The Eternal Quest: Return to Paris

J >> Jacques Casanova de Seingalt >> The Eternal Quest: Return to Paris


In the beginning of November I sold shares for fifty thousand francs to a
man named Gamier, living in the Rue du Mail, giving up to him a third
part of the materials in my warehouse, and accepting a manager chosen by
him and paid by the company. Three days after signing the deed I received
the money; but in the night the doctor, my warehouseman, emptied the till
and absconded. I have always thought that this robbery could not have
been effected without the connivance of the painter. This loss was a
serious blow to me, as my affairs were getting into an embroiled
condition; and, for a finishing touch to my misfortunes, Gamier had me
served with a summons to repay him the fifty thousand francs. My answer
was that I was not liable, that his manager had been appointed, the
agreement and sale of the shares was valid, and that he being one of the
company would have to share in the loss. As he persisted in his claim, I
was advised to go to law, but Gamier declared the agreement null and
void, accusing me in an indirect manner of having appropriated the money
which I had said was stolen. I would willingly have given him a good
thrashing, but he was an old man, and that course would not have mended
matters, so I kept my temper. The merchant who had given surety for the
doctor was not to be found; he had become bankrupt. Garnier had all my
stock seized, and sequestrated my horses, carriages, and all my private
property.

While these troubles were harassing me, I dismissed all my work-girls,
who had always been a great expense, and replaced them with workmen and
some of my servants. The painter still retained his position, which was
an assured one, as he always paid himself out of the sales.

My attorney was an honest man--a rare bird amongst lawyers--but my
counsel, who kept telling me that the case would soon be decided, was a
rascal. While the decision was pending, Garnier served me with a writ to
pay the sum claimed. I took it to my counsel, who promised to appeal the
same day, which he did not do, while he appropriated to his own use the
money assigned by me for the costs of an action which, if there had been
justice in France, I should certainly have gained. Two other summonses
were issued against me, and before I knew what was going on a warrant was
issued for my arrest. I was seized at eight o'clock in the morning, as I
was driving along the Rue St. Denis. The sergeant of police sat beside
me, a second got up beside the coachman, and a third stationed himself at
the back of the coach, and in this state we drove to Fort l'Eveque.

As soon as the police had handed me over to the gaoler, he informed me
that by payment of the fifty thousand francs, or by giving good bail, I
might instantly regain my freedom.

"For the moment," said I, "I can neither command money nor bail."

"Very good, then you will stay in prison."

The gaoler took me to a decent-looking room, and I told him I had only
been served with one writ.

"Very likely," answered he, "it often happens like that; but it is rather
difficult to prove."

"Bring me writing materials, and have a trusty messenger at my disposal."

I wrote to my counsel, my attorney, to Madame d'Urfe, and to all my
friends, including my brother, who was just married. The attorney called
immediately, but the barrister contented himself with writing to the
effect that as he had put in an appeal my seizure was illegal, and that
damages might be recovered. He ended by begging me to give him a free
hand, and to have patience for a few days.

Manon Baletti sent her brother with her diamond earrings. Madame du
Rumain dispatched her barrister--a man of rare honesty--to me, and wrote
a friendly note in which she said that if I wanted five hundred louis I
should have them to-morrow. My brother neither wrote nor came to see me.
As to dear Madame d'Urfe she sent to say that she would expect me at
dinner. I thought she had gone mad, as I could not think she was making
fun of me.

At eleven o'clock my room was full of people. Poor Baret had come
weeping, and offering me all his shop held. I was touched by the worthy
man's kindness. At last I was told that a lady in a coach wanted to see
me. I waited, but nobody came. In my impatience I called the turnkey, who
told me that, after questioning the clerk of the prison, she had gone
away again. From the description I was given I had no difficulty in
identifying the lady with Madame d'Urfe.

To find myself deprived of my liberty was a disagreeable shock to me. I
thought of The Leads, and though my present situation was not to be
compared with that, I cursed my fate as I foresaw that my imprisonment
would damage my reputation. I had thirty thousand francs in hard cash and
jewels to more than double that amount, but I could not decide on making
such a sacrifice, in spite of the advice given by Madame du Rumain's
barrister, who would have me got out of prison at any cost.

"All you have to do," said the barrister, "is to deposit half the sum
demanded which I will give to the clerk of the court, and in a short time
I can promise a decision in your favour and the restoration of your
money."

We were discussing the matter, when the gaoler entered, and said, very
politely,

"Sir, you are a free man again, and a lady is waiting for you at the door
in her carriage."

I called Le Duc, my man, and told him to go and see who the lady was. He
returned with the information that it was Madame d'Urfe. I made my bow to
everybody, and after four very disagreeable hours of imprisonment, I
found myself free again and sitting in a splendid coach.

