The Memoires of Casanova, Complete

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


He expressed some curiosity to know what lucky accident had brought me to
Naples; I told him that, having embraced the ecclesiastical profession, I
was going to Rome to seek my fortune. He then presented me to his family,
and I thought that I could read on the countenance of my cousin, his
dearly beloved wife, that she was not much pleased with the newly-found
relationship, but his pretty daughter, and a still prettier niece of his,
might very easily have given me faith in the doctrine that blood is
thicker than water, however fabulous it may be.

After dinner, Don Antonio informed me that the Duchess de Bovino had
expressed a wish to know the Abbe Casanova who had written the sonnet in
honour of her relative, and that he would be very happy to introduce me
to her as his own cousin. As we were alone at that moment, I begged he
would not insist on presenting me, as I was only provided with travelling
suits, and had to be careful of my purse so as not to arrive in Rome
without money. Delighted at my confidence, and approving my economy, he
said, "I am rich, and you must not scruple to come with me to my tailor;"
and he accompanied his offer with an assurance that the circumstance
would not be known to anyone, and that he would feel deeply mortified if
I denied him the pleasure of serving me. I shook him warmly by the hand,
and answered that I was ready to do anything he pleased. We went to a
tailor who took my measure, and who brought me on the following day
everything necessary to the toilet of the most elegant abbe. Don Antonio
called on me, and remained to dine with Don Gennaro, after which he took
me and my friend Paul to the duchess. This lady, according to the
Neapolitan fashion, called me thou in her very first compliment of
welcome. Her daughter, then only ten or twelve years old, was very
handsome, and a few years later became Duchess de Matalona. The duchess
presented me with a snuff-box in pale tortoise-shell with arabesque
incrustations in gold, and she invited us to dine with her on the morrow,
promising to take us after dinner to the Convent of St. Claire to pay a
visit to the new nun.

As we came out of the palace of the duchess, I left my friends and went
alone to Panagiotti's to claim the barrel of muscatel wine. The manager
was kind enough to have the barrel divided into two smaller casks of
equal capacity, and I sent one to Don Antonio, and the other to Don
Gennaro. As I was leaving the shop I met the worthy Panagiotti, who was
glad to see me. Was I to blush at the sight of the good man I had at
first deceived? No, for in his opinion I had acted very nobly towards
him.

Don Gennaro, as I returned home, managed to thank me for my handsome
present without laughing, and the next day Don Antonio, to make up for
the muscatel wine I had sent him, offered me a gold-headed cane, worth at
least fifteen ounces, and his tailor brought me a travelling suit and a
blue great coat, with the buttonholes in gold lace. I therefore found
myself splendidly equipped.

At the Duchess de Bovino's dinner I made the acquaintance of the wisest
and most learned man in Naples, the illustrious Don Lelio Caraffa, who
belonged to the ducal family of Matalona, and whom King Carlos honoured
with the title of friend.

I spent two delightful hours in the convent parlour, coping successfully
with the curiosity of all the nuns who were pressing against the grating.
Had destiny allowed me to remain in Naples my fortune would have been
made; but, although I had no fixed plan, the voice of fate summoned me to
Rome, and therefore I resisted all the entreaties of my cousin Antonio to
accept the honourable position of tutor in several houses of the highest
order.

Don Antonio gave a splendid dinner in my honour, but he was annoyed and
angry because he saw that his wife looked daggers at her new cousin. I
thought that, more than once, she cast a glance at my new costume, and
then whispered to the guest next to her. Very likely she knew what had
taken place. There are some positions in life to which I could never be
reconciled. If, in the most brilliant circle, there is one person who
affects to stare at me I lose all presence of mind. Self-dignity feels
outraged, my wit dies away, and I play the part of a dolt. It is a
weakness on my part, but a weakness I cannot overcome.

Don Lelio Caraffa offered me a very liberal salary if I would undertake
the education of his nephew, the Duke de Matalona, then ten years of age.
I expressed my gratitude, and begged him to be my true benefactor in a
different manner--namely, by giving me a few good letters of introduction
for Rome, a favour which he granted at once. He gave me one for Cardinal
Acquaviva, and another for Father Georgi.

