Spanish Passions: Florence to Trieste

J >> Jacques Casanova de Seingalt >> Spanish Passions: Florence to Trieste

MEMOIRS OF JACQUES CASANOVA de SEINGALT 1725-1798

SPANISH PASSIONS, Volume 6d--FLORENCE TO TRIESTE
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.




FLORENCE to TRIESTE




CHAPTER XVIII

Madame Denis--Dedini--Zanovitch--Zen--I Am Obliged to Leave--I Arrive at
Bologna--General Albergati

Without speaking at any length I asked the young grand duke to give me an
asylum in his dominions for as long as I might care to stay. I
anticipated any questions he might have asked by telling him the reasons
which had made me an exile from my native land.

"As to my necessities," I added, "I shall ask for help of no one; I have
sufficient funds to ensure my independence. I think of devoting the whole
of my time to study."

"So long as your conduct is good," he replied, "the laws guarantee your
freedom; but I am glad you have applied to me. Whom do you know in
Florence?"

"Ten years ago, my lord, I had some distinguished acquaintances here; but
now I propose to live in retirement, and do not intend renewing any old
friendships."

Such was my conversation with the young sovereign, and after his
assurances I concluded that no one would molest me.

My adventures in Tuscany the years before were in all probability
forgotten, or almost forgotten, as the new Government had nothing in
common with the old.

After my interview with the grand duke I went to a bookseller's shop and
ordered some books. A gentleman in the shop, hearing me making enquiries
about Greek works, accosted me, and we got on well together. I told him I
was working at a translation of the "Iliad," and in return he informed me
that he was making a collection of Greek epigrams, which he wished to
publish in Greek and Italian. I told him I should like to see this work,
whereupon he asked me where I lived. I told him, learnt his name and
address, and called on him the next day. He returned the visit, and we
became fast friends, though we never either walked or ate together.

This worthy Florentine was named (or is named, if he be still alive)
Everard de Medici.

I was very comfortable with Allegranti; I had the quiet so necessary to
literary labours, but nevertheless I made up my mind to change my
lodging. Magdalena, my landlord's niece, was so clever and charming,
though but a child, that she continually disturbed my studies. She came
into my room, wished me good day, asked me what kind of a night I had
spent, if I wanted anything, and the sight of her grace and beauty and
the sound of her voice so ravished me, that I determined to seek safety
in flight.

A few years later Magdalena became a famous musician.

After leaving Allegranti I took rooms in a tradesman's house; his wife
was ugly, and he had no pretty daughters or seductive nieces. There I
lived for three weeks like Lafontaine's rat, very discreetly.

About the same time, Count Stratico arrived at Florence with his pupil,
the Chevalier Morosini, who was then eighteen. I could not avoid calling
on Stratico. He had broken his leg some time before and was still unable
to go out with his pupil, who had all the vices and none of the virtues
of youth. Consequently, Stratico was always afraid of something happening
to him, and he begged me to make myself his companion, and even to share
his pleasures, so that he might not go into bad company and dangerous
houses alone and undefended.

Thus my days of calm study vanished away. I had to partake in the
debauchery of a young rake, and all out of pure sensibility.

The Chevalier Morosini was a thorough-paced profligate. He hated
literature, good society, and the company of sensible people. His daily
pleasures were furious riding, hard drinking, and hard dissipation with
prostitutes, whom he sometimes almost killed.

This young nobleman paid a man for the sole service of getting him a
woman or a girl every day.

During the two months which he passed in Florence I saved his life a
score of times. I got very tired of my duty, but I felt bound to
persevere.

He was liberal to the verge of recklessness, and would never allow me to
pay for anything. Even here, however, disputes often arose between us; as
he paid, he wanted me to eat, drink, and dissipate in the same measures
as himself. However, I had my own way on most occasions, only giving in
when it suited me to do so.

We went to see the opera at Lucca, and drought two of the dancers home to
supper. As the chevalier was drunk as usual, he treated the woman he had
chosen--a superb creature--very indifferently. The other was pretty
enough, but I had done nothing serious with her, so I proceeded to avenge
the beauty. She took me for the chevalier's father, and advised me to
give him a better education.

