In 1787, a book was published under the title of 'Dreissig Brief uber
Galizien by Traunpaur', which included this passage: "The most famous
adventurers of two sorts (there are two, in fact: honest adventurers and
adventurers of doubtful reputation) have appeared on the scene of the
kingdom of Poland. The best known on the shores of the Vistula are: the
miraculous Cagliostro: Boisson de Quency, grand charlatan, soldier of
fortune, decorated with many orders, member of numerous Academies: the
Venetian Casanova of Saint-Gall, a true savant, who fought a duel with
Count Branicki: the Baron de Poellnitz . . . the lucky Count Tomatis, who
knew so well how to correct fortune, and many others."
In June 1789, Casanova received a letter from Teresa Boisson de Quency,
the wife of the adventurer above referred to:
"Much honored Monsieur Giacomo:
"For a long time I have felt a very particular desire to evidence to you
the estimation due your spirit and your eminent qualities: the superb
sonnet augmented my wish. But the inconveniences of childbirth and the
cares required by a little girl whom I adore, made me defer this
pleasure. During my husband's absence, your last and much honored letter
came to my hands. Your amiable compliments to me, engage me to take the
pen to give you renewed assurance that you have in me a sincere admirer
of your great talent . . . . When I wish to point out a person who writes
and thinks with excellence, I name Monsieur Casanova . . . ."
In 1793, Teresa de Quency wished to return to Venice at which time Zaguri
wrote Casanova: "The Bassani has received letters from her husband which
tell her nothing more than that he is alive."
Casanova passed the months of May, June and July 1788 at Prague,
supervising the printing of the Histoire de ma fuite.
"I remember laughing very heartily at Prague, six years ago, on learning
that some thin-skinned ladies, on reading my flight from The Leads, which
was published at that date, took great offense at the above account,
which they thought I should have done well to leave out."
In May he was troubled with an attack of the grippe. In October, he was
in Dresden, apparently with his brother. Around this time "The
Magdalene," a painting by Correggio, was stolen from the Museum of the
Elector.
On the 30th October 1788, Casanova wrote to the Prince Belozelski,
Russian Minister to the Court of Dresden: "Tuesday morning, after having
embraced my dear brother, I got into a carriage to return here. At the
barrier on the outskirts of Dresden, I was obliged to descend, and six
men carried the two chests of my carriage, my two night-bags and my
capelire into a little chamber on the ground level, demanded my keys, and
examined everything . . . . The youngest of these infamous executors of
such an order told me they were searching for 'The Magdalene! . . . The
oldest had the impudence to put his hands on my waistcoat . . . . At last
they let me go.
"This, my prince, delayed me so that I could not reach Petervalden by
daylight. I stopped at an evil tavern where, dying of famine and rage, I
ate everything I saw; and, wishing to drink and not liking beer, I gulped
down some beverage which my host told me was good and which did not seem
unpleasant. He told me that it was Pilnitz Moste. This beverage aroused a
rebellion in my guts. I passed the night tormented by a continual
diarrhoea. I arrived here the day before yesterday (the 28th), where I
found an unpleasant duty awaiting me. Two months ago, I brought a woman
here to cook, needing her while the Count is away; as soon as she
arrived, I gave her a room and I went to Leipzig. On returning here, I
found three servants in the hands of surgeons and all three blame my cook
for putting them in such a state. The Count's courier had already told
me, at Leipzig, that she had crippled him. Yesterday the Count arrived
and would do nothing but laugh, but I have sent her back and exhorted her
to imitate the Magdalene. The amusing part is that she is old, ugly and
ill-smelling."
In 1789, 1791 and 1792, Casanova received three letters from Maddalena
Allegranti, the niece of J. B. Allegranti the innkeeper with whom
Casanova lodged at Florence in 1771. "This young person, still a child,
was so pretty, so gracious, with such spirit and such charms, that she
incessantly distracted me. Sometimes she would come into my chamber to
wish me good-morning . . . . Her appearance, her grace, the sound of her
voice . . . were more than I could resist; and, fearing the seduction
would excuse mine, I could find no other expedient than to take flight.
