In London And Moscow: To London

J >> Jacques Casanova de Seingalt >> In London And Moscow: To London

MEMOIRS OF JACQUES CASANOVA de SEINGALT 1725-1798

IN LONDON AND MOSCOW, Volume 5b--TO LONDON
THE MEMOIRS OF JACQUES CASANOVA DE SEINGALT

THE RARE UNABRIDGED LONDON EDITION OF 1894 TRANSLATED BY ARTHUR MACHEN TO
WHICH HAS BEEN ADDED THE CHAPTERS DISCOVERED BY ARTHUR SYMONS.




TO LONDON




CHAPTER V

I Meet the Venetian Ambassadors at Lyons, and also Marcoline's Uncle--I
Part from Marcoline and Set Out for Paris--An Amorous Journey

Thus freed from the cares which the dreadful slanders of Possano had
caused me, I gave myself up to the enjoyment of my fair Venetian, doing
all in my power to increase her happiness, as if I had had a premonition
that we should soon be separated from one another.

The day after the supper I gave to Madame Pernon and M. Bono, we went to
the theatre together, and in the box opposite to us I saw M. Querini, the
procurator, Morosini, M. Memmo, and Count Stratico, a Professor of the
University of Padua. I knew all these gentlemen; they had been in London,
and were passing through Lyons on their return to Venice.

"Farewell, fair Marcoline!" I said to myself, feeling quite
broken-hearted, but I remained calm, and said nothing to her. She did not
notice them as she was absorbed in her conversation with M. Bono, and
besides, she did not know them by sight. I saw that M. Memmo had seen me
and was telling the procurator of my presence, and as I knew the latter
very well I felt bound to pay them my respects then and there.

Querini received me very politely for a devotee, as also did Morosini,
while Memmo seemed moved; but no doubt he remembered that it was chiefly
due to his mother that I had been imprisoned eight years ago. I
congratulated the gentlemen on their embassy to England, on their return
to their native land, and for form's sake commended myself to their good
offices to enable me to return also. M. Morosini, noticing the richness
of my dress and my general appearance of prosperity, said that while I
had to stay away he had to return, and that he considered me the luckier
man.

"Your excellency is well aware," said I, "that nothing is sweeter than
forbidden fruit."

He smiled, and asked me whither I went and whence I came.

"I come from Rome," I answered, "where I had some converse with the Holy
Father, whom I knew before, and I am going through Paris on my way to
London.

"Call on me here, if you have time, I have a little commission to give
you."

"I shall always have time to serve your excellency in. Are you stopping
here for long?"

"Three or four days."

When I 'got back to my box Marcoline asked me who were the gentlemen to
whom I had been speaking. I answered coolly and indifferently, but
watching her as I spoke, that they were the Venetian ambassadors on their
way from London. The flush of her cheek died away and was replaced by
pallor; she raised her eyes to heaven, lowered them, and said not a word.
My heart was broken. A few minutes afterwards she asked me which was M.
Querini, and after I had pointed him out to her she watched him furtively
for the rest of the evening.

The curtain fell, we left our box, and at the door of the theatre we
found the ambassadors waiting for their carriage. Mine was in the same
line as theirs. The ambassador Querini said,--

"You have a very pretty young lady with you."

Marcoline stepped forward, seized his hand, and kissed it before I could
answer.

Querini, who was greatly astonished, thanked her and said,--

"What have I done to deserve this honour?"

"Because," said Marcoline, speaking in the Venetian dialect, "I have the
honour of knowing his excellency M. Querini."

"What are you doing with M. Casanova?"

"He is my uncle."

My carriage came up. I made a profound bow to the ambassadors, and called
out to the coachman, "To the 'Hotel du Parc'." It was the best hotel in
Lyons, and I was not sorry for the Venetians to hear where I was staying.

Marcoline was in despair, for she saw that the time for parting was near
at hand.

"We have three or four days before us," said I, "in which we can contrive
how to communicate with your uncle Mattio. I must commend you highly for
kissing M. Querini's hand. That was a masterstroke indeed. All will go
off well; but I hope you will be merry, for sadness I abhor."