I found out that the interest felt towards me by my friends had induced
them to obtain for me the honour of kissing the hand of Her Majesty the
Queen, and I hastened my preparations to leave Naples, for the queen
would certainly have asked me some questions, and I could not have
avoided telling her that I had just left Martorano and the poor bishop
whom she had sent there. The queen likewise knew my mother; she would
very likely have alluded to my mother's profession in Dresden; it would
have mortified Don Antonio, and my pedigree would have been covered with
ridicule. I knew the force of prejudice! I should have been ruined, and I
felt I should do well to withdraw in good time. As I took leave of him,
Don Antonio presented me with a fine gold watch and gave me a letter for
Don Gaspar Vidaldi, whom he called his best friend. Don Gennaro paid me
the sixty ducats, and his son, swearing eternal friendship, asked me to
write to him. They all accompanied me to the coach, blending their tears
with mine, and loading me with good wishes and blessings.

From my landing in Chiozza up to my arrival in Naples, fortune had seemed
bent upon frowning on me; in Naples it began to shew itself less adverse,
and on my return to that city it entirely smiled upon me. Naples has
always been a fortunate place for me, as the reader of my memoirs will
discover. My readers must not forget that in Portici I was on the point
of disgracing myself, and there is no remedy against the degradation of
the mind, for nothing can restore it to its former standard. It is a case
of disheartening atony for which there is no possible cure.

I was not ungrateful to the good Bishop of Martorano, for, if he had
unwittingly injured me by summoning me to his diocese, I felt that to his
letter for M. Gennaro I was indebted for all the good fortune which had
just befallen me. I wrote to him from Rome.

I was wholly engaged in drying my tears as we were driving through the
beautiful street of Toledo, and it was only after we had left Naples that
I could find time to examine the countenance of my travelling companions.
Next to me, I saw a man of from forty to fifty, with a pleasing face and
a lively air, but, opposite to me, two charming faces delighted my eyes.
They belonged to two ladies, young and pretty, very well dressed, with a
look of candour and modesty. This discovery was most agreeable, but I
felt sad and I wanted calm and silence. We reached Avessa without one
word being exchanged, and as the vetturino stopped there only to water
his mules, we did not get out of the coach. From Avessa to Capua my
companions conversed almost without interruption, and, wonderful to
relate! I did not open my lips once. I was amused by the Neapolitan
jargon of the gentleman, and by the pretty accent of the ladies, who were
evidently Romans. It was a most wonderful feat for me to remain five
hours before two charming women without addressing one word to them,
without paying them one compliment.

At Capua, where we were to spend the night, we put up at an inn, and were
shown into a room with two beds--a very usual thing in Italy. The
Neapolitan, addressing himself to me, said,

"Am I to have the honour of sleeping with the reverend gentleman?"

I answered in a very serious tone that it was for him to choose or to
arrange it otherwise, if he liked. The answer made the two ladies smile,
particularly the one whom I preferred, and it seemed to me a good omen.

We were five at supper, for it is usual for the vetturino to supply his
travellers with their meals, unless some private agreement is made
otherwise, and to sit down at table with them. In the desultory talk
which went on during the supper, I found in my travelling companions
decorum, propriety, wit, and the manners of persons accustomed to good
society. I became curious to know who they were, and going down with the
driver after supper, I asked him.

"The gentleman," he told me, "is an advocate, and one of the ladies is
his wife, but I do not know which of the two."

I went back to our room, and I was polite enough to go to bed first, in
order to make it easier for the ladies to undress themselves with
freedom; I likewise got up first in the morning, left the room, and only
returned when I was called for breakfast. The coffee was delicious. I
praised it highly, and the lady, the one who was my favourite, promised
that I should have the same every morning during our journey. The barber
came in after breakfast; the advocate was shaved, and the barber offered
me his services, which I declined, but the rogue declared that it was
slovenly to wear one's beard.

When we had resumed our seats in the coach, the advocate made some remark
upon the impudence of barbers in general.

"But we ought to decide first," said the lady, "whether or not it is
slovenly to go bearded."

"Of course it is," said the advocate. "Beard is nothing but a dirty
excrescence."

"You may think so," I answered, "but everybody does not share your
opinion. Do we consider as a dirty excrescence the hair of which we take
so much care, and which is of the same nature as the beard? Far from it;
we admire the length and the beauty of the hair."

"Then," remarked the lady, "the barber is a fool."

"But after all," I asked, "have I any beard?"

"I thought you had," she answered.

"In that case, I will begin to shave as soon as I reach Rome, for this is
the first time that I have been convicted of having a beard."

