Visit to the Convent and Conversation With M. M.--A Letter from Her, and
My Answer--Another Interview At the Casino of Muran In the Presence of
Her Lover
According to my promise, I went to see M---- M---- two days afterwards, but
as soon as she came to the parlour she told me that her lover had said he
was coming, and that she expected him every minute, and that she would be
glad to see me the next day. I took leave of her, but near the bridge I
saw a man, rather badly masked, coming out of a gondola. I looked at the
gondolier, and I recognized him as being in the service of the French
ambassador. "It is he," I said to myself, and without appearing to
observe him I watched him enter the convent. I had no longer any doubt as
to his identity, and I returned to Venice delighted at having made the
discovery, but I made up my mind not to say anything to my mistress.
I saw her on the following day, and we, had a long conversation together,
which I am now going to relate.
"My friend," she said to me, "came yesterday in order to bid farewell to
me until the Christmas holidays. He is going to Padua, but everything has
been arranged so that we can sup at his casino whenever we wish."
"Why not in Venice?"
"He has begged me not to go there during his absence. He is wise and
prudent; I could not refuse his request."
"You are quite right. When shall we sup together?"
"Next Sunday, if you like."
"If I like is not the right expression, for I always like. On Sunday,
then, I will go to the casino towards nightfall, and wait for you with a
book. Have you told your friend that you were not very uncomfortable in
my small palace?"
"He knows all about it, but, dearest, he is afraid of one thing--he fears
a certain fatal plumpness...."
"On my life, I never thought of that! But, my darling, do you not run the
same risk with him?"
"No, it is impossible."
"I understand you. Then we must be very prudent for the future. I believe
that, nine days before Christmas, the mask is no longer allowed, and then
I shall have to go to your casino by water, otherwise, I might easily be
recognized by the same spy who has already followed me once."
"Yes, that idea proves your prudence, and I can easily, shew you the
place. I hope you will be able to come also during Lent, although we are
told that at that time God wishes us to mortify our senses. Is it not
strange that there is a time during which God wants us to amuse ourselves
almost to frenzy, and another during which, in order to please Him, we
must live in complete abstinence? What is there in common between a
yearly observance and the Deity, and how can the action of the creature
have any influence over the Creator, whom my reason cannot conceive
otherwise than independent? It seems to me that if God had created man
with the power of offending Him, man would be right in doing everything
that is forbidden to him, because the deficiencies of his organization
would be the work of the Creator Himself. How can we imagine God grieved
during Lent?"
"My beloved one, you reason beautifully, but will you tell me where you
have managed, in a convent, to pass the Rubicon?"
"Yes. My friend has given me some good books which I have read with deep
attention, and the light of truth has dispelled the darkness which
blinded my eyes. I can assure you that, when I look in my own heart, I
find myself more fortunate in having met with a person who has brought
light to my mind than miserable at having taken the veil; for the
greatest happiness must certainly consist in living and in dying
peacefully--a happiness which can hardly be obtained by listening to all
the idle talk with which the priests puzzle our brains."
"I am of your opinion, but I admire you, for it ought to be the work of
more than a few months to bring light to a mind prejudiced as yours was."
"There is no doubt that I should have seen light much sooner if I had not
laboured under so many prejudices. There was in my mind a curtain
dividing truth from error, and reason alone could draw it aside, but that
poor reason--I had been taught to fear it, to repulse it, as if its
bright flame would have devoured, instead of enlightening me. The moment
it was proved to me that a reasonable being ought to be guided only by
his own inductions I acknowledged the sway of reason, and the mist which
hid truth from me was dispelled. The evidence of truth shone before my
eyes, nonsensical trifles disappeared, and I have no fear of their
resuming their influence over my mind, for every day it is getting
stronger; and I may say that I only began to love God when my mind was
disabused of priestly superstitions concerning Him."
"I congratulate you; you have been more fortunate than I, for you have
made more progress in one year than I have made in ten."
"Then you did not begin by reading the writings of Lord Bolingbroke? Five
or six months ago, I was reading La Sagesse, by Charron, and somehow or
other my confessor heard of it; when I went to him for confession, he
took upon himself to tell me to give up reading that book. I answered
that my conscience did not reproach me, and that I could not obey him.
