The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Complete

“I wish to know whether the individual who desires me and my company to transact a matter of the greatest importance is really a friend of the King of France?”

It was not difficult for me to divine that the Comte de St. Germain was meant. M. d’O– was not aware that I knew him, and I had not forgotten what M. d’Afri had told me.

“Here’s a fine opportunity,” thought I, “for covering my oracle with glory, and giving my fair Esther something to think about.”

I set to work, and after erecting my pyramid and placing above the four keys the letters O, S, A, D, the better to impose on Esther, I extracted the reply, beginning with the fourth key, D. The oracle ran as follows:

“The friend disavows. The order is signed. They grant. They refuse. All vanishes. Delay.”

I pretended to think the reply a very obscure one, but Esther gave a cry of astonishment and declared that it gave a lot of information in an extraordinary style. M. d’O–, in an ecstasy of delight, exclaimed,

“The reply is clear enough for me. The oracle is divine; the word ‘delay’ is addressed to me. You and my daughter are clever enough in making the oracle speak, but I am more skilled than you in the interpretation thereof. I shall prevent the thing going any further. The project is no less a one than to lend a hundred millions, taking in pledge the diamonds of the French crown. The king wishes the loan to be concluded without the interference of his ministers and without their even knowing anything about it. I entreat you not to mention the matter to anyone.”

He then went out.

“Now,” said Esther, when we were by ourselves, “I am quite sure that that reply came from another intelligence than yours. In the name of all you hold sacred, tell me the meaning of those four letters, and why you usually omit them.”

“I omit them, dearest Esther, because experience has taught me that in ordinary cases they are unnecessary; but while I was making the pyramid the command came to me to set them down, and I thought it well to obey.”

“What do they mean?”

“They are the initial letters of the holy names of the cardinal intelligences of the four quarters of the world.”

“I may not tell you, but whoever deals with the oracle should know them.”

“Ah! do not deceive me; I trust in you, and it would be worse than murder to abuse so simple a faith as mine.”

“I am not deceiving you, dearest Esther.”

“But if you were to teach me the cabala, you would impart to me these holy names?”

“Certainly, but I cannot reveal them except to my successor. If I violate this command I should lose my knowledge; and this condition is well calculated to insure secrecy, is it not?”

“It is, indeed. Unhappy that I am, your successor will be, of course, Manon.”

“No, Manon is not fitted intellectually for such knowledge as this.”

“But you should fix on someone, for you are mortal after all. If you like, my father would give you the half of his immense fortune without your marrying me.”

“Esther! what is it that you have said? Do you think that to possess you would be a disagreeable condition in my eyes?”

After a happy day—I think I may call it the happiest of my life—I left the too charming Esther, and went home towards the evening.

Three or four days after, M. d’O– came into Esther’s room, where he found us both calculating pyramids. I was teaching her to double, to triple, and to quadruple the cabalistic combinations. M. d’O– strode into the room in a great hurry, striking his breast in a sort of ecstasy. We were surprised and almost frightened to see him so strangely excited, and rose to meet him, but he running up to us almost forced us to embrace him, which we did willingly.

“But what is the matter, papa dear?” said Esther, “you surprise me more than I can say.”

“Sit down beside me, my dear children, and listen to your father and your best friend. I have just received a letter from one of the secretaries of their high mightinesses informing me that the French ambassador has demanded, in the name of the king his master, that the Comte St. Germain should be delivered over, and that the Dutch authorities have answered that His Most Christian Majesty’s requests shall be carried out as soon as the person of the count can be secured. In consequence of this the police, knowing that the Comte St. Germain was staying at the Etoile d’Orient, sent to arrest him at midnight, but the bird had flown. The landlord declared that the count had posted off at nightfall, taking the way to Nimeguen. He has been followed, but there are small hopes of catching him up.

“It is not known how he can have discovered that a warrant existed against him, or how he continued to evade arrest.”

