What is your Client to do? Which if the hot Man disregards with Scorn, or flatly refuses to give, Satisfaction must be demanded, and tilt they must. I am to make what Suppositions I think fit within the Verge of Possibility, so they are reasonable and consistent with the Character I Edition: orig; Page: [ 72 ] have drawn: Can we not suppose these two Persons in such a Situation, that you yourself would advise your Friend to send his Adversary a Challenge? You see therefore how fair I am.
But what makes so just and prudent a Man, that has the Good of Society so much at Heart, act knowingly against the Laws of his Country? The strict Obedience he pays to the Laws of Honour, which are superior to all others. If Men of Honour would act consistently, they ought all to be Roman Catholicks. How, and under what Pretence can a Christian, who is a Man of Sense, submit or agree to Laws that prescribe Revenge, and countenance Murder; both which are so expressly forbid by the Precepts of his Religion?
How can you ask?
Malene Rydahl - News
It is a very great Hazard a Man runs in a Duel; besides the Remorse and Uneasiness one must feel as long as he lives, if he has the Misfortune of killing his Adversary. You have now a very fine Opportunity, Horatio, of looking into your Heart, and, with a little of my Assistance, examining yourself. Will you suffer me to ask you some Questions, and will Edition: orig; Page: [ 76 ] you answer them directly and in good Humour? Do you remember the Storm upon the Coast of Genoa?
Going to Naples? Never more in my Life. The Captain himself said we were in Danger. There was no body there, yourself excepted, that had half a quarter so much to lose as I had: Besides, they are used to the Sea; Storms are familiar to them. Want of Knowledge and Experience may make Men apprehend Danger where there is none; but real Dangers, when they are known to be such, try the natural Courage of all Men; whether they have been used to them or not: Sailors are as unwilling to lose their Lives as other People.
Six or seven Months after you fought that Duel, I remember you had the Small-Pox; you was then very much afraid of dying. Before I had it, I was in perpetual Dread of it, and many Times to hear it named only has made me uneasy. Natural Courage is a general Armour against the Fear of Death, whatever Shape that appears in, Sin fractus illabatur orbis. Besides that in Sickness and other Dangers, as well as Afflictions, where the Hand of God is plainly to be seen, Courage and Intrepidity are impious as well as impertinent.
Undauntedness in Chastisements is a Kind of Rebellion: It is waging War with Heaven, which none but Atheists and Free-Thinkers would be guilty of; it is only they that can glory in Impenitence, and talk of dying hard. You may blame the rigorous Laws of Honour and the Tyranny of Custom, but a Man that will live in the World must and is bound to obey them. Would not you do it yourself? Can a Man Edition: current; Page: [ 88 ] believe the Bible, and at the same Time apprehend a Tyrant more crafty or malicious, more unrelenting or inhuman than the Devil, or a Mischief worse than Hell, and Pains either more exquisite or more durable than Torments unspeakable and yet everlasting?
What Evil is it? Strictly speaking you are in the right, it is unanswerable; But who will consider Things in that Light? Where are they then? I have heard and seen Clergymen themselves in Company shew their Contempt of Poltrons, whatever they might talk or recommend in the Pulpit. Entirely to quit the World, and at once to renounce the Conversation of all Persons that are valuable in it, is a terrible Thing to resolve upon. Would you become a Town and Table-talk?
Is not this the certain Fate of a Man, who should refuse to fight, or bear an Affront without Resentment? Be just, Cleomenes; is it to be avoided? Must he not be made a common Laughing-stock, be pointed at in the Streets, and serve for Diversion to the very Children, to Link-boys and Hackney Coachmen? Is it a Thought to be born with Patience? How come you now to have such an anxious Regard for what may be the Opinion of the Vulgar, whom at other Times you so heartily despise?
All this is Reasoning, and you know the Thing will not bear it: how can you be so cruel? I am not sensible of any; and I declare to you, that I feel nothing that moves me to speak as I do, but the Sense and Principle of Honour within me. Or that among the highest Quality Infants can be affected with it before they are two Years old? Whatever therefore this mighty Principle is, it is born with us, and belongs to our Nature: Are you unacquainted with the proper, genuine, homely Name of it? I know you call it Pride.
The Desire likewise of being thought well of, and the Love of Praise and even of Glory are commendable Qualities, that are beneficial to the Publick. The first Part of your Assertion is very true, when that high Value, that Desire and that Love are kept within the Bounds of Reason: But in the second there is a Mistake; those, whom we call Shameless, are not more destitute of Pride than their Betters. Remember what I have said of Education, and the Power of it; you may add Inclinations, Knowledge, and Circumstances; for as Men differ in all these, so they are differently influenced and wrought upon by all the Passions.
Speech on Gratitude
There is nothing that some Men may not be taught to be ashamed of. The same Passion, that makes the well-bred Man and prudent Officer value and secretly admire themselves for the Honour and Fidelity they display, may make the Rake and Scoundrel brag of their Vices and boast of their Impudence. I cannot comprehend, how a Man of Honour, and one that has none, should both act from the same Principle. This is not more strange, than that Self-love may make a Man destroy himself, yet nothing is more Edition: current; Page: [ 91 ] true; and it is as certain, that some Men indulge their Pride in being shameless.
All Passions and Instincts in general were given to all Animals for some wise End, tending to the Preservation and Happiness either of themselves or Edition: orig; Page: [ 84 ] their Species: It is our Duty to hinder them from being detrimental or offensive to any Part of the Society; but why should we be ashamed of having them? The Instinct of high Value, which every Individual has for himself, is a very useful Passion: but a Passion it is, and though I could demonstrate, that we should be miserable Creatures without it, yet, when it is excessive, it often is the Cause of endless Mischiefs.
Why do you so much insist upon it, that this Principle, this Value Men set upon themselves, is a Passion? And why will you chuse to call it Pride rather than Honour? For very good Reasons. But a Passion that is born with us is unalterable, and Part of our Edition: current; Page: [ 92 ] Frame, whether it exerts itself or not: The Essence of it is the same, which Way soever it is taught to turn. Honour is the undoubted Offspring of Pride, but the same Cause produces not always the same Effect. All the Vulgar, Children, Savages and many others that are not affected with any Sense of Honour, have all of them Pride, as is evident from the Symptoms.
You call it Honour, and the too strict though unavoidable Adherence to the Rules of it: But Men ne- Edition: orig; Page: [ 86 ] ver commit Violence upon themselves but in struggling with the Passions that are innate and natural to them. For what Spell or Witchcraft is there, by the Delusion of which a Man of Understanding shall, keeping his Senses, mistake an imaginary Duty for an unavoidable Necessity to break all real Obligations? As to the Law and the Punishment, Persons of Quality have little to fear of that.
When Things are set in this Light I confess it is very unaccountable: but will your System explain this; can you make it clear your self? Immediately, as the Sun: If you will but observe two things, that must necessarily follow, and are manifest from what I have demonstrated already. But there are real and substantial Mischiefs which a Man may draw upon himself, by misbehaving in Point of Honour; it may ruin his Fortune and all hopes of Preferment: An Officer may be broken for putting up an Affront: No Body will serve with a Coward, and who will employ him?
What you urge is altogether out of the Question; at least it was in your own case; you had nothing to dread or apprehend but the bare Opinion of Men. Besides, when the fear of Shame is superior to that of Death, it is likewise Superior to, and outweighs all other Considerations; as has been sufficiently proved: But when the fear of Shame is not violent enough to curb the fear of Death, nothing else can; and whenever the fear of Death is stronger than that of Shame, there is no Consideration that will make a Man fight in cold Blood, or comply with any of the Laws of Honour, where Life is at Stake.