We were still at table when I heard the voice of M. Memmo in the
ante-chamber; he was a young man, intelligent and good-natured. I warned
Marcoline not to say a word about our private affairs, but to display a
moderate gaiety. The servant announced the young nobleman, and we rose to
welcome him; but he made us sit down again, and sat beside us, and drank
a glass of wine with the utmost cordiality. He told me how he had been
supping with the old devotee Querini, who had had his hand kissed by a
young and fair Venetian. The ambassadors were much amused at the
circumstance, and Querini himself, in spite of his scrupulous conscience,
was greatly flattered.

"May I ask you, mademoiselle," he added, "how you came to know M.
Querini?"

"It's a mystery, sir."

"A mystery, is it? What fun we shall have tomorrow! I have come," he
said, addressing himself to me, "to ask you to dine with us to-morrow,
and you must bring your charming niece."

"Would you like to go, Marcoline?"

"'Con grandissimo piacere'! We shall speak Venetian, shall we not?"

"Certainly."

"'E viva'! I cannot learn French."

"M. Querini is in the same position," said M. Memmo.

After half an hour's agreeable conversation he left us, and Marcoline
embraced me with delight at having made such a good impression on these
gentlemen.

"Put on your best dress to-morrow," said I, "and do not forget your
jewels. Be agreeable to everybody, but pretend not to see your Uncle
Mattio, who will be sure to wait at table."

"You may be sure I shall follow your advice to the letter."

"And I mean to make the recognition a scene worthy of the drama. I intend
that you shall be taken back to Venice by M. Querini himself, while your
uncle will take care of you by his special orders."

"I shall be delighted with this arrangement, provided it succeeds."

"You may trust to me for that."

At nine o'clock the next day I called on Morosini concerning the
commissions he had for me. He gave me a little box and a letter for Lady
Harrington, and another letter with the words,--

"The Procurator Morosini is very sorry not to have been able to take a
last leave of Mdlle. Charpillon."

"Where shall I find her?"

"I really don't know. If you find her, give her the letter; if not, it
doesn't matter. That's a dazzling beauty you have with you, Casanova."

"Well, she has dazzled me."

"But how did she know Querini?"

"She has seen him at Venice, but she has never spoken to him."

"I thought so; we have been laughing over it, but Querini is hugely
pleased. But how did you get hold of her? She must be very young, as
Memmo says she cannot speak French."

"It would be a long story to tell, and after all we met through a mere
chance."

"She is not your niece."

"Nay, she is more--she is my queen."

"You will have to teach her French, as when you get to London."

"I am not going to take her there; she wants to return to Venice."

"I pity you if you are in love with her! I hope she will dine with us?"

"Oh, yes! she is delighted with the honour."

"And we are delighted to have our poor repast animated by such a charming
person."

"You will find her worthy of your company; she is full of wit."

When I got back to the inn I told Marcoline that if anything was said at
dinner about her return to Venice, she was to reply that no one could
make her return except M. Querini, but that if she could have his
protection she would gladly go back with him.

"I will draw you out of the difficulty," said I; and she promised to
carry out my instructions.

Marcoline followed my advice with regard to her toilette, and looked
brilliant in all respects; and I, wishing to shine in the eyes of the
proud Venetian nobles, had dressed myself with the utmost richness. I
wore a suit of grey velvet, trimmed with gold and silver lace; my point
lace shirt was worth at least fifty louis; and my diamonds, my watches,
my chains, my sword of the finest English steel, my snuff-box set with
brilliants, my cross set with diamonds, my buckles set with the same
stones, were altogether worth more than fifty thousand crowns. This
ostentation, though puerile in itself, yet had a purpose, for I wished M.
de Bragadin to know that I did not cut a bad figure in the world; and I
wished the proud magistrates who had made me quit my native land to learn
that I had lost nothing, and could laugh at their severity.

In this gorgeous style we drove to the ambassador's dinner at half-past
one.

All present were Venetians, and they welcomed Marcoline enthusiastically.
She who was born with the instinct of good manners behaved with the grace
of a nymph and the dignity of a French princess; and as soon as she was
seated between two grave and reverend signors, she began by saying that
she was delighted to find herself the only representative of her sex in
this distinguished company, and also that there were no Frenchmen
present.

"Then you don't like the French," said M. Memmo.

"I like them well enough so far as I know them, but I am only acquainted
with their exterior, as I don't speak or understand the language."

After this everybody knew how to take her, and the gaiety became general.

She answered all questions to the point, and entertained the company with
her remarks on French manners, so different to Venetian customs.

