 Chapter 13 of The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova, Volume 1 by Giacomo Casanova This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Michelle Harris The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova, Volume 1, The Venetian Years by Giacomo Casanova Episode 3 Military Career Chapter 13 I had been careful on my arrival in Bologna to take up my quarters at a small inn, so as not to attract any notice, and as soon as I had dispatched my letters to Teresa and the French officer, I thought of purchasing some linen, as it was at least doubtful whether I should ever get my trunk. I deemed it expedient to order some clothes, likewise. I was thus ruminating, when it suddenly struck me that I was not likely now to succeed in the church, but feeling great uncertainty as to the profession I ought to adopt, I took a fancy to transform myself into an officer, as it was evident that I had not to account to anyone for my actions. It was a very natural fancy at my age, for I had just passed through two armies in which I had seen no respect paid to any garb but to the military uniform, and I did not see why I should not cause myself to be respected likewise. Besides, I was thinking of returning to Venice, and felt great delight at the idea of showing myself there in the garb of honor, for I had been rather ill-treated in that of religion. I inquired for a good tailor. Death was brought to me, for the tailor sent to me was named Morty. I explained to him how I wanted my uniform made, I chose the cloth, he took my measure, and the next day I was transformed into a follower of Mars. I procured a long sword, and with my fine cane in hand, with a well-brushed hat ornamented with a black cockade, and wearing a long false pigtail, I sallied forth and walked all over the city. I bethought myself that the importance of my new calling required a better and more showy lodging than the one I had secured on my arrival, and I moved to the best in. I like even now to recollect the pleasing impression I felt when I was able to admire myself full-length in a large mirror. I was highly pleased with my own person. I thought myself made by nature to wear and to honor the military costume, which I had adopted through the most fortunate impulse. Certain that nobody knew me, I enjoyed by anticipation all the conjectures which people would indulge in respecting me when I made my first appearance in the most fashionable cafe of the town. My uniform was white, the vest blue, a gold and silver shoulder knot, and a sword knot of the same material. Very well pleased with my grand appearance, I went to the coffee room and, taking some chocolate, began to read the newspapers, quiet at my ease, and delighted to see that everybody was puzzled. A bold individual, in the hope of getting me into conversation, came to me and addressed me. I answered him with a monosyllable, and I observed that everyone was at a loss what to make of me. When I had sufficiently enjoyed public admiration in the coffee room, I promenaded in the busiest thoroughfares of the city and returned to the inn where I had dinner by myself. I had just concluded my repast when my landlord presented himself with the traveler's book in which he wanted to register my name. Casanova. Your profession, if you please, sir? Officer. In which service? None. Your native place? Venice. Where do you come from? That is no business of yours. This answer, which I thought was in keeping with my external appearance, had the desired effect. The landlord bowed himself out, and I felt highly pleased with myself, for I knew that I should enjoy perfect freedom in Bologna, and I was certain that my host had visited me at the instance of some curious person eager to know who I was. The next day I called on M. Orsi, the banker, to cash my bill of exchange, and took another for 600 sequins on Venice and 100 sequins in gold, after which I again exhibited myself in the public places. Two days afterwards, whilst I was taking my coffee after dinner, the banker Orsi was announced. I desired him to be shown in, and he made his appearance accompanied by Monsignor Coronaro, whom I feigned not to know. M. Orsi remarked that he had called to offer me his services for my letters of exchange, and introduced the prelate. I rose and expressed my gratification at making his acquaintance. But we have met before, he replied, at Venice and Rome. Assuming an air of blank surprise, I told him he must certainly be mistaken. The prelate, thinking he could guess the reason of my reserve, did not insist and apologized. I offered him a cup of coffee, which he accepted, and, on leaving me, he begged the honor of my company to breakfast the next day. I made up my mind to persist in my denials, and called upon the prelate, who gave me a polite welcome. He was then apostolic pro-thonitry in Bologna. Breakfast was