Therefore whoever acts from the fear of Shame as a Motive, in sending and accepting of Challenges, must be sensible on the one hand; that the Mischiefs he apprehends, should he disobey the Tyrant, can only be the Off-spring of his own Thoughts; and on the other, that if he could be persuaded any ways Edition: orig; Page: [ 91 ] to lessen the great Esteem and high Value he sets upon himself, his Dread of Shame would likewise palpably diminish.
This is the Sorcerer, that is able to divert all other Passions from their natural Objects, and make a rational Creature ashamed of what is most agreeable to his Inclination as well as his Duty; both which the Duellist owns, that he has knowingly acted against. What a wonderful Machine, what an heterogeneous Compound is Man!
I aim at no Victory, all I wish for is to do you Service, in undeceiving you. What is the Reason that in the same Person Edition: current; Page: [ 97 ] the fear of Death should be so glaringly conspicuous in Sickness, or a Storm, and so entirely well hid in a Duel, and all military Engagements? Pray solve that too. But why Pretended Believers? For the same Reason that a Roman Catholick cannot be a good Subject always to be depended upon, in a Protestant, or indeed any other Country, but the Dominions of his Holiness.
I am sure, you understand me. Look back on your own Conduct, and you shall find, that what you said of the Hand of God 2 was only a Shift, an Evasion, you made to serve your then present Purpose. On another Occasion, 3 you had said Yesterday yourself, that Providence superintends and governs every thing without Exception; you must therefore have known, that the Hand of God is as much to be seen in one common Accident in Life, and in one Misfortune, as it is in another, that is not more extraordinary. A severe Fit of Sickness may be less fatal, than a slight Skirmish between two hostile Parties; and among Men of Honour there is often as much Danger in a Quarrel about nothing, as there can be in the most violent Storm.
It is impossible therefore that a Man of Sense, who has a solid Principle to go by, should in one sort of Danger think it Impiety not to shew Fear, and in another be ashamed to be thought to have any. Do but consider your own Inconsistency with yourself. At one time, to justify your fear of Death, when Pride is absent, you become religious on a sudden, and your Consci- Edition: orig; Page: [ 94 ] ence then is so tenderly scrupulous, that to be undaunted under Chastisements from the Almighty, seems no less to you than waging War with Heaven; and at another, when Honour calls, you dare not only knowingly and wilfully break the most positive Command of God, but likewise to own; that the greatest Calamity, which, in your Opinion, can befall you, is, that the World should believe, or but suspect of you, that you had any Scruple about it.
No Atheism Hold, Cleomenes; I can no longer resist the Force of Truth, and I am resolved to be better acquainted with myself for the future. Let me become your Pupil. You had better let one of yours go with me now; I shall drive Home directly. I confess that once I thought no body could have persuaded me to read it; but you managed me very skilfully, and nothing could have convinced me so well as the Instance of Duelling: The Argument a majori ad minus struck me, without your mentioning it. That indeed seems to discourage it; but he shews the Necessity of keeping up that Custom, to polish and brighten Society in general.
No indeed: he plainly demonstrates the Usefulness of it, gives as good Reasons as it is possible to invent, and shews how much Conversation would suffer if that Practice was abolished. Can you think a Man serious on a Subject, when he leaves it in the manner he does? It is strange that a Nation should grudge to see perhaps half a dozen Men sacrifised in a Twelve-month to obtain so valuable a Blessing, as the Politeness of Manners, the Pleasure of Conversation, and the Happiness of Company in general, that is often so willing to expose, Edition: current; Page: [ ] and sometimes loses as many thousands in a few Hours, without knowing whether it will do any good or not.
He is so, when he says that the Practice of Duelling, that is the keeping up of the Fashion of it, contributes to the Politeness of Manners and Pleasure of Conversation, and this is very true; but that Politeness itself, and that Pleasure, are the Things he laughs at and exposes throughout his Book. But who knows, what to make of a Man, who recommends a thing very seriously in one Page, and ridicules it in the next?
To the first he sets forth the Origin and Insufficiency of Virtue, and their own Insincerity in the Practice of it: To the rest he shews the Folly of Vice and Pleasure, the Vanity of Worldly Greatness, and the Hypocrisy of all those Divines, who pretending to preach the Gospel, give and take Allowances that are inconsistent with, and quite contrary to the Precepts of it. But if it is a good Book, why then are so many of the Clergy so much against it as they are? I always had such an Aversion to Eunuchs, as no fine singing or acting of any of them has yet been able to conquer; when I hear a Feminine Voice, I look for a Petticoat; and I perfectly loath the sight of those Sexless Animals.
Suppose that a Man with the same Dislike to them had Wit at will, and a Mind to lash that abominable piece of Luxury, by which Men are taught a in Cold Blood to spoil Males for Diversion, and out of Wantonness Edition: orig; Page: [ ] to make waste of their own Species. He might say likewise, that no Honey, no Preparations of Sugar, Raisins, or Sperma Ceti; no Emulsions, Lozenges or other Medicines, cooling or balsamick; no Bleeding, no Temperance or Choice in Eatables; no Abstinence from Women, from Wine, and every thing that is hot, sharp or spirituous, were of that Efficacy to preserve, sweeten and strengthen the Voice; he might insist upon it, that nothing could do this so effectually as Castration.
The Simile holds very well as to the Injustice of the Accusation, and the Insincerity of the Complaint; but is it as true, that Luxury will render a Nation flourishing, and that private Vices are publick Benefits, as that Castration preserves and strengthens the Voice? With the Restrictions my Friend requires, I believe it is, and the Cases are ex- Edition: orig; Page: [ ] actly alike. Nothing is more effectual to preserve, mend and strengthen a fine Voice in Youth than Castration: The Question is not, whether this is true, but whether it is eligible; whether a fine Voice is an Equivalent for the Loss, and whether a Man would prefer the Satisfaction of singing, and the Advantages that may accrue from it, to the Comforts of Marriage, and the Pleasure of Posterity, of which Enjoyments it destroys the Possibility.
From his writing it in English, and publishing it in London. But have you read it through yet? Since we are such odd Creatures, why should we not make the most of it? You should try again, and use yourself by Edition: current; Page: [ ] Degrees to think abstractly, and then the Book will be a great Help to you. To confound me it will: It makes a Jest of all Politeness and good Manners. It tells us, that all good Manners consist in flattering the Pride of others, and concealing our own. But is not that provoking?
I never met with such an open Enmity to Truth in a Man of Honour before. You shall be as severe upon me as you please; what I say is fact. Yes, but then they are directed in that Choice by Reason and Experience, and not by Nature, I mean, not by untaught Nature: But there is an Ambiguity in the Word Good which I would avoid; let us stick to that of Virtuous, and then I affirm, that no Action is such, which does not suppose and point at some Conquest or other, some Victory great or small over untaught Nature; otherwise the Epithet is improper.
That there is no Merit but in the Conquest of the Passions, nor any Virtue without apparent Self-denial. Where is the Man, that has at no time covered his Failings, and Edition: current; Page: [ ] skreened himself with false Appearances, or never pretended to act from Principles of Social Virtue, and his Regard to others, when he knew in his Heart, that his greatest Care had been to oblige himself?