. . . Some years later, Maddalena became a celebrated musician."
At this period of Casanova's life, we hear again of the hussy who so
upset Casanova during his visit to London that he was actually on the
point of committing suicide through sheer desperation. On the 20th
September 1789, he wrote to the Princess Clari, sister of the Prince de
Ligne: "I am struck by a woman at first sight, she completely ravishes
me, and I am perhaps lost, for she may be a Charpillon."
There were, among the papers at Dux, two letters from Marianne
Charpillon, and a manuscript outlining the story of Casanova's relations
with her and her family, as detailed in the Memoirs: With the story in
mind, the letters from this girl, "the mistress, now of one, now of
another," are of interest:
"I know not, Monsieur, whether you forgot the engagement Saturday last;
as for me, I remember that you consented to give us the pleasure of
having you at dinner to-day, Monday, the 12th of the month. I would
greatly like to know whether your ill-humor has left you; this would
please me. Farewell, in awaiting the honor of seeing you.
"Marianne de Charpillon."
"Monsieur,
"As I have a part in all which concerns you, I am greatly put out to know
of the new illness which incommodes you; I hope that this will be so
trifling that we will have the pleasure of seeing you well and at our
house, to-day or to-morrow.
"And, in truth, the gift which you sent me is so pretty that I know not
how to express to you the pleasure it has given me and how much I value
it; and I cannot see why you must always provoke me by telling me that it
is my fault that you are filled with bile, while I am as innocent as a
new-born babe and would wish you so gentle and patient that your blood
would become a true clarified syrup; this will come to you if you follow
my advice. I am, Monsieur,
"Your very humble servant,
"[Marianne Charpillon]
"Wednesday at six o'clock"
On the 8th April, 1790, Zaguri wrote in reference to vertigo of which
Casanova complained: "Have you tried riding horseback? Do you not think
that is an excellent preservative? I tried it this last summer and I find
myself very well."
In 1790, Casanova had a conversation with the Emperor Joseph II at
Luxemburg, on the subject of purchased nobility, which he reports in the
Memoirs.
This same year, attending the coronation of Leopold at Prague, Casanova
met his grandson (and, probably, as he himself believed, his own son),
the son of Leonilda, who was the daughter of Casanova and Donna Lucrezia,
and who was married to the Marquis C . . . . In 1792, Leonilda wrote,
inviting Casanova to "spend the remainder of my days with her."
In February 1791, Casanova wrote to Countess Lamberg: "I have in my
capitularies more than four hundred sentences which pass for aphorisms
and which include all the tricks which place one word for another. One
can read in Livy that Hannibal overcame the Alps by means of vinegar. No
elephant ever uttered such a stupidity. Livy? Not at all. Livy was not a
beast; it is you who are, foolish instructor of credulous youth! Livy did
not say aceto which means vinegar, but aceta which means axe."
In April 1791, Casanova wrote to Carlo Grimani at Venice, stating that he
felt he had committed a great fault in publishing his libel, 'Ne amori ne
donne', and very humbly begging his pardon. Also that his Memoirs would
be composed of six volumes in octavo with a seventh supplementary volume
containing codicils.
In June, Casanova composed for the theater of Princess Clari, at Teplitz,
a piece entitled: 'Le Polemoscope ou la Calomnie demasquee par la
presence d'esprit, tragicomedie en trois actes'. The manuscript was
preserved at Dux, together with another form of the same, having the
sub-title of 'La Lorgnette Menteuse ou la Calomnie demasquee'. It may be
assumed that the staging of this piece was an occasion of pleasant
activity for Casanova.
In January 1792, during Count Waldstein's absence in London or Paris,
Casanova was embroiled with M. Faulkircher, maitre d'hotel, over the
unpleasant matter indicated in two of Casanova's letters to this
functionary:
"Your rascally Vidierol . . . tore my portrait out of one of my books,
scrawled my name on it, with the epithet which you taught him and then
stuck it on the door of the privy ....
