The Fair Invalid I Cure Her--A Plot Formed to Ruin Me--What Happened at
the House of the Young Countess Bonafede--The Erberia--Domiciliary
Visit--My Conversation with M. de Bragadin--I Am Arrested by Order of the
State Inquisitors.
After leaving Dr. Righelini I went to sup with M. de Bragadin, and gave
the generous and worthy old man a happy evening. This was always the
case; I made him and his two good friends happy whenever I took meals
with them.
Leaving them at an early hour, I went to my lodging and was greatly
surprised to find my bedroom balcony occupied. A young lady of an
exquisite figure rose as soon as she saw me, and gracefully asked me
pardon for the liberty she had taken.
"I am," she said, "the statue you saw this morning. We do not light the
candles in the evening for fear of attracting the gnats, but when you
want to go to bed we will shut the door and go away. I beg to introduce
you to my younger sister, my mother has gone to bed."
I answered her to the effect that the balcony was always at her service,
and that since it was still early I begged their permission to put on my
dressing-gown and to keep them company. Her conversation was charming;
she made me spend two most delightful hours, and did not leave me till
twelve o'clock. Her younger sister lighted me a candle, and as they went
they wished me a good night.
I lay down full of this pretty girl, and I could not believe that she was
really ill. She spoke to the point, she was cheerful, clever, and full of
spirits. I could not understand how it came to pass that she had not been
already cured in a town like Venice, if her cure was really only to be
effected in the manner described by Dr. Righelini; for in spite of her
pallor she seemed to me quite fair enough to charm a lover, and I
believed her to be spirited enough to determine to take the most
agreeable medicine a doctor can prescribe.
In the morning I rang the bell as I was getting up, and the younger
sister came into my room, and said that as they kept no servant she had
come to do what I wanted. I did not care to have a servant when I was not
at M. de Bragadin's, as I found myself more at liberty to do what I
liked. After she had done me some small services, I asked her how her
sister was.
"Very well," said she, "for her pale complexion is not an illness, and
she only suffers when her breath fails her. She has a very good appetite,
and sleeps as well as I do."
"Whom do I hear playing the violin?"
"It's the dancing master giving my sister a lesson."
I hurried over my dressing that I might see her; and I found her
charming, though her old dancing master allowed her to turn in her toes.
All that this young and beautiful girl wanted was the Promethean spark,
the colour of life; her whiteness was too like snow, and was distressing
to look at.
The dancing master begged me to dance a minuet with his pupil, and I
assented, asking him to play larghissimo. "The signorina would find it
too tiring," said he; but she hastened to answer that she did not feel
weak, and would like to dance thus. She danced very well, but when we had
done she was obliged to throw herself in a chair. "In future, my dear
master," said she, "I will only dance like that, for I think the rapid
motion will do me good."
When the master was gone, I told her that her lessons were too short, and
that her master was letting her get into bad habits. I then set her feet,
her shoulders, and her arms in the proper manner. I taught her how to
give her hand gracefully, to bend her knees in time; in fine, I gave her
a regular lesson for an hour, and seeing that she was getting rather
tired I begged her to sit down, and I went out to pay a visit to M. M.
I found her very sad, for C---- C----'s father was dead, and they had
taken her out of the convent to marry her to a lawyer. Before leaving
C---- C---- had left a letter for me, in which she said that if I would
promise to marry her at some time suitable to myself, she would wait for
me, and refuse all other offers. I answered her straightforwardly that I
had no property and no prospects, that I left her free, advising her not
to refuse any offer which might be to her advantage.
In spite of this dismissal C---- C---- did not marry N---- till after my
flight from The Leads, when nobody expected to see me again in Venice. I
did not see her for nineteen years, and then I was grieved to find her a
widow, and poorly off. If I went to Venice now I should not marry her,
for at my age marriage is an absurdity, but I would share with her my
little all, and live with her as with a dear sister.
When I hear women talking about the bad faith and inconstancy of men, and
maintaining that when men make promises of eternal constancy they are
always deceivers, I confess that they are right, and join in their
complaints. Still it cannot be helped, for the promises of lovers are
dictated by the heart, and consequently the lamentations of women only
make me want to laugh. Alas! we love without heeding reason, and cease to
love in the same manner.