Persons of an easy Fortune may appear virtuous, from the same turn of Mind that would shew their Edition: orig; Page: [ ] Frailty if they were poor. If we would know the World, we must look into it. You take no Delight in the Occurrences of low Life; but if we always remain among Persons of Quality, and extend our Enquiries no farther, the Transactions there will not furnish us with a sufficient Knowledge of every thing that belongs to our Nature. Let us take a View of two Persons bred to the same Business, that have nothing but their Parts, and the World before them, launching out with the same Helps and Disadvantages: Let there be no difference between them, but in their Temper; the one active, and the other indolent.
Chance, or some uncommon Accident, may be the Occasion of great Alterations in him, but without that he will hardly ever raise himself to Mediocrity. The Man of a contrary Temper trusts not to his Merit only, or the setting it off to the best Advantage; he takes Pains to heighten it in the Opinion of others, and make his Abilities seem greater than he Edition: current; Page: [ ] knows them to be. Self-love in every Individual ever bestirs itself in soothing and flattering the darling Inclination; always turning from us the dismal Side of the Prospect; and the indolent Man in such Circumstances, finding nothing pleasing without, turns his View inward upon himself; and there looking on every Thing with great Indulgence, admires and takes delight in his own Parts, whether natural or acquired: hence he is easily induced to despise all others, who have not the same good Qualifications, especially the Powerful and Wealthy, whom yet he never hates or envies with any Violence; because that would ruffle his Temper.
Where there is but a small Income, Frugality is built upon Reason; and in this Case there is an apparent Self-denial, without which an indolent Man that has no value for Money cannot be frugal; and when we see indolent Men, that have no regard for Wealth, reduced to Beggery, as it often happens, it is most commonly for want of this Virtue.
I told you before, that the indolent Man, setting out as he did, would be poor; and that nothing but some Share of Vanity could hinder him from being despicably so. Frugality is no Virtue, when it is imposed upon us by any of the Passions, and the Contempt of Riches is seldom sincere. I have known Men of plentiful Estates, that on Ac- Edition: orig; Page: [ ] count of Posterity, or other warrantable Views of employing their Money, Edition: current; Page: [ ] were saving and more penurious, than they would have been if their Wealth had been greater: but I never yet found a frugal Man, without Avarice or Necessity.
And again, there are innumerable Spend-thrifts, lavish and extravagant to a high degree, who seem not to have the least Regard to Money, whilst they have any to fling away: but these Wretches are the least capable of bearing Poverty of any, and the Money once gone, hourly discover, how uneasy, impatient and miserable they are without it. To see a Man of a very good Estate, in Health and Strength of Body and Mind, one that has no reason to complain of the World or Fortune, actually despise both, and embrace a voluntary Poverty for a laudable Purpose, is a great Rarity.
I know but one in all Antiquity, to whom all this may be applied with strictness of Truth. To me it seems to be more difficult to be virtuous without Money, than with: it is senseless for a Man to be poor, when he can help it, and if I saw any body chuse it when he might as lawfully be rich, I would think him to be distracted. But you would not think him so, if you saw him sell his Estate and give the Money to the Poor: you know where that was required. Perhaps not: but what say you to renouncing Edition: current; Page: [ ] the World, and the Solemn Promise we have made of it?
But who can blame Edition: orig; Page: [ ] them? Whoever denies this let them consult within, and examine whether it is not the same with Happiness, as what Seneca says of the Reverse, nemo est miser nisi comparatus. Now look upon the Behaviour of the two contrary Tempers before us, and mind how differently they set about this Task, every one suitably to his own Inclination.
It is evident then, that the true Reasons, why Men speak against things, are not always writ upon their Foreheads. But after all this quiet easy Temper, this Indolence you talk of, is it a not what in plain English we call Laziness? Secondly, that Edition: current; Page: [ ] the indolent Man may indulge his Inclinations, and be as sensual as his Circumstances will let him, with little Offence or Disturbance to his Neighbour; that the excessive Value he sets upon the Tranquility of his Mind, and the grand Aversion he has to part with it, must prove a strong Curb to every Passion, that comes uppermost; none of which by this means can ever affect him in any high degree, and consequently that the Corruption of his Heart remaining, he may with little Art and no great Trouble acquire many amiable Qualities, that shall have all the Appearances of Social Virtues, whilst nothing extraordinary befalls him.
Whoever follows his own Inclinations, be they never so kind, beneficent, or humane, never quarrels with any Vice, but what is clashing with his Temperament and Na- Edition: orig; Page: [ ] ture; whereas those, who act from a Principle of Virtue take always Reason for their Guide, and combat without Exception every Passion, that hinders them from their Duty! He will not be a litigious Neighbour, nor make Mischief among his Acquaintance; but he will never serve his Friend, or his Country, at the Expence of his Quiet.
He will not be rapacious, oppress the Poor, or commit vile Actions for Lucre; but then he will never exert himself and be at the pains, another would take on all Opportunities, to maintain a large Family, make Provision for Children, and promote his Kindred and Relations; and his darling Frailty will incapacitate him from doing a thousand things for the Benefit of the Society, which with the same Parts and Opportunities he might and would have done, had he been of another Temper.
Your Observations are very curious, and, as far as I can judge from what I have seen myself, very just and natural. Every body knows that there is no Virtue so often counterfeited as Charity, and yet so little Regard have the generality of Men to Truth; that, how gross and barefaced soever Edition: orig; Page: [ ] the Deceit is in Pretences of this Nature, the World never fails of being angry with, and hating those who detect or take notice of the Fraud. It is possible, that, with blind Fortune on his side, a mean Shopkeeper, by driving a Trade prejudicial to his Country on the one hand, and grinding on all Occasions the Face of the Poor on the other, Edition: current; Page: [ ] may accumulate great Wealth; which in process of time, by continual scraping and sordid saving, may be raised into an exorbitant and a unheard-of Estate for a Tradesman.
I desire you to tell me, what Name, knowing all I have said to be true, you would give to this extraordinary Gift, this mighty Donation! I am of Opinion, that when an Action of our Neighbour may admit of different Constructions, it is our Duty to side with and embrace the most favourable. The most favourable Construction, b with all my Heart: But what is that to the Purpose, when all the straining in the World cannot make it a good one?
But to ascribe it to, or suggest that it was derived from a Publick Spirit in the Man, a generous Sense of Humanity and Benevolence to his Kind, a liberal Heart, or any other Virtue or good Quality, which it is manifest the Donor was Edition: orig; Page: [ ] an utter Stranger to, is the utmost Absurdity in an intelligent Creature, and can proceed from no other Cause than either a wilful wronging of his own Understanding, or else Ignorance and Folly. For from what you have demonstrated already it must follow, that one Person is more affected with the Passion within than another; I mean, that one Man has actually a greater Share of Pride than another, as well among the artful that are dextrous in concealing it, as among the Ill-bred that openly shew it.
For the same reason, that it is encouraged in Soldiers, more than it is in other People; to encrease their Fear of Shame, which makes them always mindful of their Honour. But to keep both to their respective Duties, why must a Lady have more Pride than a Gentleman? Because the Lady is in the greatest Danger of straying from it: She has a Passion within, that may begin to affect her at twelve or thirteen, and perhaps sooner, and she has all the Temptations of the Men to withstand besides: She has all the Artillery of our Sex to fear; a Seducer of uncommon Address and resistless Charms may court her to what Nature prompts and sollicites her to do; he may add great Promises, actual Bribes; this may be done in the Dark, and when no Body is by to dissuade her.
