The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 11: Paris and HollandCasanova, Giacomo
History
The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 11: Paris and Holland
Casanova, Giacomo
Casanova, Giacomo, 1725-1798; Europe -- History -- 18th century -- Biography
We had the courage to watch the dreadful sight for four hours. The
circumstances of Damien's execution are too well known to render it
necessary for me to speak of them; indeed, the account would be too long
a one, and in my opinion such horrors are an offence to our common
humanity.
Damien was a fanatic, who, with the idea of doing a good work and
obtaining a heavenly reward, had tried to assassinate Louis XV.; and
though the attempt was a failure, and he only gave the king a slight
wound, he was torn to pieces as if his crime had been consummated.
While this victim of the Jesuits was being executed, I was several times
obliged to turn away my face and to stop my ears as I heard his piercing
shrieks, half of his body having been torn from him, but the Lambertini
and the fat aunt did not budge an inch. Was it because their hearts were
hardened? They told me, and I pretended to believe them, that their
horror at the wretch's wickedness prevented Them feeling that compassion
which his unheard-of torments should have excited. The fact was that
Tiretta kept the pious aunt curiously engaged during the whole time of
the execution, and this, perhaps, was what prevented the virtuous lady
from moving or even turning her head round.
Finding himself behind her, he had taken the precaution to lift up her
dress to avoid treading on it. That, no doubt, was according to the rule;
but soon after, on giving an involuntary glance in their direction, I
found that Tiretta had carried his precautions rather far, and, not
wishing to interrupt my friend or to make the lady feel awkward, I turned
my head and stood in such a way that my sweetheart could see nothing of
what was going on; this put the good lady at her ease. For two hours
after I heard a continuous rustling, and relishing the joke I kept quiet
the whole time. I admired Tiretta's hearty appetite still more than his
courage, but what pleased me most was the touching resignation with which
the pious aunt bore it all.
At the end of this long session I saw Madame turn round, and doing the
same I fixed my gaze on Tiretta, and found him looking as fresh and cool
as if nothing had happened, but the aunt seemed to me to have a rather
pensive appearance. She had been under the fatal necessity of keeping
quiet and letting Tiretta do what he liked for fear of the Lambertini's
jests, and lest her niece might be scandalized by the revelation of
mysteries of which she was supposed to know nothing.
We set out, and having dropped the Pope's niece at her door, I begged her
to lend me Tiretta for a few hours, and I then took Madame to her house
in the Rue St. Andre-des-Arts. She asked me to come and see her the
following day as she had something to tell me, and I remarked that she
took no notice of my friend as she left us. We went to the "Hotel de
Russie," where they gave you an excellent dinner for six francs a head,
and I thought my mad friend stood in need of recruiting his strength.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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