About this time I received a letter from the Abbe de Bernis, who wrote
also to M---- M----. He told me that I ought to do my utmost to make our
nun take a reasonable view of things, dwelling on the risks I should run
in carrying her off and bringing her to Paris, where all his influence
would be of no avail to obtain for us that safety so indispensable to
happiness. I saw M---- M----; we shewed each other our letters, she had
some bitter tears, and her grief pierced me to the heart. I still had a
great love for her in spite of my daily infidelities, and when I thought
of those moments in which I had seen her given over to voluptuousness I
could not help pitying her fate as I thought of the days of despair in
store for her. But soon after this an event happened which gave rise to
some wholesome reflections. One day, when I had come to see her, she
said,
"They have just been burying a nun who died of consumption the day before
yesterday in the odour of sanctity. She was called 'Maria Concetta.' She
knew you, and told C---- C---- your name when you used to come to mass on
feast days. C---- C---- begged her to be discreet, but the nun told her
that you were a dangerous man, whose presence should be shunned by a
young girl. C---- C---- told me all this after the mask of Pierrot."
"What was this saint's name when she was in the world?"
"Martha."
"I know her."
I then told M---- M---- the whole history of my loves with Nanette and
Marton, ending with the letter she wrote me, in which she said that she
owed me, indirectly, that eternal salvation to which she hoped to attain.
In eight or ten days my conversation with my hostess'
daughter--conversation which took place on the balcony, and which
generally lasted till midnight--and the lesson I gave her every morning,
produced the inevitable and natural results; firstly, that she no longer
complained of her breath failing, and, secondly, that I fell in love with
her. Nature's cure had not yet relieved her, but she no longer needed to
be let blood. Righelini came to visit her as usual, and seeing that she
was better he prophesied that nature's remedy, without which only art
could keep her alive, would make all right before the autumn. Her mother
looked upon me as an angel sent by God to cure her daughter, who for her
part shewed me that gratitude which with women is the first step towards
love. I had made her dismiss her old dancing master, and I had taught her
to dance with extreme grace.
At the end of these ten or twelve days, just as I was going to give her
her lesson, her breath failed instantaneously, and she fell back into my
arms like a dead woman. I was alarmed, but her mother, who had become
accustomed to see her thus, sent for the surgeon, and her sister unlaced
her. I was enchanted with her exquisite bosom, which needed no colouring
to make it more beautiful. I covered it up, saying that the surgeon would
make a false stroke if he were to see her thus uncovered; but feeling
that I laid my hand upon her with delight, she gently repulsed me,
looking at me with a languishing gaze which made the deepest impression
on me.
The surgeon came and bled her in the arm, and almost instantaneously she
recovered full consciousness. At most only four ounces of blood were
taken from her, and her mother telling me that this was the utmost extent
to which she was blooded, I saw it was no such matter for wonder as
Righelini represented it, for being blooded twice a week she lost three
pounds of blood a month, which she would have done naturally if the
vessels had not been obstructed.
The surgeon had hardly gone out of the door when to my astonishment she
told me that if I would wait for her a moment she would come back and
begin her dancing. This she did, and danced as if there had been nothing
the matter.
Her bosom, on which two of my senses were qualified to give evidence, was
the last stroke, and made me madly in love with her. I returned to the
house in the evening, and found her in her room with the sister. She told
me that she was expecting her god-father, who was an intimate friend of
her father's, and had come every evening to spend an hour with her for
the last eighteen years.
"How old is he?"
"He is over fifty."
"Is he a married man?"
"Yes, his name is Count S----. He is as fond of me as a father would be,
and his affection has continued the same since my childhood. Even his
wife comes to see me sometimes, and to ask me to dinner. Neat autumn I am
going into the country with her, and I hope the fresh air will do me
good. My god-father knows you are staying with us and is satisfied. He
does not know you, but if you like you can make his acquaintance."
I was glad to hear all this, as I gained a good deal of useful
information without having to ask any awkward questions. The friendship
of this Greek looked very like love. He was the husband of Countess
S----, who had taken me to the convent at Muran two years before.
I found the count a very polite man. He thanked me in a paternal manner
for my kindness to his daughter, and begged me to do him the honour of
dining with him on the following day, telling me that he would introduce
me to his wife. I accepted his invitation with pleasure, for I was fond
of dramatic situations, and my meeting with the countess promised to be
an exciting one. This invitation bespoke the courteous gentleman, and I
charmed my pretty pupil by singing his praises after he had gone.