After the chevalier was gone I betook myself to my studies again, but I
supped every night with Madame Denis, who had formerly been a dancer in
the King of Prussia's service, and had retired to Florence.

She was about my age, and therefore not young, but still she had
sufficient remains of her beauty to inspire a tender passion; she did not
look more than thirty. She was as fresh as a young girl, had excellent
manners, and was extremely intelligent. Besides all these advantages, she
had a comfortable apartment on the first floor of one of the largest
cafes in Florence. In front of her room was a balcony where it was
delicious to sit and enjoy the cool of the evening.

The reader may remember how I had become her friend at Berlin in 1764,
and when we met again at Florence our old flames were rekindled.

The chief boarder in the house where she lived was Madame Brigonzi, whom
I had met at Memel. This lady, who pretended that she had been my
mistress twenty-five years before, often came into Madame Denis's rooms
with an old lover of hers named Marquis Capponi.

He was an agreeable and well-educated man; and noticing that he seemed to
enjoy my conversation I called on him, and he called on me, leaving his
card as I was not at home.

I returned the visit, and he introduced me to his family and invited me
to dinner. For the first time since I had come to Florence I dressed
myself with elegance and wore my jewels.

At the Marquis Capponi's I made the acquaintance of Corilla's lover, the
Marquis Gennori, who took me to a house where I met my fate. I fell in
love with Madame a young widow, who had been spending a few months in
Paris. This visit had added to her other attractions the charm of a good
manner, which always counts for so much.

This unhappy love made the three months longer which I spent in Florence
painful to me.

It was at the beginning of October, and about that time Count Medini
arrived at Florence without a penny in his pocket, and without being able
to pay his vetturino, who had arrested him.

The wretched man, who seemed to follow me wherever I went, had taken up
his abode in the house of a poor Irishman.

I do not know how Medini found out that I was at Florence, but he wrote
me a letter begging me to come and deliver him from the police, who
besieged his room and talked of taking him to prison. He said he only
wanted me to go bail for him, and protested that I should not run any
risk, as he was sure of being able to pay in a few days.

My readers will be aware that I had good reason for not liking Medini,
but in spite of our quarrel I could not despise his entreaty. I even felt
inclined to become his surety, if he could prove his capability of paying
the sum for which he had been arrested. I imagined that the sum must be a
small one, and could not understand why the landlord did not answer for
him. My surprise ceased, however, when I entered his room.

As soon as I appeared he ran to embrace me, begging me to forget the
past, and to extract him from the painful position in which he found
himself.

I cast a rapid glance over the room, and saw three trunks almost empty,
their contents being scattered about the floor. There was his mistress,
whom I knew, and who had her reasons for not liking me; her young sister,
who wept; and her mother, who swore, and called Medini a rogue, saying
that she would complain of him to the magistrate, and that she was not
going to allow her dresses and her daughter's dresses to be seized for
his debts.

I asked the landlord why he did not go bail, as he had these persons and
their effects as security.

"The whole lot," he answered, "won't pay the vetturino, and the sooner
they are out of my house the better I shall be pleased."

I was astonished, and could not understand how the bill could amount to
more than the value of all the clothes I saw on the floor, so I asked the
vetturino to tell me the extent of the debt.

He gave me a paper with Medini's signature; the amount was two hundred
and forty crowns.

"How in the world," I exclaimed, "could he contract this enormous debt?"

I wondered no longer when the vetturino told me that he had served them
for the last six weeks, having conducted the count and the three women
from Rome to Leghorn, and from Leghorn to Pisa, and from Pisa to
Florence, paying for their board all the way.

"The vetturino will never take me as bail for such an amount," I said to
Medini, "and even if he would I should never be so foolish as to contract
such a debt."

"Let me have a word with you in the next room," said he; "I will put the
matter clearly before you."

"Certainly."

Two of the police would have prevented his going into the next room, on
the plea that he might escape through the window, but I said I would be
answerable for him.

Just then the poor vetturino came in and kissed my hand, saying that if I
would go bail for the count he would let me have three months wherein to
find the money.

As it happened it was the same man who had taken me to Rome with the
Englishwoman who had been seduced by the actor l'Etoile. I told him to
wait a moment.

