In London And Moscow: To London

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


"I cannot refuse you anything, dearest Pauline, but what then?"

"Then you shall find me grateful to you, you will have a good appetite,
and will sleep well."

"A horse, a horse! Quick! My boots!" I kissed her hand--for I had not got
any farther than that--and began to ride towards Kingston. I did not care
for the motion of trotting, so I put my horse at a gallop, when all of a
sudden he stumbled, and in an instant I was lying on the ground in front
of the Duke of Kingston's house. Miss Chudleigh happened to be at the
window, and seeing me thrown to the ground uttered a shriek. I raised my
head and she recognized me, and hastened to send some of her people to
help me. As soon as I was on my feet I wanted to go and thank her, but I
could not stir, and a valet who knew something of surgery examined me,
and declared that I had put out my collar-bone and would require a week's
rest.

The young lady told me that if I liked to stay in her house the greatest
care should be taken of me. I thanked her warmly, but begged her to have
me taken home, as I should not like to give her so much trouble. She
immediately gave the necessary orders, and I was driven home in a
comfortable carriage. The servants in charge would not accept any money,
and I saw in the incident a proof of that hospitality for which the
English are famed, although they are at the same time profoundly
egotistic.

When I got home I went to bed, and sent for a surgeon, who laughed when I
told him that I had put out a bone.

"I'll wager it is nothing more than a sprain. I only wish it was put out
that I might have some chance of shewing my skill."

"I am delighted," I said, "not to be in a position to call for that
amount of talent, but I shall have a high opinion of you if you set me up
in a short time."

I did not see Pauline, much to my astonishment. I was told she had gone
out in a sedan-chair, and I almost felt jealous. In two hours she came in
looking quite frightened, the old house-keeper having told her that I had
broken my leg, and that the doctor had been with me already.

"Unhappy wretch that I am!" she exclaimed as she came to my bedside,
"'tis I that have brought you to this."

With these words she turned pale and almost fell in a swoon beside me.

"Divine being!" I cried, as I pressed her to my breast, "it is nothing;
only a sprain."

"What pain that foolish old woman has given me!

"God be praised that it is no worse! Feel my heart."

"Oh, yes! I felt it with delight. It was a happy fall for me."

Fastening my lips on hers, I felt with delight that our transports were
mutual, and I blessed the sprain that had brought me such bliss.

After these ecstasies I felt that Pauline was laughing.

"What are you laughing at, sweetheart?"

"At the craft of love, which always triumphs at last."

"Where have you been?"

"I went to my old jeweler's to redeem my ring, that you might have a
souvenir of me; here it is."

"Pauline! Pauline! a little love would have been much more precious to me
than this beautiful ring."

"You shall have both. Till the time of my departure, which will come only
too soon, we will live together like man and wife; and to-night shall be
our wedding night, and the bed the table for the feast."

"What sweet news you give me, Pauline! I cannot believe it till my
happiness is actually accomplished."

"You may doubt, if you like; but let it be a slight doubt, or else you
will do me wrong. I am tired of living with you as a lover and only
making you wretched, and the moment I saw you on horseback I determined
to belong to you. Consequently I went to redeem the ring directly you
left, and I do not intend to leave you until I receive the fatal message
from Lisbon. I have dreaded its arrival every day for the last week."

"May the messenger that brings it be robbed on the way."

"No such luck, I am afraid."

As Pauline was standing, I asked her to come to my arms, for I longed to
give her some palpable signs of my love.

"No, dearest, one can love and yet be wise; the door is open."

She got down Ariosto and began to read to me the adventure of
Ricciardetto with Fiordespina, an episode which gives its beauty to the
twenty-ninth canto of that beautiful poem which I knew by heart. She
imagined that she was the princess, and I Ricciardetto. She liked to
fancy,

'Che il ciel L'abbia concesso,
Bradamante cangiata in miglior sesso.'

