On the 27th July 1792, Casanova wrote M. Opiz that he had finished the
twelfth volume of his Memoirs, with his age at forty-seven years 1772.
"Our late friend, the worthy Count Max Josef Lamberg," he added, "could
not bear the idea of my burning my Memoirs, and expecting to survive me,
had persuaded me to send him the first four volumes. But now there is no
longer any questions that his good soul has left his organs. Three weeks
ago I wept for his death, all the more so as he would still be living if
he had listened to me. I am, perhaps, the only one who knows the truth.
He who slew him was the surgeon Feuchter at Cremsir, who applied
thirty-six mercurial plasters on a gland in his left groin which was
swollen but not by the pox, as I am sure by the description he gave me of
the cause of the swelling. The mercury mounted to his esophagus and,
being able to swallow neither solids nor fluids, he died the 23rd June of
positive famine . . . . The interest of the bungling surgeon is to say
that he died of the pox. This is not true, I beg, you to give the lie to
anyone you hear saying it. I have before my eyes four hundred and sixty
of his letters over which I weep and which I will burn. I have asked
Count Leopold to burn mine, which he had saved, and I hope that he will
please me by doing it. I have survived all my true friends. 'Tempus abire
mihi est' Horace says to me.
"Returning to my Memoirs . . . I am a detestable man; but I do not care
about having it known, and I do not aspire to the honor of the
detestation of posterity. My work is full of excellent moral
instructions. But to what good, if the charming descriptions of my
offences excite the readers more to action than to repentance?
Furthermore, knowing readers would divine the names of all the women and
of the men which I have masked, whose transgressions are unknown to the
world, my indiscretion would injure them, they would cry out against my
perfidy, even though every word of my history were true . . . . Tell me
yourself whether or not I should burn my work? I am curious to have your
advice."
On the 6th May 1793, Casanova wrote Opiz: "The letter of recommendation
you ask of me to the professor my brother for your younger son, honors
me; and there is no doubt that, having for you all the estimation your
qualities merit, I should send it to you immediately. But this cannot be.
And here is the reason. My brother is my enemy; he has given me sure
indications of it and it appears that his hate will not cease until I no
longer exist. I hope that he may long survive me and be happy. This
desire is my only apology."
"The epigraph of the little work which I would give to the public,"
Casanova wrote the 23rd August 1793, "is 'In pondere et mensura'. It is
concerned with gravity and measure. I would demonstrate not only that the
course of the stars is irregular but also that it is susceptible only to
approximate measures and that consequently we must join physical and
moral calculations in establishing celestial movements. For I prove that
all fixed axes must have a necessarily irregular movement of oscillation,
from which comes a variation in all the necessary curves of the planets
which compose their eccentricities and their orbits. I demonstrate that
light has neither body nor spirit; I demonstrate that it comes in an
instant from its respective star; I demonstrate the impossibility of many
parallaxes and the uselessness of many others. I criticize not only
Tiko-Brahi, but also Kepler and Newton . . . .
"I wish to send you my manuscript and give you the trouble of publishing
it with my name at Prague or elsewhere . . . . I will sell it to the
printer or to yourself for fifty florins and twenty-five copies on fine
paper when it is printed."
But Opiz replied:
"As the father of a family, I do not feel myself authorized to dispose of
my revenues on the impulse of my fancy or as my heart suggests.... and no
offer of yours could make me a book-seller."
This shows plainly enough that Opiz, for all his interest in Casanova,
had not the qualities of true friendship.
On the 6th September 1793, Casanova wrote:
"I will have my Reveries printed at Dresden, and I will be pleased to
send you a copy. I laughed a little at your fear that I would take
offense because you did not want my manuscript by sending me the
ridiculous sum I named to you. This refusal, my dear friend, did not
offend me. On the contrary it was useful as an aid in knowing character.
Add to this that in making the offer I thought to make you a gift. Fear
nothing from the event. Your system of economy will never interfere with
either my proceedings or my doctrines; and I am in no need of begging
you, for I think that your action followed only your inclination and
consequently your greatest pleasure."
On the insistence of Opiz, Casanova continued his correspondence, but he
passed over nothing more, neither in exact quotations from Latin authors,
nor solecisms, nor lame reasonings. He even reproached him for his poor
writing and did not cease joking at the philanthropic and amiable
sentiments Opiz loved to parade while at the same time keeping his
purse-strings tight. A number of quarreling letters followed, after which
the correspondence came to an end. One of Casanova's last letters, that
of the 2nd February 1794, concludes: "One day M. de Bragadin said to me:
'Jacques, be careful never to convince a quibbler, for he will become
your enemy.' After this wise advice I avoided syllogism, which tended
toward conviction. But in spite of this you have become my enemy. . . ."
Among the Casanova manuscripts at Dux was one giving his final comment on
his relations with Opiz. Accusing Opiz of bringing about a quarrel,
Casanova nevertheless admits that he himself may not be blameless, but
lays this to his carelessness. "I have a bad habit," he writes, "of not
reading over my letters. If, in re-reading those I wrote to M. Opiz, I
had found them bitter, I would have burned them." Probably Casanova
struck the root of the matter in his remark, "Perfect accord is the first
charm of a reciprocal friendship." The two men were primarily of so
different a temperament, that they apparently could not long agree even
on subjects on which they were most in accord.
The complete correspondence is of very considerable interest.
V