"Determined to make sure of the punishment of your infamous valet, and
wishing at the same time to give proof of my respect for Count Waldstein,
not forgetting that, as a last resort, I have the right to invade his
jurisdiction, I took an advocate, wrote my complaint and had it
translated into German . . . . Having heard of this at Teplitz, and
having known that I would not save your name, you came to my chamber to
beg me to write whatever I wished but not to name you because it would
place you wrong before the War Council and expose you to the loss of your
pension . . . . I have torn up my first complaint and have written a
second in Latin, which an advocate of Bilin has translated for me and
which I have deposited at the office of the judiciary at Dux...."
Following this matter, Casanova attended the Carnival at Oberleutensdorf,
and left at Dux a manuscript headed 'Passe temps de Jacques Casanova de
Seingalt pour le carnaval de l'an 1792 dans le bourg d'Oberleutensdorf'.
While in that city, meditating on the Faulkircher incident, he wrote also
'Les quinze pardons, monologue nocturne du bibliothecaire', also
preserved in manuscript at Dux, in which we read:
"Gerron, having served twenty years as a simple soldier, acquired a great
knowledge of military discipline. This man was not yet seventy years old.
He had come to believe, partly from practice, partly from theory, that
twenty blows with a baton on the rump are not dishonoring. When the
honest soldier was unfortunate enough to deserve them, he accepted them
with resignation. The pain was sharp, but not lasting; it did not deprive
him of either appetite nor honor . . . . Gerron, becoming a corporal, had
obtained no idea of any kind of sorrow other than that coming from the
blows of a baton on the rump . . . . On this idea, he thought that the
soul of an honest man was no different than a soldier's breech. If Gerron
caused trouble to the spirit of a man of honor, he thought that this
spirit, like his own, had only a rump, and that any trouble he caused
would pass likewise. He deceived himself. The breech of the spirit of an
honest man is different than the breech of the spirit of a Gerron who
rendered compatible the rank of a military officer with the vile
employments of a domestic and the stable-master of some particular lord.
Since Gerron deceived himself, we must pardon him all his faults . . ."
etc.
Casanova complained of the Faulkircher incident to the mother of Count
Waldstein, who wrote: "I pity you, Monsieur, for being obliged to live
among such people and in such evil company, but my son will not forget
that which he owes to himself and I am sure he will give you all the
satisfaction you wish." Also to his friend Zaguri, who wrote, the 16th
March: "I hope that the gout in your hand will not torment you any more.
. . . You have told me the story I asked about and which begins: 'Two
months have passed since an officer, who is at Vienna, insulted me!' I
cannot understand whether he who wrote you an insulting letter is at
Vienna or whether he is at Dux. When will the Count return? . . . You
should await his return because you would have, among other reasons to
present to him, that of not wishing to have recourse to other
jurisdiction than his. . . You say your letters have been intercepted?
Someone has put your portrait in the privy? The devil! It is a miracle
that you have not killed someone. Positively, I am curious to know the
results and I hope that you make no mistakes in this affair which appears
to me very delicate."
In August 1792, or thereabouts, Da Ponte on his way to Dresden, visited
Casanova at Dux, in the hope of collecting an old debt, but gave up this
hope on realizing Casanova's limited resources. In the winter of 1792-3
Da Ponte found himself in great distress in Holland. "Casanova was the
only man to whom I could apply," he writes in his Memoirs. "To better
dispose him, I thought to write him in verse, depicting my troubles and
begging him to send me some money on account of that which he still owed
me. Far from considering my request, he contented himself with replying,
in vulgar prose, by a laconic billet which I transcribe: 'When Cicero
wrote to his friends, he avoided telling them of his affairs.'"
In May 1793, Da Ponte wrote from London: "Count Waldstein has lived a
very obscure life in London, badly lodged, badly dressed, badly served,
always in cabarets, cafes, with porters, with rascals, with . . . we will
leave out the rest. He has the heart of an angel and an excellent
character, but not so good a head as ours."