When she came to the lines;

'Le belle braccia al collo indi mi getta,
E dolcemente stringe, a baccia in bocca:
Tu puoi pensar se allora la saetta
Dirizza Amor, se in mezzo al cor mi tocca.'

She wanted some explanations on the expression 'baccia in bocca', and on
the love which made Ricciardetto's arrow so stiff, and I, only too ready
to comment on the text, made her touch an arrow as stiff as
Ricciardetto's. Of course, she was angry at that, but her wrath did not
last long. She burst out laughing when she came to the lines,

'Io il veggo, io il sento, e a pena vero parmi:
Sento in maschio in femina matarsi.'

And then,

'Cosi le dissi, e feci ch'ella stessa
Trovo con man la veritade expressa.

She expressed her, wonder that this poem abounding in obscenities had not
been put on the "Index" at Rome.

"What you call obscenity is mere license, and there is plenty of that at
Rome."

"That's a joke which should bring the censures of the Church upon you.
But what do you call obscenities, if Ariosto is not obscene?"

"Obscenity disgusts, and never gives pleasure."

"Your logic is all your own, but situated as I am I cannot reargue your
proposition. I am amused at Ariosto's choosing a Spanish woman above all
others to conceive that strange passion for Bradamante."

"The heat of the Spanish climate made him conclude that the Spanish
temperament was also ardent, and consequently whimsical in its tastes."

"Poets are a kind of madmen who allow themselves to give utterance to all
their fancies."

The reading was continued, and I thought my time had come when she read
the verses:

Io senza scale in su la rooca salto,
E to stendardo piantovi di botto,
E la nemica mia mi caccio sotto**

**I scaled the rock without a ladder, I planted my standard suddenly, and
held my enemy beneath me.

I wanted to give her a practical illustration of the lines, but with that
sensibility so natural to women, and which they can use so well as a goad
to passion, she said,--

"Dearest, you might make yourself worse; let us wait till your sprain is
cured."

"Are we to wait till I am cured for the consummation of our marriage?"

"I suppose so, for if I am not mistaken the thing can't be done without a
certain movement."

"You are wrong, dear Pauline, but it would make no difference to me even
if it were so. You may be sure I would not put it off till to-morrow,
even if it cost me my leg. Besides, you shall see that there are ways and
means of satisfying our passions without doing me any harm. Is that
enough for you?"

"Well, well, as it is written that a wife should obey her husband, you
will find me docile."

"When?"

"After supper."

"Then we will have no supper. We shall dine with all the better appetite
to-morrow. Let us begin now."

"No, for the suspicions of the servants might be aroused. Love has its
rules of decency like everything else."

"You talk as wisely as Cato, and I am obliged to confess that you are
right in all you say."

Supper was served as usual; it was delicate enough, but the thought of
approaching bliss had taken away our appetites, and we ate only for
form's sake. At ten o'clock we were at liberty, and could indulge our
passion without any fear of being disturbed.

But this delightful woman, who had so plainly told me a few hours before
that when I was cured we would live together as man and wife, was now
ashamed to undress before me. She could not make up her mind, and told me
so, laughing at herself. From this circumstance I gathered that the
decency of the body is more tenacious in its grasp than the purity of the
soul.

"But, sweetheart," said I, "you dressed and undressed for a fortnight
before your betrothed."

"Yes, but he was always lying in his hammock with his back towards me at
night, and in the morning he never turned round and wished me good day
till he knew I was dressed."

"What, he never turned?"

"I never let him take any liberties."

"Such virtue is incomprehensible to me."

"You see the count was to be my husband, and I was to be his wife, and in
such cases a young woman is careful. Besides, I believe that if one will
but refrain from taking the first step, continence is easy. Then the
count was naturally timid, and would never have taken any liberties
without my encouraging him, which I took care not to do. For this once,
you will allow me to sleep with you in my clothes."

"Certainly, if you wish me to be dressed also, otherwise it would be
unbearable for both of us."

"You are very cruel."

"But, dearest, are you not ashamed of these foolish scruples?"

