To Paris And Prison: The False Nun

J >> Jacques Casanova de Seingalt >> To Paris And Prison: The False Nun


The night was short, for she was obliged to return at three in the
morning, and it struck one as we sat down to table. As the climax of ill
luck a storm came on whilst we were at supper. Our hair stood on end; our
only hope was founded in the nature of these squalls, which seldom last
more than an hour. We were in hopes, also, that it would not leave behind
it too strong a wind, as is sometimes the case, for though I was strong
and sturdy I was far from having the skill or experience of a
professional boatman.

In less than half an hour the storm became violent, one flash of
lightning followed another, the thunder roared, and the wind grew to a
gale. Yet after a heavy rain, in less than an hour, the sky cleared, but
there was no moon, it being the day after the Ascension. Two o'clock
stuck. I put my head out at the window, but perceive that a contrary gale
is blowing.

'Ma tiranno del mar Libecchio resta.'

This Libecchio which Ariosto calls--and with good reason--the tyrant of
the sea, is the southwesterly wind, which is commonly called 'Garbin' at
Venice. I said nothing, but I was frightened. I told my sweetheart that
we must needs sacrifice an hour of pleasure, since prudence would have it
so.

"Let us set out forthwith, for if the gale gets stronger I shall not be
able to double the island."

She saw my advice was not to be questioned, and taking the key of her
strong box, whence she desired to get some money, she was delighted to
find her store increased fourfold. She thanked me for having told her
nothing about it, assuring me she would have of me nothing but my heart,
and following me she got into my boat and lay down at full length so as
not to hinder its motion, I got upon the poop, as full of fear as
courage, and in five minutes I had the good luck to double the point. But
there it was that the tyrant was waiting for me, and it was not long
before I felt that my strength would not outlast that of the winds. I
rowed with all my strength, but all I could do was to prevent my boat
from going back. For half an hour I was in this pitiful state, and I felt
my strength failing without daring to say a word. I was out of breath,
but could not rest a moment, since the least relaxation would have let
the boat slip a far way back, and this would have been a distance hard to
recover. M---- M---- lay still and silent, for she perceived I had no
breath wherewith to answer her. I began to give ourselves up as lost.

At that instant I saw in the distance a barque coming swiftly towards us.
What a piece of luck! I waited till she caught us up, for if I had not
done so I should not have been able to make myself heard, but as soon as
I saw her at my left hand, twelve feet off, I shouted, "Help! I will give
two sequins!"

They lowered sail and came towards me, and on their hailing me I asked
for a man to take us to the opposite point of the island. They asked a
sequin in advance, I gave it them, and promised the other to the man who
would get on my poop and help me to make the point. In less than ten
minutes we were opposite to the little stream leading to the convent, but
the secret of it was too dear to be hazarded, so as soon as we reached
the point I paid my preserver and sent him back. Henceforth the wind was
in our favour, and we soon got to the little door, where
M---- M---- landed, saying to me, "Go and sleep in the casino." I thought
her advice wise, and I followed it, and having the wind behind me I got
to the casino without trouble, and slept till broad day. As soon as I had
risen I wrote to my dear mistress that I was well, and that we should see
each other at the grating. Having taken my boat back to St. Francis, I
put on my mask and went to Liston.

In the morning M---- M---- came to the grating by herself, and we made all
such observations as our adventures of the night would be likely to
suggest, but in place of deciding to follow the advice which prudence
should have given us-namely, not to expose ourselves to danger for the
future, we thought ourselves extremely prudent in resolving that if we
were again threatened by a storm we would set out as soon as we saw it
rising. All the same we had to confess that if chance had not thrown the
barque in our way we should have been obliged to return to the casino,
for M---- M---- could not have got to the convent, and how could she ever
have entered its walls again? I should have been forced to leave Venice
with her, and that for ever. My life would have been finally and
irretrievably linked with hers, and, without doubt, the various
adventures which at the age of seventy-two years impel me to write these
Memoirs, would never have taken place.

For the next three months we continued to meet each other once a week,
always amorous, and never disturbed by the slightest accidents.

M---- M---- could not resist giving the ambassador a full account of our
adventures, and I had promised to write to him, and always to write the
whole truth. He replied by congratulating us on our good fortune, but he
prophesied inevitable disaster if we had not the prudence to stop our
intercourse.