"My god-father," said she, "is in possession of all the necessary
documents for withdrawing from the house of Persico our family fortune,
which amounts to forty thousand crowns. A quarter of this sum belongs to
me, and my mother has promised my sister and myself to share her dowry
between us."
I concluded from this that she would bring her husband fifteen thousand
Venetian ducats.
I guessed that she was appealing to me with her fortune, and wished to
make me in love with her by shewing herself chary of her favours; for
whenever I allowed myself any small liberties, she checked me with words,
of remonstrance to which I could find no answer. I determined to make her
pursue another course.
Next day I took her with me to her god-father's without telling her that
I knew the countess. I fancied the lady would pretend not to know me, but
I was wrong, as she welcomed me in the handsomest manner as if I were an
old friend. This, no doubt, was a surprise for the count, but he was too
much a man of the world to, shew any astonishment. He asked her when she
had made my acquaintance, and she, like a woman of experience, answered
without the slightest hesitation that we had seen each other two years
ago at Mira. The matter was settled, and we spent a very pleasant day.
Towards evening I took the young lady in my gondola back to the house,
but wishing to shorten the journey I allowed myself to indulge in a few
caresses. I was hurt at being responded to by reproaches, and for that
reason, as soon as she had set foot on her own doorstep, instead of
getting out I went to Tonine's house, and spent nearly the whole night
there with the ambassador, who came a little after me. Next day, as I did
not get up till quite late, there was no dancing lesson, and when I
excused myself she told me not to trouble any more about it. In the
evening I sat on the balcony far into the night, but she did not come.
Vexed at this air of indifference I rose early in the morning and went
out, not returning till nightfall. She was on the balcony, but as she
kept me at a respectful distance I only talked to her on commonplace
subjects. In the morning I was roused by a tremendous noise. I got up,
and hurriedly putting on my dressing-gown ran into her room to see what
was the matter, only to find her dying. I had no need to feign an
interest in her, for I felt the most tender concern. As it was at the
beginning of July it was extremely hot, and my fair invalid was only
covered by a thin sheet. She could only speak to me with her eyes, but
though the lids were lowered she looked upon me so lovingly! I asked her
if she suffered from palpitations, and laying my hand upon her heart I
pressed a fiery kiss upon her breast. This was the electric spark, for
she gave a sigh which did her good. She had not strength to repulse the
hand which I pressed amorously upon her heart, and becoming bolder I
fastened my burning lips upon her languid mouth. I warmed her with my
breath, and my audacious hand penetrated to the very sanctuary of bliss.
She made an effort to push me back, and told me with her eyes, since she
could not speak, how insulted she felt. I drew back my hand, and at that
moment the surgeon came. Hardly was the vein opened when she drew a long
breath, and by the time the operation was over she wished to get up. I
entreated her to stay in bed, and her mother added her voice to mine; at
last I persuaded her, telling her that I would not leave her for a
second, and that I would have my dinner by her bedside. She then put on a
corset and asked her sister to draw a sarcenet coverlet over her, as her
limbs could be seen as plainly as through a crape veil.
Having given orders for my dinner, I sat down by her bedside, burning
with love, and taking her hand and covering it with kisses I told her
that I was sure she would get better if she would let herself love.
"Alas!" she said, "whom shall I love, not knowing whether I shall be
loved in return?"
I did not leave this question unanswered, and continuing the amorous
discourse with animation I won a sigh and a lovelorn glance. I put my
hand on her knee, begging her to let me leave it there, and promising to
go no farther, but little by little I attained the center, and strove to
give her some pleasant sensations.
"Let me alone," said she, in a sentimental voice, drawing away, "'tis
perchance the cause of my illness."
"No, sweetheart," I replied, "that cannot be." And my mouth stopped all
her objections upon her lips.