That Pride, which is the Cause of Honour in Men, only regards their Courage; and if they can but appear to be brave, and will but follow the fashionable Rules of Edition: orig; Page: [ ] manly Honour, they may indulge all other Appetites, and brag of Incontinence without Reproach: The Pride likewise that produces Honour in Women has no other Object than their Chastity; and whilst they keep that Jewel entire, they can apprehend no Shame: Tenderness and Delicacy are a Compliment to them; and there is no Fear of Danger so ridiculous, but they may own it with Ostentation. I am sorry that I cannot charge you with Injustice; but it is very strange; that to encourage and industriously encrease Pride in a refined Education, should be the most proper means to make Men sollicitous in concealing the outward Appearances of it.
When a Man exults in his Pride, and gives a loose to that Passion, the Marks of it are as visible in his Countenance, his Mien, his Gate, and Behaviour, as they are in a prancing Horse, or a strutting Turkeycock. These are all very odious; every one feeling the same Principle within, which is the Cause of those Symptoms; and, Man being endued with Speech, all Edition: current; Page: [ ] the open Expressions, the same Passion can suggest to him, must for the same Reason be equally displeasing: These therefore have in all Societies been strictly prohibited by common Consent, in the very Infancy of good Manners; and Men have been taught, in the room of them, to substitute other Symptoms, equally evident with the first, but less offensive, and more beneficial to others.
But since the Pride of others is displeasing to us in every Shape, and these latter Symptoms, you say, are equally evident with the first, what is got by the Change? If you will set aside what ought to employ our first Care, and be our greatest Concern; and Men will have no Value for that Felicity and Peace of Mind, which can only arise from a Consciousness of being good, Edition: orig; Page: [ ] it is certain a , that in a great Nation, and among a flourishing People, whose highest Wishes seem to be Ease and Luxury, the upper Part could not, without those Arts, enjoy so much of the World as that can afford; and that none stand more in need of them than the voluptuous Men of Parts, that will joyn worldly Prudence to Sensuality, and make it their chief Study to refine upon Pleasure.
What Moralist or Politician was it, that could teach Men to be proud of hiding their Pride? Whence had we the first Rudiments of Architecture; how came Sculpture and Painting to be what they have been these many hundred Years; and who taught every Nation the respective Languages they speak now?
You have, without doubt, thought on this Edition: current; Page: [ ] Subject before now; would you communicate to me some of your Guesses? I desire you would: You will oblige me with it. That Self-love was given to all Edition: orig; Page: [ ] Animals, at least, the most perfect, for Self-Preservation, is not disputed; but as no Creature can love what it dislikes, it is necessary, moreover, that every one should have a real liking to its own Being, superior to what they have to any other.
I am of Opinion, begging Pardon for the Novelty, that if this Liking was not always permanent, the Love, which all Creatures have for themselves, could not be so unalterable as we see it is. What Reason have you to suppose this Liking, which Creatures have for themselves, to be distinct from Self-love; since the one plainly comprehends the other? I will endeavour to explain myself better.
The Reasons why this Self-liking, give me Leave to call it so, is not plainly to be seen in all Animals that are of the same Degree of Perfection, are many. It is not improbable, that this great Liking, which Creatures have for their own Individuals, is the Principle on which the Love to their Species is built: Cows and Sheep, too dull and liveless a to make any Demonstration of this Liking, yet herd and feed together, each with his own Species; because no others are so like themselves: By this they seem to know likewise, that they have the same Interest, and the same Enemies; Cows have often been seen to joyn in a common Defence against Wolves: Birds of a Feather flock together; and I dare say, that Edition: orig; Page: [ ] the Screech Owl likes her own Note, better than that of the Nightingale.
I believe it is, or at least the Cause of it. I said Males, and their Bellies full; because if they had Women among them, or wanted Food, their Quarrel might begin on another Account. This is thinking abstractly indeed: But do you think, that two or three hundred single Savages, Men and Women, that never had been under any Subjection, and were above twenty Years of Age, could ever establish a Society, and be united into one Body; if, without being acquainted with one another, they should meet by chance? You take great Delight in dwelling on the Behaviour of Savages; What relation has this to Politeness?
Self-love would first make it scrape together every thing it wanted for Sustenance, provide against the Injuries of the Air, and do every thing to make itself and young Ones secure. Self-liking would make it seek for Opportunities, by Gestures, Looks, and Sounds, to display the Value it has for itself, superiour to what it has for others; an untaught Man would desire every body that came near him, to agree with him in the Opinion of his superiour Worth, and be angry, as far as his Fear would let him, with all that should refuse it: He would be highly delighted with, and love every body, whom he thought to Edition: orig; Page: [ ] have a good Opinion of him, especially those, that by Edition: current; Page: [ ] Words or Gestures should own it to his Face: Whenever he met with any visible Marks in others of Inferiority to himself, he would laugh, 1 and do the same at their Misfortunes, as far as his own Pity would give him Leave, and he would insult every body that would let him.
I wonder to hear you ask that Question. Have you forgot the many Virtues which I have demonstrated a , may be counterfeited to gain Applause, and the good Qualities a Man of Sense in great Fortune may acquire, by the sole Help and Instigation of his Pride? I beg your Pardon; yet what you say only regards Man in the Society, and after he has been perfectly well educated: What Advantage is it to him as a single Creature?
Self-love I can plainly see induces him to labour for his Maintenance and Safety, and makes him fond of every thing which he imagines to tend to his Preservation: But what good does the Self-liking to him? Perhaps not; but I would set against it the many sharp Vexations and heart-breaking Sorrows, that Men suffer on the score of this Passion, from Disgraces, Disappointments, and other Misfortunes, Edition: current; Page: [ ] which, I believe, have sent Millions to their Graves, much sooner, than they would have gone, if their Pride had less affected them.
I have nothing against what you say: But this is no Proof, that the Passion itself was not given to Man for Self-preservation; and it only lays open to us the Precariousness of sublunary Happiness, and the wretched Condition of Mortals. There is nothing created that is always a Blessing; the Rain and Sunshine themselves, to which all earthly Comforts are owing, have been the Causes of innumerable Calamities.
All Animals of Prey, and thousand others, hunt after Food with the Hazard of their Lives, and the greater Part of them perish in their Pursuits after Sustenance. Since it has been in Disgrace, and every body disowns the Passion, it seldom is seen in its proper Colours, and disguises itself in a thousand different Shapes: we are often affected with it, when we have not the least Suspicion of it; but it seems to be that, which continually furnishes us with that Relish we have for Life, even when it is not worth having.
It doubles our Happiness in Prosperity, and buoys us up against the Frowns of adverse Fortune. It is the Mother of Hopes, and the End as well as the Foundation of our best Wishes: It is the strongest Armour against Despair, and as long as we can like any ways our Situation, either in regard to present Circumstances, or the Prospect before us, we take care of ourselves; and no Man can resolve upon Suicide, whilst Self-liking lasts: but as soon as that is over, all our Hopes are extinct, and we can form no Wishes but for the Dissolution of our Frame: till at last our Being becomes so intollerable to us, that Self-love prompts us to make an end of it, and seek Refuge in Death.
You mean Self-hatred; for you have said your self, that a Creature cannot love what it dislikes. If you turn the Prospect, you are in the right; but this only proves to us what I have often hinted at, that Man is made up of Contrarieties; otherwise nothing seems to be more certain, than that whoever kills himself by Choice, must do it to avoid something, which he dreads more than that Death which he chuses.