Mr. Murray, the English ambassador, a witty and handsome man, and a great
amateur of the fair sex, wine, and good cheer, then kept the fair
Ancilla, who introduced me to him. This fine fellow became my friend in
much the same way as M. de Bernis, the only difference being that the
Frenchman liked to look on while the Englishman preferred to give the
show. I was never unwelcome at their amorous battles, and the voluptuous
Ancilla was delighted to have me for a witness. I never gave them the
pleasure of mingling in the strife. I loved M---- M----, but I should avow
that my fidelity to her was not entirely dependent on my love. Though
Ancilla was handsome she inspired me with repugnance, for she was always
hoarse, and complained of a sharp pain in the throat, and though her
lover kept well, I was afraid of her, and not without cause, for the
disease which ended the days of Francis I. of France brought her to the
grave in the following autumn. A quarter of an hour before she died, her
brave Briton, yielding to the lascivious requests of this new Messalina,
offered in my presence the last sacrifice, in spite of a large sore on
her face which made her look hideous.

This truly heroic action was known all over the town, and it was Murray
himself who made it known, citing me as his witness.

This famous courtezan, whose beauty was justly celebrated, feeling
herself eaten away by an internal disease, promised to give a hundred
louis to a doctor named Lucchesi, who by dint of mercury undertook to
cure her, but Ancilla specified on the agreement that she was not to pay
the aforesaid sum till Lucchesi had offered with her an amorous
sacrifice.

The doctor having done his business as well as he could wished to be paid
without submitting to the conditions of the treaty, but Ancilla held her
ground, and the matter was brought before a magistrate.

In England, where all agreements are binding, Ancilla would have won her
case, but at Venice she lost it.

The judge, in giving sentence, said a condition, criminal per se, not
fulfilled, did not invalidate an agreement--a sentence abounding in
wisdom, especially in this instance.

Two months before this woman had become disgusting, my friend M. Memmo,
afterwards procurator, asked me to take him to her house. In the height
of the conversation, what should come but a gondola, and we saw Count
Rosemberg, the ambassador from Vienna, getting out of it. M. Memmo was
thunderstruck (for a Venetian noble conversing with a foreign ambassador
becomes guilty of treason to the state), and ran in hot haste from
Ancilla's room, I after him, but on the stair he met the ambassador, who,
seeing his distress, burst into a laugh, and passed on. I got directly
into M. Memmo's gondola, and we went forthwith to M. Cavalli, secretary
to the State Inquisitors. M. Memmo could have taken no better course to
avoid the troublesome consequences which this fatal meeting might have
had, and he was very glad that I was with him to testify to his innocence
and to the harmlessness of the occurrence.

M. Cavalli received M. Memmo with a smile, and told him he did well to
come to confession without wasting any time. M. Memmo, much astonished at
this reception, told him the brief history of the meeting, and the
secretary replied with a grave air that he had no doubt as to the truth
of his story, as the circumstances were in perfect correspondence with
what he knew of the matter.

We came away extremely puzzled at the secretary's reply, and discussed
the subject for some time, but then we came to the conclusion that M.
Cavalli could have had no positive knowledge of the matter before we
came, and that he only spoke as he did from the instinct of an
Inquisitor, who likes it to be understood that nothing is hid from him
for a moment.

After the death of Ancilla, Mr. Murray remained without a titular
mistress, but, fluttering about like a butterfly, he had, one after
another, the prettiest girls in Venice. This good-natured Epicurean set
out for Constantinople two years later, and was for twenty years the
ambassador of the Court of St. James at the Sublime Porte. He returned to
Venice in 1778 with the intention of ending his days there, far from
affairs of state, but he died in the lazaretto eight days before the
completion of his quarantine.

At play fortune continued to favour me; my commerce with M---- M---- could
not be discovered now that I was my own waterman; and the nuns who were
in the secret were too deeply involved not to keep it. I led them a merry
life, but I foresaw that as soon as M. de Bernis decided to let
M---- M---- know that he would not return to Venice, he would recall his
people, and we should then have the casino no longer. I knew, besides,
that when the rough season came on it would be impossible for me by
myself to continue our voyages.

