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
At nine o'clock I was told that my supper was ready. I was very hungry,
and the neatness with which the table was laid was a pleasant surprise in
Spain. I was sorry that I had had no opportunity of expressing my
satisfaction to Don Diego, but I sat down to supper. Then indeed I
thought the cobbler a hero; the Biscayan maid might have entered into
rivalry with the best cook in France. There were five dishes, including
my favourite delicacy 'las criadillas', and everything was exquisite. My
lodging was dear enough, but the cook made the whole arrangement a
wonderful bargain.
Towards the end of supper Philippe told me that the landlord had come in,
and that with my leave he would wish me a good evening.
"Shew him in by all means."
I saw Don Diego and his charming daughter enter; he had rented the house
on purpose to be my landlord.
CHAPTER VI
My Amours With Donna Ignazia--Return of M. de Mocenino to Madrid
All you barons, counts, and marquises who laugh at an untitled man who
calls himself a gentleman, pause and reflect, spare your disdain till you
have degraded him; allow him a gentle title so long as he does gentle
deeds. Respect the man that defines nobility in a new way, which you
cannot understand. With him nobility is not a series of descents from
father to son; he laughs at pedigrees, in which no account is taken of
the impure blood introduced by wifely infidelities; he defines a nobleman
as one who does noble deeds, who neither lies nor cheats, who prefers his
honour to his life.
This latter part of the definition should make you tremble for your
lives, if you meditate his dishonour. From imposture comes contempt, from
contempt hatred, from hatred homicide, which takes out the blot of
dishonour.
The cobbler Don Diego might have feared, perhaps, that I should laugh at
him, when he told me he was noble; but feeling himself to be really so he
had done his best to prove it to me. The fineness of his behaviour when I
was in prison had given me some idea of the nobility of his soul, but he
was not content with this. On the receipt of my letter, he had taken a
new house only to give up the best part of it to me. No doubt he
calculated on not losing in the long run, as after I had left he would
probably have no difficulty in letting the apartment, but his chief
motive was to oblige me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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