversary and amuse the public, than to begin a critical
controversy in due form. Squibs and satires were now exchanged daily
between Polisseno Fegejo (such was Goldoni's high-sounding title in the
Arcadi of Rome) and my humble self, the Solitario in our modest Academy
of the Granelleschi.

To meet Goldoni's lumbering diatribes in verse, I brought out a little
burlesque poem, which I called _Sudori d'Imeneo_. It was printed on the
occasion of a wedding, and created a revolution among the wits which
exceeded my most sanguine expectations. At this distance of time I find
it impossible to render a precise account of the innumerable
compositions which I produced in this controversy. They were read at the
time with avidity, because of their novelty and audacity. I never cared
to keep a register of my published or unpublished writings in prose and
verse. If I were asked where these trifles could be found, I should
reply: "Certainly not in my hands." Some of my frien