The first Monday in October, when the theatres are opened and masks may
be worn, I went to St. Francis to get my boat, and thence to Muran for my
mistress, afterwards making for the casino. The nights were now long
enough for us to have ample time for enjoyment, so we began by making an
excellent supper, and then devoted ourselves to the worship of Love and
Sleep. Suddenly, in the midst of a moment of ecstasy, I heard a noise in
the direction of the canal, which aroused my suspicions, and I rushed to
the window. What was my astonishment and anger to see a large boat taking
mine in tow! Nevertheless, without giving way to my passion, I shouted to
the robbers that I would give them ten sequins if they would be kind
enough to return me my boat.

A shout of laughter was all the reply they made, and not believing what I
said they continued their course. What was I to do? I dared not cry,
"Stop thief!" and not being endued with the power of walking on the water
dry-footed, I could not give chase to the robbers. I was in the utmost
distress, and for the moment M---- M---- shewed signs of terror, for she
did not see how I could remedy this disaster.

I dressed myself hastily, giving no more thoughts to love, my only
comfort being that I had still two hours to get the indispensable boat,
should it cost me a hundred sequins. I should have been in no perplexity
if I had been able to take one, but the gondoliers would infallibly make
proclamation over the whole of Muran that they had taken a nun to such a
convent, and all would have been lost.

The only way, then, that was open to me was either to buy a boat or to
steal one. I put my pistols and dagger in my pocket, took some money, and
with an oar on my shoulder set out.

The robbers had filed the chain of my boat with a silent file; this I
could not do, and I could only reckon on having the good luck to find a
boat moored with cords.

Coming to the large bridge I saw boats and to spare, but there were
people on the quay, and I would not risk taking one. Seeing a tavern open
at the end of the quay I ran like a madman, and asked if there were any
boatmen there; the drawer told me there were two, but that they were
drunk. I came up to them, and said, "Who will take me to Venice for
eighty sous?"

"I," and "I;" and they began to quarrel as to who should go. I quieted
them by giving forty sous to the more drunken of the two, and I went out
with the other.

As soon as we were on our way, I said,

"You are too drunk to take me, lend me your boat, and I will give it you
back to-morrow."

"I don't know you."

"I will deposit ten sequins, but your boat is not worth that. Who will be
your surety?"

He took me back to the tavern, and the drawer went bail for him. Well
pleased, I took my man to the boat, and having furnished it with a second
oar and two poles he went away, chuckling at having made a good bargain,
while I was as glad to have had the worst of it. I had been an hour away,
and on entering the casino found my dear M---- M---- in an agony, but as
soon as she saw my beaming face all the laughter came back on hers. I
took her to the convent, and then went to St. Francis, where the keeper
of the boathouse looked as if he thought me a fool, when I told him that
I had trucked away my boat for the one I had with me. I put on my mask,
and went forthwith to my lodging and to bed, for these annoyances had
been too much for me.

About this time my destiny made me acquainted with a nobleman called Mark
Antony Zorzi, a man of parts and famous for his skill in writing verses
in the Venetian dialect. Zorzi, who was very fond of the play, and
desired to offer a sacrifice to Thalia, wrote a comedy which the audience
took the liberty of hissing; but having persuaded himself that his piece
only failed through the conspiracies of the Abbe Chiari, who wrote for
the Theatre of St. Angelo, he declared open war against all the abbe's
plays.

I felt no reluctance whatever to visit M. Zorzi, for he possessed an
excellent cook and a charming wife. He knew that I did not care for
Chiari as an author, and M. Zorzi had in his pay people who, without
pity, rhyme, or reason, hissed all the compositions of the ecclesiastical
playwright. My part was to criticise them in hammer verses--a kind of
doggerel then much in fashion, and Zorzi took care to distribute my
lucubrations far and wide. These manoeuvres made me a powerful enemy in
the person of M. Condulmer, who liked me none the better for having all
the appearance of being in high favour with Madame Zorzi, to whom before
my appearance he had paid diligent court. This M. Condulmer was to be
excused for not caring for me, for, having a large share in the St.
Angelo Theatre, the failure of the abbe's pieces was a loss to him, as
the boxes had to be let at a very low rent, and all men are governed by
interested motives.

