The Eternal Quest: Switzerland

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MEMOIRS OF JACQUES CASANOVA de SEINGALT 1725-1798

THE ETERNAL QUEST, Volume 3d--SWITZERLAND

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




THE ETERNAL QUEST




SWITZERLAND




CHAPTER XIII

I Resolve to Become a Monk--I go to Confession--Delay of a
Fortnight--Giustiniani, the Apostle Capuchin--I Alter my Mind; My
Reasons--My Pranks at the Inn--I Dine With the Abbot

The cool way in which the abbot told these cock-and-bull stories gave me
an inclination to laughter, which the holiness of the place and the laws
of politeness had much difficulty in restraining. All the same I listened
with such an attentive air that his reverence was delighted with me and
asked where I was staying.

"Nowhere," said I; "I came from Zurich on foot, and my first visit was to
your church."

I do not know whether I pronounced these words with an air of
compunction, but the abbot joined his hands and lifted them to heaven, as
if to thank God for touching my heart and bringing me there to lay down
the burden of my sins. I have no doubt that these were his thoughts, as I
have always had the look of a great sinner.

The abbot said it was near noon and that he hoped I would do him the
honour of dining with him, and I accepted with pleasure, for I had had
nothing to eat and I knew that there is usually good cheer in such
places. I did not know where I was and I did not care to ask, being
willing to leave him under the impression that I was a pilgrim come to
expiate my sins.

On our way from the church the abbot told me that his monks were fasting,
but that we should eat meat in virtue of a dispensation he had received
from Benedict XIV., which allowed him to eat meat all the year round with
his guests. I replied that I would join him all the more willingly as the
Holy Father had given me a similar dispensation. This seemed to excite
his curiosity about myself, and when we got to his room, which did not
look the cell of a penitent, he hastened to shew me the brief, which he
had framed and glazed and hung up opposite the table so that the curious
and scrupulous might have it in full view.

As the table was only laid for two, a servant in full livery came in and
brought another cover; and the humble abbot then told me that he usually
had his chancellor with him at dinner, "for," said he, "I have a
chancery, since as abbot of Our Lady of Einsiedel I am a prince of the
Holy Roman Empire."

This was a relief to me, as I now knew where I was, and I no longer ran
the risk of shewing my ignorance in the course of conversation.

This monastery (of which I had heard before) was the Loretto of the
Mountains, and was famous for the number of pilgrims who resorted to it.

In the course of dinner the prince--abbot asked me where I came from, if
I were married, if I intended to make a tour of Switzerland, adding that
he should be glad to give me letters of introduction. I replied that I
was a Venetian, a bachelor, and that I should be glad to accept the
letters of introduction he had kindly offered me, after I had had a
private conference with him, in which I desired to take his advice on my
conscience.

Thus, without premeditation, and scarcely knowing what I was saying, I
engaged to confess to the abbot.

This was my way. Whenever I obeyed a spontaneous impulse, whenever I did
anything of a sudden, I thought I was following the laws of my destiny,
and yielding to a supreme will. When I had thus plainly intimated to him
that he was to be my confessor, he felt obliged to speak with religious
fervour, and his discourses seemed tolerable enough during a delicate and
appetising repast, for we had snipe and woodcock; which made me
exclaim,--

"What! game like that at this time of year?"

"It's a secret," said he, with a pleased smile, "which I shall be glad to
communicate to you."

The abbot was a man of taste, for though he affected sobriety he had the
choicest wines and the most delicious dishes on the table. A splendid
salmon-trout was brought, which made him smile with pleasure, and
seasoning the good fare with a jest, he said in Latin that we must taste
it as it was fish, and that it was right to fast a little.

While he was talking the abbot kept a keen eye on me, and as my fine
dress made him feel certain that I had nothing to ask of him he spoke at
ease.

When dinner was over the chancellor bowed respectfully and went out. Soon
after the abbot took me over the monastery, including the library, which
contained a portrait of the Elector of Cologne in semi-ecclesiastical
costume. I told him that the portrait was a good though ugly likeness,
and drew out of my pocket the gold snuffbox the prince had given me,
telling him that it was a speaking likeness. He looked at it with
interest, and thought his highness had done well to be taken in the dress
of a grand-master. But I perceived that the elegance of the snuff-box did
no harm to the opinion the abbot had conceived of me. As for the library,
if I had been alone it would have made me weep. It contained nothing
under the size of folio, the newest books were a hundred years old, and
the subject-matter of all these huge books was solely theology and
controversy. There were Bibles, commentators, the Fathers, works on canon
law in German, volumes of annals, and Hoffman's dictionary.

