rogue knew full well that his mother at least would
forgive him his escapade in the pleasure of having him back again. So he
went, and there was an end of his philosophy. As he foresaw, his mother
pardoned him, and his father happened to be absent on business. From
Pavia, where he was staying with a relative, at that time governor of
the city, Dr. Goldoni wrote that his Marchese had promised to be kind to
his eldest son. "So," went on the letter, "if Carlo behaves well, he
will provide for him." This sentence filled Carlo the disobedient with
alarm. Nevertheless, when his father returned, he forgave him almost as
readily as his mother had done. They were not strict disciplinarians,
these Goldoni, but easy-going folk, who liked to live and let live.

The father now resolved to keep his son at home at Chioggia, that he
might begin to study medicine under his guidance. Very desultory study
it was, both father and son thinking more of the theatre and of actors
than of the pharmacopoeia. So medicine, too, had to be abandoned.
Goldoni's mother then bethought her of the law, and Carlo was sent to
Venice to study under the care of an uncle. At Venice he found no less
than seven theatres in full swing, and all of them he frequented in
turn, enjoying especially the operas of Metastasio, which were the
latest novelty,--that author who may be said to have done for Italian
opera what Goldoni did for Italian comedy, though unfortunately the
music to which his graceful verses have been set has not, like them,
proved immortal. After some months of alternate gaiety and study of
jurisprudence, Carlo was moved to Pavia to complete his studies, a
vacancy having been found for him there in the Papal College. Various
preliminaries were needful to obtain admission, among them the tonsure.
During the delay caused by these formalities, Carlo devoted himself
to the study of dramatic literature in the library of one of the
professors. Here he found, beside his old friends, the classical
dramatists, the English, Spanish, and French playwrights. But the
Italian, where were they? he asked himself, and at once the resolve
awoke in him that he would do his very utmost towards reviving the drama
of his native land and tongue. What he would do should be to imitate the
style and precision of the great authors of antiquity, but to give to
his plays more movement, happier terminations, and characters better
formulated. "We owe," he says, "respect to the gr