The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 27: Expelled from SpainCasanova, Giacomo
History
The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 27: Expelled from Spain
Casanova, Giacomo
Casanova, Giacomo, 1725-1798; Europe -- History -- 18th century -- Biography
On the way back to Lugano, as I was making place for a carriage in a
narrow road, my horse slipped and fell down a slope ten feet high. My
head went against a large stone, and I thought my last hour was come as
the blood poured out of the wound. However, I was well again in a few
days. This was my last ride on horseback.
During my stay at Lugano the inspectors of the Swiss cantons came there
in its turn. The people dignified them with the magnificent title of
ambassadors, but M. de R---- was content to call them avoyers.
These gentlemen stayed at my inn, and I had my meals with them throughout
their stay.
The avoyer of Berne gave me some news of my poor friend M. F----. His
charming daughter Sara had become the wife of M, de V----, and was happy.
A few days after these pleasant and cultured men had left, I was startled
one morning by the sudden appearance of the wretched Marazzani in my
room. I seized him by his collar, threw him out, and before he had time
to use his cane or his sword, I had kicked, beaten, and boxed him most
soundly. He defended himself to the best of his ability, and the landlord
and his men ran up at the noise, and had some difficulty in separating
us.
"Don't let him go!" I cried, "send for the bargello and have him away to
prison."
I dressed myself hastily, and as I was going out to see M. de R----, the
bargello met me, and asked me on what charge I gave the man into custody.
"You will hear that at M. de R----'s, where I shall await you."
I must now explain my anger. You may remember, reader, that I left the
wretched fellow in the prison of Buen Retiro. I heard afterwards that the
King of Spain, Jerusalem, and the Canary Islands, had given him a small
post in a galley off the coast of Africa.
He had done me no harm, and I pitied him; but not being his intimate
friend, and having no power to mitigate the hardship of his lot, I had
well-nigh forgotten him.
Eight months after, I met at Barcelona Madame Bellucci, a Venetian
dancer, with whom I had had a small intrigue. She gave an exclamation of
delight on seeing me, and said she was glad to see me delivered from the
hard fate to which a tyrannous Government had condemned me.
"What fate is that?" I asked, "I have seen a good deal of misfortune
since I left you."
"I mean the presidio."
"But that has never been my lot, thank God! Who told you such a story?"
"A Count Marazzani, who was here three weeks ago, and told me he had been
luckier than you, as he had made his escape."
"He's a liar and a scoundrel; and if ever I meet him again he shall pay
me dearly."
From that moment I never thought of the rascal without feeling a lively
desire to give him a thrashing, but I never thought that chance would
bring about so early a meeting.
Under the circumstances I think my behaviour will be thought only
natural. I had beaten him, but that was not enough for me. I seemed to
have done nothing, and indeed, I had got as good as I gave.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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