This M. Condulmer was sixty years old, but with all the greenness of
youth he was still fond of women, gaming, and money, and he was, in fact,
a money-lender, but he knew how to pass for a saint, as he took care to
go to mass every morning at St. Mark's, and never omitted to shed tears
before the crucifix. The following year he was made a councillor, and in
that capacity he was for eight months a State Inquisitor. Having thus
attained this diabolically-eminent, or eminently-diabolical, position, he
had not much difficulty in shewing his colleagues the necessity of
putting me under The Leads as a disturber of the peace of the Republic.
In the beginning of the winter the astounding news of the treaty between
France and Austria was divulged--a treaty by which the political balance
was entirely readjusted, and which was received with incredulity by the
Powers. The whole of Italy had reason to rejoice, for the treaty guarded
that fair land from becoming the theatre of war on the slightest
difference which might arise between the two Powers. What astonished the
most acute was that this wonderful treaty was conceived and carried out
by a young ambassador who had hitherto been famed only as a wit. The
first foundations had been laid in 1750 by Madame de Pompadour, Count
Canes (who was created a prince), and M. l'Abbe de Bernis, who was not
known till the following year, when the king made him ambassador to
Venice. The House of Bourbon and the House of Hapsburg had been foes for
two hundred and forty years when this famous treaty was concluded, but it
only lasted for forty years, and it is not likely that any treaty will
last longer between two courts so essentially opposed to one another.

The Abbe de Bernis was created minister for foreign affairs some time
after the ratification of the treaty; three years after he re-established
the parliament, became a cardinal, was disgraced, and finally sent to
Rome, where he died. 'Mors ultimo linea rerum est'.

Affairs fell out as I had foreseen, for nine months after he left Venice
he conveyed to M---- M---- the news of his recall, though he did it in the
most delicate manner. Nevertheless, M---- M---- felt the blow so severely
that she would very possibly have succumbed, had I not been preparing her
for it in every way I could think of M. de Bernis sent me all
instructions.

He directed that all the contents of the casino should be sold and the
proceeds given to M---- M----, with the exception of the books and prints
which the housekeeper was ordered to bring to Paris. It was a nice
breviary for a cardinal, but would to God they had nothing worse!

Whilst M---- M---- abandoned herself to grief I carried out the orders of
M. de Bernis, and by the middle of January we had no longer a casino. She
kept by her two thousand sequins and her pearls, intending to sell them
later on to buy herself an annuity.

We were now only able to see each other at the grating; and soon, worn
with grief, she fell dangerously ill, and on the 2nd of February I
recognized in her features the symptoms of approaching death. She sent me
her jewel-case, with all her diamonds and nearly all her money, all the
scandalous books she possessed, and all her letters, telling me that if
she did not die I was to return her the whole, but that all belonged to
me if, as she thought, she should succumb to the disease. She also told
me that C---- C---- was aware of her state, and asked me to take pity on
her and write to her, as my letters were her only comfort, and that she
hoped to have strength to read them till her latest breath.

I burst into tears, for I loved her passionately, and I promised her to
come and live in Muran until she recovered her health.

Having placed the property in a gondola, I went to the Bragadin Palace to
deposit it, and then returned to Muran to get Laura to find me a
furnished room where I could live as I liked. "I know of a good room,
with meals provided," she said; "you will be quite comfortable and will
get it cheaply, and if you like to pay in advance, you need not even say
who you are. The old man to whom the house belongs lives on the ground
floor; he will give you all the keys and if you like you need see no
one."

She gave me the address, and I went there on the spot, and having found
everything to my liking I paid a month in advance and the thing was done.
It was a little house at the end of a blind alley abutting on the canal.
I returned to Laura's house to tell her that I wanted a servant to get my
food and to make my bed, and she promised to get me one by the next day.

Having set all in order for my new lodging, I returned to Venice and
packed my mails as if I were about to make a long journey. After supper I
took leave of M. de Bragadin and of his two friends, telling them that I
was going to be away for several weeks on important business.

Next day, going to my new room, I was surprised to find there Tonine,
Laura's daughter, a pretty girl not more than fifteen years old, who told
me with a blush, but with more spirit than I gave her credit for, that
she would serve me as well as her mother would have done.

I was in too much distress to thank Laura for this pretty present, and I
even determined that her daughter should not stay in my service. We know
how much such resolutions are commonly worth. In the meanwhile I was kind
to the girl: "I am sure," I said, "of your goodwill, but I must talk to
your mother. I must be alone," I added, "as I have to write all day, and
I shall not take anything till the evening." She then gave me a letter,
begging pardon for not having given it me sooner. "You must never forget
to deliver messages," I said, "for if you had waited any longer before
bringing me this letter, it might have had the most serious
consequences." She blushed, begged pardon, and went out of the room. The
letter was from C---- C----, who told me that her friend was in bed, and
that the doctor had pronounced her illness to be fever. I passed the rest
of the day in putting my room in order, and in writing to C---- C---- and
her suffering friend.

