I asked him to let me have the horse again, but he answered that the
animal did not belong to me. I forgot to ask him to send me back to the
place I had come from, and I regretted it; but after all perhaps I did
for the best.
The officer who accompanied me asked me, as we were passing a coffee-
house, whether I would like to take some chocolate, and we went in. At
that moment I saw Petronio going by, and availing myself of a moment
when the officer was talking to someone, I told him not to appear to be
acquainted with me, but to tell me where he lived. When we had taken our
chocolate the officer paid and we went out. Along the road we kept up
the conversation; he told me his name, I gave him mine, and I explained
how I found myself in Rimini. He asked me whether I had not remained
some time in Ancona; I answered in the affirmative, and he smiled and
said I could get a passport in Bologna, return to Rimini and to Pesaro
without any fear, and recover my trunk by paying the officer for the
horse he had lost. We reached the gate, he wished me a pleasant journey,
and we parted company.
I found myself free, with gold and jewels, but without my trunk. Therese
was in Rimini, and I could not enter that city. I made up my mind to go
to Bologna as quickly as possible in order to get a passport, and to
return to Pesaro, where I should find my passport from Rome, for I could
not make up my mind to lose my trunk, and I did not want to be separated
from Therese until the end of her engagement with the manager of the
Rimini Theatre.
It was raining; I had silk stockings on, and I longed for a carriage. I
took shelter under the portal of a church, and turned my fine overcoat
inside out, so as not to look like an abbe. At that moment a peasant
happened to come along, and I asked him if a carriage could be had to
drive me to Cesena. "I have one, sir," he said, "but I live half a
league from here."
"Go and get it, I will wait for you here."
While I was waiting for the return of the peasant with his vehicle, some
forty mules laden with provisions came along the road towards Rimini. It
was still raining fast, and the mules passing close by me, I placed my
hand mechanically upon the neck of one of them, and following the slow
pace of the animals I re-entered Rimini without the slightest notice
being taken of me, even by the drivers of the mules. I gave some money
to the first street urchin I met, and he took me to Therese's house.
With my hair fastened under a night-cap, my hat pulled down over my
face, and my fine cane concealed under my coat, I did not look a very
elegant figure. I enquired for Bellino's mother, and the mistress of the
house took me to a room where I found all the family, and Therese in a
woman's dress. I had reckoned upon surprising them, but Petronio had
told them of our meeting, and they were expecting me. I gave a full
account of my adventures, but Therese, frightened at the danger that
threatened me, and in spite of her love, told me that it was absolutely
necessary for me to go to Bologna, as I had been advised by M. Vais, the
officer.
"I know him," she said, "and he is a worthy man, but he comes here every
evening, and you must conceal yourself."
It was only eight o'clock in the morning; we had the whole day before
us, and everyone promised to be discreet. I allayed Therese's anxiety by
telling her that I could easily contrive to leave the city without being
observed.
Therese took me to her own room, where she told me that she had met the
manager of the theatre on her arrival in Rimini, and that he had taken
her at once to the apartments engaged for the family. She had informed
him that she was a woman, and that she had made up her mind not to
appear as a castrato any more; he had expressed himself delighted at
such news, because women could appear on the stage at Rimini, which was
not under the same legate as Ancona. She added that her engagement would
be at an end by the 1st of May, and that she would meet me wherever it
would be agreeable to me to wait for her.
"As soon as I can get a passport," I said, "there is nothing to hinder
me from remaining near you until the end of your engagement. But as M.
Vais calls upon you, tell me whether you have informed him of my having
spent a few days in Ancona?"
"I did, and I even told him that you had been arrested because you had
lost your passport."
I understood why the officer had smiled as he was talking with me. After
my conversation with Therese, I received the compliments of the mother
and of the young sisters who appeared to me less cheerful and less free
than they had been in Ancona. They felt that Bellino, transformed into
Therese, was too formidable a rival. I listened patiently to all the
complaints of the mother who maintained that, in giving up the character
of castrato, Therese had bidden adieu to fortune, because she might have
earned a thousand sequins a year in Rome.
"In Rome, my good woman," I said, "the false Bellino would have been
found out, and Therese would have been consigned to a miserable convent
for which she was never made."