"I suppose your monks have private libraries of their own," I said,
"which contain accounts of travels, with historical and scientific
works."

"Not at all," he replied; "my monks are honest folk, who are content to
do their duty, and to live in peace and sweet ignorance."

I do not know what happened to me at that moment, but a strange whim came
into my head--I would be a monk, too. I said nothing about it at the
moment, but I begged the abbot to take me to his private chamber.

"I wish to make a general confession of all my sins," said I, "that I may
obtain the benefit of absolution, and receive the Holy Eucharist on the
morrow."

He made no answer, but led the way to a pretty little room, and without
requiring me to kneel down said he was ready to hear me.

I sat down before him and for three consecutive hours I narrated
scandalous histories unnumerable, which, however, I told simply and not
spicily, since I felt ascetically disposed and obliged myself to speak
with a contrition I did not feel, for when I recounted my follies I was
very far from finding the remembrance of them disagreeable.

In spite of that, the serene or reverend abbot believed, at all events,
in my attrition, for he told me that since by the appointed means I had
once more placed myself in a state of grace, contrition would be
perfected in me.

According to the good abbot, and still more according to me, without
grace contrition is impossible.

After he had pronounced the sacramental words which take away the sins of
men, he advised me to retire to the chamber he had appointed for me, to
pass the rest of the day in prayer, and to go to bed at an early hour,
but he added that I could have supper if I was accustomed to that meal.
He told me that I might communicate at the first mass next morning, and
with that we parted.

I obeyed with a docility which has puzzled me ever since, but at the time
I thought nothing of it. I was left alone in a room which I did not even
examine, and there I pondered over the idea which had come into my head
before making my confession; and I quite made up my mind that chance, or
rather my good genius, had led me to that spot, where happiness awaited
me, and where I might shelter all my days from the tempests of the world.

"Whether I stay here," said I, "depends on myself alone, as I am sure the
abbot will not refuse me the cowl if I give him ten thousand crowns for
my support."

All that was needed to secure my happiness seemed a library of my own
choosing, and I did not doubt but that the abbot would let me have what
books I pleased if I promised to leave them to the monastery after my
death.

As to the society of the monks, the discord, envy, and all the bickerings
inseparable from such a mode of life, I thought I had nothing to pass in
that way, since I had no ambitions which could rouse the jealousy of the
other monks. Nevertheless, despite my fascination, I foresaw the
possibility of repentance, and I shuddered at the thought, but I had a
cure for that also.

"When I ask for the habit," I said, "I will also ask that my novitiate be
extended for ten years, and if repentance do not come in ten years it
will not come at all. I shall declare that I do not wish for any cure or
any ecclesiastical dignity. All I want is peace and leave to follow my
own tastes, without scandalising anyone." I thought: I could easily
remove any objections which might be made to the long term of my
novitiate, by agreeing, in case I changed my mind, to forfeit the ten
thousand crowns which I would pay in advance.

I put down this fine idea in writing before I went to bed; and in the
morning, finding myself unshaken in my resolve, after I had communicated
I gave my plan to the abbot, who was taking chocolate in his room.

He immediately read my plan, and without saying anything put it on the
table, and after breakfast he walked up and down the room and read it
again, and finally told me that he would give me an answer after dinner.

I waited till night with the impatience of a child who has been promised
toys on its birthday--so completely and suddenly can an infatuation
change one's nature. We had as good a dinner as on the day before, and
when we had risen from the table the good abbot said,

"My carriage is at the door to take you to Zurich. Go, and let me have a
fortnight to think it over. I will bring my answer in person. In the
meanwhile here are two sealed letters, which please deliver yourself."

I replied that I would obey his instructions and that I would wait for
him at the "Sword," in the hope that he would deign to grant my wishes. I
took his hand, which he allowed me to kiss, and I then set out for
Zurich.