"My dear wife," exclaimed the advocate, "you should have held your
tongue; perhaps the reverend abbe is going to Rome with the intention of
becoming a Capuchin friar."

The pleasantry made me laugh, but, unwilling that he should have the last
word, I answered that he had guessed rightly, that such had been my
intention, but that I had entirely altered my mind since I had seen his
wife.

"Oh! you are wrong," said the joyous Neapolitan, "for my wife is very
fond of Capuchins, and if you wish to please her, you had better follow
your original vocation." Our conversation continued in the same tone of
pleasantry, and the day passed off in an agreeable manner; in the evening
we had a very poor supper at Garillan, but we made up for it by
cheerfulness and witty conversation. My dawning inclination for the
advocate's wife borrowed strength from the affectionate manner she
displayed towards me.

The next day she asked me, after we had resumed our journey, whether I
intended to make a long stay in Rome before returning to Venice. I
answered that, having no acquaintances in Rome, I was afraid my life
there would be very dull.

"Strangers are liked in Rome," she said, "I feel certain that you will be
pleased with your residence in that city."

"May I hope, madam, that you will allow me to pay you my respects?"

"We shall be honoured by your calling on us," said the advocate.

My eyes were fixed upon his charming wife. She blushed, but I did not
appear to notice it. I kept up the conversation, and the day passed as
pleasantly as the previous one. We stopped at Terracina, where they gave
us a room with three beds, two single beds and a large one between the
two others. It was natural that the two sisters should take the large
bed; they did so, and undressed themselves while the advocate and I went
on talking at the table, with our backs turned to them. As soon as they
had gone to rest, the advocate took the bed on which he found his
nightcap, and I the other, which was only about one foot distant from the
large bed. I remarked that the lady by whom I was captivated was on the
side nearest my couch, and, without much vanity, I could suppose that it
was not owing only to chance.

I put the light out and laid down, revolving in my mind a project which I
could not abandon, and yet durst not execute. In vain did I court sleep.
A very faint light enabled me to perceive the bed in which the pretty
woman was lying, and my eyes would, in spite of myself, remain open. It
would be difficult to guess what I might have done at last (I had already
fought a hard battle with myself for more than an hour), when I saw her
rise, get out of her bed, and go and lay herself down near her husband,
who, most likely, did not wake up, and continued to sleep in peace, for I
did not hear any noise.

Vexed, disgusted.... I tried to compose myself to sleep, and I woke only
at day-break. Seeing the beautiful wandering star in her own bed, I got
up, dressed myself in haste, and went out, leaving all my companions fast
asleep. I returned to the inn only at the time fixed for our departure,
and I found the advocate and the two ladies already in the coach, waiting
for me.

The lady complained, in a very obliging manner, of my not having cared
for her coffee; I pleaded as an excuse a desire for an early walk, and I
took care not to honour her even with a look; I feigned to be suffering
from the toothache, and remained in my corner dull and silent. At Piperno
she managed to whisper to me that my toothache was all sham; I was
pleased with the reproach, because it heralded an explanation which I
craved for, in spite of my vexation.

During the afternoon I continued my policy of the morning. I was morose
and silent until we reached Serinonetta, where we were to pass the night.
We arrived early, and the weather being fine, the lady said that she
could enjoy a walk, and asked me politely to offer her my arm. I did so,
for it would have been rude to refuse; besides I had had enough of my
sulking fit. An explanation could alone bring matters back to their
original standing, but I did not know how to force it upon the lady. Her
husband followed us at some distance with the sister.

When we were far enough in advance, I ventured to ask her why she had
supposed my toothache to have been feigned.

"I am very candid," she said; "it is because the difference in your
manner was so marked, and because you were so careful to avoid looking at
me through the whole day. A toothache would not have prevented you from
being polite, and therefore I thought it had been feigned for some
purpose. But I am certain that not one of us can possibly have given you
any grounds for such a rapid change in your manner."

"Yet something must have caused the change, and you, madam, are only half
sincere."

"You are mistaken, sir, I am entirely sincere; and if I have given you
any motive for anger, I am, and must remain, ignorant of it. Be good
enough to tell me what I have done."

"Nothing, for I have no right to complain."

"Yes, you have; you have a right, the same that I have myself; the right
which good society grants to every one of its members. Speak, and shew
yourself as sincere as I am."