'In that case,' replied he, 'I will not give you absolution.' 'That will
not prevent me from taking the communion,' I said. This made him angry,
and, in order to know what he ought to do, he applied to Bishop Diedo.
His eminence came to see me, and told me that I ought to be guided by my
confessor. I answered that we had mutual duties to perform, and that the
mission of a priest in the confessional was to listen to me, to impose a
reasonable penance, and to give me absolution; that he had not even the
right of offering me any advice if I did not ask for it. I added that the
confessor being bound to avoid scandal, if he dared to refuse me the
absolution, which, of course, he could do, I would all the same go to the
altar with the other nuns. The bishop, seeing that he was at his wit's
end, told the priest to abandon me to my conscience. But that was not
satisfactory to me, and my lover obtained a brief from the Pope
authorizing me to go to confession to any priest I like. All the sisters
are jealous of the privilege, but I have availed myself of it only once,
for the sake of establishing a precedent and of strengthening the right
by the fact, for it is not worth the trouble. I always confess to the
same priest, and he has no difficulty in giving me absolution, for I only
tell him what I like."
"And for the rest you absolve yourself?"
"I confess to God, who alone can know my thoughts and judge the degree of
merit or of demerit to be attached to my actions."
Our conversation shewed me that my lovely friend was what is called a
Free-thinker; but I was not astonished at it, because she felt a greater
need of peace for her conscience than of gratification for her senses.
On the Sunday, after dinner, I took a two-oared gondola, and went round
the island of Muran to reconnoitre the shore, and to discover the small
door through which my mistress escaped from the convent. I lost my
trouble and my time, for I did not become acquainted with the shore till
the octave of Christmas, and with the small door six months afterwards. I
shall mention the circumstance in its proper place.
As soon as it was time, I repaired to the temple, and while I was waiting
for the idol I amused myself in examining the books of a small library in
the boudoir. They were not numerous, but they were well chosen and worthy
of the place. I found there everything that has been written against
religion, and all the works of the most voluptuous writers on pleasure;
attractive books, the incendiary style of which compels the reader to
seek the reality of the image they represent. Several folios, richly
bound, contained nothing but erotic engravings. Their principal merit
consisted much more in the beauty of the designs, in the finish of the
work, than in the lubricity of the positions. I found amongst them the
prints of the Portier des Chartreux, published in England; the engravings
of Meursius, of Aloysia Sigea Toletana, and others, all very beautifully
done. A great many small pictures covered the walls of the boudoir, and
they were all masterpieces in the same style as the engravings.
I had spent an hour in examining all these works of art, the sight of
which had excited me in the most irresistible manner, when I saw my
beautiful mistress enter the room, dressed as a nun. Her appearance was
not likely to act as a sedative, and therefore, without losing any time
in compliments, I said to her,
"You arrive most opportunely. All these erotic pictures have fired my
imagination, and it is in your garb of a saint that you must administer
the remedy that my love requires."
"Let me put on another dress, darling, it will not take more than five
minutes."
"Five minutes will complete my happiness, and then you can attend to your
metamorphosis."
"But let me take off these woollen robes, which I dislike."
"No; I want you to receive the homage of my love in the same dress which
you had on when you gave birth to it."
She uttered in the humblest manner a 'fiat voluntas tua', accompanied by
the most voluptuous smile, and sank on the sofa. For one instant we
forgot all the world besides. After that delightful ecstacy I assisted
her to undress, and a simple gown of Indian muslin soon metamorphosed my
lovely nun into a beautiful nymph.
After an excellent supper, we agreed not to meet again till the first day
of the octave. She gave me the key of the gate on the shore, and told me
that a blue ribbon attached to the window over the door would point it
out by day, so as to prevent my making a mistake at night. I made her
very happy by telling her that I would come and reside in her casino
until the return of her friend. During the ten days that I remained
there, I saw her four times, and I convinced her that I lived only for
her.
During my stay in the casino I amused myself in reading, in writing to
C---- C----, but my love for her had become a calm affection. The lines
which interested me most in her letters were those in which she mentioned
her friend. She often blamed me for not having cultivated the
acquaintance of M---- M----, and my answer was that I had not done so for
fear of being known. I always insisted upon the necessity of discretion.