Notwithstanding the danger of my position, I spent the whole of the day
alone with my beloved mistress, and it seemed that every moment gave her
fresh beauties and increased my love. At eight o'clock in the evening,
hearing someone coming in, she left me, and I remained in the dark, but
in such a position that I could see everything and hear every word. The
Baron Vais came in, and Therese gave him her hand with the grace of a
pretty woman and the dignity of a princess. The first thing he told her
was the news about me; she appeared to be pleased, and listened with
well-feigned indifference, when he said that he had advised me to return
with a passport. He spent an hour with her, and I was thoroughly well
pleased with her manners and behaviour, which had been such as to leave
me no room for the slightest feeling of jealousy. Marina lighted him out
and Therese returned to me. We had a joyous supper together, and, as we
were getting ready to go to bed, Petronio came to inform me that ten
muleteers would start for Cesena two hours before day-break, and that he
was sure I could leave the city with them if I would go and meet them a
quarter of an hour before their departure, and treat them to something
to drink. I was of the same opinion, and made up my mind to make the
attempt. I asked Petronio to sit up and to wake me in good time. It
proved an unnecessary precaution, for I was ready before the time, and
left Therese satisfied with my love, without any doubt of my constancy,
but rather anxious as to my success in attempting to leave Rimini. She
had sixty sequins which she wanted to force back upon me, but I asked
her what opinion she would have of me if I accepted them, and we said no
more about it.
I went to the stable, and having treated one of the muleteers to some
drink I told him that I would willingly ride one of his mules as far as
Sarignan.
"You are welcome to the ride," said the good fellow, "but I would advise
you not to get on the mule till we are outside the city, and to pass
through the gate on foot as if you were one of the drivers."
It was exactly what I wanted. Petronio accompanied me as far as the
gate, where I gave him a substantial proof of my gratitude. I got out of
the city without the slightest difficulty, and left the muleteers at
Sarignan, whence I posted to Bologna.
I found out that I could not obtain a passport, for the simple reason
that the authorities of the city persisted that it was not necessary;
but I knew better, and it was not for me to tell them why. I resolved to
write to the French officer who had treated me so well at the
guardhouse. I begged him to enquire at the war office whether my
passport had arrived from Rome, and, if so, to forward it to me. I also
asked him to find out the owner of the horse who had run away with me,
offering to pay for it. I made up my mind to wait for Therese in
Bologna, and I informed her of my decision, entreating her to write very
often. The reader will soon know the new resolution I took on the very
same day.
EPISODE 3 -- MILITARY CAREER
CHAPTER XIII
I Renounce the Clerical Profession, and Enter the Military Service--
Therese Leaves for Naples, and I Go to Venice--I Am Appointed Ensign in
the Army of My Native Country--I Embark for Corfu, and Land at Orsera to
Take a Walk
I had been careful, on my arrival in Bologna, to take up my quarters at
a small inn, so as not to attract any notice, and as soon as I had
dispatched my letters to Therese and the French officer, I thought of
purchasing some linen, as it was at least doubtful whether I should ever
get my trunk. I deemed it expedient to order some clothes likewise. I
was thus ruminating, when it suddenly struck me that I was not likely
now to succeed in the Church, but feeling great uncertainty as to the
profession I ought to adopt, I took a fancy to transform myself into an
officer, as it was evident that I had not to account to anyone for my
actions. It was a very natural fancy at my age, for I had just passed
through two armies in which I had seen no respect paid to any garb but
to the military uniform, and I did not see why I should not cause myself
to be respected likewise. Besides, I was thinking of returning to
Venice, and felt great delight at the idea of shewing myself there in
the garb of honour, for I had been rather ill-treated in that of
religion.
I enquired for a good tailor: death was brought to me, for the tailor
sent to me was named Morte. I explained to him how I wanted my uniform
made, I chose the cloth, he took my measure, and the next day I was
transformed into a follower of Mars. I procured a long sword, and with
my fine cane in hand, with a well-brushed hat ornamented with a black
cockade, and wearing a long false pigtail, I sallied forth and walked
all over the city.
I bethought myself that the importance of my new calling required a
better and more showy lodging than the one I had secured on my arrival,
and I moved to the best inn. I like even now to recollect the pleasing
impression I felt when I was able to admire myself full length in a
large mirror. I was highly pleased with my own person! I thought myself
made by nature to wear and to honour the military costume, which I had
adopted through the most fortunate impulse. Certain that nobody knew me,
I enjoyed by anticipation all the conjectures which people would indulge
in respecting me, when I made my first appearance in the most
fashionable cafe of the town.
My uniform was white, the vest blue, a gold and silver shoulder-knot,
and a sword-knot of the same material. Very well pleased with my grand
appearance, I went to the coffee-room, and, taking some chocolate, began
to read the newspapers, quite at my ease, and delighted to see that
everybody was puzzled. A bold individual, in the hope of getting me into
conversation, came to me and addressed me; I answered him with a
monosyllable, and I observed that everyone was at a loss what to make of
me. When I had sufficiently enjoyed public admiration in the coffee-
room, I promenaded in the busiest thoroughfares of the city, and
returned to the inn, where I had dinner by myself.