"You are certainly bound not to know, or to pretend not to know the real
cause, but you must acknowledge that my duty is to remain silent."

"Very well; now it is all over; but if your duty bids you to conceal the
cause of your bad humour, it also bids you not to shew it. Delicacy
sometimes enforces upon a polite gentleman the necessity of concealing
certain feelings which might implicate either himself or others; it is a
restraint for the mind, I confess, but it has some advantage when its
effect is to render more amiable the man who forces himself to accept
that restraint." Her close argument made me blush for shame, and carrying
her beautiful hand to my lips, I confessed my self in the wrong.

"You would see me at your feet," I exclaimed, "in token of my repentance,
were I not afraid of injuring you---"

"Do not let us allude to the matter any more," she answered.

And, pleased with my repentance, she gave me a look so expressive of
forgiveness that, without being afraid of augmenting my guilt, I took my
lips off her hand and I raised them to her half-open, smiling mouth.
Intoxicated with rapture, I passed so rapidly from a state of sadness to
one of overwhelming cheerfulness that during our supper the advocate
enjoyed a thousand jokes upon my toothache, so quickly cured by the
simple remedy of a walk. On the following day we dined at Velletri and
slept in Marino, where, although the town was full of troops, we had two
small rooms and a good supper. I could not have been on better terms with
my charming Roman; for, although I had received but a rapid proof of her
regard, it had been such a true one--such a tender one! In the coach our
eyes could not say much; but I was opposite to her, and our feet spoke a
very eloquent language.

The advocate had told me that he was going to Rome on some ecclesiastical
business, and that he intended to reside in the house of his
mother-in-law, whom his wife had not seen since her marriage, two years
ago, and her sister hoped to remain in Rome, where she expected to marry
a clerk at the Spirito Santo Bank. He gave me their address, with a
pressing invitation to call upon them, and I promised to devote all my
spare time to them.

We were enjoying our dessert, when my beautiful lady-love, admiring my
snuff-box, told her husband that she wished she had one like it.

"I will buy you one, dear."

"Then buy mine," I said; "I will let you have it for twenty ounces, and
you can give me a note of hand payable to bearer in payment. I owe that
amount to an Englishman, and I will give it him to redeem my debt."

"Your snuff-box, my dear abbe, is worth twenty ounces, but I cannot buy
it unless you agree to receive payment in cash; I should be delighted to
see it in my wife's possession, and she would keep it as a remembrance of
you."

His wife, thinking that I would not accept his offer, said that she had
no objection to give me the note of hand.

"But," exclaimed the advocate, "can you not guess the Englishman exists
only in our friend's imagination? He would never enter an appearance, and
we would have the snuff-box for nothing. Do not trust the abbe, my dear,
he is a great cheat."

"I had no idea," answered his wife, looking at me, "that the world
contained rogues of this species."

I affected a melancholy air, and said that I only wished myself rich
enough to be often guilty of such cheating.

When a man is in love very little is enough to throw him into despair,
and as little to enhance his joy to the utmost. There was but one bed in
the room where supper had been served, and another in a small closet
leading out of the room, but without a door. The ladies chose the closet,
and the advocate retired to rest before me. I bid the ladies good night
as soon as they had gone to bed; I looked at my dear mistress, and after
undressing myself I went to bed, intending not to sleep through the
night. But the reader may imagine my rage when I found, as I got into the
bed, that it creaked loud enough to wake the dead. I waited, however,
quite motionless, until my companion should be fast asleep, and as soon
as his snoring told me that he was entirely under the influence of
Morpheus, I tried to slip out of the bed; but the infernal creaking which
took place whenever I moved, woke my companion, who felt about with his
hand, and, finding me near him, went to sleep again. Half an hour after,
I tried a second time, but with the same result. I had to give it up in
despair.

Love is the most cunning of gods; in the midst of obstacles he seems to
be in his own element, but as his very existence depends upon the
enjoyment of those who ardently worship him, the shrewd, all-seeing,
little blind god contrives to bring success out of the most desperate
case.

I had given up all hope for the night, and had nearly gone to sleep, when
suddenly we hear a dreadful noise. Guns are fired in the street, people,
screaming and howling, are running up and down the stairs; at last there
is a loud knocking at our door. The advocate, frightened out of his
slumbers, asks me what it can all mean; I pretend to be very indifferent,
and beg to be allowed to sleep. But the ladies are trembling with fear,
and loudly calling for a light. I remain very quiet, the advocate jumps
out of bed, and runs out of the room to obtain a candle; I rise at once,
I follow him to shut the door, but I slam it rather too hard, the double
spring of the lock gives way, and the door cannot be reopened without the
key.