I do not believe in the possibility of equal love being bestowed upon two
persons at the same time, nor do I believe it possible to keep love to a
high degree of intensity if you give it either too much food or none at
all. That which maintained my passion for M---- M ---- in a state of great
vigour was that I could never possess her without running the risk of
losing her.
"It is impossible," I said to her once, "that some time or other one of
the nuns should not want to speak to you when you are absent?"
"No," she answered, "that cannot happen, because there is nothing more
religiously respected in a convent than the right of a nun to deny
herself, even to the abbess. A fire is the only circumstance I have to
fear, because in that case there would be general uproar and confusion,
and it would not appear natural that a nun should remain quietly locked
up in her cell in the midst of such danger; my escape would then be
discovered. I have contrived to gain over the lay-sister and the
gardener, as well as another nun, and that miracle was performed by my
cunning assisted by my lover's gold.
"He answers for the fidelity of the cook and his wife who take care of
the casino. He has likewise every confidence in the two gondoliers,
although one of them is sure to be a spy of the State Inquisitors."
On Christmas Eve she announced the return of her lover, and she told him
that on St. Stephen's Day she would go with him to the opera, and that
they would afterwards spend the night together.
"I shall expect you, my beloved one," she added, "on the last day of the
year, and here is a letter which I beg you not to read till you get
home."
As I had to move in order to make room for her lover, I packed my things
early in the morning, and, bidding farewell to a place in which during
ten days I had enjoyed so many delights, I returned to the Bragadin
Palace, where I read the following letter:
"You have somewhat offended me, my own darling, by telling me, respecting
the mystery which I am bound to keep on the subject of my lover, that,
satisfied to possess my heart, you left me mistress of my mind. That
division of the heart and of the mind appears to me a pure sophism, and
if it does not strike you as such you must admit that you do not love me
wholly, for I cannot exist without mind, and you cannot cherish my heart
if it does not agree with my mind. If your love cannot accept a different
state of things it does not excel in delicacy. However, as some
circumstance might occur in which you might accuse me of not having acted
towards you with all the sincerity that true love inspires, and that it
has a right to demand, I have made up my mind to confide to you a secret
which concerns my friend, although I am aware that he relies entirely
upon my discretion. I shall certainly be guilty of a breach of
confidence, but you will not love me less for it, because, compelled to
choose between you two, and to deceive either one or the other, love has
conquered friendship; do not punish me for it, for it has not been done
blindly, and you will, I trust, consider the reasons which have caused
the scale to weigh down in your favour.
"When I found myself incapable of resisting my wish to know you and to
become intimate with you, I could not gratify that wish without taking my
friend into my confidence, and I had no doubt of his compliance. He
conceived a very favourable opinion of your character from your first
letter, not only because you had chosen the parlour of the convent for
our first interview, but also because you appointed his casino at Muran
instead of your own. But he likewise begged of me to allow him to be
present at our first meeting-place, in a small closet--a true
hiding-place, from which one can see and hear everything without being
suspected by those in the drawing-room. You have not yet seen that
mysterious closet, but I will shew it to you on the last day of the year.
Tell me, dearest, whether I could refuse that singular request to the man
who was shewing me such compliant kindness? I consented, and it was
natural for me not to let you know it. You are therefore aware now that
my friend was a witness of all we did and said during the first night
that we spent together, but do not let that annoy you, for you pleased
him in everything, in your behaviour towards me as well as in the witty
sayings which you uttered to make me laugh. I was in great fear, when the
conversation turned upon him, lest you would say something which might
hurt his self-love, but, very fortunately, he heard only the most
flattering compliments. Such is, dearest love, the sincere confession of
my treason, but as a wise lover you will forgive me because it has not
done you the slightest harm. My friend is extremely curious to ascertain
who you are. But listen to me, that night you were natural and thoroughly
amiable, would you have been the same, if you had known that there was a
witness? It is not likely, and if I had acquainted you with the truth,
you might have refused your consent, and perhaps you would have been
right.
"Now that we know each other, and that you entertain no doubt, I trust,
of my devoted love, I wish to ease my conscience and to venture all.