In the course of dinner M. Querini asked how she had known him, and she
replied that she had often seen him at Divine service, whereat the
devotee seemed greatly flattered. M. Morosini, pretending not to know
that she was to return to Venice, told her that unless she made haste to
acquire French, the universal language, she would find London very
tedious, as the Italian language was very little known there.

"I hope," she replied, "that M. de Seingalt will not bring me into the
society of people with whom I cannot exchange ideas. I know I shall never
be able to learn French."

When we had left the table the ambassadors begged me to tell the story of
my escape from The Leads, and I was glad to oblige them. My story lasted
for two whole hours; and as it was noticed that Marcoline's eyes became
wet with tears when I came to speak of my great danger. She was rallied
upon the circumstance, and told that nieces were not usually so
emotional.

"That may be, gentlemen," she replied, "though I do not see why a niece
should not love her uncle. But I have never loved anyone else but the
hero of the tale, and I cannot see what difference there can be between
one kind of love and another."

"There are five kinds of love known to man," said M. Querini. "The love
of one's neighbour, the love of God, which is beyond compare, the highest
of all, love matrimonial, the love of house and home, and the love of
self, which ought to come last of all, though many place it in the first
rank."

The nobleman commented briefly on these diverse kinds of love, but when
he came to the love of God he began to soar, and I was greatly astonished
to see Marcoline shedding tears, which she wiped away hastily as if to
hide them from the sight of the worthy old man whom wine had made more
theological than usual. Feigning to be enthusiastic, Marcoline took his
hand and kissed it, while he in his vain exaltation drew her towards him
and kissed her on the brow, saying, "Poveretta, you are an angel!"

At this incident, in which there was more love of our neighbour than love
of God, we all bit our lips to prevent ourselves bursting out laughing,
and the sly little puss pretended to be extremely moved.

I never knew Marcoline's capacities till then, for she confessed that her
emotion was wholly fictitious, and designed to win the old man's good
graces; and that if she had followed her own inclinations she would have
laughed heartily. She was designed to act a part either upon the stage or
on a throne. Chance had ordained that she should be born of the people,
and her education had been neglected; but if she had been properly
tutored she would have been fit for anything.

Before returning home we were warmly invited to dinner the next day.

As we wanted to be together, we did not go to the theatre that day and
when we got home I did not wait for Marcoline to undress to cover her
with kisses.

"Dear heart," said I, "you have not shewn me all your perfections till
now, when we are about to part; you make me regret you are going back to
Venice. Today you won all hearts."

"Keep me then, with you, and I will ever be as I have been to-day. By the
way, did you see my uncle?"

"I think so. Was it not he who was in continual attendance?"

"Yes. I recognized him by his ring. Did he look, at me?"

"All the time, and with an air of the greatest astonishment. I avoided
catching his eye, which roved from you to me continually."

"I should like to know what the good man thinks! You will see him again
to-morrow. I am sure he will have told M. Querini that, I am his niece,
and consequently not yours.

"I expect so, too."

"And if M. Querini says as much to me to-morrow, I, expect I shall have
to, admit the fact. What do you think?"

"You must undoubtedly tell him the truth, but frankly and openly, and so
as not to let him think that you have need of him to return to Venice. He
is not your father, and has no right over your liberty."

"Certainly not."

"Very good. You must also agree that I am not your uncle, and that the
bond between us is, of the most tender description. Will, there be any
difficulty is that?"

"How can you ask me such a question? The link between us makes me feel
proud, and will ever do so."

"Well, well, I say no more. I trust entirely in your tact. Remember that
Querini and no other must take you back to Venice; he must treat you as
if you were his daughter. If he will not consent, you shall not return at
all."

"Would to God it were so!"

Early the next morning I got a note from M. Querini requesting me to call
on him, as he wanted to speak to me on a matter of importance.

"We are getting on," said Marcoline. "I am very glad that things have
taken this turn, for when you come back you can tell me the whole story,
and I can regulate my conduct accordingly."

I found Querini and Morosini together. They gave me their hands when I
came in, and Querini asked me to sit down, saying that there would be
nothing in our discussion which M. Morosini might not hear.

"I have a confidence to make to you, M. Casanova," he began; "but first I
want you to do me the same favor."

"I can have no secrets from your excellency."