Madame d'Urfe received me with dignified kindness, and a judge who was in
the carriage apologized for his country, where strangers were exposed to
such insults. I thanked Madame d'Urfe in a few words, telling her that I
was glad to become her debtor, but that it was Garnier who benefited by
her generosity. She replied with a pleasant smile that she was not so
sure of that, and that we would talk it over at dinner. She wanted me to
go and walk in the Tuileries and the Palais Royal, to convince people
that the report of my imprisonment had been false. I thought the advice
excellent, and as I set out I promised to be with her at two o'clock.

After skewing myself at the two principal walks of Paris, amusing myself
by the astonishment depicted on certain faces well known to me, I went
and returned the ear-rings to my dear Manon, who gave an astonished but a
happy cry when she saw me. I thanked her tenderly for the proof she had
given me of her attachment, and said that I had been arrested by a plot
for which I would make the plotters pay dear. After promising to spend
the evening with them I went to Madame d'Urfe's.

This good lady, whose foible is well known to my readers, made me laugh
when she said that her genius had told her that I had got myself arrested
to be talked about, for reasons which were known only to myself.

"As soon as I was informed of your arrest," said she, "I went to the Fort
l'Eveque, and on learning from the clerk what the affair was about, I
deposited bonds to bail you out. If you are not in a position to have
justice done you, Gamier will have to reckon with me before he takes the
money I have deposited. But your first step should be to commence a
criminal prosecution against your counsel, who has not only failed to put
in your appeal but has robbed and deceived you."

I left her in the evening, assuring her that in a few days her bail
should be returned to her; and went to the French and Italian plays in
succession, taking care to render myself conspicuous that my reappearance
might be complete. Afterwards I went to sup with Manon Baletti, who was
too happy to have had an opportunity of spewing her affection for me; and
her joy was full when I told her that I was going to give up business,
for she thought that my seraglio was the only obstacle to my marriage
with her.

The next day was passed with Madame du Rumain. I felt that my obligations
to her were great, while she, in the goodness of her heart, was persuaded
that she could make no adequate return to me for the oracles with which I
furnished her, and by following which she was safely guided through the
perplexities of life. I cannot understand how she, whose wit was keen,
and whose judgment on other subjects was of the soundest kind, could be
liable to such folly. I was sorry when I reflected that I could not
undeceive her, and glad when I reflected that to this deceit of mine the
kindness she had shewn me was chiefly due.

My imprisonment disgusted me with Paris, and made me conceive a hatred of
the law, which I feel now. I found myself entangled in a double maze of
knavery--Garnier was my foe, and so was my own counsel. Every time I went
to plead, to spend my money amongst lawyers, and to waste the time better
given to pleasure, I felt as if I was going to execution. In this
perturbed kind of life, so contrary to my inclinations, I resolved to set
to work in earnest to make my fortune, so that I might become independent
and free to enjoy life according to my tastes. I decided in the first
place that I would cut myself free of all that bound me to Paris, make a
second journey into Holland to replenish my purse and invest my money in
a yearly income for two lives, and from thenceforth live free from care.
The two lives were those of my wife and myself; my wife would be Manon
Baletti, and when I told her my plans she would have thought them
delightful if I had begun by marrying her.

The first thing I did was to give up Little Poland. I then drew the
twenty-four thousand francs which were my surety for keeping a lottery
office in the Rue St. Denis. Thus I got rid of my ridiculous office of
lottery receiver, and after getting my clerk married I handed over the
office to him; in short, I made his fortune. A friend of his wife's was
his surety; such things often happen.

I did not like to leave Madame d'Urfe involved in a troublesome suit with
Gamier, so I went to Versailles to see the Abbe de la Ville, a great
friend of his, and begged him to induce Gamier to make a composition.

The abbe saw that his friend was in the wrong, and so was all the more
willing to help me; and a few days afterwards he wrote to me to go and
see him, assuring me that I should find him inclined to arrange matters
in a friendly manner.

Gamier was at Ruelle, where he had a house which cost him four hundred
thousand francs--a fine estate for a man who had made his money as an
army contractor during the last war. He was rich, but he was so
unfortunate as to be still fond of women at the age of seventy, while his
impotence debarred him from the proper enjoyment of their society. I
found him in company with three young ladies, all of whom were pretty,
and (as I heard afterwards) of good families; but they were poor, and
their necessities forced them to submit to a disgusting intercourse with
the old profligate. I stayed to dinner and admired the propriety and
modesty of their behaviour in spite of the humiliation which accompanies
poverty. After dinner, Gamier went to sleep, and left me to entertain
these girls whom I would willingly have rescued from their unfortunate
situation if I had been able. After Gamier woke, we went into his study
to talk over our business.