Towards evening Tonine brought in the candles, and told me that my supper
was ready. "Follow me," I said. Seeing that she had only laid supper for
one--a pleasing proof of her modesty, I told her to get another knife and
fork, as I wished her always to take her meals with me. I can give no
account of my motives. I only wished to be kind to her, and I did
everything in good faith. By and by, reader, we shall see whether this is
not one of the devices by which the devil compasses his ends.

Not having any appetite, I ate little, but I thought everything good with
the exception of the wine; but Tonine promised to get some better by the
next day, and when supper was over she went to sleep in the ante-room.

After sealing my letters, wishing to know whether the outer door was
locked, I went out and saw Tonine in bed, sleeping peacefully, or
pretending to do so. I might have suspected her thoughts, but I had never
been in a similar situation, and I measured the extremity of my grief by
the indifference with which I looked at this girl; she was pretty, but
for all that I felt that neither she nor I ran any risk.

Next day, waking very early, I called her, and she came in neatly
dressed. I gave her my letter to C---- C----, which enclosed the letter to
M---- M----, telling her to take it to her mother and then to return to
make my coffee.

"I shall dine at noon, Tonine," I said, "take care to get what is
necessary in good time."

"Sir, I prepared yesterday's supper myself, and if you like I can cook
all your meals."

"I am satisfied with your abilities, go on, and here is a sequin for
expenses."

"I still have a hundred and twenty sous remaining from the one you gave
me yesterday, and that will be enough."

"No, they are for yourself, and I shall give you as much every day."

Her delight was so great that I could not prevent her covering my hand
with kisses. I took care to draw it back and not to kiss her in return,
for I felt as if I should be obliged to laugh, and this would have
dishonoured my grief.

The second day passed like the first. Tonine was glad that I said no more
about speaking to her mother, and drew the conclusion that her services
were agreeable to me. Feeling tired and weak, and fearing that I should
not wake early enough to send the letter to the convent, but not wishing
to rouse Tonine if she were asleep, I called her softly. She rose
immediately and came into my room with nothing on but a slight petticoat.
Pretending to see nothing, I gave her my letter, and told her to take it
to her mother in the morning before she came into my room. She went out,
saying that my instructions should be carried out, but as soon as she was
gone I could not resist saying to myself that she was very pretty; and I
felt both sad and ashamed at the reflection that this girl could very
easily console me. I hugged my grief, and I determined to separate myself
from a being who made me forget it.

"In the morning," I said, "I will tell Laura to get me something less
seducing;" but the night brought counsel, and in the morning I put on the
armour of sophism, telling myself that my weakness was no fault of the
girl's, and that it would therefore be unjust to punish her for it. We
shall see, dear reader, how all this ended.




CHAPTER XXIII

Continues the Preceding Chapter--M. M. Recovers--I Return to
Venice--Tonine Consoles Me--Decrease of My Love For M. M.--Doctor
Righelini--Curious Conversation With Him--How This Conversation Affected
M. M.--Mr. Murray Undeceived and Avenged

Tontine had what is called tact and common sense, and thinking these
qualities were required in our economy she behaved with great delicacy,
not going to bed before receiving my letters, and never coming into my
room except in a proper dress, and all this pleased me. For a fortnight
M---- M---- was so ill that I expected every moment to hear the news of her
death. On Shrove Tuesday C---- C---- wrote that her friend was not strong
enough to read my letter, and that she was going to receive 'extreme
unction'. This news so shocked me that I could not rise, and passed the
whole day in weeping and writing, Tonine not leaving me till midnight. I
could not sleep. On Ash Wednesday I got a letter, in which C---- C---- told
me that the doctor had no hopes for her friend, and that he only gave her
a fortnight to live. A low fever was wasting her away, her weakness was
extreme, and she could scarcely swallow a little broth. She had also the
misfortune to be harassed by her confessor, who made her foretaste all
the terrors of death. I could only solace my grief by writing, and Tonine
now and again made bold to observe that I was cherishing my grief, and
that it would be the death of me. I knew myself that I was making my
anguish more poignant, and that keeping to my bed, continued writing, and
no food, would finally drive me mad. I had told my grief to poor Tonine,
whose chief duty was to wipe away my tears. She had compassion on me.