“It is not known;” went an M. d’O–, laughing, “but everyone guesses that M. Calcoen, the same that wrote to me, let this friend of the French king’s know that he would be wanted at midnight, and that if he did not get the key of the fields he would be arrested. He is not so foolish as to despise a piece of advice like that. The Dutch Government has expressed its sorrow to M. d’Afri that his excellence did not demand the arrest of St. Germain sooner, and the ambassador will not be astonished at this reply, as it is like many others given on similar occasions.

“The wisdom of the oracle has been verified, and I congratulate myself on having seized its meaning, for we were on the point of giving him a hundred thousand florins on account, which he said he must have immediately. He gave us in pledge the finest of the crown diamonds, and this we still retain. But we will return it to him an demand, unless it is claimed by the ambassador. I have never seen a finer stone.

“And now, my children, you see what I owe to the oracle. On the Exchange the whole company can do nothing but express their gratitude to me. I am regarded as the most prudent and most farseeing man in Holland. To you, my dear children, I owe this honour, but I wear my peacock’s feathers without scruple.

“My dear Casanova, you will dine with us, I hope. After dinner I shall beg you to enquire of your inscrutable intelligence whether we ought to declare ourselves in possession of the splendid diamond, or to observe secrecy till it is reclaimed.”

After this discourse papa embraced us once more and left us.

“Sweetheart,” said Esther, throwing her arms round my neck, “you have an opportunity for giving me a strong proof of your friendship. It will cost you nothing, but it will cover me with honour and happiness.”

“Command me, and it shall be done. You cannot think that I would refuse you a favour which is to cost me nothing, when I should deem myself happy to shed my blood for your sake.”

“My father wishes you to tell him after dinner whether it will be better to declare that they have the diamond or to keep silence till it is claimed. When he asks you a second time, tell him to seek the answer of me, and offer to consult the oracle also, in case my answer may be too obscure. Then perform the operation, and I will make my father love me all the better, when he sees that my knowledge is equal to yours.”

“Dearest one, would I not do for thee a task a thousand times more difficult than this to prove my love and my devotion? Let us set to work. Do you write the question, set up the pyramids, and inscribe with your own hand the all-powerful initials. Good. Now begin to extract the answer by means of the divine key. Never was a cleverer pupil!”

When all this had been done, I suggested the additions and subtractions I wanted made, and she was quite astonished to read the following reply: “Silence necessary. Without silence, general derision. Diamond valueless; mere paste.”

I thought she would have gone wild with delight. She laughed and laughed again.

“What an amazing reply!” said she. “The diamond is false, and it is I who am about to reveal their folly to them. I shall inform my father of this important secret. It is too much, it overwhelms me; I can scarcely contain myself for joy! How much I owe you, you wonderful and delightful man! They will verify the truth of the oracle immediately, and when it is found that the famous diamond is but glittering paste the company will adore my father, for it will feel that but for him it would have been covered with shame, by avowing itself the dupe of a sharper. Will you leave the pyramid with me?”

“Certainly; but it will not teach you anything you do not know.” The father came in again and we had dinner, and after the dessert, when the worthy d’O– learnt from his daughter’s oracle that the stone was false, the scene became a truly comical one. He burst into exclamations of astonishment, declared the thing impossible, incredible, and at last begged me to ask the same question, as he was quite sure that his daughter was mistaken, or rather that the oracle was deluding her.

I set to work, and was not long in obtaining my answer. When he saw that it was to the same effect as Esther’s, though differently expressed, he had no longer any doubts as to his daughter’s skill, and hastened to go and test the pretended diamond, and to advise his associates to say nothing about the matter after they had received proofs of the worthlessness of the stone. This advice was, as it happened, useless; for though the persons concerned said nothing, everybody knew about it, and people said, with their usual malice, that the dupes had been duped most thoroughly, and that St. Germain had pocketed the hundred thousand florins; but this was not the case.

Esther was very proud of her success, but instead of being satisfied with what she had done, she desired more fervently every day to possess the science in its entirety, as she supposed I possessed it.