Medini who was a great talker and a dreadful liar thought to persuade me
by shewing me a number of open letters, commending him in pompous terms
to the best houses in Florence. I read the letters, but I found no
mention of money in them, and I told him as much.

"I know," said he, "but there is play going on in these houses, and I am
sure of gaining immense sums."

"You may be aware that I have no confidence in your good luck."

"Then I have another resource."

"What is that?"

He shewed me a bundle of manuscript, which I found to be an excellent
translation of Voltaire's "Henriade" into Italian verse. Tasso himself
could not have done it better. He said he hoped to finish the poem at
Florence, and to present it to the grand duke, who would be sure to make
him a magnificent present, and to constitute him his favourite.

I would not undeceive him, but I laughed to myself, knowing that the
grand duke only made a pretence of loving literature. A certain Abbe
Fontaine, a clever man, amused him with a little natural history, the
only science in which he took any interest. He preferred the worst prose
to the best verse, not having sufficient intellect to enjoy the subtle
charms of poetry. In reality he had only two passions--women and money.

After spending two wearisome hours with Medini, whose wit was great and
his judgment small, after heartily repenting of having yielded to my
curiosity and having paid him a visit, I said shortly that I could do
nothing for him. Despair drives men crazy; as I was making for the door,
he seized me by the collar.

He did not reflect in his dire extremity that he had no arms, that I was
stronger than he, that I had twice drawn his blood, and that the police,
the landlord, the vetturirco, and the servants, were in the next room. I
was not coward enough to call for help; I caught hold of his neck with
both hands and squeezed him till he was nearly choked. He had to let go
at last, and then I took hold of his collar and asked him if he had gone
mad.

I sent him against the wall, and opened the door and the police came in.

I told the vetturino that I would on no account be Medini's surety, or be
answerable for him in any way.

Just as I was going out, he leapt forward crying that I must not abandon
him.

I had opened the door, and the police, fearing he would escape, ran
forward to get hold of him. Then began an interesting battle. Medini, who
had no arms, and was only in his dressing-gown, proceeded to distribute
kicks, cuffs, and blows amongst the four cowards, who had their swords at
their sides, whilst I held the door to prevent the Irishman going out and
calling for assistance.

Medini, whose nose was bleeding and his dress all torn, persisted in
fighting till the four policemen let him alone. I liked his courage, and
pitied him.

There was a moment's silence, and I asked his two liveried servants who
were standing by me why they had not helped their master. One said he
owed him six months' wages, and the other said he wanted to arrest him on
his own account.

As Medini was endeavouring to staunch the blood in a basin of water, the
vetturino told him that as I refused to be his surety he must go to
prison.

I was moved by the scene that I had witnessed, and said to the vetturino,

"Give him a fortnight's respite, and if he escapes before the expiration
of that term I will pay you."

He thought it over for a few moments, and then said,--

"Very good, sir, but I am not going to pay any legal expenses."

I enquired how much the costs amounted to, and paid them, laughing at the
policemen's claim of damages for blows they had received.

Then the two rascally servants said that if I would not be surety in the
same manner on their account, they would have Medini arrested. However,
Medini called out to me to pay no attention to them whatever.

When I had given the vetturino his acknowledgment and paid the four or
five crowns charged by the police, Medini told me that he had more to say
to me; but I turned my back on him, and went home to dinner.

Two hours later one of his servants came to me and promised if I would
give him six sequins to warn me if his master made any preparations for
flight.

I told him drily that his zeal was useless to me, as I was quite sure
that the count would pay all his debts within the term; and the next
morning I wrote to Medini informing him of the step his servant had
taken. He replied with a long letter full of thanks, in which he exerted
all his eloquence to persuade me to repair his fortunes. I did not
answer.

However, his good genius, who still protected him, brought a person to
Florence who drew him out of the difficulty. This person was Premislas
Zanovitch, who afterwards became as famous as his brother who cheated the
Amsterdam merchants, and adopted the style of Prince Scanderbeck. I shall
speak of him later on. Both these finished cheats came to a bad end.

Premislas Zanovitch was then at the happy age of twenty-five; he was the
son of a gentleman of Budua, a town on the borders of Albania and
Dalmatia, formerly subject to the Venetian Republic and now to the Grand
Turk. In classic times it was known as Epirus.