I had just concluded my repast when my landlord presented himself with
the travellers' book, in which he wanted to register my name.
"Casanova."
"Your profession, if you please, sir?"
"Officer."
"In which service?"
"None."
"Your native place?"
"Venice."
"Where do you come from?"
"That is no business of yours."
This answer, which I thought was in keeping with my external appearance,
had the desired effect: the landlord bowed himself out, and I felt
highly pleased with myself, for I knew that I should enjoy perfect
freedom in Bologna, and I was certain that mine host had visited me at
the instance of some curious person eager to know who I was.
The next day I called on M. Orsi, the banker, to cash my bill of
exchange, and took another for six hundred sequins on Venice, and one
hundred sequins in gold after which I again exhibited myself in the
public places. Two days afterwards, whilst I was taking my coffee after
dinner, the banker Orsi was announced. I desired him to be shewn in, and
he made his appearance accompanied my Monsignor Cornaro, whom I feigned
not to know. M. Orsi remarked that he had called to offer me his
services for my letters of exchange, and introduced the prelate. I rose
and expressed my gratification at making his acquaintance. "But we have
met before," he replied, "at Venice and Rome." Assuming an air of blank
surprise, I told him he must certainly be mistaken. The prelate,
thinking he could guess the reason of my reserve, did not insist, and
apologized. I offered him a cup of coffee, which he accepted, and, on
leaving me, he begged the honour of my company to breakfast the next
day.
I made up my mind to persist in my denials, and called upon the prelate,
who gave me a polite welcome. He was then apostolic prothonotary in
Bologna. Breakfast was served, and as we were sipping our chocolate, he
told me that I had most likely some good reasons to warrant my reserve,
but that I was wrong not to trust him, the more so that the affair in
question did me great honour. "I do not know," said I, "what affair you
are alluding to." He then handed me a newspaper, telling me to read a
paragraph which he pointed out. My astonishment may be imagined when I
read the following correspondence from Pesaro: "M. de Casanova, an
officer in the service of the queen, has deserted after having killed
his captain in a duel; the circumstances of the duel are not known; all
that has been ascertained is that M. de Casanova has taken the road to
Rimini, riding the horse belonging to the captain, who was killed on the
spot."
In spite of my surprise, and of the difficulty I had in keeping my
gravity at the reading of the paragraph, in which so much untruth was
blended with so little that was real, I managed to keep a serious
countenance, and I told the prelate that the Casanova spoken of in the
newspaper must be another man.
"That may be, but you are certainly the Casanova I knew a month ago at
Cardinal Acquaviva's, and two years ago at the house of my sister,
Madame Lovedan, in Venice. Besides the Ancona banker speaks of you as an
ecclesiastic in his letter of advice to M. Orsi:"
"Very well, monsignor; your excellency compels me to agree to my being
the same Casanova, but I entreat you not to ask me any more questions as
I am bound in honour to observe the strictest reserve."
"That is enough for me, and I am satisfied. Let us talk of something
else."
I was amused at the false reports which were being circulated about me,
and, I became from that moment a thorough sceptic on the subject of
historical truth. I enjoyed, however, very great pleasure in thinking
that my reserve had fed the belief of my being the Casanova mentioned in
the newspaper. I felt certain that the prelate would write the whole
affair to Venice, where it would do me great honour, at least until the
truth should be known, and in that case my reserve would be justified,
besides, I should then most likely be far away. I made up my mind to go
to Venice as soon as I heard from Therese, as I thought that I could
wait for her there more comfortably than in Bologna, and in my native
place there was nothing to hinder me from marrying her openly. In the
mean time the fable from Pesaro amused me a good deal, and I expected
every day to see it denied in some newspaper. The real officer Casanova
must have laughed at the accusation brought against him of having run
away with the horse, as much as I laughed at the caprice which had
metamorphosed me into an officer in Bologna, just as if I had done it
for the very purpose of giving to the affair every appearance of truth.
On the fourth day of my stay in Bologna, I received by express a long
letter from Therese. She informed me that, on the day after my escape
from Rimini, Baron Vais had presented to her the Duke de Castropignano,
who, having heard her sing, had offered her one thousand ounces a year,
and all travelling expenses paid, if she would accept an engagement as
prima-donna at the San Carlo Theatre, at Naples, where she would have to
go immediately after her Rimini engagement. She had requested and
obtained a week to come to a decision. She enclosed two documents, the
first was the written memorandum of the duke's proposals, which she sent
in order that I should peruse it, as she did not wish to sign it without
my consent; the second was a formal engagement, written by herself, to
remain all her life devoted to me and at my service. She added in her
letter that, if I wished to accompany her to Naples, she would meet me
anywhere I might appoint, but that, if I had any objection to return to
that city, she would immediately refuse the brilliant offer, for her
only happiness was to please me in all things.