At first he maintained his claim tenaciously, and seemed unwilling to
yield an inch; but when I told him that I was leaving Paris in a few
days, he saw that as he could not keep me, Madame d'Urfe might take the
suit over and carry it on to infinity, and that he might lose it at last.
That made him think it over, and he asked me to stay in his house for the
night. The next day, after breakfast, he said,--

"I have made up my mind: I will have twenty-five thousand francs, or keep
the matter before the courts till my dying day."

I answered that he would find the sum in the hands of Madame d'Urfe's
solicitor, and that he could receive it as soon as he had given replevy
on the bail at the Fort l'Eveque.

I could not persuade Madame d'Urfe that I had acted wisely in coming to
an arrangement till I had told her that my genius had commanded me not to
leave Paris before my affairs were settled, so that no one might be able
to accuse me of having gone away to avoid creditors whose claims I could
not satisfy.

Three or four days afterwards I went to take leave of M. de Choiseul, who
promised to instruct M. d'Afri to aid me in negotiating a loan at five
per cent. either with the States-General or a private company.

"You can tell everyone," said he, "that peace is certain to be made in
the course of the winter, and I will take care that you shall have what
is due to you on your return to France."

M. de Choiseul deceived me, for he knew very well that peace would not be
made; but I had no definite project, and I repented of having given M. de
Boulogne my confidence, and also of having done anything for the
Government, the reward of which was not immediate and certain.

I sold my horses, my carriages, my furniture; I went bail for my brother
who had contracted debts he was sure of paying, as he had several
pictures on the easel which he had been ordered to paint by some of his
rich and noble patrons. I took leave of Manon, whom I left in floods of
tears, though I swore with the utmost sincerity to come back soon and
marry her.

At last all my preparations were finished, and I left Paris with a
hundred thousand francs in bills of exchange and jewels to the same
amount. I was alone in my post-chaise, Le Duc preceding me on horseback,
which the rascal preferred to being shut up in a carriage.

This Le Duc of mine was a Spaniard, aged eighteen, a sharp fellow, whom I
valued highly, especially because he did my hair better than anyone else.
I never refused him a pleasure which a little money would buy. Besides
him I had a good Swiss servant, who served as my courier.

It was the 1st of December, 1759, and the air was frosty, but I was
fortified against the inclemency of the season. I was able to read
comfortably, and I took Helvetius's "Esprit," which I had never had time
to read before. After perusing it I was equally astonished at the
sensation it created and at the stupidity of the High Court which
condemned it. Of course that exalted body was largely influenced by the
king and the clergy, and between them all no effort was spared to ruin
Helvetius, a good-hearted man with more wit than his book. I saw nothing
novel either in the historical part relating to the morals of nations (in
which Helvetius dismisses us as triflers), or in the position that
morality is dependent on the reason. All that he says has been said over
and over again, and Blaise Pascal went much farther, but he wrote more
skilfully and better in every way than Helvetius, who, wishing to remain
in France, was obliged to retract. He preferred a quiet life to his
honour and his philosophy. His wife had a nobler soul than he, as she
wanted to sell all they had, and to take refuge in Holland rather than
submit to the shame of a recantation. Perhaps Helvetius would have
followed the noble advice of his wife if he had foreseen that this
monstrous recantation would make his book into a fraud; for he had to
confess that he had written without due reflection, that he was more in
jest than earnest, and that his arguments were mere sophisms. But many
men of keen intellects had not waited for him to recant before exposing
this wretched system of his. And admitting that whatever man does is done
for his own interest, does it follow that gratitude is a folly, and
virtue and vice identical? Are a villain and a man of honour to be
weighed in the same balance? If such a dreadful system were not absurd,
virtue would be mere hypocrisy; and if by any possibility it were true,
it ought to be proscribed by general consent, since it would lead to
general ruin and corruption.

It might have been proved to Helvetius that the propositions that the
first motive is always self-interest, and that we should always consult
our own interest first, are fallacious. It is a strange thing that so
virtuous a man would not admit the existence of virtue. It is an amusing
suggestion that he only published his book out of modesty, but that would
have contradicted his own system. But if it were so, was it well done to
render himself contemptible to escape the imputation of pride? Modesty
is only a virtue when it is natural; if it is put on, or merely the
result of training, it is detestable. The great d'Alembert was the most
truly modest man I have ever seen.

When I got to Brussels, where I spent two days, I went to the "Hotel de
l'Imperatrice," and chance sent Mdlle. X. C. V. and Farsetti in my way,
but I pretended not to see them. From Brussels I went straight to the
Hague, and got out at the "Prince of Orange." On my asking the host who
sat down at his table, he told me his company consisted of general
officers of the Hanoverian army, same English ladies, and a Prince
Piccolomini and his wife; and this made me make up my mind to join this
illustrious assemblage.