Premislas was a young man of great intelligence, and after having studied
at Venice, and contracted a Venetian taste for pleasures and enjoyments
of all sorts, he could not make up his mind to return to Budua, where his
only associates would be dull Sclavs--uneducated, unintellectual, coarse,
and brutish. Consequently, when Premislas and his still more talented
brother Stephen were ordered by the Council of Ten to enjoy the vast sums
they had gained at play in their own country, they resolved to become
adventurers. One took the north and the other the south of Europe, and
both cheated and duped whenever the opportunity for doing so presented
itself.

I had seen Premislas when he was a child, and had already heard reports
of a notable achievement of his. At Naples he had cheated the Chevalier
de Morosini by persuading him to become his surety to the extent of six
thousand ducats, and now he arrived in Florence in a handsome carriage,
bringing his mistress with him, and having two tall lackeys and a valet
in his service.

He took good apartments, hired a carriage, rented a box at the opera, had
a skilled cook, and gave his mistress a lady-in-waiting. He then shewed
himself at the best club, richly dressed, and covered with jewellery. He
introduced himself under the name of Count Premislas Zanovitch.

There is a club in Florence devoted to the use of the nobility. Any
stranger can go there without being introduced, but so much the worse for
him if his appearance fails to indicate his right to be present. The
Florentines are ice towards him, leave him alone, and behave in such a
manner that the visit is seldom repeated. The club is at once decent and
licentious, the papers are to be read there, games of all kinds are
played, food and drink may be had, and even love is available, for ladies
frequent the club.

Zanovitch did not wait to be spoken to, but made himself agreeable to
everyone, and congratulated himself on mixing in such distinguished
company, talked about Naples which he had just left, brought in his own
name with great adroitness, played high, lost merrily, paid after
pretending to forget all about his debts, and in short pleased everyone.
I heard all this the next day from the Marquis Capponi, who said that
someone had asked him if he knew me, whereat he answered that when I left
Venice he was at college, but that he had often heard his father speak of
me in very high terms. He knew both the Chevalier Morosini and Count
Medini, and had a good deal to say in praise of the latter. The marquis
asked me if I knew him, and I replied in the affirmative, without feeling
it my duty to disclose certain circumstances which might not have been
advantageous to him; and as Madame Denis seemed curious to make his
acquaintance the Chevalier Puzzi promised to bring him to see her, which
he did in the course of a few days.

I happened to be with Madame Denis when Puzzi presented Zanovitch, and I
saw before me a fine-looking young men, who seemed by his confident
manner to be sure of success in all his undertakings. He was not exactly
handsome, but he had a perfect manner and an air of gaiety which seemed
infectious, with a thorough knowledge of the laws of good society. He was
by no means an egotist, and seemed never at a loss for something to talk
about. I led the conversation to the subject of his country, and he gave
me an amusing description of it, talking of his fief-part of which was
within the domains of the sultan-as a place where gaiety was unknown, and
where the most determined misanthrope would die of melancholy.

As soon as he heard my name he began speaking to me in a tone of the most
delicate flattery. I saw the makings of a great adventurer in him, but I
thought his luxury would prove the weak point in his cuirass. I thought
him something like what I had been fifteen years ago, but as it seemed
unlikely that he had my resources I could not help pitying him.

Zanovitch paid me a visit, and told me that Medini's position had excited
his pity, and that he had therefore paid his debts.

I applauded his generosity, but I formed the conclusion that they had
laid some plot between them, and that I should soon hear of the results
of this new alliance.

I returned Zanovitch's call the next day. He was at table with his
mistress, whom I should not have recognized if she had not pronounced my
name directly she saw me.

As she had addressed me as Don Giacomo, I called her Donna Ippolita, but
in a voice which indicated that I was not certain of her identity. She
told me I was quite right.

I had supped with her at Naples in company with Lord Baltimore, and she
was very pretty then.

Zanovitch asked me to dine with him the following day, and I should have
thanked him and begged to be excused if Donna Ippolita had not pressed me
to come. She assured me that I should find good company there, and that
the cook would excel himself.

