William Pocock - The Memoirs of Casanova: (Abridged)

'The Memoirs of Casanova'

Written by

Giacomo Casanova

English Translation by

Arthur Machen

Abridged by

William Pocock

Copyright 2015 by William Pocock

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this text may be reproduced in any form whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of by a reviewer for use in brief quotations in a book review.

Made in Canada

Publisher Contact: williampocock@gmail.com

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

The Memoirs of Casanova (Abridged)/ Giacomo Casanova; abridged by William Pocock.

ISBN 978-0-9921304-5-9

Cover Art Copyright 2015 by William Pocock

Version 1.0

EDITOR'S PREFACE

Casanova careered through an extraordinary life that was well worth telling. In his final years he wrote his memoirs to include the vast array of people he met in brilliant detail. Too much detail, perhaps, as his 1.25 million words are a bit more than most sane readers are willing to endure. 'The Memoirs of Casanova,' then, is an abridged version of Giacomo Casanova's full 'Story of My Life.'

I have decided to present the full flowering of Casanova's great love affairs, along with a diverse variety of his seductions, to offer the reader a representation of the whole. His memoirs shine best in those precious moments of romantic love which can only satisfy through the full offering of words.

The Chevalier de Seingalt was certainly more than the libertine playboy of popular imagination, as the following pages will reveal. If his memoirs are now considered a great masterpiece of French literature, it's largely due to its historical significance. Casanova's extensive travels and a lifetime of journalism enabled him to offer insightful portraits of the various humble and notable inhabitants of 18th century Europe. Through the magic of his words that distant world springs to life for us now and forever.

In recent years, his memoirs have risen from the depths of moral outrage to the most exalted dignity within his beloved France. In 2011 his original manuscript, designated a 'national treasure' by the French government, was acquired by the National Library for $9.6 million, the institution's most expensive acquisition to date.

- Wm. P.

AUTHOR'S PREFACE

I will begin with this confession: whatever I have done in the course of my life, whether it be good or evil, has been done freely; I am a free agent.

The reader of these Memoirs will discover that I never had any fixed aim before my eyes, and that my system, if it can be called a system, has been to glide away unconcernedly on the stream of life, trusting to the wind wherever it led. How many changes arise from such an independent mode of life! My success and my misfortunes, the bright and the dark days I have gone through, everything has proved to me that in this world, either physical or moral, good comes out of evil just as well as evil comes out of good.

My errors will point to thinking men the various roads, and will teach them the great art of treading on the brink of the precipice without falling into it. It is only necessary to have courage, for strength without self-confidence is useless. I have often met with happiness after some imprudent step which ought to have brought ruin upon me, and although passing a vote of censure upon myself I would thank God for his mercy. But, by way of compensation, dire misfortune has befallen me in consequence of actions prompted by the most cautious wisdom. This would humble me; yet conscious that I had acted rightly I would easily derive comfort from that conviction.

In spite of a good foundation of sound morals, the natural offspring of the Divine principles which had been early rooted in my heart, I have been throughout my life the victim of my senses; I have found delight in losing the right path, I have constantly lived in the midst of error, with no consolation but the consciousness of my being mistaken. Therefore, dear reader, I trust that, far from attaching to my history the character of impudent boasting, you will find in my Memoirs only the characteristic proper to a general confession, and that my narratory style will be the manner neither of a repenting sinner, nor of a man ashamed to acknowledge his frolics. They are the follies inherent to youth; I make sport of them, and, if you are kind, you will not yourself refuse them a good-natured smile.

Dear reader, I have written a preface because I wish you to know me thoroughly before you begin the reading of my Memoirs. It is only in a coffee-room or at a table d'hote that we like to converse with strangers.

My life is my subject, and my subject is my life. I have lived without dreaming that I should ever take a fancy to write the history of my life, and, for that very reason, my Memoirs may claim from the reader an interest and a sympathy which they would not have obtained, had I always entertained the design to write them in my old age, and, still more, to publish them.

I have reached, in 1797, the age of three-score years and twelve. I have lived, and could not procure a more agreeable pastime than to relate my own adventures, and to cause pleasant laughter amongst the good company listening to me. Should there be a few intruders whom I can not prevent from perusing my Memoirs, I must find comfort in the idea that my history was not written for them.

For my future I have no concern, and as a true philosopher, I never would have any, for I know not what it may be: as a Christian, on the other hand, faith must believe without discussion, and the stronger it is, the more it keeps silent.

The chief business of my life has always been to indulge my senses; I never knew anything of greater importance. I felt myself born for the fair sex, I have ever loved it dearly, and I have been loved by it as often and as much as I could. I have likewise always had a great weakness for good living, and I ever felt passionately fond of every object which excited my curiosity.

Should anyone bring against me an accusation of sensuality he would be wrong, for all the fierceness of my senses never caused me to neglect any of my duties. I have always been fond of highly-seasoned, rich dishes, such as macaroni prepared by a skilful Neapolitan cook, the olla-podrida of the Spaniards, the glutinous codfish from Newfoundland, game with a strong flavour, and cheese the perfect state of which is attained when the tiny animaculae formed from its very essence begin to shew signs of life. As for women, I have always found the odour of my beloved ones exceeding pleasant.

What depraved tastes! some people will exclaim. Are you not ashamed to confess such inclinations without blushing! Dear critics, you make me laugh heartily. Thanks to my coarse tastes, I believe myself happier than other men, because I am convinced that they enhance my enjoyment. Happy are those who know how to obtain pleasures without injury to anyone; insane are those who fancy that the Almighty can enjoy the sufferings, the pains, the fasts and abstinences which they offer to Him as a sacrifice, and that His love is granted only to those who tax themselves so foolishly.

God can only demand from His creatures the practice of virtues the seed of which He has sown in their soul, and all He has given unto us has been intended for our happiness; self-love, thirst for praise, emulation, strength, courage, and a power of which nothing can deprive us - the power of self-destruction, if, after due calculation, whether false or just, we unfortunately reckon death to be advantageous. This is the strongest proof of our moral freedom so much attacked by sophists. Yet this power of self-destruction is repugnant to nature, and has been rightly opposed by every religion.