I must own that your Observations are entertaining. That is impossible. I believe you are in the right.
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No Man can wish but to enjoy something, which no Part of that same Man could do, if he was entirely another. The second Thing I would have you consider, is, the Effect which in all human Probability this Inconveniency, arising from self-liking, would have upon Creatures, endued with a great Share of Understanding, that are fond of their Ease to the last degree, and as industrious to procure it. These two Things, I say, do but duely weigh, and you shall find, that the Disturbance and Uneasiness, that must be caused by Self-liking, whatever Strugglings and unsuccessful Tryals to remedy them might precede, must necessarily produce at long run, what we call good Manners and Politeness.
I understand you, I believe. How is that possible, when it must cost them Trouble, and there is a palpable Self-denial to be seen in the Restraint they put upon themselves? In the Pursuit of Self-preservation, Men discover a restless Endeavour to make themselves easy, which insensibly teaches them to avoid Mischief on all Emergencies: and when human Creatures a once submit to Government, and are used to live under the Restraint of Laws, it is incredible, how many useful Cautions, Shifts, and Stratagems, they will learn to practise by Experience and Imitation, from conversing together; without being aware of the natural Causes, that oblige them to act as they do, viz.
The Passions within, that, unknown to themselves, govern their Will and direct their Behaviour. I have no such Design: 1 but I am of Opinion, Edition: current; Page: [ ] that Men find out the use of their Limbs by Instinct, as much as Brutes do the use of theirs; and that, without knowing any thing of Geometry or Arithmetick, even Children may learn to perform Actions, that seem to bespeak great Skill in Mechanicks, and a considerable Depth of Thought and Ingenuity in the Contrivance besides. When Men would leap or jump a great way, you know, they take a Run before they throw themselves off the Ground.
It is certain, that by this Means they jump further, and with greater Force than they could do otherwise: the Reason likewise is very plain. What I have said of this Stratagem made use of in Leaping, I desire you would apply to the Doctrine of good Manners, which is taught and practised by Millions, who never thought on the Origin of Politeness, or so much as knew the real Benefit it is of to Society. The most crafty and designing will every where be the first, that for Interest-sake will learn to conceal this Passion of Pride, and in a little time no body will shew the least Symptom of it, whilst he is asking Favours, or stands in need of Help.
That rational Creatures should do all this, without thinking or knowing what they were about, is inconceivable. As in Bulk and Weight it is vastly superior to any other moveable Body of human Invention, so there is no other that has an equal Variety of differently surprizing Edition: current; Page: [ ] Contrivances to boast of. There are many Sets of Hands in the Nation, that, not wanting proper Materials, would be able in less than half a Year to produce, fit out, and navigate a First-Rate: yet it is certain, that this Task would be impracticable, if it was not divided and subdivided into a great Variety of different Labours; 1 and it is as certain, that none of these Labours require any other, than working Men of ordinary Capacities.
And to know what it must have cost to bring that Art of making Ships 2 for Edition: orig; Page: [ ] different Purposes, Edition: current; Page: [ ] to the Perfection in which it is now, we are only to consider in the first place; that many considerable Improvements have been made in it within these fifty years and less; and in the Second, that the Inhabitants of this Island did build and make use of Ships eighteen hundred Years ago, and that from that time to this, they have never been without. Which all together make a strong Proof of the slow Progress that Art has made, to be what it is. The Chevalier Reneau has wrote a Book, in which he shews the Mechanism of Sailing, and accounts mathematically for every thing that belongs to the working and steering of a Ship.
Yet it is a Mistake.
When once the Generality begin to conceal the high Value they have for themselves, Men must become more tolerable to one another. As soon as they are arrived at this Pitch of Insincerity, they will find the Benefit of it, and teach it their Children. The same may be said of the Credulity of Infants, which is very inviting to many good Purposes. When they are thus far advanced, it is easy to conceive the rest: For Improvements, I suppose, are made in good Manners, as they are in all other Arts and Sciences.
But to commence from Savages, Men I believe would make but a small Progress in good Manners the first three hundred Years. The Romans, who had a much better Beginning, had been a Nation above six Centuries, and were almost Masters of the World, before they could be said to be a polite People. Pardon me, Horatio; I have no where insinuated that they had none, but I had no reason to mention them. How can any thing be said not to clash with Virtue or Religion, that has nothing to do with either, and consequently disclaims both?
This I confess seems to be a Paradox; yet it is true. The Doctrine of good Manners teaches Men to speak well of all Virtues, but requires no more of them in any Age, or Country, than the outward Appearance of those in Fashion. And as to Sacred Matters, it is every where satisfied with a a seeming Conformity in outward Worship; for all the Religions Edition: current; Page: [ ] in the Universe are equally agreeable to good Manners, where they are national; and pray what Opinion must we say a Teacher to be of, to whom all Opinions are probable alike?
All the Precepts of good Manners throughout the World have the same Tendency, and are no more than the various Methods of making ourselves acceptable to others, with as little Prejudice to ourselves as is possible: by which Artifice we assist one another in the Enjoyments of Life, and refining upon Pleasure; and every individual Person is rendered more happy by it, in the Fruition of all the good Things he can purchase, than he Edition: orig; Page: [ ] could have been without such Behaviour.
I mean happy, in the Sense of the Voluptuous. I thank you for your Lecture: you have satisfied me in several Things, which I had intended to ask: but you have said some others, that I must have time to consider; after which I am resolved to wait upon you again, for I begin to believe, that concerning the Knowledge of ourselves most Books are either very defective or very deceitful. What say you now, Cleomenes; is a not this without Ceremony?
When they told me where you was, I would suffer no body to tell you, who it was that wanted you, or to come up with me. I was in Hopes to have seen you before now: you have taken a long time to consider. I have thought twenty times, since I saw you last, on the Origin of good Manners, and what a pleasant Scene it would be to a Man, who is tolerably well versed in the World, to see among a rude Nation those first Essays they made of concealing their Pride from one another.
You are now diverting yourself with a Truth, which eight Days ago you would have given an hundred Guineas not to have known. In a tolerable Education we are so industriously and so assiduously instructed, from our most early Infancy, in the Ceremonies of bowing, and pulling off Hats, and other Rules of Behaviour; that even before we are Men we hardly look upon a mannerly Deportment as a Thing acquired, or think Conversation to Edition: current; Page: [ ] be a Science.
What aukward Lumps have I known, which the Dancing-master has put Limbs to! Yesterday morning, as I sate musing by myself, an Expression of yours, which I did not so much reflect upon at first, when I heard it, came in to my Head, and made me smile.
It is certain, that this every where must have been the Fore-runner of Flattery. When you talk of Flattery and Impudence, what do you think of the first Man that had the Face to tell his Equal, that he was his humble Servant? It certainly once was new: Which pray do you believe more antient, pulling off the Hat, or saying, Your humble Servant? I believe pulling off the Hat was first, it being the Emblem of Liberty. So he might, as you say, and had a better Authority for the first, than he could have for the latter.
We both laugh at this Gothick Absurdity, and are well assured, that it must have had its Origin from the basest Flattery: yet neither of us, walking with our Hats on, could meet an Acquaintance with whom we are not very familiar, without shewing this Piece of Civility; nay, it would be a Pain to us not to do it.