I was enchanted, for I was now in a fair way, and I saw the moment of
bliss in the distance, feeling certain that I could effect a cure if the
doctor was not mistaken. I spared her all indiscreet questions out of
regard for her modesty; but I declared myself her lover, promising to ask
nothing of her but what was necessary to feed the fire of my love. They
sent me up a very good dinner, and she did justice to it; afterwards
saying that she was quite well she got up, and I went away to dress
myself for going out. I came back early in the evening, and found her on
my balcony. There, as I sat close to her looking into her face, speaking
by turns the language of the eyes and that of sighs, fixing my amorous
gaze upon those charms which the moonlight rendered sweeter, I made her
share in the fire which consumed me; and as I pressed her amorously to my
bosom she completed my bliss with such warmth that I could easily see
that she thought she was receiving a favour and not granting one. I
sacrificed the victim without staining the altar with blood.
Her sister came to tell her that it grew late.
"Do you go to bed," she answered; "the fresh air is doing me good, and I
want to enjoy it a little longer."
As soon as we were alone we went to bed together as if we had been doing
it for a whole year, and we passed a glorious night, I full of love and
the desire of curing her, and she of tender and ardent voluptuousness. At
day-break she embraced me, her eyes dewy with bliss, and went to lie down
in her own bed. I, like her, stood in need of a rest, and on that day
there was no talk of a dancing lesson. In spite of the fierce pleasure of
enjoyment and the transports of this delightful girl, I did not for a
moment lay prudence aside. We continued to pass such nights as these for
three weeks, and I had the pleasure of seeing her thoroughly cured. I
should doubtless have married her, if an event had not happened to me
towards the end of the month, of which I shall speak lower down.
You will remember, dear reader, about a romance by the Abbe Chiari, a
satirical romance which Mr. Murray had given me, and in which I fared
badly enough at the author's hands I had small reason to be pleased with
him, and I let him know my opinion in such wise that the abbe who dreaded
a caning, kept upon his guard. About the same time I received an
anonymous letter, the writer of which told me that I should be better
occupied in taking care of myself than in thoughts of chastising the
abbe, for I was threatened by an imminent danger. Anonymous
letter-writers should be held in contempt, but one ought to know how, on
occasion, to make the best of advice given in that way. I did nothing,
and made a great mistake.
About the same time a man named Manuzzi, a stone setter for his first
trade, and also a spy, a vile agent of the State Inquisitors--a man of
whom I knew nothing--found a way to make my acquaintance by offering to
let me have diamonds on credit, and by this means he got the entry of my
house. As he was looking at some books scattered here and there about the
room, he stopped short at the manuscripts which were on magic. Enjoying
foolishly enough, his look of astonishment, I shewed him the books which
teach one how to summon the elementary spirits. My readers will, I hope,
do me the favour to believe that I put no faith in these conjuring books,
but I had them by me and used to amuse myself with them as one does amuse
one's self with the multitudinous follies which proceed from the heads of
visionaries. A few days after, the traitor came to see me and told me
that a collector, whose name he might not tell me, was ready to give me a
thousand sequins for my five books, but that he would like to examine
them first to see if they were genuine. As he promised to let me have
them back in twenty-four hours, and not thinking much about the matter, I
let him have them. He did not fail to bring them back the next day,
telling me that the collector thought them forgeries. I found out, some
years after, that he had taken them to the State Inquisitors, who thus
discovered that I was a notable magician.
Everything that happened throughout this fatal month tended to my ruin,
for Madame Memmo, mother of Andre, Bernard, and Laurent Memmo, had taken
it into her head that I had inclined her sons to atheistic opinions, and
took counsel with the old knight Antony Mocenigo, M. de Bragadin's uncle,
who was angry with me, because, as he said, I had conspired to seduce his
nephew. The matter was a serious one, and an auto-da-fe was very
possible, as it came under the jurisdiction of the Holy Office--a kind of
wild beast, with which it is not good to quarrel. Nevertheless, as there
would be some difficulty in shutting me up in the ecclesiastical prisons
of the Holy Office, it was determined to carry my case before the State
Inquisitors, who took upon themselves the provisional duty of putting a
watch upon my manner of living.