As soon as my Spaniard saw me the rascal began to laugh. I guessed what
he was thinking, and asked him what he was laughing at.

"I am amazed to see that no sooner do you arrive in Switzerland than you
contrive to find some amusement which keeps you away for two whole days."

"Ah, I see; go and tell the landlord that I shall want the use of a good
carriage for the next fortnight, and also a guide on whom I can rely."

My landlord, whose name was Ote, had been a captain, and was thought a
great deal of at Zurich. He told me that all the carriages in the
neighbourhood were uncovered. I said they would do, as there was nothing
better to be had, and he informed me I could trust the servant he would
provide me with.

Next morning I took the abbot's letters. One was for M. Orelli and the
other for a M. Pestalozzi, neither of whom I found at home; but in the
afternoon they both called on me, asked me to dinner, and made me promise
to come with them the same evening to a concert. This is the only species
of entertainment allowed at Zurich, and only members of the musical
society can be present, with the exception of strangers, who have to be
introduced by a member, and are then admitted on the payment of a crown.
The two gentlemen both spoke in very high terms of the Abbot of
Einsiedel.

I thought the concert a bad one, and got bored at it. The men sat on the
right hand and the women on the left. I was vexed with this arrangement,
for in spite of my recent conversation I saw three or four ladies who
pleased me, and whose eyes wandered a good deal in my direction. I should
have liked to make love to them, to make the best of my time before I
became a monk.

When the concert was over, men and women went out together, and the two
citizens presented me to their wives and daughters, who looked pleasant,
and were amongst those I had noticed.

Courtesy is necessarily cut short in the street, and, after I had thanked
the two gentlemen, I went home to the "Sword."

Next day I dined with M. Orelli, and I had an opportunity for doing
justice to his daughter's amiability without being able to let her
perceive how she had impressed me. The day after, I played the same part
with M. Pestalozzi, although his charming daughter was pretty enough to
excite my gallantry. But to my own great astonishment I was a mirror of
discretion, and in four days that was my character all over the town. I
was quite astonished to find myself accosted in quite a respectful
manner, to which I was not accustomed; but in the pious state of mind I
was in, this confirmed me in the belief that my idea of taking the cowl
had been a Divine inspiration. Nevertheless, I felt listless and weary,
but I looked upon that as the inevitable consequence of so complete a
change of life, and thought it would disappear when I grew more
accustomed to goodness.

In order to put myself, as soon as possible, on an equality with my
future brethren, I passed three hours every morning in learning German.
My master was an extraordinary man, a native of Genoa, and an apostate
Capuchin. His name was Giustiniani. The poor man, to whom I gave six
francs every morning, looked upon me as an angel from heaven, although I,
with the enthusiasm of a devotee, took him for a devil of hell, for he
lost no opportunity of throwing a stone at the religious orders. Those
orders which had the highest reputation, were, according to him, the
worst of all, since they led more people astray. He styled monks in
general as a vile rabble, the curse of the human race.

"But," said I to him one day, "you will confess that Our Lady of
Einsiedel . . ."

"What!" replied the Genoese, without letting me finish my remark, "do you
think I should make an exception in favour of a set of forty ignorant,
lazy, vicious, idle, hypocritical scoundrels who live bad lives under the
cloak of humility, and eat up the houses of the poor simpletons who
provide for them, when they ought to be earning their own bread?"

"But how about his reverend highness the abbot?"

"A stuck-up peasant who plays the part of a prince, and is fool enough to
think himself one."

"But he is a prince."

"As much a prince as I am. I look upon him as a mere buffoon."

"What has he done to you?"

"Nothing; but he is a monk."

"He is a friend of mine."

"I cannot retract what I have said, but I beg your pardon."

This Giustiniani had a great influence upon me, although I did not know
it, for I thought my vocation was sure. But my idea of becoming a monk at
Einsiedel came to an end as follows:

The day before the abbot was coming to see me, at about six o'clock in
the evening, I was sitting at my window, which looked out on the bridge,
and gazing at the passers-by, when all at once a carriage and four came
up at a good pace and stopped at the inn. There was no footman on it, and
consequently the waiter came out and opened the door, and I saw four
well-dressed women leave the carriage. In the first three I saw nothing
noticeable, but the fourth, who was dressed in a riding-habit, struck me
at once with her elegance and beauty. She was a brunette with fine and
well-set eyes, arched eyebrows, and a complexion in which the hues of the
lily and the rose were mingled. Her bonnet was of blue satin with a
silver fillet, which gave her an air I could not resist. I stretched out
from the window as far as I could, and she lifted her eyes and looked at
me as if I had bade her do so. My position obliged me to look at her for
half a minute; too much for a modest woman, and more than was required to
set me all ablaze.