served, and as we were sipping our chocolate, he told me that I had most likely some good reasons to warrant my reserve, but that I was wrong not to trust him, the more so that the affair in question did me great honor. I do not know, said I, what affair you are alluding to. He then handed me a newspaper, telling me to read a paragraph which he pointed out. My astonishment may be imagined when I read the following correspondence from Pesaro. M. D. Casanova, an officer in the service of the Queen, has deserted after having killed his captain in a duel. The circumstances of the duel are not known. All that has been ascertained is that M. D. Casanova has taken the road to Rimini, riding the horse belonging to the captain who was killed on the spot. In spite of my surprise and of the difficulty I had in keeping my gravity at the reading of the paragraph, in which so much untruth was blended with so little that was real, I managed to keep a serious countenance, and I told the Prelate that the Casanova spoken of in the newspaper must be another man. That may be, but you are certainly the Casanova I knew a month ago at Cardinal Aquavivas, and two years ago at the house of my sister, Madame Lovidon, in Venice. Besides, the Ancona banker speaks of you as an ecclesiastic in his letter of advice to M. Orsi. Very well, Monsignor, your excellency compels me to agree to my being the same Casanova, but I entreat you not to ask me any more questions, as I am bound in honor to observe the strictest reserve. That is enough for me, and I am satisfied. Let us talk of something else. I was amused at the false reports which were being circulated about me, and I became from that moment a thorough skeptic on the subject of historical truth. I enjoyed, however, very great pleasure in thinking that my reserve had fed the belief of my being the Casanova mentioned in the newspaper. I felt certain that the Prelate would write the whole affair to Venice, where it would do me great honor, at least until the truth should be known, and in that case my reserve would be justified. Besides, I should then most likely be far away. I made up my mind to go to Venice as soon as I heard from Teresa, as I thought that I could wait for her there more comfortably than in Bologna, and in my native place there was nothing to hinder me from marrying her openly. In the meantime, the fable from Pessaro amused me a good deal, and I expected every day to see it denied in some newspaper. The real officer Casanova must have laughed at the accusation brought against him of having run away with the horse, as much as I laughed at the Caprice, which had metamorphosed me into an officer in Bologna, just as if I had done it for the very purpose of giving to the affair every appearance of truth. On the fourth day of my stay in Bologna, I received by express a long letter from Teresa. She informed me that, on the day after my escape from Rimini, Baron Vais had presented to her the Duke de Castro Pignano, who, having heard her sing, had offered her one thousand ounces a year and all traveling expenses paid if she would accept an engagement as prima donna at the San Carlo Theatre at Naples, where she would have to go immediately after her Rimini engagement. She had requested and obtained a week to come to a decision. She enclosed two documents. The first was the written memorandum of the Duke's proposals, which she sent in order that I should peruse it, as she did not wish to sign it without my consent. The second was a formal engagement, written by herself, to remain all her life devoted to me and at my service. She added in her letter that, if I wished to accompany her to Naples, she would meet me anywhere I might appoint, but that, if I had any objection to return to that city, she would immediately refuse the brilliant offer, for her only happiness was to please me in all things. For the first time in my life, I found myself in need of thoughtful consideration before I could make up my mind. Teresa's letter had entirely upset all my ideas and, feeling that I could not answer it at once, I told the messenger to call the next day. Two motives of equal weight kept the balance wavering, self-love and love for Teresa. I felt that I ought not to require Teresa to give up such prospects of fortune, but I could not take upon myself either to let her go to Naples without me or to accompany her there. On one side, I shuddered at the idea that my love might ruin Teresa's prospects. On the other side, the idea of the blow inflicted on my self-love, on my pride, if I went to Naples with her, sickened me. How could I make up my mind to reappear in that city, in the guise of a cowardly fellow living at the expense of his mistress or his wife? What would my cousin Antonio, Don Polo and his dear son Don Leilio Corafa and all the patricians who knew me have said? The thought of Lucrecia and