M. Antony Condulmer, who as a friend of Abbe Chiari's was an enemy of
mine, was then an Inquisitor of State, and he took the opportunity of
looking upon me in the light of a disturber of the peace of the
commonwealth. A secretary of an embassy, whom I knew some years after,
told me that a paid informer, with two other witnesses, also, doubtless,
in the pay of this grand tribunal, had declared that I was guilty of only
believing in the devil, as if this absurd belief, if it were possible,
did not necessarily connote a belief in God! These three honest fellows
testified with an oath that when I lost money at play, on which occasion
all the faithful are wont to blaspheme, I was never heard to curse the
devil. I was further accused of eating meat all the year round, of only
going to hear fine masses, and I was vehemently suspected of being a
Freemason. It was added that I frequented the society of foreign
ministers, and that living as I did with three noblemen, it was certain
that I revealed, for the large sums which I was seen to lose, as many
state secrets as I could worm out of them.
All these accusations, none of which had any foundation in fact, served
the Tribunal as a pretext to treat me as an enemy of the commonwealth and
as a prime conspirator. For several weeks I was counselled by persons
whom I might have trusted to go abroad whilst the Tribunal was engaged on
my case. This should have been enough, for the only people who can live
in peace at Venice are those whose existence the Tribunal is ignorant of,
but I obstinately despised all these hints. If I had listened to the
indirect advice which was given me, I should have become anxious, and I
was the sworn foe of all anxiety. I kept saying to myself, "I feel
remorse for nothing and I am therefore guilty of nothing, and the
innocent have nothing to fear." I was a fool, for I argued as if I had
been a free man in a free country. I must also confess that what to a
great extent kept me from thinking of possible misfortune was the actual
misfortune which oppressed me from morning to night. I lost every day, I
owed money everywhere, I had pawned all my jewels, and even my portrait
cases, taking the precaution, however, of removing the portraits, which
with my important papers and my amorous letters I had placed in the hands
of Madame Manzoni. I found myself avoided in society. An old senator told
me, one day, that it was known that the young Countess Bonafede had
become mad in consequence of the love philtres I had given her. She was
still at the asylum, and in her moments of delirium she did nothing but
utter my name with curses. I must let my readers into the secret of this
small history.
This young Countess Bonafede, to whom I had given some sequins a few days
after my return to Venice, thought herself capable of making me continue
my visits, from which she had profited largely. Worried by her letters I
went to see her several times, and always left her a few sequins, but
with the exception of my first visit I was never polite enough to give
her any proofs of my affection. My coldness had baulked all her
endeavours for a year, when she played a criminal part, of which, though
I was never able absolutely to convict her, I had every reason to believe
her guilty.
She wrote me a letter, in which she importuned me to come and see her at
a certain hour on important business.
My curiosity, as well as a desire to be of service to her, took me there
at the appointed time; but as soon as she saw me she flung her arms round
my neck, and told me that the important business was love. This made me
laugh heartily, and I was pleased to find her looking neater than usual,
which, doubtless, made me find her looking prettier. She reminded me of
St. Andre, and succeeded so well in her efforts that I was on the point
of satisfying her desires. I took off my cloak, and asked her if her
father were in. She told me he had gone out. Being obliged to go out for
a minute, in coming back I mistook the door, and I found myself in the
next room, where I was much astonished to see the count and two
villainous-looking fellows with him.
"My dear count," I said, "your daughter has just told me that you were
out."
"I myself told her to do so, as I have some business with these
gentlemen, which, however, can wait for another day."
I would have gone, but he stopped me, and having dismissed the two men he
told me that he was delighted to see me, and forthwith began the tale of
his troubles, which were of more than one kind. The State Inquisitors had
stopped his slender pension, and he was on the eve of seeing himself
driven out with his family into the streets to beg his bread. He said
that he had not been able to pay his landlord anything for three years,
but if he could pay only a quarter's rent, he would obtain a respite, or
if he persisted in turning him out, he could make a night-flitting of it,
and take up his abode somewhere else. As he only wanted twenty ducats, I
took out six sequins and gave them to him. He embraced me, and shed tears
of joy; then, taking his poor cloak, he called his daughter, told her to
keep me company, and went out.
Alone with the countess, I examined the door of communication between the
two rooms and found it slightly open.
"Your father," I said, "would have surprised me, and it is easy to guess
what he would have done with the two sbirri who were with him. The plot
is clear, and I have only escaped from it by the happiest of chances."
She denied, wept, called God to witness, threw herself on her knees; but
I turned my head away, and taking my cloak went away without a word. She
kept on writing to me, but her letters remained unanswered, and I saw her
no more.