"Well, well, put out the candles, and in a minute I will be beside you."

"Very good; though the want of light will deprive me of a great pleasure.
Quick, out with them!"

My charming Portuguese did not reflect that the moon shone full into the
room, and that the muslin curtains would not prevent my seeing her
exquisite figure, which shewed to greater advantage in the position she
happened to take. If Pauline had been a coquette I should have considered
her scruples as mere artifice calculated to increase my ardour; but she
had no need to use such stratagems. At last she was within my arms, and
we clasped each other closely and in silence that was only broken by the
murmur of our kisses. Soon our union became closer, and her sighs and the
ardour of her surrender shewed me that her passion was more in need of
relief than mine. I was sufficiently master of myself to remember that I
must have a care for her honour, greatly to her astonishment, for she
confessed she had never thought of such a thing, and had given herself up
freely, resolved to brave the consequences which she believed to be
inevitable. I explained the mystery and made her happy.

Till this moment love alone had swayed me, but now that the bloody
sacrifice was over I felt full of respect and gratitude. I told her
effusively that I knew how great was my happiness, and that I was ready
to sacrifice my life to her to prove my love.

The thought that our embraces would have no dangerous result had put
Pauline at her ease, and she have reins to her ardent temperament, while
I did valiant service, till at last we were exhausted and the last
sacrifice was not entirely consummated. We abandoned ourselves to a
profound and peaceful sleep. I was the first to awake; the sun was
shining in through the window, and I gazed on Pauline. As I looked at
this woman, the first beauty in Portugal, the only child of an
illustrious family, who had given herself to me all for love, and whom I
should possess for so short a time, I could not restrain a profound sigh.

Pauline awoke, and her gaze, as bright as the rising sun in springtime,
fixed itself on me truthfully and lovingly.

"What are you thinking of, dearest?"

"I am trying to convince myself that my happiness is not a dream, and if
it be real I want it to last for ever. I am the happy mortal to whom you
have given up your great treasure, of which I am unworthy, though I love
you tenderly."

"Sweetheart, you are worthy of all my devotion and affection, if you have
not ceased to respect me."

"Can you doubt it, Pauline?"

"No, dearest, I think you love me, and that I shall never repent having
trusted in you."

The sweet sacrifice was offered again, and Pauline rose and laughed to
find that she was no longer ashamed of her nakedness before me. Then,
passing from jest to earnest, she said,--

"If the loss of shame is the result of knowledge, how was it that our
first parents were not ashamed till they had acquired knowledge?"

"I don't know, dearest, but tell me, did you ever ask your learned
Italian master that same question?"

"Yes, I did."

"What did he say?"

"That their shame arose not from their enjoyment, but from disobedience;
and that in covering the parts which had seduced them, they discovered,
as it were, the sin they had committed. Whatever may be said on the
subject, I shall always think that Adam was much more to blame than Eve."

"How is that?"

"Because Adam had received the prohibition from God, while Eve had only
received it from Adam."

"I thought that both of them received the prohibition directly from God."

"You have not read Genesis, then."

"You are laughing at me."

"Then you have read it carelessly, because it is distinctly stated that
God made Eve after he had forbidden Adam to eat of the fruit."

"I wonder that point has not been remarked by our commentators; it seems
a very important one to me."

"They are a pack of knaves, all sworn enemies of women."

"No, no, they give proofs of quite another feeling only too often."

"We won't say anything more about it. My teacher was an honest man."

"Was he a Jesuit?"

"Yes, but of the short robe."

"What do you mean?"

"We will discuss the question another time."

"Very good; I should like to have it proved to me that a man can be a
Jesuit and honest at the same time."

"There are exceptions to all rules."