It soon became known that St. Germain had gone by Emden and had embarked for England, where he had arrived in safety. In due time we shall hear some further details concerning this celebrated impostor; and in the meanwhile I must relate a catastrophe of another kind, which was near to have made me die the death of a fool.

It was Christmas Day. I had got up early in the morning in better spirits than usual. The old women tell you that always presages misfortune, but I was as far then as I am now from making my happiness into an omen of grief. But this time chance made the foolish belief of good effect. I received a letter and a large packet from Paris; they came from Manon. I opened the letter and I thought I should have died of grief when I read,—

“Be wise, and receive the news I give you calmly. The packet contains your portrait and all the letters you have written to me. Return me my portrait, and if you have kept my letters be kind enough to burn them. I rely on your honour. Think of me no more. Duty bids me do all I can to forget you, for at this hour to-morrow I shall become the wife of M. Blondel of the Royal Academy, architect to the king. Please do not seem as if you knew me if we chance to meet on your return to Paris.”

This letter struck me dumb with astonishment, and for more than two hours after I read it I was, as it were, bereft of my senses. I sent word to M. d’O– that, not feeling well, I was going to keep my room all day. When I felt a little better I opened the packet. The first thing to fall out was my portrait. I looked at it, and such was the perturbation of my mind, that, though the miniature really represented me as of a cheerful and animated expression, I thought I beheld a dreadful and a threatening visage. I went to my desk and wrote and tore up a score of letters in which I overwhelmed the faithless one with threats and reproaches.

I could bear no more; the forces of nature were exhausted, and I was obliged to lie down and take a little broth, and court that sleep which refused to come. A thousand designs came to my disordered imagination. I rejected them one by one, only to devise new ones. I would slay this Blondel, who had carried off a woman who was mine and mine only; who was all but my wife. Her treachery should be punished by her losing the object for whom she had deserted me. I accused her father, I cursed her brother for having left me in ignorance of the insult which had so traitorously been put upon me.

I spent the day and night in these delirious thoughts, and in the morning, feeling worse than ever, I sent to M. d’O– to say that I could not possibly leave my room. Then I began to read and re-read the letters I had written to Manon, calling upon her name in a sort of frenzy; and again set myself to write to her without finishing a single letter. The emptiness of my stomach and the shock I had undergone began to stupefy me, and for a few moments I forgot my anguish only to re-awaken to acuter pains soon after.

About three o’clock, the worthy M. d’O– came to invite me to go with him to the Hague, where the chief masons of Holland met on the day following to keep the Feast of St. John, but when he saw my condition he did not press me to come.

“What is the matter with you, my dear Casanova?” said he.

“I have had a great grief, but let us say no more about it.”

He begged me to come and see Esther, and left me looking almost as downcast as I was. However, the next morning Esther anticipated my visit, for at nine o’clock she and her governess came into the room. The sight of her did me good. She was astonished to see me so undone and cast down, and asked me what was the grief of which I had spoken to her father, and which had proved too strong for my philosophy.

“Sit down beside me, Esther dear, and allow me to make a mystery of what has affected me so grievously. Time, the mighty healer, and still more your company, will effect a cure which I should in vain seek by appealing to my reason. Whilst we talk of other things I shall not feel the misfortune which gnaws at my heart.”

“Well, get up, dress yourself, and come and spend the day with me, and I will do my best to make you forget your sorrow.”

“I feel very weak; for the last three days I have only taken a little broth and chocolate.”

At these words her face fell, and she began to weep.

After a moment’s silence she went to my desk, took a pen, and wrote a few lines, which she brought to me. They were,—

“Dear, if a large sum of money, beyond what my father owes you, can remove or even soothe your grief I can be your doctor, and you ought to know that your accepting my treatment would make me happy.”

I took her hands and kissed them affectionately, saying,—

“No, dear Esther, generous Esther, it is not money I want, for if I did I would ask you and your father as a friend: what I want, and what no one can give me, is a resolute mind, and determination to act for the best.”

“Ask advice of your oracle.”

I could not help laughing.