It was summer-time, and between the heat, her passions, hunger, and
wretchedness, her head was turned, and she became so mad that she went
out of the house stark naked, and ran up and down St. Peter's Place,
asking those who stopped her to take her to my house. This sad story went
all over the town and caused me a great deal of annoyance. The poor
wretch was sent to an asylum, and did not recover her reason for five
years. When she came out she found herself reduced to beg her bread in
the streets, like all her brothers, except one, whom I found a cadet in
the guards of the King of Spain twelve years afterwards.
At the time of which I am speaking all this had happened a year ago, but
the story was dug up against me, and dressed out in the attire of
fiction, and thus formed part of those clouds which were to discharge
their thunder upon me to my destruction.
In the July of 1755 the hateful court gave Messer-Grande instructions to
secure me, alive or dead. In this furious style all orders for arrests
proceeding from the Three were issued, for the least of their commands
carried with it the penalty of death.
Three or four days before the Feast of St. James, my patron saint,
M---- M---- made me a present of several ells of silver lace to trim a
sarcenet dress which I was going to wear on the eve of the feast. I went
to see her, dressed in my fine suit, and I told her that I should come
again on the day following to ask her to lend me some money, as I did not
know where to turn to find some. She was still in possession of the five
hundred sequins which she had put aside when I had sold her diamonds.
As I was sure of getting the money in the morning I passed the night at
play, and I lost the five hundred sequins in advance. At day-break, being
in need of a little quiet, I went to the Erberia, a space of ground on
the quay of the Grand Canal. Here is held the herb, fruit, and flower
market.
People in good society who come to walk in the Erberia at a rather early
hour usually say that they come to see the hundreds of boats laden with
vegetables, fruit and flowers, which hail from the numerous islands near
the town; but everyone knows that they are men and women who have been
spending the night in the excesses of Venus or Bacchus, or who have lost
all hope at the gaming-table, and come here to breath a purer air and to
calm their minds. The fashion of walking in this place shews how the
character of a nation changes. The Venetians of old time who made as
great a mystery of love as of state affairs, have been replaced by the
modern Venetians, whose most prominent characteristic is to make a
mystery of nothing. Those who come to the Erberia with women wish to
excite the envy of their friends by thus publishing their good fortune.
Those who come alone are on the watch for discoveries, or on the look-out
for materials to make wives or husbands jealous, the women only come to
be seen, glad to let everybody know that they are without any restraint
upon their actions. There was certainly no question of smartness there,
considering the disordered style of dress worn. The women seemed to have
agreed to shew all the signs of disorder imaginable, to give those who
saw them something to talk about. As for the men, on whose arms they
leaned, their careless and lounging airs were intended to give the idea
of a surfeit of pleasure, and to make one think that the disordered
appearance of their companions was a sure triumph they had enjoyed. In
short it was the correct thing to look tired out, and as if one stood in
need of sleep.
This veracious description, reader, will not give you a very high opinion
of the morals of my dear fellow citizens; but what object should I have
at my age for deceiving? Venice is not at the world's end, but is well
enough known to those whose curiosity brings them into Italy; and
everyone can see for himself if my pictures are overdrawn.
After walking up and down for half an hour, I came away, and thinking the
whole house still a-bed I drew my key out to open the door, but what was
my astonishment to find it useless, as the door was open, and what is
more, the lock burst off. I ran upstairs, and found them all up, and my
landlady uttering bitter lamentations.
"Messer-Grande," she told me, "has entered my house forcibly, accompanied
by a band of sbirri. He turned everything upside down, on the pretext
that he was in search of a portmanteau full of salt--a highly contraband
article. He said he knew that a portmanteau had been landed there the
evening before, which was quite true; but it belonged to Count S----, and
only contained linen and clothes. Messer-Grande, after inspecting it,
went out without saying a word."
He had also paid my room a visit. She told me that she must have some
reparation made her, and thinking she was in the right I promised to
speak to M. de Bragadin on the matter the same day. Needing rest above
all things, I lay down, but my nervous excitement, which I attributed to
my heavy losses at play, made me rise after three or four hours, and I
went to see M. de Bragadin, to whom I told the whole story begging him to
press for some signal amends. I made a lively representation to him of
all the grounds on which my landlady required proportionate amends to be
made, since the laws guaranteed the peace of all law-abiding people.