Which in Tract of Time became more familiar, and were made use of reciprocally in the way of Civility. I believe so; for as good Manners encrease, we see, that the highest Compliments are made common, and new ones to Superiors a invented instead of them. So the Word Grace, which not long ago was a Title, that none but our Kings and Queens were honoured with, is devolved upon Archbishops and Dukes. It was the same with Highness, which is now given to the Children, and even the Grandchildren of Kings. It has had better Fate in France; where likewise the Word Sire has lost nothing of its Majesty, and is only used to the Monarch: Edition: orig; Page: [ ] whereas with us it is a Compliment of Address, that may be made to a Cobler, as well as to a King.
Human Nature is always the same; where Men exert themselves to the utmost, and take uncommon Pains, that spend and waste the Spirits, those Applauses are very reviving: The Fathers, who spoke against them, spoke chiefly against the Abuse of them. But whether it was the Fashion, or not, it must always have been shocking. When they had too much of them; but never at first. And the sweeter and more delicious Liquors are, the sooner they become fulsom, and the less fit they are to sit by.
Your Simile is not amiss; and the same Acclamations that are ravishing to a Man at first, and perhaps continue to give him an unspeakable Delight for eight or nine Minutes, may become more moderately pleasing, indifferent, cloying, troublesome, and even so offensive as to create Pain, all in less than three Hours; if they were to continue so long without Intermission. There must be great Witchcraft in Sounds, that they should have such different Effects upon us, as we often see they have. The Pleasure we receive from Acclamations, is not in the Hearing; but proceeds from the Opinion we form of the Cause, that produces those Sounds, the Approbation of others.
That is a Trifle, in the Gratification of that Passion: We never enjoy higher Pleasure, from the Appetite we would indulge, than when we feel nothing from any other. But Silence expresses greater Homage and deeper Veneration, than Noise. Both are proper Tools to flatter the Pride of Man, when they are understood and made use of as such. I have known a very brave Man used to the Shouts of War, and highly delighted with loud Applause, be very angry with his Butler, for making a little ratling with his Plates.
But what will you say to Tickling, which will make an Infant laugh that is deaf and blind? But how come you to think of Mechanick Motion, in the Pleasure of a free Agent? Whatever free Agency we may pretend to in the forming of Ideas, the Effect of them upon the Body is independent of the Will. Nothing is more directly opposite to laughing than frowning: The one draws Wrinkles in the Forehead, knits the Brows, and keeps the Mouth shut: The other does quite the reverse; exporrigere frontem, 1 you know, is a Latin Phrase for being merry.
How mechanically do all Creatures that can make any Sound cry out, and complain in great Afflictions, as well as Pain and imminent Danger! How much is all this the Reverse of what we observe in sighing! Because whilst the Mouth, Lips, and Tongue remain in those Postures, they can sound no other Vowel, and no Consonant at all. I would not have you lay great Stress upon that, for it is the same in Weeping, which is an undoubted Sign of Sorrow.
But the Action of Weeping itself is not more peculiar to Grief, than it is to Joy, Edition: current; Page: [ ] in adult People; and there are Men, who shew great Fortitude in Afflictions, and bear the greatest Misfortunes with dry Eyes, that will cry heartily at a moving Scene in a Play. We shall observe likewise, that none are more subject to this Frailty of shedding Tears on such foreign Accounts, than Persons of Ingenuity and quick Apprehension; and those among them that are most benevolent, generous and open-hearted; whereas the Dull and Stupid, the Cruel, Selfish, and Designing, are very seldom troubled with it.
Weeping therefore, in earnest, is always a sure and involuntary Demonstration that something strikes and overcomes the Mind, whatever that be which affects it. How long is it ago that Mathematicks were brought into Physick? That Art, I have heard, is brought to great Certainty by them. What you speak of is quite another thing. Mathematicks never had, nor ever can have, any thing to do with Physick; if you mean by it the Art of Curing the Sick.
The Structure and Motions of the Body, may, perhaps, be mechanically accounted for, and all Fluids are under the Laws of Hydrostaticks: 1 But we can have no Help from any Part of the Mechanicks, in the Discovery of Edition: orig; Page: [ ] hings, infinitely remote from Sight, and entirely unknown as to their Shapes and Bulks. Physicians, with the rest of Mankind, are wholly ignorant of the first Principles and Edition: current; Page: [ ] constituent Parts of Things, in which all the Virtues and Properties of them consist; and this, as well of the Blood and other Juices of the Body, as the Simples, and consequently all the Medicines they make use of.
I am persuaded that our Thoughts, and the Affections of the Mind, have a more certain and more mechanical Influence upon several Parts of the Body, than has been hitherto, or in Edition: orig; Page: [ ] all human Probability, ever will be discovered. The visible Effect they have on the Eyes, and Muscles of the Face, must shew the least attentive, the Reason I have for this Assertion.
When we suffer the lower Jaw to sink down, the Mouth opens a little: If in this Posture we look strait before us, without fixing our Eyes on any thing, we may imitate the Countenance of a Natural; by dropping, as it were, our Features, and laying no Stress on any Muscle of the Face. When we reflect on all this, on the one hand, and consider on the other, that none are less prone to Anger than Idiots, and no Creatures are less affected with Pride, I would ask, whether there is not some Degree of Self-liking, that mechanically influences, and seems to assist us, in the decent Wearing of our Faces.
But is not Thinking the Business of the Soul? What has Mechanism to do with that? I plainly feel that this Operation of Thinking is a Labour, or at least something that is transacting, in my Head, and not in my Leg nor my Arm: What Insight or real Knowledge have we from Anatomy Concerning it? That such Improvements are impossible, is demonstrable; but if it was not, even then we could have little Help from Anatomy.
We might examine all the Wheels, and every other Part belonging, either to the Movement or the Motion, and, perhaps, find out the Use of them, in relation to the Turning of the Hands; but the first Cause of this Labour would remain a Mystery for ever. The main Spring in us is the Soul, which is immaterial and immortal: But what is that to other Creatures that have a Brain like ours, and no such immortal Substance distinct Edition: orig; Page: [ ] from Body?
I believe they do, though in a Degree of Perfection far inferior to us. He shuttled back and forth to Padua to continue his university studies. By now, he had become something of a dandy—tall and dark, his long hair powdered, scented, and elaborately curled. However, Casanova was caught dallying with Malipiero's intended object of seduction, actress Teresa Imer, and the senator drove both of them from his house.
Casanova proclaimed that his life avocation was firmly established by this encounter. Scandals tainted Casanova's short church career. After his grandmother's death, Casanova entered a seminary for a short while, but soon his indebtedness landed him in prison for the first time. An attempt by his mother to secure him a position with Bishop Bernardo de Bernardis was rejected by Casanova after a very brief trial of conditions in the bishop's Calabrian see. On meeting the pope , Casanova boldly asked for a dispensation to read the "forbidden books" and from eating fish which he claimed inflamed his eyes.
He also composed love letters for another cardinal. When Casanova became the scapegoat for a scandal involving a local pair of star-crossed lovers, Cardinal Acquaviva dismissed Casanova, thanking him for his sacrifice, but effectively ending his church career. In search of a new profession, Casanova bought a commission to become a military officer for the Republic of Venice. His first step was to look the part:.
Reflecting that there was now little likelihood of my achieving fortune in my ecclesiastical career, I decided to dress as a soldier I inquire for a good tailor My uniform was white, with a blue vest, a shoulder knot of silver and gold I bought a long sword, and with my handsome cane in hand, a trim hat with a black cockade, with my hair cut in side whiskers and a long false pigtail, I set forth to impress the whole city.