Toward the end of 1792, Cssanova wrote a letter to Robespierre, which, as
he advises M. Opiz, the 13th January 1793, occupied one hundred and
twenty folio pages. This letter was not to be found at Dux and it may
possibly have been sent, or may have been destroyed by Casanova on the
advice of Abbe O'Kelly. Casanova's feelings were very bitter over the
trial of Louis XVI., and in his letters to M. Opiz he complained bitterly
of the Jacobins and predicted the ruin of France. Certainly, to Casanova,
the French Revolution represented the complete overthrow of many of his
cherished illusions.
On the 1st August 1793, Wilhelmina Rietz, Countess Lichtenau (called the
Pompadour of Frederic-William II., King of Prussia) wrote to the
librarian at Dux:
"Monsieur
"It seems impossible to know where Count Valstaine [Waldstein] is
staying, whether he is in Europe, Africa, America, or possibly the
Megamiques. If he is there, you are the only one who could insure his
receiving the enclosed letter.
"For my part, I have not yet had time to read their history, but the
first reading I do will assuredly be that.
"Mademoiselle Chappuis has the honor of recalling herself to your memory,
and I have that of being your very humble servant,
"Wilhelmina Rietz."
The allusions to a "history" and to the 'Megamiques' in this letter refer
to Casanova's romance, 'Icosameron'.
About this time, Count Waldstein returned to Dux after having been, at
Paris, according to Da Ponte, concerned in planning the flight of Louis
XVI., and in attempting to save the Princess Lamballe. On the 17th
August, Casanova replied to the above letter:
"Madame,
"I handed the Count your letter two minutes after having received it,
finding him easily. I told him that he should respond at once, for the
post was ready to go; but, as he begged to wait for the following
ordinary, I did not insist. The day before yesterday, he begged me to
wait again, but he did not find me so complaisant. I respond to you,
Madame, for his carelessness in replying to letters is extreme; he is so
shameful that he is in despair when he is obliged to it. Although he may
not respond, be sure of seeing him at your house at Berlin after the
Leipzig Fair, with a hundred bad excuses which you will laugh at and
pretend to believe good ones . . . . This last month, my wish to see
Berlin again has become immeasurable, and I will do my best to have Count
Waldstein take me there in the month of October or at least to permit me
to go . . . . You have given me an idea of Berlin far different than that
the city left with me when I passed four months there twenty-nine years
ago . . . . If my 'Icosameron' interests you, I offer you its Spirit. I
wrote it here two years ago and I would not have published it if I had
not dared hope that the Theological Censor would permit it. At Berlin no
one raised the least difficulty . . . . If circumstances do not permit me
to pay you my respects at Berlin, I hope for the happiness of seeing you
here next year . . . ."
Sometime after this and following his quarrel with M. Opiz, Casanova
evidently passed through a period of depression, as indicated by a
manuscript at Dux, headed "Short reflection of a philosopher who finds
himself thinking of procuring his own death," and dated "the 13th
December 1793, the day dedicated to S. Lucie, remarkable in my too long
life."
"Life is a burden to me. What is the metaphysical being who prevents me
from slaying myself? It is Nature. What is the other being who enjoins me
to lighten the burdens of that life which brings me only feeble pleasures
and heavy pains? It is Reason. Nature is a coward which, demanding only
conservation, orders me to sacrifice all to its existence. Reason is a
being which gives me resemblance to God, which treads instinct under foot
and which teaches me to choose the best way after having well considered
the reasons. It demonstrates to me that I am a man in imposing silence on
the Nature which opposes that action which alone could remedy all my
ills.
"Reason convinces me that the power I have of slaying myself is a
privilege given me by God, by which I perceive that I am superior to all
animals created in the world; for there is no animal who can slay itself
nor think of slaying itself, except the scorpion, which poisons itself,
but only when the fire which surrounds it convinces it that it cannot
save itself from being burned. This animal slays itself because it fears
fire more than death. Reason tells me imperiously that I have the right
to slay myself, with the divine oracle of Cen: 'Qui non potest vivere
bene non vivat male.' These eight words have such power that it is
impossible that a man to whom life is a burden could do other than slay
himself on first hearing them."
