The Memoires of Casanova, Complete

J >> Jacques Casanova de Seingalt >> The Memoires of Casanova, Complete


After we had visited the palace we returned to the inn, and the Greek
took me to his room, in which he ordered the table to be laid for two. In
the next room I saw several large vessels of muscatel wine and four
flagons of mercury, each containing about ten pounds.

My plans were laid, and I asked him to let me have one of the flagons of
mercury at the current price, and took it to my room. The Greek went out
to attend to his business, reminding me that he expected me to dinner. I
went out likewise, and bought two pounds and a half of lead and an equal
quantity of bismuth; the druggist had no more. I came back to the inn,
asked for some large empty bottles, and made the amalgam.

We dined very pleasantly, and the Greek was delighted because I
pronounced his Cerigo excellent. In the course of conversation he
inquired laughingly why I had bought one of his flagons of mercury.

"You can find out if you come to my room," I said.

After dinner we repaired to my room, and he found his mercury divided in
two vessels. I asked for a piece of chamois, strained the liquid through
it, filled his own flagon, and the Greek stood astonished at the sight of
the fine mercury, about one-fourth of a flagon, which remained over, with
an equal quantity of a powder unknown to him; it was the bismuth. My
merry laugh kept company with his astonishment, and calling one of the
servants of the inn I sent him to the druggist to sell the mercury that
was left. He returned in a few minutes and handed me fifteen carlini.

The Greek, whose surprise was complete, asked me to give him back his own
flagon, which was there quite full, and worth sixty carlini. I handed it
to him with a smile, thanking him for the opportunity he had afforded me
of earning fifteen carlini, and took care to add that I should leave for
Salerno early the next morning.

"Then we must have supper together this evening," he said.

During the afternoon we took a walk towards Mount Vesuvius. Our
conversation went from one subject to another, but no allusion was made
to the mercury, though I could see that the Greek had something on his
mind. At supper he told me, jestingly, that I ought to stop in Portici
the next day to make forty-five carlini out of the three other flagons of
mercury. I answered gravely that I did not want the money, and that I had
augmented the first flagon only for the sake of procuring him an
agreeable surprise.

"But," said he, "you must be very wealthy."

"No, I am not, because I am in search of the secret of the augmentation
of gold, and it is a very expensive study for us."

"How many are there in your company?"

"Only my uncle and myself."

"What do you want to augment gold for? The augmentation of mercury ought
to be enough for you. Pray, tell me whether the mercury augmented by you
to-day is again susceptible of a similar increase."

"No, if it were so, it would be an immense source of wealth for us."

"I am much pleased with your sincerity."

Supper over I paid my bill, and asked the landlord to get me a carriage
and pair of horses to take me to Salerno early the next morning. I
thanked the Greek for his delicious muscatel wine, and, requesting his
address in Naples, I assured him that he would see me within a fortnight,
as I was determined to secure a cask of his Cerigo.

We embraced each other, and I retired to bed well pleased with my day's
work, and in no way astonished at the Greek's not offering to purchase my
secret, for I was certain that he would not sleep for anxiety, and that I
should see him early in the morning. At all events, I had enough money to
reach the Tour-du-Grec, and there Providence would take care of me. Yet
it seemed to me very difficult to travel as far as Martorano, begging
like a mendicant-friar, because my outward appearance did not excite
pity; people would feel interested in me only from a conviction that I
needed nothing--a very unfortunate conviction, when the object of it is
truly poor.

As I had forseen, the Greek was in my room at daybreak. I received him in
a friendly way, saying that we could take coffee together.

"Willingly; but tell me, reverend abbe, whether you would feel disposed
to sell me your secret?"

"Why not? When we meet in Naples--"

"But why not now?"

"I am expected in Salerno; besides, I would only sell the secret for a
large sum of money, and I am not acquainted with you."

"That does not matter, as I am sufficiently known here to pay you in
cash. How much would you want?"

"Two thousand ounces."

"I agree to pay you that sum provided that I succeed in making the
augmentation myself with such matter as you name to me, which I will
purchase."

"It is impossible, because the necessary ingredients cannot be got here;
but they are common enough in Naples."

"If it is any sort of metal, we can get it at the Tourdu-Grec. We could
go there together. Can you tell me what is the expense of the
augmentation?"