For the first time in my life I found myself in need of thoughtful
consideration before I could make up my mind. Therese's letter had
entirely upset all my ideas, and, feeling that I could not answer it at
once, I told the messenger to call the next day.
Two motives of equal weight kept the balance wavering; self-love and
love for Therese. I felt that I ought not to require Therese to give up
such prospects of fortune; but I could not take upon myself either to
let her go to Naples without me, or to accompany her there. On one side,
I shuddered at the idea that my love might ruin Therese's prospects; on
the other side, the idea of the blow inflicted on my self-love, on my
pride, if I went to Naples with her, sickened me.
How could I make up my mind to reappear in that city, in the guise of a
cowardly fellow living at the expense of his mistress or his wife? What
would my cousin Antonio, Don Polo and his dear son, Don Lelio Caraffa,
and all the patricians who knew me, have said? The thought of Lucrezia
and of her husband sent a cold shiver through me. I considered that, in
spite of my love for Therese, I should become very miserable if everyone
despised me. Linked to her destiny as a lover or as a husband, I would
be a degraded, humbled, and mean sycophant. Then came the thought, Is
this to be the end of all my hopes? The die was cast, my head had
conquered my heart. I fancied that I had hit upon an excellent
expedient, which at all events made me gain time, and I resolved to act
upon it. I wrote to Therese, advising her to accept the engagement for
Naples, where she might expect me to join her in the month of July, or
after my return from Constantinople. I cautioned her to engage an
honest-looking waiting-woman, so as to appear respectably in the world,
and, to lead such a life as would permit me to make her my wife, on my
return, without being ashamed of myself. I foresaw that her success
would be insured by her beauty even more than by her talent, and, with
my nature, I knew that I could never assume the character of an easy-
going lover or of a compliant husband.
Had I received Therese's letter one week sooner, it is certain that she
would not have gone to Naples, for my love would then have proved
stronger than my reason; but in matters of love, as well as in all
others, Time is a great teacher.
I told Therese to direct her answer to Bologna, and, three days after, I
received from her a letter loving, and at the same time sad, in which
she informed me that she had signed the engagement. She had secured the
services of a woman whom she could present as her mother; she would
reach Naples towards the middle of May, and she would wait for me there
till she heard from me that I no longer wanted her.
Four days after the receipt of that letter, the last but one that
Therese wrote me, I left Bologna for Venice. Before my departure I had
received an answer from the French officer, advising me that my passport
had reached Pesaro, and that he was ready to forward it to me with my
trunk, if I would pay M. Marcello Birna, the proveditore of the Spanish
army, whose address he enclosed, the sum of fifty doubloons for the
horse which I had run away with, or which had run away with me. I
repaired at once to the house of the proveditore, well pleased to settle
that affair, and I received my trunk and my passport a few hours before
leaving Bologna. But as my paying for the horse was known all over the
town, Monsignor Cornaro was confirmed in his belief that I had killed my
captain in a duel.
To go to Venice, it was necessary to submit to a quarantine, which had
been adhered to only because the two governments had fallen out. The
Venetians wanted the Pope to be the first in giving free passage through
his frontiers, and the Pope insisted that the Venetians should take the
initiative. The result of this trifling pique between the two
governments was great hindrance to commerce, but very often that which
bears only upon the private interest of the people is lightly treated by
the rulers. I did not wish to be quarantined, and determined on evading
it. It was rather a delicate undertaking, for in Venice the sanitary
laws are very strict, but in those days I delighted in doing, if not
everything that was forbidden, at least everything which offered real
difficulties.
I knew that between the state of Mantua and that of Venice the passage
was free, and I knew likewise that there was no restriction in the
communication between Mantua and Modena; if I could therefore penetrate
into the state of Mantua by stating that I was coming from Modena, my
success would be certain, because I could then cross the Po and go
straight to Venice. I got a carrier to drive me to Revero, a city
situated on the river Po, and belonging to the state of Mantua.
The driver told me that, if he took the crossroads, he could go to
Revero, and say that we came from Mantua, and that the only difficulty
would be in the absence of the sanitary certificate which is delivered
in Mantua, and which was certain to be asked for in Revero. I suggested
that the best way to manage would be for him to say that he had lost it,
and a little money removed every objection on his part.