"I am obliged to you, and will try to deserve your good opinion. I beg
that you will tell me sincerely whether you know the young person who is
with you, for no one believes that she is your niece."

"It is true that she is--not my niece, but not being acquainted with her
relations or family I cannot be said to know her in the sense which your
excellency gives to the word. Nevertheless, I am proud to confess that I
love her with an affection which will not end save with my life."

"I am delighted to hear you say so. How long have you had her?"

"Nearly two months."

"Very good! How did she fall into your hands?"

"That is a point which only concerns her, and you will allow me not to
answer that question."

"Good! we will go on. Though you are in love with her, it is very
possible that you have never made any enquiries respecting her family."

"She has told me that she has a father and a mother, poor but honest, but
I confess I have never been curious enough to enquire her name. I only
know her baptismal name, which is possibly not her true one, but it does
quite well for me."

"She has given you her true name."

"Your excellency surprises me! You know her, then?"

"Yes; I did not know her yesterday, but I do now. Two months . . .
Marcoline . . . yes, it must be she. I am now certain that my man is not
mad."

"Your man?"

"Yes, she is his niece. When we were at London he heard that she had left
the paternal roof about the middle of Lent. Marcoline's mother, who is
his sister, wrote to him. He was afraid to speak to her yesterday,
because she looked so grand. He even thought he must be mistaken, and he
would have been afraid of offending me by speaking to a grand lady at my
table. She must have seen him, too."

"I don't think so, she has said nothing about it to me."

"It is true that he was standing behind her all the time. But let us come
to the point. Is Marcoline your wife, or have you any intention of
marrying her?"

"I love her as tenderly as any man can love a woman, but I cannot make
her a wife; the reasons are known only to herself and me."

"I respect your secret; but tell me if you would object to my begging her
to return to Venice with her uncle?"

"I think Marcoline is happy, but if she has succeeded in gaining the
favour of your excellency, she is happier still; and I feel sure that if
she were to go back to Venice under the exalted patronage of your
excellency, she would efface all stains on her reputation. As to
permitting her to go, I can put no stumbling-block in the way, for I am
not her master. As her lover I would defend her to the last drop of my
blood, but if she wants to leave me I can only assent, though with
sorrow."

"You speak with much sense, and I hope you will not be displeased at my
undertaking this good work. Of course I shall do nothing without your
consent."

"I respect the decrees of fate when they are promulgated by such a man as
you. If your excellency can induce Marcoline to leave me, I will make no
objection; but I warn you that she must be won mildly. She is
intelligent, she loves me, and she knows that she is independent; besides
she reckons on me, and she has cause to do so. Speak to her to-day by
herself; my presence would only be in your way. Wait till dinner is over;
the interview might last some time."

"My dear Casanova, you are an honest man. I am delighted to have made
your acquaintance."

"You do me too much honour. I may say that Marcoline will hear nothing of
all this."

When I got back to the inn, I gave Marcoline an exact account of the
whole conversation, warning her that she would be supposed to know
nothing about it.

"You must execute a masterly stroke, dearest," said I, "to persuade M.
Querini that I did not lie in saying that you had not seen your uncle. As
soon as you see him, you must give a shout of surprise, exclaim, 'My dear
uncle!' and rush to his arms. This would be a splendid and dramatic
situation, which would do you honour in the eyes of all the company."

"You may be sure that I shall play the part very well, although my heart
be sad."

At the time appointed we waited on the ambassadors, and found that all
the other guests had assembled. Marcoline, as blithe and smiling as
before, first accosted M. Querini, and then did the polite to all the
company. A few minutes before dinner Mattio brought in his master's
spectacles on a silver tray. Marcoline, who was sitting next to M.
Querini, stopped short in something she was saying, and staring at the
man, exclaimed in a questioning voice,--

"My uncle?"

"Yes, my dear niece."

Marcoline flung herself into his arms, and there was a moving scene,
which excited the admiration of all.

"I knew you had left Venice, dear uncle, but I did not know you were in
his excellency's service. I am so glad to see you again! You will tell my
father and mother about me? You see I am happy. Where were you
yesterday?"

"Here."

"And you didn't see me?"

"Yes; but your uncle there . . ."

"Well," said I, laughing, "let us know each other, cousin, and be good
friends. Marcoline, I congratulate you on having such an honest man for
an uncle."