"One and a half per cent. but are you likewise known at the Tour-du-Grec,
for I should not like to lose my time?"

"Your doubts grieve me."

Saying which, he took a pen, wrote a few words, and handed to me this
order:

"At sight, pay to bearer the sum of fifty gold ounces, on account of
Panagiotti."

He told me that the banker resided within two hundred yards of the inn,
and he pressed me to go there myself. I did not stand upon ceremony, but
went to the banker who paid me the amount. I returned to my room in which
he was waiting for me, and placed the gold on the table, saying that we
could now proceed together to the Tour-du-Grec, where we would complete
our arrangements after the signature of a deed of agreement. The Greek
had his own carriage and horses; he gave orders for them to be got ready,
and we left the inn; but he had nobly insisted upon my taking possession
of the fifty ounces.

When we arrived at the Tour-du-Grec, he signed a document by which he
promised to pay me two thousand ounces as soon as I should have
discovered to him the process of augmenting mercury by one-fourth without
injuring its quality, the amalgam to be equal to the mercury which I had
sold in his presence at Portici.

He then gave me a bill of exchange payable at sight in eight days on M.
Genaro de Carlo. I told him that the ingredients were lead and bismuth;
the first, combining with mercury, and the second giving to the whole the
perfect fluidity necessary to strain it through the chamois leather. The
Greek went out to try the amalgam--I do not know where, and I dined
alone, but toward evening he came back, looking very disconsolate, as I
had expected.

"I have made the amalgam," he said, "but the mercury is not perfect."

"It is equal to that which I have sold in Portici, and that is the very
letter of your engagement."

"But my engagement says likewise without injury to the quality. You must
agree that the quality is injured, because it is no longer susceptible of
further augmentation."

"You knew that to be the case; the point is its equality with the mercury
I sold in Portici. But we shall have to go to law, and you will lose. I
am sorry the secret should become public. Congratulate yourself, sir,
for, if you should gain the lawsuit, you will have obtained my secret for
nothing. I would never have believed you capable of deceiving me in such
a manner."

"Reverend sir, I can assure you that I would not willingly deceive any
one."

"Do you know the secret, or do you not? Do you suppose I would have given
it to you without the agreement we entered into? Well, there will be some
fun over this affair in Naples, and the lawyers will make money out of
it. But I am much grieved at this turn of affairs, and I am very sorry
that I allowed myself to be so easily deceived by your fine talk. In the
mean time, here are your fifty ounces."

As I was taking the money out of my pocket, frightened to death lest he
should accept it, he left the room, saying that he would not have it. He
soon returned; we had supper in the same room, but at separate tables;
war had been openly declared, but I felt certain that a treaty of peace
would soon be signed. We did not exchange one word during the evening,
but in the morning he came to me as I was getting ready to go. I again
offered to return the money I received, but he told me to keep it, and
proposed to give me fifty ounces more if I would give him back his bill
of exchange for two thousand. We began to argue the matter quietly, and
after two hours of discussion I gave in. I received fifty ounces more, we
dined together like old friends, and embraced each other cordially. As I
was bidding him adieu, he gave me an order on his house at Naples for a
barrel of muscatel wine, and he presented me with a splendid box
containing twelve razors with silver handles, manufactured in the
Tour-du-Grec. We parted the best friends in the world and well pleased
with each other.

I remained two days in Salerno to provide myself with linen and other
necessaries. Possessing about one hundred sequins, and enjoying good
health, I was very proud of my success, in which I could not see any
cause of reproach to myself, for the cunning I had brought into play to
insure the sale of my secret could not be found fault with except by the
most intolerant of moralists, and such men have no authority to speak on
matters of business. At all events, free, rich, and certain of presenting
myself before the bishop with a respectable appearance, and not like a
beggar, I soon recovered my natural spirits, and congratulated myself
upon having bought sufficient experience to insure me against falling a
second time an easy prey to a Father Corsini, to thieving gamblers, to
mercenary women, and particularly to the impudent scoundrels who
barefacedly praise so well those they intend to dupe--a species of knaves
very common in the world, even amongst people who form what is called
good society.

