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 caf‚ 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
a 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 form 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 and 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!