When we reached the gates of Revero, I represented myself as a Spanish
officer going to Venice to meet the Duke of Modena (whom I knew to be
there) on business of the greatest importance. The sanitary certificate
was not even demanded, military honours were duly paid to me, and I was
most civilly treated. A certificate was immediately delivered to me,
setting forth that I was travelling from Revero, and with it I crossed
the Po, without any difficulty, at Ostiglia, from which place I
proceeded to Legnago. There I left my carrier as much pleased with my
generosity as with the good luck which had attended our journey, and,
taking post-horses, I reached Venice in the evening. I remarked that it
was the end of April, 1744, the anniversary of my birth, which, ten
times during my life, has been marked by some important event.
The very next morning I went to the exchange in order to procure a
passage to Constantinople, but I could not find any passenger ship
sailing before two or three months, and I engaged a berth in a Venetian
ship called, Our Lady of the Rosary, Commander Zane, which was to sail
for Corfu in the course of the month.
Having thus prepared myself to obey my destiny, which, according to my
superstitious feelings, called me imperiously to Constantinople, I went
to St: Mark's Square in order to see and to be seen, enjoying by
anticipation the surprise of my acquaintances at not finding me any
longer an abbe. I must not forget to state that at Revero I had
decorated my hat with a red cockade.
I thought that my first visit was, by right, due to the Abbe Grimani.
The moment he saw me he raised a perfect shriek of astonishment, for he
thought I was still with Cardinal Acquaviva, on the road to a political
career, and he saw standing before him a son of Mars. He had just left
the dinner-table as I entered, and he had company. I observed amongst
the guests an officer wearing the Spanish uniform, but I was not put out
of countenance. I told the Abbe Grimani that I was only passing through
Venice, and that I had felt it a duty and a pleasure to pay my respects
to him.
"I did not expect to see you in such a costume."
"I have resolved to throw off the garb which could not procure me a
fortune likely to satisfy my ambition."
"Where are you going?"
"To Constantinople; and I hope to find a quick passage to Corfu, as I
have dispatches from Cardinal Acquaviva."
"Where do you come from now?"
"From the Spanish army, which I left ten days ago."
These words were hardly spoken, when I heard the voice of a young
nobleman exclaiming;
"That is not true."
"The profession to which I belong," I said to him with great animation,
"does not permit me to let anyone give me the lie."
And upon that, bowing all round, I went away, without taking any notice
of those who were calling me back.
I wore an uniform; it seemed to me that I was right in showing that
sensitive and haughty pride which forms one of the characteristics of
military men. I was no longer a priest: I could not bear being given the
lie, especially when it had been given to me in so public a manner.
I called upon Madame Manzoni, whom I was longing to see. She was very
happy to see me, and did not fail to remind me of her prediction. I told
her my history, which amused her much; but she said that if I went to
Constantinople I should most likely never see her again.
After my visit to Madame Manzoni I went to the house of Madame Orio,
where I found worthy M. Rosa, Nanette, and Marton. They were all greatly
surprised, indeed petrified at seeing me. The two lovely sisters looked
more beautiful than ever, but I did not think it necessary to tell them
the history of my nine months absence, for it would not have edified the
aunt or pleased the nieces. I satisfied myself with telling them as much
as I thought fit, and amused them for three hours. Seeing that the good
old lady was carried away by her enthusiasm, I told her that I should be
very happy to pass under her roof the four or five weeks of my stay in
Venice, if she could give me a room and supper, but on condition that I
should not prove a burden to her or to her charming nieces.
"I should be only too happy," she answered, "to have you so long, but I
have no room to offer you."
"Yes, you have one, my dear," exclaimed M. Rosa, "and I undertake to put
it to rights within two hours."
It was the room adjoining the chamber of the two sisters. Nanette said
immediately that she would come downstairs with her sister, but Madame
Orio answered that it was unnecessary, as they could lock themselves in
their room.
"There would be no need for them to do that, madam," I said, with a
serious and modest air; "and if I am likely to occasion the slightest
disturbance, I can remain at the inn."
"There will be no disturbance whatever; but forgive my nieces, they are
young prudes, and have a very high opinion of themselves:"
Everything being satisfactorily arranged, I forced upon Madame Orio a
payment of fifteen sequins in advance, assuring her that I was rich, and
that I had made a very good bargain, as I should spend a great deal more
if I kept my room at the inn. I added that I would send my luggage, and
take up my quarters in her house on the following day. During the whole
of the conversation, I could see the eyes of my two dear little wives
sparkling with pleasure, and they reconquered all their influence over
my heart in spite of my love for Therese, whose image was, all the same,
brilliant in my soul: this was a passing infidelity, but not
inconstancy.
On the following day I called at the war office, but, to avoid every
chance of unpleasantness, I took care to remove my cockade. I found in
the office Major Pelodoro, who could not control his joy when he saw me
in a military uniform, and hugged me with delight. As soon as I had
explained to him that I wanted to go to Constantinople, and that,
although in uniform, I was free, he advised me earnestly to seek the
favour of going to Turkey with the bailo, who intended to leave within
two months, and even to try to obtain service in the Venetian army.