My Pauline was a profound thinker, and strongly attached to her religion.
I should never have discovered that she possessed this merit if I had not
slept with her. I have known several women of the same stamp; if you wish
to know the elevation of their souls, you must begin by damning them.
When this is done, one enjoys their confidence, for they have no secrets
for the happy victor. This is the reason why the charming though feeble
sex loves the brave and despises the cowardly. Sometimes they appear to
love cowards, but always for their physical beauty. Women amuse
themselves with such fellows, but are the first to laugh if they get
caned.

After the most delicious night I had ever passed, I resolved not to leave
my house till Pauline had to return to Portugal. She did not leave me for
a moment, save to hear mass on Sundays. I shut my door to everybody, even
to the doctor, for my sprain disappeared of itself. I did not fail to
inform Miss Chudleigh of my rapid cure; she had sent twice a day ever
since the accident to learn how I was.

Pauline went to her room after our amorous conflict, and I did not see
her again till dinner-time; but when I did see her I thought her an
angel. Her face had caught the hues of the lily and the rose, and had an
air of happiness I could not help admiring.

As we both wanted to have our portraits taken, I asked Martinelli to send
me the best miniature-painter in London. He sent a Jew, who succeeded
admirably. I had my miniature mounted in a ring and gave it to Pauline;
and this was the only present she would accept from me, who would have
thought myself all the richer if she had accepted all I had.

We spent three weeks in a happy dream which no pen can describe. I was
quite well again, and we tasted all the sweets of love together. All day
and all night we were together, our desires were satisfied only to be
renewed; we enjoyed the extremest bliss. In a word, it is difficult to
form a just idea of the state of two individuals who enjoy all the range
of physical and mental pleasures together, whose life is for the present
without thought of the future; whose joys are mutual and continual; such,
nevertheless, was the position of myself and my divine Pauline.

Every day I discovered in her some fresh perfection which made me love
her more; her nature was inexhaustible in its treasures, for her mental
qualities even surpassed her physical beauties, and an excellent
education had wonderfully increased the powers of her intelligence. With
all the beauty and grace of a woman she had that exalted character which
is the lot of the best of men. She began to flatter herself that the
fatal letter would never come, and the count was little more than a dream
of the past. Sometimes she would say that she could not understand how a
pretty face could exercise such a strong influence over us in spite of
our reason.

"I have found out too late," she added, "that chance alone can make a
marriage, contracted for such physical reasons, happy."

The 1st of August was a fatal day for both of us. Pauline received a
letter from Lisbon, which summoned her home without delay, and I had a
letter from Paris announcing the death of Madame d'Urfe. Madame du Rumain
told me that on the evidence of her maid the doctors had pronounced her
death to be due to an overdose of the liquid she called "The Panacea."
She added that a will had been found which savoured of a lunatic asylum,
for she had left all her wealth to the son or daughter that should be
born of her, declaring that she was with child. I was to be the governor
of the infant; this vexed me exceedingly, as I knew I should be the
laughing-stock of Paris for a week at least. Her daughter, the Comtesse
de Chatelet, had taken possession of all her real estate and of her
pocket-book, which contained, to my surprise, four hundred thousand
francs. It was a great shock for me, but the contents of the two letters
Pauline had received was a greater blow. One was from her aunt, and the
other from Oeiras, who begged her to return to Lisbon as soon as
possible, and assured her that she should be put in possession of her
property on her arrival, and would be at liberty to marry Count Al---- in
the sight of all the world. He sent her a cheque for twenty million reis.
I was not aware of the small value of the coin, and was in an ecstasy;
but Pauline laughed, and said it only came to two thousand pounds, which
was a sufficient sum, however, to allow her to travel in the style of a
duchess. The minister wanted her to come by sea, and all she had to do
was to communicate with the Portuguese ambassador, who had orders to give
her a passage on a Portuguese frigate which happened to be riding in an
English port. Pauline would not hear of the voyage, or of applying to the
ambassador, for she did not want anyone to think that she had been
obliged to return. She was angry with the minister for having sent her a
cheque, thinking that he must be aware that she had been in need, but I
soon brought her to see reason on this point, telling her that it was a
very thoughtful and delicate proceeding on the part of Oeiras, and that
he had merely lent-her the money, and not given it to her.