I was unknown to all, and keeping my eyes about me I gave my chief
attention to the observation of the supposed Italian princess, who was
pretty enough, and more especially of her husband whom I seemed to
recognize. In the course of conversation I heard some talk of the
celebrated St. Germain, and it seemed that he was stopping in the same
hotel.

I had returned to my room, and was thinking of going to bed, when Prince
Piccolomini entered, and embraced me as an old friend.

"A look in your face," said he, "tells me that the recognition has been
mutual. I knew you directly in spite of the sixteen years that have
passed since we saw each other at Vicenza. To-morrow you can tell
everybody that we are friends, and that though I am not a prince I am
really a count; here is my passport from the King of Naples, pray read
it."

During this rapid monologue I could not get in a single word, and on
attentively scanning his features I could only recollect that I had seen
him before, but when or where or how I knew not. I opened the passport
and read the name of Ruggero di Rocco, Count Piccolomini. That was
enough; I remembered an individual of that name who was a fencing-master
in Vicenza, and on looking at him again his aspect, though much changed
left no doubt as to the identity of the swordsman and the count.

"I congratulate you," said I, "on your change of employment, your new
business is doubtless much better than the old."

"I taught fencing," he replied, "to save myself from dying of hunger, for
my father was so hard a man that he would not give me the wherewithal to
live, and I disguised my name so as not to disgrace it. On my father's
death I succeeded to the property, and at Rome I married the lady you
have seen."

"You had good taste, for she's a pretty woman."

"She is generally thought so, and it was a love match on my side."

He ended by asking me to come and see him in his room the next day, after
dinner, telling me that I should find good company and a bank at faro,
which he kept himself. He added, without ceremony, that if I liked we
could go half shares, and that I should find it profitable. I thanked
him, and promised to pay him a visit.

I went abroad at an early hour next morning, and after having spent some
time with the Jew, Boaz, and having given a polite refusal to his offer
of a bed, I went to pay my respects to M. d'Afri, who since the death of
the Princess of Orange, the Regent of the Low Countries, was generally
known as His Most Christian Majesty's ambassador. He gave me an excellent
reception, but he said that if I had returned to Holland hoping to do
business on behalf of the Government I should waste my time, since the
action of the comptroller-general had lowered the credit of the nation,
which was thought to be on the verge of bankruptcy.

"This M. Silhouette," said he, "has served the king very badly. It is all
very well to say that payments are only suspended for a year, but it is
not believed."

He then asked me if I knew a certain Comte de St. Germain, who had lately
arrived at the Hague.

"He has not called on me," said the ambassador, "though he says he is
commissioned by the king to negotiate a loan of a hundred millions. When
I am asked about him, I am obliged to say that I know nothing about him,
for fear of compromising myself. Such a reply, as you can understand, is
not likely to increase his chance of success, but that is his fault and
not mine. Why has he not brought me a letter from the Duc de Choiseul or
the Marquise de Pompadour? I take him to be an impostor, but I shall
know something more about him in the course of ten days."

I told him, in my turn, all I knew of this truly eccentric individual. He
was not a little surprised to hear that the king had given him an
apartment at Chambord, but when I told him that the count professed to be
able to make diamonds he laughed and said that in that case he would no
doubt make the hundred millions. Just as I was leaving, M. d'Afri asked
me to dine with him on the following day.

On returning to the hotel I called on the Comte de St. Germain.

"You have anticipated me," said he, on seeing me enter, "I intended to
have called on you. I suppose, my dear Casanova, that you have come to
try what you can do for our Court, but you will find your task a
difficult one, as the Exchange is highly offended at the late doings of
that fool Silhouette. All the same I hope I shall be able to get my
hundred millions. I have passed my word to my friend, Louis XV. (I may
call him so), and I can't disappoint him; the business will be done in
the next three or four weeks."

"I should think M. d'Afri might assist you."

"I do not require his assistance. Probably I shall not even call upon
him, as he might say he helped me. No, I shall have all the trouble, and
I mean to have all the glory, too."

"I presume you will be going to Court, where the Duke of Brunswick may be
of service to you?"

"Why should I go to Court? As for the Duke of Brunswick, I do not care to
know him. All I have got to do is to go to Amsterdam, where my credit is
sufficiently good for anything. I am fond of the King of France; there's
not a better man in the kingdom."

"Well, come and dine at the high table, the company is of the best and
will please you."

"You know I never eat; moreover, I never sit down at a table where I may
meet persons who are unknown to me."

"Then, my lord, farewell; we shall see each other again at Amsterdam."

I went down to the dining-roam, where, while dinner was being served, I
conversed with some officers. They asked me if I knew Prince Piccolomini,
to which I answered that he was not a prince but a count, and that it was
many years since I had seen him.

When the count and his fair wife (who only spoke Italian) came down, I
shewed them some polite attentions, and we then sat down to dinner.