I left Salerno with two priests who were going to Cosenza on business,
and we traversed the distance of one hundred and forty-two miles in
twenty-two hours. The day after my arrival in the capital of Calabria, I
took a small carriage and drove to Martorano. During the journey, fixing
my eyes upon the famous mare Ausonaum, I felt delighted at finding myself
in the middle of Magna Grecia, rendered so celebrated for twenty-four
centuries by its connection with Pythagoras. I looked with astonishment
upon a country renowned for its fertility, and in which, in spite of
nature's prodigality, my eyes met everywhere the aspect of terrible
misery, the complete absence of that pleasant superfluity which helps man
to enjoy life, and the degradation of the inhabitants sparsely scattered
on a soil where they ought to be so numerous; I felt ashamed to
acknowledge them as originating from the same stock as myself. Such is,
however the Terra di Lavoro where labour seems to be execrated, where
everything is cheap, where the miserable inhabitants consider that they
have made a good bargain when they have found anyone disposed to take
care of the fruit which the ground supplies almost spontaneously in too
great abundance, and for which there is no market. I felt compelled to
admit the justice of the Romans who had called them Brutes instead of
Byutians. The good priests with whom I had been travelling laughed at my
dread of the tarantula and of the crasydra, for the disease brought on by
the bite of those insects appeared to me more fearful even than a certain
disease with which I was already too well acquainted. They assured me
that all the stories relating to those creatures were fables; they
laughed at the lines which Virgil has devoted to them in the Georgics as
well as at all those I quoted to justify my fears.

I found Bishop Bernard de Bernardis occupying a hard chair near an old
table on which he was writing. I fell on my knees, as it is customary to
do before a prelate, but, instead of giving me his blessing, he raised me
up from the floor, and, folding me in his arms, embraced me tenderly. He
expressed his deep sorrow when I told him that in Naples I had not been
able to find any instructions to enable me to join him, but his face
lighted up again when I added that I was indebted to no one for money,
and that I was in good health. He bade me take a seat, and with a heavy
sigh he began to talk of his poverty, and ordered a servant to lay the
cloth for three persons. Besides this servant, his lordship's suite
consisted of a most devout-looking housekeeper, and of a priest whom I
judged to be very ignorant from the few words he uttered during our meal.
The house inhabited by his lordship was large, but badly built and poorly
kept. The furniture was so miserable that, in order to make up a bed for
me in the room adjoining his chamber, the poor bishop had to give up one
of his two mattresses! His dinner, not to say any more about it,
frightened me, for he was very strict in keeping the rules of his order,
and this being a fast day, he did not eat any meat, and the oil was very
bad. Nevertheless, monsignor was an intelligent man, and, what is still
better, an honest man. He told me, much to my surprise, that his
bishopric, although not one of little importance, brought him in only
five hundred ducat-diregno yearly, and that, unfortunately, he had
contracted debts to the amount of six hundred. He added, with a sigh,
that his only happiness was to feel himself out of the clutches of the
monks, who had persecuted him, and made his life a perfect purgatory for
fifteen years. All these confidences caused me sorrow and mortification,
because they proved to me, not only that I was not in the promised land
where a mitre could be picked up, but also that I would be a heavy charge
for him. I felt that he was grieved himself at the sorry present his
patronage seemed likely to prove.

I enquired whether he had a good library, whether there were any literary
men, or any good society in which one could spend a few agreeable hours.
He smiled and answered that throughout his diocese there was not one man
who could boast of writing decently, and still less of any taste or
knowledge in literature; that there was not a single bookseller, nor any
person caring even for the newspapers. But he promised me that we would
follow our literary tastes together, as soon as he received the books he
had ordered from Naples.

That was all very well, but was this the place for a young man of
eighteen to live in, without a good library, without good society,
without emulation and literacy intercourse? The good bishop, seeing me
full of sad thoughts, and almost astounded at the prospect of the
miserable life I should have to lead with him, tried to give me courage
by promising to do everything in his power to secure my happiness.

The next day, the bishop having to officiate in his pontifical robes, I
had an opportunity of seeing all the clergy, and all the faithful of the
diocese, men and women, of whom the cathedral was full; the sight made me
resolve at once to leave Martorano. I thought I was gazing upon a troop
of brutes for whom my external appearance was a cause of scandal. How
ugly were the women! What a look of stupidity and coarseness in the men!
When I returned to the bishop's house I told the prelate that I did not
feel in me the vocation to die within a few months a martyr in this
miserable city.

