We arrived in Cremona around six in the evening. Word had already spread that we would be passing through, and the riverbanks were full of people waiting for us. We disembarked. We were welcomed with great enthusiasm and immediately escorted to a beautiful house, located between the countryside and the city, where a concert was given, and various local musicians added to the enjoyment. There was a grand dinner, we danced all night, and finally, at sunrise, we returned to our quarters, where we found our delightful mattresses.

These lines were written by a giant of theatre: Carlo Goldoni. Thus, in his Memoirs (Chapter XII, 1723/1725), he recalled his first encounter with the city of the Torrazzo in the early decades of the eighteenth century. A joyful meeting, marked by music and entertainment, accompanied by gentlemen playing instruments: there were three violins, a cello, two oboes, a hunting horn, and a guitar. A bond that never faded—indeed, it grew even stronger about thirty years later, when the “Venetian” came into close contact with Pietro Chiarini, better known as il Brescianino. A composer and harpsichordist who had moved from Brescia to Cremona to serve as organist of the Cappella delle Laudi and, at the same time, as a trusted advisor to Count Giovanni Battista Nazari, the nobleman who opened the first “public” theatre in the city.

Before taking his place at the great organ of Cremona Cathedral, Chiarini spent his most fruitful years (1738–1744) in Venice. In the heart of the lagoon, he formed a close friendship with Goldoni himself.

This is confirmed by a letter written in 1741 by the Venetian playwright, in which Chiarini is described as a dear friend. This relationship gave rise to a deep collaboration that brought Goldoni’s work to Cremona on a large scale, revealing his ability to write librettos for opera buffa. A truly remarkable historical development. Within a few years, the traditional opera seria—with its dramatic and mythological characters—gave way to Goldoni’s musical narratives. This marked a shift in musical taste, aesthetics, and dramaturgy in the city. Moreover, in 1756, the Venetian writer even set his comedy Il Raggiratore in Cremona. These were precisely the years in which Goldoni enjoyed great success at the Teatro Nazari.

A glance at the chronology of operas set to his librettos and staged there is telling: in 1751, Il Tigrane with music by Giovan Battista Lampugnani; in 1754, L’Arcadia in Brenta with music by Baldassare Galuppi (another great Venetian composer); Bertoldo, Bertoldino e Cacassenno by Vincenzo Ciampi; in 1760, Il Filosofo di Campagna, again by Galuppi; La Ritornata di Londra by Domenico Fischietti; La Cascina by Giuseppe Scolari. The following year, 1761—again through Chiarini’s influence—Goldoni was prominently featured with Il Signor Dottore by Domenico Fischietti and La Buona Figliola by Niccolò Piccinni, who returned the following year (1762) with La Buona Figliola Maritata.

In 1764 as well, Goldoni’s influence on the theatre was immense, with three operas staged—essentially the entire season: Lo Speziale, a pasticcio by Vincenzo Pallavicino and Domenico Fischietti; La Conversazione by Giuseppe Scolari; and Gli Uccellatori by Florian Gassmann. The latter was revived five years later, and in 1771, again by Gassmann, the libretto L’Amor Artigiano was performed.

Chiarini himself also contributed directly to the spread of Goldoni’s work. In 1754, he set to music Goldoni’s intermezzo La Donna Dottoressa. In 1760, he conducted from the harpsichord at the Cremonese theatre performances of Goldoni’s works: La Ritornata di Londra, La Cascina, and the famous Il Filosofo di Campagna.

The account of this relationship between Chiarini and Goldoni is illuminating in understanding the leading role that the Venetian playwright played in the musical and theatrical culture under the Torrazzo. In the first half of the eighteenth century, Cremona stood at the forefront in supporting the rise of opera buffa of Neapolitan origin over opera seria, which remained bound to the rigid canons of Metastasian poetry.

This was also a social transformation. It is well known that the stories told by Goldoni were rooted in the lives of ordinary people—the emerging middle class of the time—thus reflecting everyday reality. This stood in contrast to tragedy, which drew its subjects from mythology, familiar only to the nobility and clergy, but largely unknown to the broader population.