He joined a Venetian regiment at Corfu , his stay being broken by a brief trip to Constantinople , ostensibly to deliver a letter from his former master the Cardinal. Casanova soon abandoned his military career and returned to Venice. At the age of 21, he set out to become a professional gambler, but losing all the money remaining from the sale of his commission, he turned to his old benefactor Alvise Grimani for a job.
Casanova thus began his third career, as a violinist in the San Samuele theater , "a menial journeyman of a sublime art in which, if he who excels is admired, the mediocrity is rightly despised. My profession was not a noble one, but I did not care.
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Calling everything prejudice, I soon acquired all the habits of my degraded fellow musicians. They also sent midwives and physicians on false calls. Good fortune came to the rescue when Casanova, unhappy with his lot as a musician, saved the life of a Venetian patrician of the Bragadin family, who had a stroke while riding with Casanova in a gondola after a wedding ball.
They immediately stopped to have the senator bled. Then, at the senator's palace, a physician bled the senator again and applied an ointment of mercury—an all-purpose but toxic remedy at the time—to the senator's chest. This raised his temperature and induced a massive fever, and Bragadin appeared to be choking on his own swollen windpipe. A priest was called as death seemed to be approaching.
However, despite protests from the attending physician, Casanova ordered the removal of the ointment and the washing of the senator's chest with cool water. The senator recovered from his illness with rest and a sensible diet. As they were cabalists themselves, the senator invited Casanova into his household and became a lifelong patron. I took the most creditable, the noblest, and the only natural course. I decided to put myself in a position where I need no longer go without the necessities of life: and what those necessities were for me no one could judge better than me No one in Venice could understand how an intimacy could exist between myself and three men of their character, they all heaven and I all earth; they most severe in their morals, and I addicted to every kind of dissolute living.
For the next three years under the senator's patronage, working nominally as a legal assistant, Casanova led the life of a nobleman, dressing magnificently and, as was natural to him, spending most of his time gambling and engaging in amorous pursuits. Casanova had dug up a freshly buried corpse to play a practical joke on an enemy and exact revenge, but the victim went into a paralysis, never to recover. And in another scandal, a young girl who had duped him accused him of rape and went to the officials. Escaping to Parma , Casanova entered into a three-month affair with a Frenchwoman he named "Henriette", perhaps the deepest love he ever experienced—a woman who combined beauty, intelligence, and culture.
In his words, "They who believe that a woman is incapable of making a man equally happy all the twenty-four hours of the day have never known an Henriette. The joy which flooded my soul was far greater when I conversed with her during the day than when I held her in my arms at night. Having read a great deal and having natural taste, Henriette judged rightly of everything.
As noted Casanovist J. Rives Childs wrote:. Perhaps no woman so captivated Casanova as Henriette; few women obtained so deep an understanding of him. She penetrated his outward shell early in their relationship, resisting the temptation to unite her destiny with his. She came to discern his volatile nature, his lack of social background, and the precariousness of his finances.
Before leaving, she slipped into his pocket five hundred louis, mark of her evaluation of him. Crestfallen and despondent, Casanova returned to Venice, and after a good gambling streak, he recovered and set off on a grand tour , reaching Paris in Casanova was also attracted to Rosicrucianism. It was in Lyons that a respectable individual, whose acquaintance I made at the house of M. I arrived in Paris a simple apprentice; a few months after my arrival I became companion and master; the last is certainly the highest degree in Freemasonry, for all the other degrees which I took afterwards are only pleasing inventions, which, although symbolical, add nothing to the dignity of master.
Casanova stayed in Paris for two years, learned the language, spent much time at the theater, and introduced himself to notables. Soon, however, his numerous liaisons were noted by the Paris police, as they were in nearly every city he visited. In , his brother Francesco and he moved from Paris to Dresden , where his mother and sister Maria Maddalena were living. His new play, La Moluccheide , now lost, was performed at the Royal Theatre, where his mother often played in lead roles.
He finally returned to Venice in His police record became a lengthening list of reported blasphemies, seductions, fights, and public controversy. Senator Bragadin, in total seriousness this time being a former inquisitor himself , advised his "son" to leave immediately or face the stiffest consequences. On 26 July , at age 30, Casanova was arrested for affront to religion and common decency:  "The Tribunal, having taken cognizance of the grave faults committed by G. Casanova primarily in public outrages against the holy religion, their Excellencies have caused him to be arrested and imprisoned under the Leads.
The following 12 September, without a trial and without being informed of the reasons for his arrest and of the sentence, he was sentenced to five years imprisonment. He was placed in solitary confinement with clothing, a pallet bed, table, and armchair in "the worst of all the cells",  where he suffered greatly from the darkness, summer heat, and "millions of fleas". He was soon housed with a series of cellmates, and after five months and a personal appeal from Count Bragadin, was given warm winter bedding and a monthly stipend for books and better food.
During exercise walks he was granted in the prison garret, he found a piece of black marble and an iron bar which he smuggled back to his cell; he hid the bar inside his armchair. When he was temporarily without cellmates, he spent two weeks sharpening the bar into a spike on the stone. Then he began to gouge through the wooden floor underneath his bed, knowing that his cell was directly above the Inquisitor's chamber.
In his new cell, "I sat in my armchair like a man in a stupor; motionless as a statue, I saw that I had wasted all the efforts I had made, and I could not repent of them. I felt that I had nothing to hope for, and the only relief left to me was not to think of the future. Overcoming his inertia, Casanova set upon another escape plan. He solicited the help of the prisoner in the adjacent cell, Father Balbi, a renegade priest. The spike, carried to the new cell inside the armchair, was passed to the priest in a folio Bible carried under a heaping plate of pasta by the hoodwinked jailer.
The priest made a hole in his ceiling, climbed across and made a hole in the ceiling of Casanova's cell. To neutralize his new cellmate, who was a spy, Casanova played on his superstitions and terrorized him into silence. The spy remained behind, too frightened of the consequences if he were caught escaping with the others. Casanova and Balbi pried their way through the lead plates and onto the sloping roof of the Doge's Palace, with a heavy fog swirling. The drop to the nearby canal being too great, Casanova prised open the grate over a dormer window, and broke the window to gain entry.
They found a long ladder on the roof, and with the additional use of a bedsheet "rope" that Casanova had prepared, lowered themselves into the room whose floor was 25 feet below. They rested until morning, changed clothes, then broke a small lock on an exit door and passed into a palace corridor, through galleries and chambers, and down stairs, where by convincing the guard they had inadvertently been locked into the palace after an official function, they left through a final door.
Thirty years later in , Casanova wrote Story of My Flight , which was very popular and was reprinted in many languages, and he repeated the tale a little later in his memoirs. Thus did God provide me with what I needed for an escape which was to be a wonder if not a miracle.
I admit that I am proud of it; but my pride does not come from my having succeeded, for luck had a good deal to do with that; it comes from my having concluded that the thing could be done and having had the courage to undertake it. He knew his stay in Paris might be a long one and he proceeded accordingly: "I saw that to accomplish anything I must bring all my physical and moral faculties in play, make the acquaintance of the great and the powerful, exercise strict self-control, and play the chameleon.