His advice suited me exactly, and the secretary of war, who had known me
the year before, happening to see me, summoned me to him. He told me
that he had received letters from Bologna which had informed him of a
certain adventure entirely to my honour, adding that he knew that I
would not acknowledge it. He then asked me if I had received my
discharge before leaving the Spanish army.
"I could not receive my discharge, as I was never in the service."
"And how did you manage to come to Venice without performing
quarantine?"
"Persons coming from Mantua are not subject to it."
"True; but I advise you to enter the Venetian service like Major
Pelodoro."
As I was leaving the ducal palace, I met the Abbe Grimani who told me
that the abrupt manner in which I had left his house had displeased
everybody.
"Even the Spanish officer?"
"No, for he remarked that, if you had truly been with the army, you
could not act differently, and he has himself assured me that you were
there, and to prove what he asserted he made me read an article in the
newspaper, in which it is stated that you killed your captain in a duel.
Of course it is only a fable?"
"How do you know that it is not a fact?"
"Is it true, then?"
"I do not say so, but it may be true, quite as true as my having been
with the Spanish army ten days ago."
"But that is impossible, unless you have broken through the quarantine."
"I have broken nothing. I have openly crossed the Po at Revero, and here
I am. I am sorry not to be able to present myself at your excellency's
palace, but I cannot do so until I have received the most complete
satisfaction from the person who has given me the lie. I could put up
with an insult when I wore the livery of humility, but I cannot bear one
now that I wear the garb of honour."
"You are wrong to take it in such a high tone. The person who attacked
your veracity is M. Valmarana, the proveditore of the sanitary
department, and he contends that, as nobody can pass through the cordon,
it would be impossible for you to be here. Satisfaction, indeed! Have
you forgotten who you are?"
"No, I know who I am; and I know likewise that, if I was taken for a
coward before leaving Venice, now that I have returned no one shall
insult me without repenting it."
"Come and dine with me."
"No, because the Spanish officer would know it."
"He would even see you, for he dines with me every day."
"Very well, then I will go, and I will let him be the judge of my
quarrel with M. Valmarana."
I dined that day with Major Pelodoro and several other officers, who
agreed in advising me to enter the service of the Republic, and I
resolved to do so. "I am acquainted," said the major, "with a young
lieutenant whose health is not sufficiently strong to allow him to go to
the East, and who would be glad to sell his commission, for which he
wants one hundred sequins. But it would be necessary to obtain the
consent of the secretary of war." "Mention the matter to him," I
replied, "the one hundred sequins are ready." The major undertook the
commission.
In the evening I went to Madame Orio, and I found myself very
comfortably lodged. After supper, the aunt told her nieces to shew me,
to my room, and, as may well be supposed, we spent a most delightful
night. After that they took the agreeable duty by turns, and in order to
avoid any surprise in case the aunt should take it into her head to pay
them a visit, we skilfully displaced a part of the partition, which
allowed them to come in and out of my room without opening the door. But
the good lady believed us three living specimens of virtue, and never
thought of putting us to the test.
Two or three days afterwards, M. Grimani contrived an interview between
me and M. Valmarana, who told me that, if he had been aware that the
sanitary line could be eluded, he would never have impugned my veracity,
and thanked me for the information I had given him. The affair was thus
agreeably arranged, and until my departure I honoured M. Grimani's
excellent dinner with my presence every day.
Towards the end of the month I entered the service of the Republic in
the capacity of ensign in the Bala regiment, then at Corfu; the young
man who had left the regiment through the magical virtue of my one
hundred sequins was lieutenant, but the secretary of war objected to my
having that rank for reasons to which I had to submit, if I wished to
enter the army; but he promised me that, at the end of the year, I would
be promoted to the grade of lieutenant, and he granted me a furlough to
go to Constantinople. I accepted, for I was determined to serve in the
army.
M. Pierre Vendramin, an illustrious senator, obtained me the favour of a
passage to Constantinople with the Chevalier Venier, who was proceeding
to that city in the quality of bailo, but as he would arrive in Corfu a
month after me, the chevalier very kindly promised to take me as he
called at Corfu.
A few days before my departure, I received a letter from Therese, who
informed me that the Duke de Castropignano escorted her everywhere. "The
duke is old," she wrote, "but even if he were young, you would have no
cause for uneasiness on my account. Should you ever want any money, draw
upon me from any place where you may happen to be, and be quite certain
that your letters of exchange will be paid, even if I had to sell
everything I possess to honour your signature."