"Give me your blessing," I added, "and let me go; or, rather, come with
me. I promise you that we shall make a fortune somewhere else."

The proposal made him laugh repeatedly during the day. Had he agreed to
it he would not have died two years afterwards in the prime of manhood.
The worthy man, feeling how natural was my repugnance, begged me to
forgive him for having summoned me to him, and, considering it his duty
to send me back to Venice, having no money himself and not being aware
that I had any, he told me that he would give me an introduction to a
worthy citizen of Naples who would lend me sixty ducati-di-regno to
enable me to reach my native city. I accepted his offer with gratitude,
and going to my room I took out of my trunk the case of fine razors which
the Greek had given me, and I begged his acceptance of it as a souvenir
of me. I had great difficulty in forcing it upon him, for it was worth
the sixty ducats, and to conquer his resistance I had to threaten to
remain with him if he refused my present. He gave me a very flattering
letter of recommendation for the Archbishop of Cosenza, in which he
requested him to forward me as far as Naples without any expense to
myself. It was thus I left Martorano sixty hours after my arrival,
pitying the bishop whom I was leaving behind, and who wept as he was
pouring heartfelt blessings upon me.

The Archbishop of Cosenza, a man of wealth and of intelligence, offered
me a room in his palace. During the dinner I made, with an overflowing
heart, the eulogy of the Bishop of Martorano; but I railed mercilessly at
his diocese and at the whole of Calabria in so cutting a manner that I
greatly amused the archbishop and all his guests, amongst whom were two
ladies, his relatives, who did the honours of the dinner-table. The
youngest, however, objected to the satirical style in which I had
depicted her country, and declared war against me; but I contrived to
obtain peace again by telling her that Calabria would be a delightful
country if one-fourth only of its inhabitants were like her. Perhaps it
was with the idea of proving to me that I had been wrong in my opinion
that the archbishop gave on the following day a splendid supper.

Cosenza is a city in which a gentleman can find plenty of amusement; the
nobility are wealthy, the women are pretty, and men generally
well-informed, because they have been educated in Naples or in Rome. I
left Cosenza on the third day with a letter from the archbishop for the
far-famed Genovesi.

I had five travelling companions, whom I judged, from their appearance,
to be either pirates or banditti, and I took very good care not to let
them see or guess that I had a well-filled purse. I likewise thought it
prudent to go to bed without undressing during the whole journey--an
excellent measure of prudence for a young man travelling in that part of
the country.

I reached Naples on the 16th of September, 1743, and I lost no time in
presenting the letter of the Bishop of Martorano. It was addressed to a
M. Gennaro Polo at St. Anne's. This excellent man, whose duty was only to
give me the sum of sixty ducats, insisted, after perusing the bishop's
letter, upon receiving me in his house, because he wished me to make the
acquaintance of his son, who was a poet like myself. The bishop had
represented my poetry as sublime. After the usual ceremonies, I accepted
his kind invitation, my trunk was sent for, and I was a guest in the
house of M. Gennaro Polo.




CHAPTER IX

My Stay in Naples; It Is Short but Happy--Don Antonio
Casanova--Don Lelio Caraffa--I Go to Rome in Very Agreeable
Company, and Enter the Service of Cardinal Acquaviva--
Barbara--Testaccio--Frascati

[Illustration: 1c09.jpg

I had no difficulty in answering the various questions which Doctor
Gennaro addressed to me, but I was surprised, and even displeased, at the
constant peals of laughter with which he received my answers. The piteous
description of miserable Calabria, and the picture of the sad situation
of the Bishop of Martorano, appeared to me more likely to call forth
tears than to excite hilarity, and, suspecting that some mystification
was being played upon me, I was very near getting angry when, becoming
more composed, he told me with feeling that I must kindly excuse him;
that his laughter was a disease which seemed to be endemic in his family,
for one of his uncles died of it.

"What!" I exclaimed, "died of laughing!"

"Yes. This disease, which was not known to Hippocrates, is called li
flati."

"What do you mean? Does an hypochondriac affection, which causes sadness
and lowness in all those who suffer from it, render you cheerful?"

"Yes, because, most likely, my flati, instead of influencing the
hypochondrium, affects my spleen, which my physician asserts to be the
organ of laughter. It is quite a discovery."