Learn then, dearest, that on the last day of the year, my friend will be
at the casino, which he will leave only the next morning. You will not
see him, but he will see us. As you are supposed not to know anything
about it, you must feel that you will have to be natural in everything,
otherwise, he might guess that I have betrayed the secret. It is
especially in your conversation that you must be careful. My friend
possesses every virtue except the theological one called faith, and on
that subject you can say anything you like. You will be at liberty to
talk literature, travels, politics, anything you please, and you need not
refrain from anecdotes. In fact you are certain of his approbation.
"Now, dearest, I have only this to say. Do you feel disposed to allow
yourself to be seen by another man while you are abandoning yourself to
the sweet voluptuousness of your senses? That doubt causes all my
anxiety, and I entreat from you an answer, yes or no. Do you understand
how painful the doubt is for me? I expect not to close my eyes throughout
the night, and I shall not rest until I have your decision. In case you
should object to shew your tenderness in the presence of a third person,
I will take whatever determination love may suggest to me. But I hope you
will consent, and even if you were not to perform the character of an
ardent lover in a masterly manner, it would not be of any consequence. I
will let my friend believe that your love has not reached its apogee."
That letter certainly took me by surprise, but all things considered,
thinking that my part was better than the one accepted by the lover, I
laughed heartily at the proposal. I confess, however, that I should not
have laughed if I had not known the nature of the individual who was to
be the witness of my amorous exploits. Understanding all the anxiety of
my friend, and wishing to allay it, I immediately wrote to her the
following lines:
"You wish me, heavenly creature, to answer you yes or no, and I, full of
love for you, want my answer to reach you before noon, so that you may
dine in perfect peace.
"I will spend the last night of the year with you, and I can assure you
that the friend, to whom we will give a spectacle worthy of Paphos and
Amathos, shall see or hear nothing likely to make him suppose that I am
acquainted with his secret. You may be certain that I will play my part
not as a novice but as a master. If it is man's duty to be always the
slave of his reason; if, as long as he has control over himself, he ought
not to act without taking it for his guide, I cannot understand why a man
should be ashamed to shew himself to a friend at the very moment that he
is most favoured by love and nature.
"Yet I confess that you would have been wrong if you had confided the
secret to me the first time, and that most likely I should then have
refused to grant you that mark of my compliance, not because I loved you
less then than I do now, but there are such strange tastes in nature that
I might have imagined that your lover's ruling taste was to enjoy the
sight of an ardent and frantic couple in the midst of amorous connection,
and in that case, conceiving an unfavourable opinion of you, vexation
might have frozen the love you had just sent through my being. Now,
however, the case is very different. I know all I possess in you, and,
from all you have told me of your lover, I am well disposed towards him,
and I believe him to be my friend. If a feeling of modesty does not deter
you from shewing yourself tender, loving, and full of amorous ardour with
me in his presence, how could I be ashamed, when, on the contrary, I
ought to feel proud of myself? I have no reason to blush at having made a
conquest of you, or at shewing myself in those moments during which I
prove the liberality with which nature has bestowed upon me the shape and
the strength which assure such immense enjoyment to me, besides the
certainty that I can make the woman I love share it with me. I am aware
that, owing to a feeling which is called natural, but which is perhaps
only the result of civilization and the effect of the prejudices inherent
in youth, most men object to any witness in those moments, but those who
cannot give any good reasons for their repugnance must have in their
nature something of the cat. At the same time, they might have some
excellent reasons, without their thinking themselves bound to give them,
except to the woman, who is easily deceived. I excuse with all my heart
those who know that they would only excite the pity of the witnesses, but
we both have no fear of that sort. All you have told me of your friend
proves that he will enjoy our pleasures. But do you know what will be the
result of it? The intensity of our ardour will excite his own, and he
will throw himself at my feet, begging and entreating me to give up to
him the only object likely to calm his amorous excitement. What could I
do in that case? Give you up? I could hardly refuse to do so with good
grace, but I would go away, for I could not remain a quiet spectator.
"Farewell, my darling love; all will be well, I have no doubt. Prepare
yourself for the athletic contest, and rely upon the fortunate being who
adores you."