Certainly, however, Casanova did not deceive himself with these sophisms,
and Nature, who for many years had unquestionably lavished her gifts on
him, had her way.
Over the end of the year, the two mathematicians, Casanova and Opiz, at
the request of Count Waldstein, made a scientific examination of the
reform of the calendar as decreed the 5th October 1793 by the National
Convention.
In January 1795, Casanova wrote to the Princess Lobkowitz to thank her
for her gift of a little dog. On the 16th the Princess wrote from Vienna:
"Monsieur,
"I am enchanted at the charming reception you accorded the dog which I
sent you when I learned of the death of your well-loved greyhound,
knowing that she would nowhere be better cared for than with you,
Monsieur. I hope with all my heart that she has all the qualities which
may, in some fashion, help you to forget the deceased . . . ."
In the autumn of 1795, Casanova left Dux. The Prince de Ligne writes in
his Memoirs: "God directed him to leave Dux. Scarcely believing in more
than his death, which he no longer doubted, he pretended that each thing
he had done was by the direction of God and this was his guide. God
directed him to ask me for letters of recommendation to the Duke of
Weimar, who was my good friend, to the Duchess of Gotha, who did not know
me, and to the Jews of Berlin. And he departed secretly, leaving for
Count Waldstein a letter at once tender, proud, honest and irritating.
Waldstein laughed and said he would return. Casanova waited in
ante-chambers; no one would place him either as governor, librarian or
chamberlain. He said everywhere that the Germans were thorough beasts.
The excellent and very amiable Duke of Weimer welcomed him wonderfully;
but in an instant he became jealous of Goethe and Wieland, who were under
the Duke's protection. He declaimed against them and against the
literature of the country which he did not, and could not, know. At
Berlin, he declaimed against the ignorance, the superstition and the
knavery of the Hebrews to whom I had addressed him, drawing meanwhile,
for the money they claimed of him, bills of exchange on the Count who
laughed, paid, and embraced him when he returned. Casanova laughed, wept,
and told him that God had ordered him to make this trip of six weeks, to
leave without speaking of it, and to return to his chamber at Dux.
Enchanted at seeing us again, he agreeably related to us all the
misfortunes which had tried him and to which his susceptibility gave the
name of humiliations. 'I am proud,' he said, 'because I am nothing'. . . .
Eight days after his return, what new troubles! Everyone had been
served strawberries before him, and none remained for him."
The Prince de Ligne, although he was Casanova's sincere friend and
admirer, gives a rather somber picture of Casanova's life at Dux: "It
must not be imagined that he was satisfied to live quietly in the refuge
provided him through the kindness of Waldstein. That was not within his
nature. Not a day passed without trouble; something was certain to be
wrong with the coffee, the milk, the dish of macaroni, which he required
each day. There were always quarrels in the house. The cook had ruined
his polenta; the coachman had given him a bad driver to bring him to see
me; the dogs had barked all night; there had been more guests than usual
and he had found it necessary to eat at a side table. Some hunting-horn
had tormented his ear with its blasts; the priest had been trying to
convert him; Count Waldstein had not anticipated his morning greeting;
the servant had delayed with his wine; he had not been introduced to some
distinguished personage who had come to see the lance which had pierced
the side of the great Wallenstein; the Count had lent a book without
telling him; a groom had not touched his hat to him; his German speech
had been misunderstood; he had become angry and people had laughed at
him."
Like Count Waldstein, however, the Prince de Ligne made the widest
allowances, understanding the chafing of Casanova's restless spirit.
"Casanova has a mind without an equal, from which each word is
extraordinary and each thought a book."
On the 16th December, he wrote Casanova: "One is never old with your
heart, your genius and your stomach."
Casanova's own comment on his trip away from Dux will be found in the
Memoirs. "Two years ago, I set out for Hamburg, but my good genius made
me return to Dux. What had I to do at Hamburg?"