His first task was to find a new patron. He reconnected with old friend de Bernis , now the Foreign Minister of France. Casanova was advised by his patron to find a means of raising funds for the state as a way to gain instant favor. Casanova promptly became one of the trustees of the first state lottery , and one of its best ticket salesmen. The enterprise earned him a large fortune quickly. In Casanova's view, "deceiving a fool is an exploit worthy of an intelligent man". Casanova claimed to be a Rosicrucian and an alchemist , aptitudes which made him popular with some of the most prominent figures of the era, among them Madame de Pompadour , Count de Saint-Germain , d'Alembert , and Jean-Jacques Rousseau.
So popular was alchemy among the nobles, particularly the search for the " philosopher's stone ", that Casanova was highly sought after for his supposed knowledge, and he profited handsomely. De Bernis decided to send Casanova to Dunkirk on his first spying mission. He remarked in hindsight, "All the French ministers are the same.
They lavished money which came out of the other people's pockets to enrich their creatures, and they were absolute: The down-trodden people counted for nothing, and, through this, the indebtedness of the State and the confusion of finances were the inevitable results. A Revolution was necessary. As the Seven Years' War began, Casanova was again called to help increase the state treasury. He was entrusted with a mission of selling state bonds in Amsterdam , Holland being the financial center of Europe at the time. The French government even offered him a title and a pension if he would become a French citizen and work on behalf of the finance ministry, but he declined, perhaps because it would frustrate his Wanderlust.
He ran the business poorly, borrowed heavily trying to save it, and spent much of his wealth on constant liaisons with his female workers who were his " harem ". Unfortunately, though he was released, his patron de Bernis was dismissed by Louis XV at that time and Casanova's enemies closed in on him. He sold the rest of his belongings and secured another mission to Holland to distance himself from his troubles. This time, however, his mission failed and he fled to Cologne , then Stuttgart in the spring of , where he lost the rest of his fortune.
He was yet again arrested for his debts, but managed to escape to Switzerland. Weary of his wanton life, Casanova visited the monastery of Einsiedeln and considered the simple, scholarly life of a monk. He returned to his hotel to think on the decision, only to encounter a new object of desire, and reverting to his old instincts, all thoughts of a monk's life were quickly forgotten. In , Casanova started styling himself the Chevalier de Seingalt, a name he would increasingly use for the rest of his life.
Casanova traveled to England in , hoping to sell his idea of a state lottery to English officials. He wrote of the English, "the people have a special character, common to the whole nation, which makes them think they are superior to everyone else. It is a belief shared by all nations, each thinking itself the best. And they are all right. While working the political angles, he also spent much time in the bedroom, as was his habit. As a means to find females for his pleasure, not being able to speak English, he put an advertisement in the newspaper to let an apartment to the "right" person.
He interviewed many young women, choosing one "Mistress Pauline" who suited him well. Soon, he established himself in her apartment and seduced her. These and other liaisons, however, left him weak with venereal disease and he left England broke and ill. He went on to the Austrian Netherlands , recovered, and then for the next three years, traveled all over Europe, covering about 4, miles by coach over rough roads, and going as far as Moscow and Saint Petersburg the average daily coach trip being about 30 miles.
Again, his principal goal was to sell his lottery scheme to other governments and repeat the great success he had with the French government, but a meeting with Frederick the Great bore no fruit and in the surrounding German lands, the same result. Not lacking either connections or confidence, Casanova went to Russia and met with Catherine the Great , but she flatly turned down the lottery idea.
In , he was expelled from Warsaw following a pistol duel with Colonel Franciszek Ksawery Branicki over an Italian actress, a lady friend of theirs. Both duelists were wounded, Casanova on the left hand. The hand recovered on its own, after Casanova refused the recommendation of doctors that it be amputated. He tried his usual approach, leaning on well-placed contacts often Freemasons , wining and dining with nobles of influence, and finally arranging an audience with the local monarch, in this case Charles III.
When no doors opened for him, however, he could only roam across Spain, with little to show for it. In Barcelona, he escaped assassination and landed in jail for 6 weeks. His Spanish adventure a failure, he returned to France briefly, then to Italy. In Rome, Casanova had to prepare a way for his return to Venice. While waiting for supporters to gain him legal entry into Venice, Casanova began his modern Tuscan-Italian translation of the Iliad , his History of the Troubles in Poland , and a comic play.
To ingratiate himself with the Venetian authorities, Casanova did some commercial spying for them. After months without a recall, however, he wrote a letter of appeal directly to the Inquisitors. At last, he received his long-sought permission and burst into tears upon reading "We, Inquisitors of State, for reasons known to us, give Giacomo Casanova a free safe-conduct So is our will.
At first, his return to Venice was a cordial one and he was a celebrity. Even the Inquisitors wanted to hear how he had escaped from their prison. Of his three bachelor patrons, however, only Dandolo was still alive and Casanova was invited back to live with him. He received a small stipend from Dandolo and hoped to live from his writings, but that was not enough.
He reluctantly became a spy again for Venice, paid by piece work, reporting on religion, morals, and commerce, most of it based on gossip and rumor he picked up from social contacts. No financial opportunities of interest came about and few doors opened for him in society as in the past. At age 49, the years of reckless living and the thousands of miles of travel had taken their toll.
Casanova's smallpox scars, sunken cheeks, and hook nose became all the more noticeable. His easygoing manner was now more guarded. Prince Charles de Ligne , a friend and uncle of his future employer , described him around He would be a good-looking man if he were not ugly; he is tall and built like Hercules, but of an African tint; eyes full of life and fire, but touchy, wary, rancorous—and this gives him a ferocious air. It is easier to put him in a rage than to make him gay.
He laughs little, but makes others laugh. He has a manner of saying things which reminds me of Harlequin or Figaro , and which makes them sound witty. Venice had changed for him. Casanova now had little money for gambling, few willing females worth pursuing, and few acquaintances to enliven his dull days.
He heard of the death of his mother and, more paining, visited the deathbed of Bettina Gozzi, who had first introduced him to sex and who died in his arms. His Iliad was published in three volumes, but to limited subscribers and yielding little money. He got into a published dispute with Voltaire over religion. When he asked, "Suppose that you succeed in destroying superstition. With what will you replace it?
When I deliver humanity from a ferocious beast which devours it, can I be asked what I shall put in its place. In , Casanova found Francesca, an uneducated seamstress, who became his live-in lover and housekeeper, and who loved him devotedly. Other publishing and theater ventures failed, primarily from lack of capital. In a downward spiral, Casanova was expelled again from Venice in , after writing a vicious satire poking fun at Venetian nobility.
In it, he made his only public statement that Grimani was his true father. Forced to resume his travels again, Casanova arrived in Paris, and in November met Benjamin Franklin while attending a presentation on aeronautics and the future of balloon transport. He also became acquainted with Lorenzo Da Ponte , Mozart 's librettist, who noted about Casanova, "This singular man never liked to be in the wrong.
In , after Foscarini died, Casanova began searching for another position. A few months later, he became the librarian to Count Joseph Karl von Waldstein , a chamberlain of the emperor, in the Castle of Dux , Bohemia now in the Czech Republic. The Count—himself a Freemason, cabalist, and frequent traveler—had taken to Casanova when they had met a year earlier at Foscarini's residence. Although the job offered security and good pay, Casanova describes his last years as boring and frustrating, though it was the most productive time for writing.
He was only able to make occasional visits to Vienna and Dresden for relief. Although Casanova got on well with the Count, his employer was a much younger man with his own eccentricities. The Count often ignored him at meals and failed to introduce him to important visiting guests.