The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 26: SpainCasanova, Giacomo
History
The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 26: Spain
Casanova, Giacomo
Casanova, Giacomo, 1725-1798; Europe -- History -- 18th century -- Biography
Early the next morning the great Mengs sent me linen and all the
requisites of the toilette. His maid brought me a cup of chocolate, and
his cook came to ask if I had permission to eat flesh-meat. In such ways
a prince welcomes a guest, and bids him stay, but such behaviour in a
private person is equivalent to a hint to go. I expressed my gratitude,
and only accepted a cup of chocolate and one handkerchief.
My carriage was at the door, and I was just taking leave of Mengs when an
officer appeared on the scene, and asked the painter if the Chevalier de
Casanova was in his house.
"I am the Chevalier de Casanova," said I.
"Then I hope you will follow me of your own free will to the prison of
Buen Retiro. I cannot use force here, for this house is the king's, but I
warn you that in less than an hour the Chevalier Mengs will have orders
to turn you out, and then you will be dragged to prison, which would be
unpleasant for you. I therefore advise you to follow me quietly, and to
give up such weapons as you may possess."
"The Chevalier Mengs will give you the weapons in question. I have
carried them with me for eleven years; they are meant to protect me on
the highways. I am ready to follow you, but first allow me to write four
notes; I shall not be half an hour."
"I can neither allow you to wait nor to write, but you will be at liberty
to do so after you have reached the prison."
"Very good; then I am ready to follow you, for I have no choice. I shall
remember Spanish justice!"
I embraced Mengs, had the weapons put into my carriage, and got in with
the officer, who seemed a perfect gentleman.
He took me to the Castle of Buen Retiro, formerly a royal palace, and now
a prison. When my conductor had consigned me to the officer of the watch
I was handed over to a corporal, who led me into a vast hall on the
ground floor of the building. The stench was dreadful, and the prisoners
were about thirty, ten of them being soldiers. There were ten or twelve
large beds, some benches, no tables, and no chairs.
I asked a guard to get me some pens, ink, and paper, and gave him a duro
for the purpose. He took the coin smilingly, and went away, but he did
not return. When I asked his brethren what had become of him they laughed
in my face. But what surprised me the most was the sight of my page and
Marazzini, who told me in Italian that he had been there for three days,
and that he had not written to me as he had a presentiment that we should
soon meet. He added that in a fortnight's time we should be sent off
under a heavy escort to work in some fortress, though we might send our
pleas to the Government, and might possibly be let out after three or
four years' imprisonment.
"I hope," he said, "not to be condemned before I am heard. The alcalde
will come and interrogate you tomorrow, and your answers will be taken
down; that's all. You may then be sent to hard labour in Africa."
"Has your case been heard yet?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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