“Why do you laugh?” said she, “if I am not mistaken, the oracle must know a remedy for your woes.”

“I laughed, dearest, because I felt inclined to tell you to consult the oracle this time. As for me I will have nothing to do with it, lest the cure be worse than the disease.”

“But you need not follow your advice unless you like it.”

“No, one is free to act as one thinks fit; but not to follow the advice of the oracle would be a contempt of the intelligence which directs it.”

Esther could say no more, and stood silent for several minutes, and then said that if I like she would stay with me for the rest of the day. The joy which illumined my countenance was manifest, and I said that if she would stay to dinner I would get up, and no doubt her presence would give me an appetite. “Ah!” said she, “I will make you the dish you are so fond of.” She ordered the sedan-chairs to be sent back, and went to my landlady to order an appetising repast, and to procure the chafing-dish and the spirits of wine she required for her own cooking.

Esther was an angel, a treasure, who consented to become mine if I would communicate to her a science which did not exist. I felt that I was looking forward to spending a happy day; this shewed me that I could forget Manon, and I was delighted with the idea. I got out of bed, and when Esther came back and found me on my feet she gave a skip of pleasure. “Now,” said she, “you must oblige me by dressing, and doing your hair as if you were going to a ball.”

“That,” I answered, “is a funny idea, but as it pleases you it pleases me.”

I rang for Le Duc, and told him I wanted to have my hair done, and to be dressed as if I were going to a ball. “Choose the dress that suits me best.”

“No,” said Esther, “I will choose it myself.”

Le Duc opened my trunk, and leaving her to rummage in it he came to shave me, and to do my hair. Esther, delighted with her task, called in the assistance of her governess. She put on my bed a lace shirt, and the suit she found most to her taste. Then coming close, as if to see whether Le Duc was dressing my hair properly, she said,

“A little broth would do you good; send for a dish, it will give you an appetite for dinner.”

I thought her advice dictated by the tenderest care, and I determined to benefit by it. So great was the influence of this charming girl over me, that, little by little, instead of loving Manon, I hated her. That gave me courage, and completed my cure. At the present time I can see that Manon was very wise in accepting Blondel’s offer, and that my love for self and not my love for her was wounded.

I was in my servant’s hands, my face turned away towards the fire, so that I could not see Esther, but only divert myself with the idea that she was inspecting my belongings, when all at once she presented herself with a melancholy air, holding Manon’s fatal letter in her hand.

“Am I to blame,” said she, timidly, “for having discovered the cause of your sorrow?”

I felt rather taken aback, but looking kindly at her, I said,

“No, no, my dear Esther; pity your friend, and say no more about it.”

“Then I may read all the letters?”

“Yes, dearest, if it will amuse you.”

All the letters of the faithless Manon Baletti to me, with mine to her, were together on my table. I pointed them out to Esther, who begun to read them quite eagerly.

When I was dressed, as if for some Court holiday, Le Duc went out and left us by ourselves, for the worthy governess, who was working at her lace by the window, looked at her lace, and nothing else. Esther said that nothing had ever amused her so much as those letters.

“Those cursed epistles, which please you so well, will be the death of me.”

“Death? Oh, no! I will cure you, I hope.”

“I hope so, too; but after dinner you must help me to burn them all from first to last.”

“Burn them! No; make me a present of them. I promise to keep them carefully all my days.”

“They are yours, Esther. I will send them to you to-morrow.”

These letters were more than two hundred in number, and the shortest were four pages in length. She was enchanted to find herself the possessor of the letters, and she said she would make them into a parcel and take them away herself.

“Shall you send back the portrait to your faithless mistress?” said she.

“I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Send it back to her; she is not worthy of your honouring her by keeping it. I am sure that your oracle would give you the same advice. Where is the portrait? Will you shew it me?”

I had the portrait in the interior of a gold snuff-box, but I had never shewn it to Esther for fear she should think Manon handsomer than herself, and conclude that I only shewd it her out of vanity; but as she now asked to see it I opened the box where it was and gave it her.