I approach the ladies in order to calm their anxiety, telling them that
the advocate would soon return with a light, and that we should then know
the cause of the tumult, but I am not losing my time, and am at work
while I am speaking. I meet with very little opposition, but, leaning
rather too heavily upon my fair lady, I break through the bottom of the
bedstead, and we suddenly find ourselves, the two ladies and myself, all
together in a heap on the floor. The advocate comes back and knocks at
the door; the sister gets up, I obey the prayers of my charming friend,
and, feeling my way, reach the door, and tell the advocate that I cannot
open it, and that he must get the key. The two sisters are behind me. I
extend my hand; but I am abruptly repulsed, and judge that I have
addressed myself to the wrong quarter; I go to the other side, and there
I am better received. But the husband returns, the noise of the key in
the lock announces that the door is going to be opened, and we return to
our respective beds.

The advocate hurries to the bed of the two frightened ladies, thinking of
relieving their anxiety, but, when he sees them buried in their
broken-down bedstead, he bursts into a loud laugh. He tells me to come
and have a look at them, but I am very modest, and decline the
invitation. He then tells us that the alarm has been caused by a German
detachment attacking suddenly the Spanish troops in the city, and that
the Spaniards are running away. In a quarter of an hour the noise has
ceased, and quiet is entirely re-established.

The advocate complimented me upon my coolness, got into bed again, and
was soon asleep. As for me, I was careful not to close my eyes, and as
soon as I saw daylight I got up in order to perform certain ablutions and
to change my shirt; it was an absolute necessity.

I returned for breakfast, and while we were drinking the delicious coffee
which Donna Lucrezia had made, as I thought, better than ever, I remarked
that her sister frowned on me. But how little I cared for her anger when
I saw the cheerful, happy countenance, and the approving looks of my
adored Lucrezia! I felt a delightful sensation run through the whole of
my body.

We reached Rome very early. We had taken breakfast at the Tour, and the
advocate being in a very gay mood I assumed the same tone, loading him
with compliments, and predicting that a son would be born to him, I
compelled his wife to promise it should be so. I did not forget the
sister of my charming Lucrezia, and to make her change her hostile
attitude towards me I addressed to her so many pretty compliments, and
behaved in such a friendly manner, that she was compelled to forgive the
fall of the bed. As I took leave of them, I promised to give them a call
on the following day.

I was in Rome! with a good wardrobe, pretty well supplied with money and
jewellery, not wanting in experience, and with excellent letters of
introduction. I was free, my own master, and just reaching the age in
which a man can have faith in his own fortune, provided he is not
deficient in courage, and is blessed with a face likely to attract the
sympathy of those he mixes with. I was not handsome, but I had something
better than beauty--a striking expression which almost compelled a kind
interest in my favour, and I felt myself ready for anything. I knew that
Rome is the one city in which a man can begin from the lowest rung, and
reach the very top of the social ladder. This knowledge increased my
courage, and I must confess that a most inveterate feeling of self-esteem
which, on account of my inexperience, I could not distrust, enhanced
wonderfully my confidence in myself.

The man who intends to make his fortune in this ancient capital of the
world must be a chameleon susceptible of reflecting all the colours of
the atmosphere that surrounds him--a Proteus apt to assume every form,
every shape. He must be supple, flexible, insinuating; close,
inscrutable, often base, sometimes sincere, some times perfidious, always
concealing a part of his knowledge, indulging in one tone of voice,
patient, a perfect master of his own countenance as cold as ice when any
other man would be all fire; and if unfortunately he is not religious at
heart--a very common occurrence for a soul possessing the above
requisites--he must have religion in his mind, that is to say, on his
face, on his lips, in his manners; he must suffer quietly, if he be an
honest man the necessity of knowing himself an arrant hypocrite. The man
whose soul would loathe such a life should leave Rome and seek his
fortune elsewhere. I do not know whether I am praising or excusing
myself, but of all those qualities I possessed but one--namely,
flexibility; for the rest, I was only an interesting, heedless young
fellow, a pretty good blood horse, but not broken, or rather badly
broken; and that is much worse.