I spent the six following days with my three worthy friends, and at the
'ridotto', which at that time was opened on St. Stephen's Day. As I could
not hold the cards there, the patricians alone having the privilege of
holding the bank, I played morning and evening, and I constantly lost;
for whoever punts must lose. But the loss of the four or five thousand
sequins I possessed, far from cooling my love, seemed only to increase
its ardour.
At the end of the year 1774 the Great Council promulgated a law
forbidding all games of chance, the first effect of which was to close
the 'ridotto'. This law was a real phenomenon, and when the votes were
taken out of the urn the senators looked at each other with stupefaction.
They had made the law unwittingly, for three-fourths of the voters
objected to it, and yet three-fourths of the votes were in favour of it.
People said that it was a miracle of St. Mark's, who had answered the
prayers of Monsignor Flangini, then censor-in-chief, now cardinal, and
one of the three State Inquisitors.
On the day appointed I was punctual at the place of rendezvous, and I had
not to wait for my mistress. She was in the dressing-room, where she had
had time to attend to her toilet, and as soon as she heard me she came to
me dressed with the greatest elegance.
"My friend is not yet at his post," she said to me, "but the moment he is
there I will give you a wink."
"Where is the mysterious closet?"
"There it is. Look at the back of this sofa against the wall. All those
flowers in relief have a hole in the centre which communicates with the
closet behind that wall. There is a bed, a table, and everything
necessary to a person who wants to spend the night in amusing himself by
looking at what is going on in this room. I will skew it to you whenever
you like."
"Was it arranged by your lover's orders?"
"No, for he could not foresee that he would use it."
"I understand that he may find great pleasure in such a sight, but being
unable to possess you at the very moment nature will make you most
necessary to him, what will he do?"
"That is his business. Besides, he is at liberty to go away when he has
had enough of it, or to sleep if he has a mind to, but if you play your
part naturally he will not feel any weariness."
"I will be most natural, but I must be more polite."
"No, no politeness, I beg, for if you are polite, goodbye to nature.
Where have you ever seen, I should like to know, two lovers, excited by
all the fury of love, think of politeness?"
"You are right, darling, but I must be more delicate."
"Very well, delicacy can do no harm, but no more than usual. Your letter
greatly pleased me, you have treated the subject like a man of
experience."
I have already stated that my mistress was dressed most elegantly, but I
ought to have added that it was the elegance of the Graces, and that it
did not in any way prevent ease and simplicity. I only wondered at her
having used some paint for the face, but it rather pleased me because she
had applied it according to the fashion of the ladies of Versailles. The
charm of that style consists in the negligence with which the paint is
applied. The rouge must not appear natural; it is used to please the eyes
which see in it the marks of an intoxication heralding the most amorous
fury. She told me that she had put some on her face to please her
inquisitive friend, who was very fond of it.
"That taste," I said, "proves him to be a Frenchman."
As I was uttering these words, she made a sign to me; the friend was at
his post, and now the play began.
"The more I look at you, beloved angel, the more I think you worthy of my
adoration."
"But are you not certain that you do not worship a cruel divinity?"
"Yes, and therefore I do not offer my sacrifices to appease you, but to
excite you. You shall feel all through the night the ardour of my
devotion."
"You will not find me insensible to your offerings."
"I would begin them at once, but I think that, in order to insure their
efficiency, we ought to have supper first. I have taken nothing to-day
but a cup of chocolate and a salad of whites of eggs dressed with oil
from Lucca and Marseilles vinegar."
"But, dearest, it is folly! you must be ill?"
"Yes, I am just now, but I shall be all right when I have distilled the
whites of eggs, one by one, into your amorous soul."
"I did not think you required any such stimulants."
"Who could want any with you? But I have a rational fear, for if I
happened to prime without being able to fire, I would blow my brains
out."
"My dear browny, it would certainly be a misfortune, but there would be
no occasion to be in despair on that account."
"You think that I would only have to prime again."
"Of course."
While we were bantering in this edifying fashion, the table had been
laid, and we sat down to supper. She ate for two and I for four, our
excellent appetite being excited by the delicate cheer. A sumptuous
dessert was served in splendid silver-gilt plate, similar to the two
candlesticks which held four wax candles each. Seeing that I admired
them, she said:
"They are a present from my friend."
"It is a magnificent present, has he given you the snuffers likewise?"
"No."
"It is a proof that your friend is a great nobleman."