I ran and took up my position at the window of my ante-chamber, which
commanded a view of the staircase, and before long I saw her running by
to rejoin her three companions. When she got opposite to my window she
chanced to turn in that direction, and on seeing me cried out as if she
had seen a ghost; but she soon recollected herself and ran away, laughing
like a madcap, and rejoined the other ladies who were already in their
room.

Reader, put yourself in my place, and tell me how I could have avoided
this meeting. And you who would bury yourselves in monastic shades,
persevere, if you can, after you have seen what I saw at Zurich on April
23rd.

I was in such a state of excitement that I had to lie down on my bed.
After resting a few minutes, I got up and almost unconsciously went
towards the passage window and saw the waiter coming out of the ladies'
room.

"Waiter," said I, "I will take supper in the dining-room with everybody
else."

"If you want to see those ladies, that won't do, as they have ordered
their supper to be brought up to them. They want to go to bed in good
time as they are to leave at day-break."

"Where are they going?"

"To Our Lady of Einsiedel to pay their vows."

"Where do they come from?"

"From Soleure."

"What are their names?"

"I don't know."

I went to lie down again, and thought how I could approach the fair one
of my thoughts. Should I go to Einsiedel, too? But what could I do when I
got there? These ladies are going to make their confessions; I could not
get into the confessional. What kind of a figure should I cut among the
monks? And if I were to meet the abbot on the way, how could I help
returning with him? If I had had a trusty friend I would have arranged
an ambuscade and carried off my charmer. It would have been an easy task,
as she had nobody to defend her. What if I were to pluck up my heart and
beg them to let me sup in their company? I was afraid of the three
devotees; I should meet with a refusal. I judged that my charmer's
devotion was more a matter of form than any thing else, as her
physiognomy declared her to be a lover of pleasure, and I had long been
accustomed to read womens' characters by the play of their features.

I did not know which way to turn, when a happy idea came into my head. I
went to the passage window and stayed there till the waiter went by. I
had him into the room, and began my discourse by sliding a piece of gold
into his hand. I then asked him to lend me his green apron, as I wished
to wait upon the ladies at supper.

"What are you laughing at?"

"At your taking such a fancy, sir, though I think I know why."

"You are a sharp fellow."

"Yes, sir, as sharp as most of them; I will get you a new apron. The
pretty one asked me who you were."

"What did you tell her?"

"I said you were an Italian; that's all."

"If you will hold your tongue I will double that piece of gold."

"I have asked your Spaniard to help me, sir, as I am single-handed, and
supper has to be served at the same time both upstairs and downstairs."

"Very good; but the rascal mustn't come into the room or he would be sure
to laugh. Let him go to the kitchen, bring up the dishes, and leave them
outside the door."

The waiter went out, and returned soon after with the apron and Le Duc,
to whom I explained in all seriousness what he had to do. He laughed like
a madman, but assured me he would follow my directions. I procured a
carving-knife, tied my hair in a queue, took off my coat, and put on the
apron over my scarlet waistcoat ornamented with gold lace. I then looked
at myself in the glass, and thought my appearance mean enough for the
modest part I was about to play. I was delighted at the prospect, and
thought to myself that as the ladies came from Soleure they would speak
French.

Le Duc came to tell me that the waiter was going upstairs. I went into
the ladies' room and said, "Supper is about to be served, ladies."

"Make haste about it, then," said the ugliest of them, "as we have got to
rise before day-break."

I placed the chairs round the table and glanced at my fair one, who
looked petrified. The waiter came in, and I helped him to put the dishes
on the table, and he then said to me, "Do you stay here, as I have to go
downstairs."

I took a plate and stood behind a chair facing the lady, and without
appearing to look at her I saw her perfectly, or rather I saw nothing
else. She was astonished the others did not give me a glance, and they
could not have pleased me better. After the soup I hurried to change her
plate, and then did the same office for the rest: they helped themselves
to the boiled beef.