There was to be another passenger on board the ship of the line on which
I had engaged my passage, namely, a noble Venetian, who was going to
Zante in the quality of counsellor, with a numerous and brilliant
retinue. The captain of the ship told me that, if I was obliged to take
my meals alone, I was not likely to fare very well, and he advised me to
obtain an introduction to the nobleman, who would not fail to invite me
to share his table. His name was Antonio Dolfin, and he had been
nicknamed Bucentoro, in consequence of his air of grandeur and the
elegance of his toilet. Fortunately I did not require to beg an
introduction, for M. Grimani offered, of his own accord, to present me
to the magnificent councillor, who received me in the kindest manner,
and invited me at once to take my meals at his table. He expressed a
desire that I should make the acquaintance of his wife, who was to
accompany him in the journey. I called upon her the next day, and I
found a lady perfect in manners, but already of a certain age and
completely deaf. I had therefore but little pleasure to expect from her
conversation. She had a very charming young daughter whom she left in a
convent. She became celebrated afterwards, and she is still alive, I
believe, the widow of Procurator Iron, whose family is extinct.
I have seldom seen a finer-looking man, or a man of more imposing
appearance than M. Dolfin. He was eminently distinguished for his wit
and politeness. He was eloquent, always cheerful when he lost at cards,
the favourite of ladies, whom he endeavoured to please in everything,
always courageous, and of an equal temper, whether in good or in adverse
fortune.
He had ventured on travelling without permission, and had entered a
foreign service, which had brought him into disgrace with the
government, for a noble son of Venice cannot be guilty of a greater
crime. For this offence he had been imprisoned in the Leads--a favour
which destiny kept also in reserve for me.
Highly gifted, generous, but not wealthy, M. Dolfin had been compelled
to solicit from the Grand Council a lucrative governorship, and had been
appointed to Zante; but he started with such a splendid suite that he
was not likely to save much out of his salary. Such a man as I have just
portrayed could not make a fortune in Venice, because an aristocratic
government can not obtain a state of lasting, steady peace at home
unless equality is maintained amongst the nobility, and equality, either
moral or physical, cannot be appreciated in any other way than by
appearances. The result is that the man who does not want to lay himself
open to persecution, and who happens to be superior or inferior to the
others, must endeavour to conceal it by all possible means. If he is
ambitious, he must feign great contempt for dignities; if he seeks
employment, he must not appear to want any; if his features are
handsome, he must be careless of his physical appearance; he must dress
badly, wear nothing in good taste, ridicule every foreign importation,
make his bow without grace, be careless in his manner; care nothing for
the fine arts, conceal his good breeding, have no foreign cook, wear an
uncombed wig, and look rather dirty. M. Dolfin was not endowed with any
of those eminent qualities, and therefore he had no hope of a great
fortune in his native country.
The day before my departure from Venice I did not go out; I devoted the
whole of the day to friendship. Madame Orio and her lovely nieces shed
many tears, and I joined them in that delightful employment. During the
last night that I spent with both of them, the sisters repeated over and
over, in the midst of the raptures of love, that they never would see me
again. They guessed rightly; but if they had happened to see me again
they would have guessed wrongly. Observe how wonderful prophets are!
I went on board, on the 5th of May, with a good supply of clothing,
jewels, and ready cash. Our ship carried twenty-four guns and two
hundred Sclavonian soldiers. We sailed from Malamacca to the shores of
Istria during the night, and we came to anchor in the harbour of Orsera
to take ballast. I landed with several others to take a stroll through
the wretched place where I had spent three days nine months before, a
recollection which caused me a pleasant sensation when I compared my
present position to what it was at that time. What a difference in
everything--health, social condition, and money! I felt quite certain
that in the splendid uniform I was now wearing nobody would recognize
the miserable-looking abbe who, but for Friar Stephano, would have
become--God knows what!
CHAPTER XIV
An Amusing Meeting in Orsera--Journey to Corfu--My Stay in
Constantinople--Bonneval--My Return to Corfu--Madame F.--The False
Prince--I Run Away from Corfu--My Frolics at Casopo--I Surrender My self
a Prisoner--My Speedy Release and Triumph--My Success with Madame F.
I affirm that a stupid servant is more dangerous than a bad one, and a
much greater plague, for one can be on one's guard against a wicked
person, but never against a fool. You can punish wickedness but not
stupidity, unless you send away the fool, male or female, who is guilty
of it, and if you do so you generally find out that the change has only
thrown you out of the frying-pan into the fire.