I saw that the three friends were greatly saddened by what I said, and
the wise old man, quietly but sadly, told me that I should have my answer
after dinner.
De la Haye dined with us, but all through the meal, which was a
melancholy one, he spoke not a word. His silence should have told me all,
if I had not been under the influence of some malevolent genii who would
not allow me to exercise my common sense: as to the sorrow of my three
friends, I put that down to their friendship for me. My connection with
these worthy men had always been the talk of the town, and as all were
agreed that it could not be explained on natural grounds, it was deemed
to be the effect of some sorcery exercised by me. These three men were
thoroughly religious and virtuous citizens; I was nothing if not
irreligious, and Venice did not contain a greater libertine. Virtue, it
was said, may have compassion on vice, but cannot become its friend.
After dinner M. de Bragadin took me into his closet with his two friends,
from whom he had no secrets. He told me with wonderful calmness that
instead of meditating vengeance on Messer-Grande I should be thinking of
putting myself in a place of safety. "The portmanteau," said he, "was a
mere pretext; it was you they wanted and thought to find. Since your good
genius has made them miss you, look out for yourself; perhaps by
to-morrow it may be too late. I have been a State Inquisitor for eight
months, and I know the way in which the arrests ordered by the court are
carried out. They would not break open a door to look for a box of salt.
Indeed, it is possible that they knew you were out, and sought to warn
you to escape in this manner. Take my advice, my dear son, and set out
directly for Fusina, and thence as quickly as you can make your way to
Florence, where you can remain till I write to you that you may return
with safety. If you have no money I will give you a hundred sequins for
present expenses. Believe me that prudence bids you go."
Blinded by my folly, I answered him that being guilty of nothing I had
nothing to fear, and that consequently, although I knew his advice was
good, I could not follow it.
"The high court," said he, "may deem you guilty of crimes real or
imaginary; but in any case it will give you no account of the accusations
against you. Ask your oracle if you shall follow my advice or not." I
refused because I knew the folly of such a proceeding, but by way of
excuse I said that I only consulted it when I was in doubt. Finally, I
reasoned that if I fled I should be shewing fear, and thus confessing my
guilt, for an innocent man, feeling no remorse, cannot reasonably be
afraid of anything.
"If secrecy," said I, "is of the essence of the Court, you cannot
possibly judge, after my escape, whether I have done so rightly or
wrongly. The same reasons, which, according to your excellence, bid me
go, would forbid my return. Must I then say good-bye for ever to my
country, and all that is dear to me?" As a last resource he tried to
persuade me to pass the following day and night, at least, at the palace.
I am still ashamed of having refused the worthy old man to whom I owed so
much this favour; for the palace of a noble is sacred to the police who
dare not cross its threshold without a special order from the Tribunal,
which is practically never given; by yielding to his request I should
have avoided a grievous misfortune, and spared the worthy old man some
acute grief.
I was moved to see M. de Bragadin weeping, and perhaps I might have
granted to his tears that which I had obstinately refused to his
arguments and entreaties. "For Heaven's sake!" said I, "spare me the
harrowing sight of your tears." In an instant he summoned all his
strength to his assistance, made some indifferent remarks, and then, with
a smile full of good nature, he embraced me, saying, "Perhaps I may be
fated never to see you again, but 'Fata viam invenient'."
I embraced him affectionately, and went away, but his prediction was
verified, for I never saw him again; he died eleven years afterwards. I
found myself in the street without feeling the slightest fear, but I was
in a good deal of trouble about my debts. I had not the heart to go to
Muran to take away from M. M. her last five hundred sequins, which sum I
owed to the man who won it from me in the night; I preferred asking him
to wait eight days, and I did so. After performing this unpleasant piece
of business I returned home, and, having consoled my landlady to the
utmost of my power, I kissed the daughter, and lay down to sleep. The
date was July 25th, 1755.
Next morning at day-break who should enter my room but the awful
Messer-Grande. To awake, to see him, and to hear him asking if I were
Jacques Casanova, was the work of a moment. At my "yes, I am Casanova,"
he told me to rise, to put on my clothes, to give him all the papers and
manuscripts in my possession, and to follow him.
"On whose authority do you order me to do this?"
"By the authority of the Tribunal."