History of My Life (Volume 2), by Giacomo Casanova, translated by Willard R. Trask.#

A ridiculous story:#

"Yes, Captain, I am a surgeon. I have lived in this city fro twenty years in poverty, [...]. I have earned a great deal of money, I have invested it to advantage, and it is you---God bless you!---who have made me rich."

"How"

"Here is the whole brief story. You communicated a certain love-token to Don Gerolamo's housekeeper, who gave it to a friend, who honorably shared it with his wife. She in turn gave it to a libertine, who distributed it so effectively that in less than a month I had fifty patients under my care, all of whom I cured, of course for a proper fee. I still have a few patients, but within a month I shall have none, for the disease has died out. When I saw you I could not but rejoice. I saw you as a bird of good omen. Can I hope that you will remain here for a few days and give the disease a fresh start?" [p. 63]

On Love:#

What is love? For all that I have read every word that certain self-styled sages have written concerning its nature, for all that I have philosophized on it myself as I have grown older, I will never admit that it is either a trifle or a vanity of vanities. It is a kind of madness over which philosophy has no power; a sickness to which man is prone at every time of life and which is incurable if it strikes in old age. Inexpressible love! God of nature! Bitterness than which nothing is sweeter, sweetness than which nothing is more bitter! Divine monster which can only be defined by paradoxes! [p. 152]

History of My Life (Volume 1), by Giacomo Casanova, translated by Willard R. Trask.#

I really enjoy this review on Amazon:#

Most people know of Casanova only via his reputation as something of a womaniser. Which is rather like describing Paganini as a bit handy with a violin, Einstein as quite good at physics, or Pele as fairly useful at knocking a leather ball between two white-painted wooden posts.

The real Casanova did indeed have his lascivious way with a healthy number of young (and not so young) maidens, not to mention the plentiful harlots and slatterns with whom he enjoined, but that is by no means the full extent of his achievements. For this was a man who, quite apart from his great achievments in the "Ars Amatoria", dabbled in such a wide variety of fields that he composed an operetta, translated Homer's Iliad, wrote papers on philosophy, escaped from the most secure and notorious prison of 18th century Europe (the Leads in Venice), hobnobbed with Catherine the Great, Voltaire, the Pope, and half of pre-revolutionary Europe's aristocracy (fleecing a fair number in the process), and generally spent his life living in such an outrageous and adventurous fashion that even the most daring and imaginative Hollywood scripwriter would not dare put the story to paper, for fear of being branded a lunatic.

The simple fact is that Giacomo Casanova, self-styled Duc de Seignalt, was possibly the most interesting human being ever to have walked the face of the planet. Certainly, he was the by far the most fascinating person who ever put his life to paper with such flair, imagination (some would say *too much* imagination), erudition, and sheer literary style. For one should not imagine that this is simply a series of clumsily written tales from the various regal courts, taverns, and brothels of ancien regime 18th century Europe. No - if anything, the great surprise of Casanova's story is the sheer literary talent on display. If he possessed but an ounce or two of discipline, there is no doubt in my mind that he could have become a very well respected writer, such is his descriptive power, and his general skill with words, his ability to conjure up memorable images, and his acute powers of observation. As it is, he must still be respected as a storyteller of the very highest order - giving ground only to Chaucer and Homer, in my humble opinion.

What is more, in such a class-ridden age, Casanova traversed all strata of contemporary society, from Kings to prostitutes, from nuns and abbots to humble inn-keepers and vagabonds. A great insight into his character is afforded by the way in which he takes each person on their merits, regardless of wealth or social status. Here is a man who can guffaw over a pint of ale with a drunk and a teenage slattern, and the next day indulge in acute and informed conversation with Europe's leading intellectuals on the merits of various poets and other artists of note, or the pressing political problems of the age.

Something I find very interesting about Casanova's preface is his emphasis on his faith in God and his religious beliefs:#

I believe in the existence of an immaterial God, creator and lord of all forms; and what proves to me that I have never doubted it is that I have always counted upon his providence, turning to him through prayer in all my tribulations and always finding my prayer granted. Despair kills; prayer dissipates it; and after praying man trusts and act. [p. 25]

He continues,

Despite an excellent moral foundation, the inevitable fruit of the divine principle which were rooted in my hart, I was all my life the victim of my senses; I have delighted in going astray and I have constantly lived in error, with no other consolation than that of knowing I had erred. For this reason I hope, dear reader, that far from finding my history mere impudent boasting, you will find that it has the tone suited to a general confession, though in the style of my narratives you will find neither a show of repentance nor the constraint of one who blushes to confess his escapades. My follies are the follies of youth. You will see that I laugh at them, and if you are kind you will laugh at them with me.

You will laugh when you discover that I often had no scruples about deceiving nitwits and scoundrels and fools when I found it necessary. As for women, this sort of reciprocal deceit cancels itself out, for when love enters in, both parties are usually dupes. [p. 27]

Casanova's comment on the purpose of reading his memoirs:#

The preface stands to the work as the bill does to the play. It is to be read. I have not written these memoirs for those young people who can only save themselves from falling by spending their youth in ignorance, but for those whom experience of life has rendered proof against being seduced, whom living in the fire has transformed into salamanders. [p. 36]

When Casanova was young, he wrote the following:#

Discite grammatici cur mascula nomina cunnus
Et cur femineum mentuala nomen habet

Disce quod a domino nomina servus habet [p. 62]

A taste of Casanova's descriptive style:#

As the conclusion of my sermon she wiped away my tears with the front of her shift, never dreaming that by this charitable act she exposed to my view two rocks eminently adapted to make the most skillful of pilots suffer shipwreck. [p. 121]

And,

She could say no more, for our clinging mouths were no longer either organs of speech or channels for respiration. Become a single being at the same instant, we did not have the strength to restrain our first desire for more than a minute; it ran its course without the sound of a single kiss or the least movement on our part. The raging fire which urged us on was scorching us; it would have burned us had we tried to restrain it. [p. 290]