"You are mistaken; it is a very ancient notion, and it is the only
function which is ascribed to the spleen in our animal organization."

"Well, we must discuss the matter at length, for I hope you will remain
with us a few weeks."

"I wish I could, but I must leave Naples to-morrow or the day after."

"Have you got any money?"

"I rely upon the sixty ducats you have to give me."

At these words, his peals of laughter began again, and as he could see
that I was annoyed, he said, "I am amused at the idea that I can keep you
here as long as I like. But be good enough to see my son; he writes
pretty verses enough."

And truly his son, although only fourteen, was already a great poet.

A servant took me to the apartment of the young man whom I found
possessed of a pleasing countenance and engaging manners. He gave me a
polite welcome, and begged to be excused if he could not attend to me
altogether for the present, as he had to finish a song which he was
composing for a relative of the Duchess de Rovino, who was taking the
veil at the Convent of St. Claire, and the printer was waiting for the
manuscript. I told him that his excuse was a very good one, and I offered
to assist him. He then read his song, and I found it so full of
enthusiasm, and so truly in the style of Guidi, that I advised him to
call it an ode; but as I had praised all the truly beautiful passages, I
thought I could venture to point out the weak ones, and I replaced them
by verses of my own composition. He was delighted, and thanked me warmly,
inquiring whether I was Apollo. As he was writing his ode, I composed a
sonnet on the same subject, and, expressing his admiration for it he
begged me to sign it, and to allow him to send it with his poetry.

While I was correcting and recopying my manuscript, he went to his father
to find out who I was, which made the old man laugh until supper-time. In
the evening, I had the pleasure of seeing that my bed had been prepared
in the young man's chamber.

Doctor Gennaro's family was composed of this son and of a daughter
unfortunately very plain, of his wife and of two elderly, devout sisters.
Amongst the guests at the supper-table I met several literary men, and
the Marquis Galiani, who was at that time annotating Vitruvius. He had a
brother, an abbe whose acquaintance I made twenty years after, in Paris,
when he was secretary of embassy to Count Cantillana. The next day, at
supper, I was presented to the celebrated Genovesi; I had already sent
him the letter of the Archbishop of Cosenza. He spoke to me of Apostolo
Zeno and of the Abbe Conti. He remarked that it was considered a very
venial sin for a regular priest to say two masses in one day for the sake
of earning two carlini more, but that for the same sin a secular priest
would deserve to be burnt at the stake.

The nun took the veil on the following day, and Gennaro's ode and my
sonnet had the greatest success. A Neapolitan gentleman, whose name was
the same as mine, expressed a wish to know me, and, hearing that I
resided at the doctor's, he called to congratulate him on the occasion of
his feast-day, which happened to fall on the day following the ceremony
at Sainte-Claire.

Don Antonio Casanova, informing me of his name, enquired whether my
family was originally from Venice.

"I am, sir," I answered modestly, "the great-grandson of the unfortunate
Marco Antonio Casanova, secretary to Cardinal Pompeo Colonna, who died of
the plague in Rome, in the year 1528, under the pontificate of Clement
VII." The words were scarcely out of my lips when he embraced me, calling
me his cousin, but we all thought that Doctor Gennaro would actually die
with laughter, for it seemed impossible to laugh so immoderately without
risk of life. Madame Gennaro was very angry and told my newly-found
cousin that he might have avoided enacting such a scene before her
husband, knowing his disease, but he answered that he never thought the
circumstance likely to provoke mirth. I said nothing, for, in reality, I
felt that the recognition was very comic. Our poor laugher having
recovered his composure, Casanova, who had remained very serious, invited
me to dinner for the next day with my young friend Paul Gennaro, who had
already become my alter ego.

When we called at his house, my worthy cousin showed me his family tree,
beginning with a Don Francisco, brother of Don Juan. In my pedigree,
which I knew by heart, Don Juan, my direct ancestor, was a posthumous
child. It was possible that there might have been a brother of Marco
Antonio's; but when he heard that my genealogy began with Don Francisco,
from Aragon, who had lived in the fourteenth century, and that
consequently all the pedigree of the illustrious house of the Casanovas
of Saragossa belonged to him, his joy knew no bounds; he did not know
what to do to convince me that the same blood was flowing in his veins
and in mine.