"That is really very fine," said M. Querini; and everybody exclaimed,
"Very affecting, very affecting indeed!"

The newly-found uncle departed, and we sat down to dinner, but in spirits
which differed from those of yesterday. Marcoline bore traces of those
mingled emotions of happiness and regret which move loyal hearts when
they call to mind ther native land. M. Querini looked at her admiringly,
and seemed to have all the confidence of success which a good action
gives to the mind. M. Morosini sat a pleased spectator. The others were
attentive and curious as to what would come next. They listened to what
was said, and hung on Marcoline's lips.

After the first course there was greater unison in the company, and M.
Morosini told Marcoline that if she would return to Venice she would be
sure of finding a husband worthy of her.

"I must be the judge of that," said she.

"Yes, but it is a good thing to have recourse to the advice of discreet
persons who are interested in the happiness of both parties."

"Excuse me, but I do not think so. If I ever marry, my husband will have
to please me first."

"Who has taught you this maxim?" said Querini.

"My uncle, Casanova, who has, I verily believe, taught me everything that
can be learnt in the two months I have been happy enough to live with
him."

"I congratulate the master and the pupil, but you are both too young to
have learnt all the range of science. Moral science cannot be learnt in
two months."

"What his excellency has just said," said I, turning to Marcoline, "is
perfectly correct. In affairs of marriage both parties should rely to a
great extent on the advice of friends, for mere marriages of inclination
are often unhappy."

"That is a really philosophical remark, my dear Marcoline," said Querini;
"but tell me the qualities which in your opinion are desirable in a
husband."

"I should be puzzled to name them, but they would all become manifest in
the man that pleased me."

"And supposing he were a worthless fellow?"

"He would certainly not please me, and that's the reason why I have made
up my mind never to marry a man whom I have not studied."

"Supposing you made a mistake?"

"Then I would weep in secret."

"How if you were poor?"

"She need never fear poverty, my lord," said I. "She has an income of
fifty crowns a month for the remainder of her life."

"Oh, that's a different matter. If that is so, sweetheart, you are
privileged. You will be able to live at Venice in perfect independence."

"I think that to live honourably there I only need the protection of a
lord like your excellency."

"As to that, Marcoline, I give you my word that I will do all in my power
for you if you come to Venice. But let me ask you one question, how are
you sure of your income of fifty crowns a month? You are laughing."

"I laugh because I am such a silly little thing. I don't have any heed
for my own business. My friend there will tell you all about it."

"You have not been joking, have you?" said the worthy old man to me.

"Marcoline," said I, "has not only capital which will produce a larger
sum than that which I have named, but she has also valuable possessions.
Your excellency will note her wisdom in saying that she would need your
lordship's protection at Venice, for she will require someone to look
after the investment of her capital. The whole amount is in my hands, and
if she likes Marcoline can have it all in less than two hours."

"Very good; then you must start for Venice the day after to-morrow.
Mattio is quite ready to receive you."

"I have the greatest respect and love for my uncle, but it is not to his
care that your excellency must commend me if I resolve to go."

"Then to whom?"

"To your own care, my lord. Your excellency has called me dear daughter
two or three times, lead me, then, to Venice, like a good father, and I
will come willingly; otherwise I protest I will not leave the man to whom
I owe all I have. I will start for London with him the day after
to-morrow."

At these words which delighted me silence fell on all. They waited for M.
Querini to speak, and the general opinion seemed to be that he had gone
too far to be able to draw back. Nevertheless, the old man kept silence;
perhaps in his character of devotee he was afraid of being led into
temptation, or of giving occasion to scandal, and the other guests were
silent like him, and ate to keep each other in countenance. Mattio's hand
trembled as he waited; Marcoline alone was calm and collected. Dessert
was served, and still no one dared to say a word. All at once this
wonderful girl said, in an inspired voice, as if speaking to herself,--

"We must adore the decrees of Divine Providence, but after the issue,
since mortals are not able to discern the future, whether it be good or
whether it be evil."

"What does that reflection relate to, my dear daughter?" said M. Querini,
"and why do you kiss my hand now?"

"I kiss your hand because you have called me your dear daughter for the
fourth time."

This judicious remark elicited a smile of approval from all, and restored
the general gaiety; but M. Querini asked Marcoline to explain her
observation on Providence.