This chapter and the two following ones were written; they gave at full
length all the particulars which I must now abridge, for my silly
servant has taken the three chapters for her own purposes. She pleaded
as an excuse that the sheets of paper were old, written upon, covered
with scribbling and erasures, and that she had taken them in preference
to nice, clean paper, thinking that I would care much more for the last
than for the first. I flew into a violent passion, but I was wrong, for
the poor girl had acted with a good intent; her judgment alone had
misled her. It is well known that the first result of anger is to
deprive the angry man of the faculty of reason, for anger and reason do
not belong to the same family. Luckily, passion does not keep me long
under its sway: 'Irasci, celerem tamen et placabilem esse'. After I had
wasted my time in hurling at her bitter reproaches, the force of which
did not strike her, and in proving to her that she was a stupid fool,
she refuted all my arguments by the most complete silence. There was
nothing to do but to resign myself, and, although not yet in the best of
tempers, I went to work. What I am going to write will probably not be
so good as what I had composed when I felt in the proper humour, but my
readers must be satisfied with it they will, like the engineer, gain in
time what they lose in strength.
I landed at Orsera while our ship was taking ballast, as a ship cannot
sail well when she is too light, and I was walking about when I remarked
a man who was looking at me very attentively. As I had no dread of any
creditor, I thought that he was interested by my fine appearance; I
could not find fault with such a feeling, and kept walking on, but as I
passed him, he addressed me:
"Might I presume to enquire whether this is your first visit to Orsera,
captain?"
"No, sir, it is my second visit to this city."
"Were you not here last year?"
"I was."
"But you were not in uniform then?"
"True again; but your questions begin to sound rather indiscreet."
"Be good enough to forgive me, sir, for my curiosity is the offspring of
gratitude. I am indebted to you for the greatest benefits, and I trust
that Providence has brought you here again only to give me the
opportunity of making greater still my debt of gratitude to you."
"What on earth have I done, and what can I do for you? I am at a loss to
guess your meaning."
"Will you be so kind as to come and breakfast with me? My house is near
at hand; my refosco is delicious, please to taste it, and I will
convince you in a few words that you are truly my benefactor, and that I
have a right to expect that you have returned Orsera to load me with
fresh benefits."
I could not suspect the man of insanity; but, as I could not make him
out, I fancied that he wanted to make me purchase some of his refosco,
and I accepted his invitation. We went up to his room, and he left me
for a few moments to order breakfast. I observed several surgical
instruments, which made me suppose that he was a surgeon, and I asked
him when he returned.
"Yes, captain; I have been practising surgery in this place for twenty
years, and in a very poor way, for I had nothing to do, except a few
cases of bleeding, of cupping, and occasionally some slight excoriation
to dress or a sprained ankle to put to rights. I did not earn even the
poorest living. But since last year a great change has taken place; I
have made a good deal of money, I have laid it out advantageously, and
it is to you, captain, to you (may God bless you!) that I am indebted
for my present comforts."
"But how so?"
"In this way, captain. You had a connection with Don Jerome's
housekeeper, and you left her, when you went away, a certain souvenir
which she communicated to a friend of hers, who, in perfect good faith,
made a present of it to his wife. This lady did not wish, I suppose, to
be selfish, and she gave the souvenir to a libertine who, in his turn,
was so generous with it that, in less than a month, I had about fifty
clients. The following months were not less fruitful, and I gave the
benefit of my attendance to everybody, of course, for a consideration.
There are a few patients still under my care, but in a short time there
will be no more, as the souvenir left by you has now lost all its
virtue. You can easily realize now the joy I felt when I saw you; you
are a bird of good omen. May I hope that your visit will last long
enough to enable you to renew the source of my fortune?"
I laughed heartily, but he was grieved to hear that I was in excellent
health. He remarked, however, that I was not likely to be so well off on
my return, because, in the country to which I was going, there was
abundance of damaged goods, but that no one knew better than he did how
to root out the venom left by the use of such bad merchandise. He begged
that I would depend upon him, and not trust myself in the hands of
quacks, who would be sure to palm their remedies upon me. I promised him
everything, and, taking leave of him with many thanks, I returned to the
ship. I related the whole affair to M. Dolfin, who was highly amused. We
sailed on the following day, but on the fourth day, on the other side of
Curzola, we were visited by a storm which very nearly cost me my life.
This is how it happened:
The chaplain of the ship was a Sclavonian priest, very ignorant,
insolent and coarse-mannered, and, as I turned him into ridicule
whenever the opportunity offered, he had naturally become my sworn
enemy. 'Tant de fiel entre-t-il dans l'ame d'un devot!' When the storm
was at its height, he posted himself on the quarter-deck, and, with book
in hand, proceeded to exorcise all the spirits of hell whom he thought
he could see in the clouds, and to whom he pointed for the benefit of
the sailors who, believing themselves lost, were crying, howling, and
giving way to despair, instead of attending to the working of the ship,
then in great danger on account of the rocks and of the breakers which surrounded us. |
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