I felt rather curious to see the company, and with the idea of shewing
Zanovitch that I was not likely to become a charge on his purse, I
dressed myself magnificently once more.

As I had expected, I found Medini and his mistress there, with two
foreign ladies and their attendant cavaliers, and a fine-looking and
well-dressed Venetian, between thirty-five and forty, whom I would not
have recognized if Zanovitch had not told me his name, Alois Zen.

"Zen was a patrician name, and I felt obliged to ask what titles I ought
to give him.

"Such titles as one old friend gives another, though it is very possible
you do not recollect me, as I was only ten years old when we saw each
other last."

Zen then told me he was the son of the captain I had known when I was
under arrest at St. Andrews.

"That's twenty-eight years ago; but I remember you, though you had not
had the small-pox in those days."

I saw that he was annoyed by this remark, but it was his fault, as he had
no business to say where he had known me, or who his father was.

He was the son of a noble Venetian--a good-for-nothing in every sense of
the word.

When I met him at Florence he had just come from Madrid, where he had
made a lot of money by holding a bank at faro in the house of the
Venetian ambassador, Marco Zen.

I was glad to meet him, but I found out before the dinner was over that
he was completely devoid of education and the manners of a gentleman; but
he was well content with the one talent he possessed, namely, that of
correcting the freaks of fortune at games of chance. I did not wait to
see the onslaught of the cheats on the dupes, but took my leave while the
table was being made ready.

Such was my life during the seven months which I spent at Florence.

After this dinner I never saw Zen, or Medini, or Zanovitch, except by
chance in the public places.

Here I must recount some incidents which took place towards the middle of
December.

Lord Lincoln, a young man of eighteen, fell in love with a Venetian
dancer named Lamberti, who was a universal favourite. On every night when
the opera was given the young Englishman might be seen going to her
camerino, and everyone wondered why he did not visit her at her own
house, where he would be certain of a good welcome, for he was English,
and therefore rich, young, and handsome. I believe he was the only son of
the Duke of Newcastle.

Zanovitch marked him down, and in a short time had become an intimate
friend of the fair Lamberti. He then made up to Lord Lincoln, and took
him to the lady's house, as a polite man takes a friend to see his
mistress.

Madame Lamberti, who was in collusion with the rascal, was not niggardly
of her favours with the young Englishman. She received him every night to
supper with Zanovitch and Zen, who had been presented by the Sclav,
either because of his capital, or because Zanovitch was not so
accomplished a cheat.

For the first few nights they took care to let the young nobleman win. As
they played after supper, and Lord Lincoln followed the noble English
custom of drinking till he did not know his right hand from his left, he
was quite astonished on waking the next morning to find that luck had
been as kind to him as love. The trap was baited, the young lord nibbled,
and, as may be expected, was finally caught.

Zen won twelve thousand pounds of him, and Zanovitch lent him the money
by installments of three and four hundred louis at a time, as the
Englishman had promised his tutor not to play, on his word of honour.

Zanovitch won from Zen what Zen won from the lord, and so the game was
kept up till the young pigeon had lost the enormous sum of twelve
thousand guineas.

Lord Lincoln promised to pay three thousand guineas the next day, and
signed three bills of exchange for three thousand guineas each, payable
in six months, and drawn on his London banker.

I heard all about this from Lord Lincoln himself when we met at Bologna
three months later.

The next morning the little gaming party was the talk of Florence. Sasso
Sassi, the banker, had already paid Zanovitch six thousand sequins by my
lord's orders.

Medini came to see me, furious at not having been asked to join the
party, while I congratulated myself on my absence. My surprise may be
imagined, when, a few days after, a person came up to my room, and
ordered me to leave Florence in three days and Tuscany in a week.

I was petrified, and called to my landlord to witness the unrighteous
order I had received.

It was December 28th. On the same date, three years before, I had
received orders to leave Barcelona in three days.

I dressed hastily and went to the magistrate to enquire the reason for my
exile, and on entering the room I found it was the same man who had
ordered me to leave Florence eleven years before.

I asked him to give me his reasons, and he replied coldly that such was
the will of his highness.

"But as his highness must have his reasons, it seems to me that I am
within my rights in enquiring what they are."