While they were eating, I took a boiled capon and cut it up in a masterly
manner.

"We have a waiter who knows his work," said the lady of my thoughts.

"Have you been long at this inn?"

"Only a few weeks, madam."

"You wait very well."

"Madam is very good."

I had tucked in my superb ruffles of English point lace, but my frilled
shirt front of the same material protruded slightly through my vest,
which I had not buttoned carefully. She saw it, and said, "Come here a
moment."

"What does madam require?"

"Let me see it. What beautiful lace!"

"So I have been told, madam, but it is very old. An Italian gentleman who
was staying here made me a present of it."

"You have ruffles of the same kind, I suppose?"

"Yes, madam;" and so saying I stretched out my hand, unbuttoning my
waistcoat. She gently drew out the ruffle, and seemed to place herself in
a position to intoxicate me with the sight of her charms, although she
was tightly laced. What an ecstatic moment! I knew she had recognized me,
and the thought that I could not carry the masquerade beyond a certain
point was a veritable torment to me.

When she had looked a long time, one of the others said,

"You are certainly very curious, my dear, one would think you had never
seen lace before."

At this she blushed.

When the supper was done, the three ugly ladies each went apart to
undress, while I took away the dishes, and my heroine began to write. I
confess that I was almost infatuated enough to think that she was writing
to me; however, I had too high an opinion of her to entertain the idea.

As soon as I had taken away the dishes, I stood by the door in the
respectful manner becoming the occasion.

"What are you waiting for?" she said.

"For your orders, madam."

"Thank you, I don't want anything."

"Your boots, madam, you will like them removed before you retire."

"True, but still I don't like to give you so much trouble."

"I am here to attend on you, madam."

So saying, I knelt on one knee before her, and slowly unplaced her boots
while she continued writing. I went farther; I unbuckled her garters,
delighting in the contemplation and still more in the touch of her
delicately-shaped legs, but too soon for me she turned her head, and
said,

"That will do, thank you. I did not notice that you were giving yourself
so much trouble. We shall see you to-morrow evening."

"Then you will sup here, ladies?"

"Certainly."

I took her boots away, and asked if I should lock the door.

"No, my good fellow," said she, in the voice of a syren, "leave the key
inside."

Le Duc took the charmer's boots from me, and said, laughing,--

"She has caught you."

"What?"

"I saw it all, sir, you played your part as well as any actor in Paris;
and I am certain that she will give you a louis to-morrow, but if you
don't hand it over to me I will blow on the whole thing."

"That's enough, you rascal; get me my supper as quickly as possible."

Such are the pleasures which old age no longer allows me to enjoy, except
in my memory. There are monsters who preach repentance, and philosophers
who treat all pleasures as vanity. Let them talk on. Repentance only
befits crimes, and pleasures are realities, though all too fleeting.

A happy dream made me pass the night with the fair lady; doubtless it was
a delusion, but a delusion full of bliss. What would I not give now for
such dreams, which made my nights so sweet!

Next morning at day-break I was at her door with her boots in my hand
just as their coachman came to call them. I asked them, as a matter of
form, if they would have breakfast, and they replied merrily that they
had made too good a supper to have any appetite at such an early hour. I
went out of the room to give them time to dress, but the door was half
open, and I saw reflected in the glass the snow-white bosom of my fair
one; it was an intoxicating sight. When she had laced herself and put on
her dress she called for her boots. I asked if I should put them on, to
which she consented with a good grace, and as she had green velvet
breeches, she seemed to consider herself as almost a man. And, after all,
a waiter is not worth putting one's self out about. All the worst for him
if he dare conceive any hopes from the trifling concessions he receives.
His punishment will be severe, for who would have thought he could have
presumed so far? As for me, I am now, sad to say, grown old, and enjoy
some few privileges of this description, which I relish, though despising
myself, and still more those who thus indulge me.

After she had gone I went to sleep again, hoping to see her in the
evening. When I awoke I heard that the abbot of Einsiedel was at Zurich,
and my landlord told me that his reverend highness would dine with me in
my room. I told him that I wished to treat the abbot well, and that he
must set the best dinner he could for us.