"How so?"
"Because great lords have no idea of snuffing the candle."
"Our candles have wicks which never require that operation."
"Good! Tell me who has taught you French."
"Old La Forest. I have been his pupil for six years. He has also taught
me to write poetry, but you know a great many words which I never heard
from him, such as 'a gogo, frustratoire, rater, dorloter'. Who taught you
these words?"
"The good company in Paris, and women particularly."
We made some punch, and amused ourselves in eating oysters after the
voluptuous fashion of lovers. We sucked them in, one by one, after
placing them on the other's tongue. Voluptuous reader, try it, and tell
me whether it is not the nectar of the gods!
At last, joking was over, and I reminded her that we had to think of more
substantial pleasures. "Wait here," she said, "I am going to change my
dress. I shall be back in one minute." Left alone, and not knowing what
to do, I looked in the drawers of her writing-table. I did not touch the
letters, but finding a box full of certain preservative sheaths against
the fatal and dreaded plumpness, I emptied it, and I placed in it the
following lines instead of the stolen goods:
'Enfants de L'Amitie, ministres de la Peur, Je suis l'Amour, tremblez,
respectez le voleur! Et toi, femme de Dieu, ne crains pas d'etre mere;
Car si to le deviens, Dieu seal sera le pere. S'il est dit cependant que
tu veux le barren, Parle; je suis tout pret, je me ferai chatrer.'
My mistress soon returned, dressed like a nymph. A gown of Indian muslin,
embroidered with gold lilies, spewed to admiration the outline of her
voluptuous form, and her fine lace-cap was worthy of a queen. I threw
myself at her feet, entreating her not to delay my happiness any longer.
"Control your ardour a few moments," she said, "here is the altar, and in
a few minutes the victim will be in your arms."
"You will see," she added, going to her writing-table, "how far the
delicacy and the kind attention of my friend can extend."
She took the box and opened it, but instead of the pretty sheaths that
she expected to see, she found my poetry. After reading it aloud, she
called me a thief, and smothering me with kisses she entreated me to give
her back what I had stolen, but I pretended not to understand. She then
read the lines again, considered for one moment, and under pretence of
getting a better pen, she left the room, saying,
"I am going to pay you in your own coin."
She came back after a few minutes and wrote the following six lines:
'Sans rien oter au plaisir amoureux, L'objet de ton larcin sert a combier
nos voeux. A l'abri du danger, mon ame satisfaite Savoure en surete
parfaite; Et si tu veux jauer avec securite, Rends-moi mon doux ami, ces
dons de l'amitie.
After this I could not resist any longer, and I gave her back those
objects so precious to a nun who wants to sacrifice on the altar of
Venus.
The clock striking twelve, I shewed her the principal actor who was
longing to perform, and she arranged the sofa, saying that the alcove
being too cold we had better sleep on it. But the true reason was that,
to satisfy the curious lover, it was necessary for us to be seen.
Dear reader, a picture must have shades, and there is nothing, no matter
how beautiful in one point of view, that does not require to be sometimes
veiled if you look at it from a different one. In order to paint the
diversified scene which took place between me and my lovely mistress
until the dawn of day, I should have to use all the colours of Aretino's
palette. I was ardent and full of vigour, but I had to deal with a strong
partner, and in the morning, after the last exploit, we were positively
worn out; so much so that my charming nun felt some anxiety on my
account. It is true that she had seen my blood spurt out and cover her
bosom during my last offering; and as she did not suspect the true cause
of that phenomenon, she turned pale with fright. I allayed her anxiety by
a thousand follies which made her laugh heartily. I washed her splendid
bosom with rosewater, so as to purify it from the blood by which it had
been dyed for the first time. She expressed a fear that she had swallowed
a few drops, but I told her that it was of no consequence, even if were
the case. She resumed the costume of a nun, and entreating me to lie down
and to write to her before returning to Venice, so as to let her know how
I was, she left the casino.
I had no difficulty in obeying her, for I was truly in great need of
rest. I slept until evening. As soon as I awoke, I wrote to her that my
health was excellent, and that I felt quite inclined to begin our
delightful contest all over again. I asked her to let me know how she was
herself, and after I had dispatched my letter I returned to Venice.