Pauline was rich, and she was a high-minded woman. Her generosity may be
estimated by her giving me her ring when she was in want, and she
certainly never counted on my purse, though she may have felt sure that I
would not abandon her. I am sure she believed me to be very rich, and my
conduct was certainly calculated to favour that idea.

The day and even the night passed sadly. The next day Pauline addressed
me as follows:

"We must part, dear friend, and try to forget one another, for my honour
obliges me to become the wife of the count as soon as I arrive in Lisbon.
The first fancy of my heart, which you have almost effaced, will regain
all its old force when I see you no longer, and I am sure I shall love my
husband, for he is a goodhearted, honest, and pleasant young man; that
much I know from the few days we lived together.

"Now I have a favour to ask of you, which I am sure you will grant.
Promise me never to come to Lisbon without my permission. I hope you will
not seek to know my reasons; you would not, I am sure, come to trouble my
peace, for if I sinned I should be unhappy, and you would not desire that
for me. I have dreamed we have lived together as man and wife, and now we
are parted I shall fancy myself a widow about to undertake another
marriage."

I burst into tears, and pressing her to my breast promised I would do as
she wished.

Pauline wrote to her aunt and Oeiras that she would be in Lisbon in
October, and that they should have further news of her when she reached
Spain. She had plenty of money, and bought a carriage and engaged a maid,
and these arrangements took up her time during the last week she spent
with me. I made her promise me to let Clairmont accompany her as far as
Madrid. She was to send me back my faithful servant when she reached the
Spanish capital, but fate had decreed that I should see his face no more.

The last few days were spent partly in sorrow and partly in delight. We
looked at each other without speaking, and spoke without knowing what we
said. We forgot to eat, and went to bed hoping that love and anguish
would keep us awake, but our exhausted bodies fell into a heavy sleep,
and when we awoke we could only sigh and kiss again.

Pauline allowed me to escort her as far as Calais, and we started on the
10th of August, only stopping at Dover to embark the carriage on the
packet, and four hours afterwards we disembarked at Calais, and Pauline,
considering her widowhood had begun, begged me to sleep in another room.
She started on the 12th of August, preceded by my poor Clairmont, and
resolved only to travel by daytime.

The analogy between my parting with Pauline and my parting with Henriette
fifteen years before, was exceedingly striking; the two women were of
very similar character, and both were equally beautiful, though their
beauty was of a different kind. Thus I fell as madly in love with the
second as with the first, both being equally intelligent. The fact that
one had more talent and less prejudices than the other must have been an
effect of their different educations. Pauline had the fine pride of her
nation, her mind was a serious cast, and her religion was more an affair
of the heart than the understanding. She was also a far more ardent
mistress than Henriette. I was successful with both of them because I was
rich; if I had been a poor man I should never have known either of them.
I have half forgotten them, as everything is forgotten in time, but when
I recall them to my memory I find that Henriette made the profounder
impression on me, no doubt because I was twenty-five when I knew her,
while I was thirty-seven in London.

The older I get the more I feel the destructive effects of old age; and I
regret bitterly that I could not discover the secret of remaining young
and happy for ever. Vain regrets! we must finish as we began, helpless
and devoid of sense.

I went back to England the same day, and had a troublesome passage.
Nevertheless, I did not rest at Dover; and as soon as I got to London I
shut myself up with a truly English attack of the spleen, while I thought
of Pauline and strove to forget her. Jarbe put me to bed, and in the
morning, when he came into my room, he made me shudder with a speech at
which I laughed afterwards.

"Sir," said he, "the old woman wants to know whether she is to put up the
notice again."

"The old hag! Does she want me to choke her?"

"Good heavens-no, sir! She is very fond of you, seeing you seemed so sad,
she thought . . . ."

"Go and tell her never to think such things again, and as for you . . . ."

"I will do as you wish, sir."

"Then leave me."