Any other woman besides Esther would have pronounced Manon downright ugly, or have endeavored at the least to find some fault with her, but Esther pronounced her to be very beautiful, and only said it was a great pity so fair a body contained so vile a soul.

The sight of Manon’s portrait made Esther ask to see all the other portraits which Madame Manzoni had sent me from Venice. There were naked figures amongst them, but Esther was too pure a spirit to put on the hateful affectations of the prude, to whom everything natural is an abomination. O-Morphi pleased her very much, and her history, which I related, struck her as very curious. The portrait of the fair nun, M– M–, first in the habit of her order and afterwards naked, made her laugh, but I would not tell Esther her story, in spite of the lively desire she displayed to hear it.

At dinner-time a delicate repast was brought to us, and we spent two delightful hours in the pleasures of a conversation and the table. I seemed to have passed from death to life, and Esther was delighted to have been my physician. Before we rose from table I had declared my intention of sending Manon’s portrait to her husband on the day following, but her good nature found a way of dissuading me from doing so without much difficulty.

Some time after, while we were talking in front of the fire, she took a piece of paper, set up the pyramids, and inscribed the four keys O, S, A, D. She asked if I should send the portrait to the husband, or whether it would not be more generous to return it to the faithless Manon. Whilst she was calculating she said over and over again, with a smile, “I have not made up the answer.” I pretend to believe her, and we laughed like two augurs meeting each other alone. At last the reply came that I ought to return the portrait, but to the giver, since to send it to the husband would be an act unworthy of a man of honour.

I praised the wisdom of the oracle, and kissed the Pythoness a score of times, promising that the cabala should be obeyed implicitly, adding that she had no need of being taught the science since she knew it as well as the inventor.

I spoke the truth, but Esther laughed, and, fearing lest I should really think so, took pains to assure me of the contrary.

It is thus that love takes his pleasure, thus his growth increases, and thus that he so soon becomes a giant in strength.

“Shall I be impertinent,” said Esther, “if I ask you where your portrait is? Manon says in her letter that she is sending it back; but I don’t see it anywhere.”

“In my first paroxysm of rage, I threw it down; I don’t know in what direction. What was thus despised by her cannot be of much value to me.”

“Let us look for it; I should like to see it.”

We soon found it on my table, in the midst of a of books; Esther said it was a speaking likeness.

“I would give it you if such a present were worthy of you.”

“Ah! you could not give me anything I would value more.”

“Will you deign to accept it, Esther, though it has been possessed by another?”

“It will be all the dearer to me.”

At last she had to leave me, after a day which might be called delightful if happiness consists of calm and mutual joys without the tumultuous raptures of passion. She went away at ten, after I had promised to spend the whole of the next day with her.

After an unbroken sleep of nine hours’ duration I got up refreshed and feeling once more in perfect health, and I went to see Esther immediately. I found she was still abed and asleep, but her governess went and roused her in spite of my request that her repose should be respected.

She received me with a sweet smile as she sat up in bed, and shewd me my voluminous correspondence with Manon on her night-table, saying that she had been reading it till two o’clock in the morning.

Her appearance was ravishing. A pretty cambric night-cap, tied with a light-blue ribbon and ornamented with lace, set off the beauties of her face; and a light shawl of Indian muslin, which she had hastily thrown on, veiled rather than concealed her snowy breast, which would have shamed the works of Praxiteles. She allowed me to take a hundred kisses on her rosy lips—ardent kisses which the sight of such charms made yet more ardent; but her hands forbade my approach to those two spheres I so longed to touch.

I sat down by her and told her that her charms of body and mind would make a man forget all the Manons that ever were.

“Is your Manon fair to see all over?” said she.

“I really can’t say, for, not being her husband, I never had an opportunity of investigating the matter.”

“Your discretion is worthy of all praise,” she said, with a smile, “such conduct becomes a man of delicate feeling.”

“I was told by her nurse that she was perfect in all respects, and that no mole or blemish relieved the pure whiteness of her skin.”

“You must have a different notion of me?”