On the 10th December, Casanova's brother Giovanni [Jean] died. He was the
Director of the Academy of Painting at Dresden. Apparently the two
brothers could not remain friends.
Giovanni left two daughters, Teresa and Augusta, and two sons, Carlo and
Lorenzo. While he was unable to remain friendly with his brother,
Casanova apparently wished to be of assistance to his nieces, who were
not in the best of circumstances, and he exchanged a number of letters
with Teresa after her father's death.
On the occasion of Teresa Casanova's visit to Vienna in 1792, Princess
Clari, oldest sister of the Prince de Ligne, wrote of her: "She is
charming in every way, pretty as love, always amiable; she has had great
success. Prince Kaunitz loves her to the point of madness."
In a letter of the 25th April 1796, Teresa assured her "very amiable and
very dear uncle" that the cautions, which occupied three-fourths of his
letter, were unnecessary; and compared him with his brother Francois, to
the injury of the latter. On the 5th May, Teresa wrote:
"Before thanking you for your charming letter, my very kind uncle, I
should announce the issue of our pension of one hundred and sixty crowns
a year, which is to say, eighty crowns apiece; I am well satisfied for I
did not hope to receive so much." In the same letter, Teresa spoke of
seeing much of a "charming man," Don Antonio, who was no other than the
rascally adventurer Don Antonio della Croce with whom Casanova had been
acquainted since 1753, who assisted Casanova in losing a thousand sequins
at Milan in 1763; who in 1767, at Spa, following financial reverses,
abandoned his pregnant mistress to the charge of Casanova; and who in
August 1795, wrote to Casanova: "Your letter gave me great pleasure as
the sweet souvenir of our old friendship, unique and faithful over a
period of fifty years."
It is probable that, at this time, Casanova visited Dresden and Berlin
also. In his letter "To Leonard Snetlage," he writes: "'That which proves
that revolution should arrive,' a profound thinker said to me in Berlin,
last year, 'is that it has arrived.'"
On the 1st March, 1798, Carlo Angiolini, the son of Maria Maddalena,
Casanova's sister, wrote to Casanova: "This evening, Teresa will marry M.
le Chambellan de Veisnicht [Von Wessenig] whom you know well." This
desirable marriage received the approval of Francesco also. Teresa, as
the Baroness Wessenig, occupied a prominent social position at Dresden.
She died in 1842.
Between the 13th February and the 6th December 1796, Casanova engaged in
a correspondence with Mlle. Henriette de Schuckmann who was visiting at
Bayreuth. This Henriette (unfortunately not the Henriette of the Memoirs
whose "forty letters" to Casanova apparently have not been located), had
visited the library at Dux in the summer of 1786. "I was with the
Chamberlain Freiberg, and I was greatly moved, as much by your
conversation as by your kindness which provided me with a beautiful
edition of Metastasio, elegantly bound in red morocco." Finding herself
at Bayreuth in an enforced idleness and wishing a stimulant, wishing also
to borrow some books, she wrote Casanova, under the auspices of Count
Koenig, a mutual friend, the 13th February 1796, recalling herself to his
memory. Casanova responded to her overtures and five of her letters were
preserved at Dux. On the 28th May Henriette wrote:
"But certainly, my good friend, your letters have given me the greatest
pleasure, and it is with a rising satisfaction that I pore over all you
say to me. I love, I esteem, I cherish, your frankness . . . . I
understand you perfectly and I love to distraction the lively and
energetic manner with which you express yourself."
On the 30th September, she wrote: "You will read to-day, if you please, a
weary letter; for your silence, Monsieur, has given me humors. A promise
is a debt, and in your last letter you promised to write me at least a
dozen pages. I have every right to call you a bad debtor; I could summon
you before a court of justice; but all these acts of vengeance would not
repair the loss which I have endured through my hope and my fruitless
waiting . . . . It is your punishment to read this trivial page; but
although my head is empty, my heart is not so, and it holds for you a
very living friendship."
In March 1797, this Henriette went to Lausanne and in May from there to
her father's home at Mecklenburg.