of her husband sent a cold shiver through me. I considered that, in spite of my love for Teresa, I should become very miserable if everyone despised me. Linked to her destiny as a lover or as a husband, I would be a degraded, humbled and mean sycophant. Then came the thought, is this to be the end of all my hopes? The die was cast, my head had conquered my heart. I fancied that I had hit upon an excellent expedient, which at all events made me gain time, and I resolved to act upon it. I wrote to Teresa, advising her to accept the engagement for Naples, where she might expect me to join her in the month of July or after my return from Constantinople. I cautioned her to engage an honest-looking waiting woman so as to appear respectively in the world and to lead such a life as would permit me to make her my wife on my return without being ashamed of myself. I foresaw that her success would be ensured by her beauty even more than by her talent, and with my nature I knew that I could never assume the character of an easygoing lover or of a compliant husband. Had I received Teresa's letter one week sooner, it is certain that she would not have gone to Naples, for my love would then have proved stronger than my reason. But in matters of love, as well as in all others, time is a great teacher. I told Teresa to direct her answer to Bologna, and three days after I received from her a letter, loving and at the same time sad, in which she informed me that she had signed the engagement. She had secured the services of a woman whom she could present as her mother, she would reach Naples towards the middle of May, and she would wait for me there till she heard from me that I no longer wanted her. Four days after the receipt of that letter, the last but one that Teresa wrote me, I left Bologna for Venice. Before my departure I had received an answer from the French officer, advising me that my passport had reached Pesaro, and that he was ready to forward it to me with my trunk, if I would pay M. Marcello Berna, the proveditore of the Spanish army, whose address he enclosed, the sum of fifty doubloons for the horse which I had run away with, or which had run away with me. I repaired it once to the house of the proveditore, well pleased to settle that affair, and I received my trunk and my passport a few hours before leaving Bologna. But as my paying for the horse was known all over the town, Monsignor Coronaro was confirmed in his belief that I had killed my captain in a duel. To go to Venice it was necessary to submit to a quarantine, which had been adhered to only because the two governments had fallen out. The Venetians wanted the Pope to be the first in giving free passage through his frontiers, and the Pope insisted that the Venetians should take the initiative. The result of this trifling peak between the two governments was great hindrance to commerce, but very often that which bears only upon the private interest of the people is lightly treated by the rulers. I did not wish to be quarantined and determined on evading it. It was rather a delicate undertaking, for in Venice the sanitary laws are very strict, but in those days I delighted in doing, if not everything that was forbidden, at least everything which offered real difficulties. I knew that between the state of Mantua and that of Venice the passage was free, and I knew likewise that there was no restriction in the communication between Mantua and Modena. If I could therefore penetrate into the state of Mantua by stating that I was coming from Modena, my success would be certain because I could then cross the Poe and go straight to Venice. I got a carrier to drive me to Revereaux, a city situated on the river Poe, and belonging to the state of Mantua. The driver told me that if he took the crossroads he could go to Revereaux and say that we came from Mantua, and that the only difficulty would be in the absence of the sanitary certificate which is delivered in Mantua, and which was certain to be asked for in Revereaux. I suggested that the best way to manage would be for him to say that he had lost it, and a little money removed every objection on his part. When we reached the gates of Revereaux I represented myself as a Spanish officer going to Venice to meet the Duke of Modena, whom I knew to be there, on business of the greatest importance. The sanitary certificate was not even demanded. Military honors were duly paid to me and I was most civilly treated. A certificate was immediately delivered to me, setting forth that I was traveling from Revereaux, and with it I crossed the Poe without any difficulty, at Ostealia, from which place I proceeded to Le Nago. There I left my carrier as much pleased with my generosity as with the good luck which had attended our journey and, taking post-horses, I reached Venice in the evening. I remarked that it was the end of April, 1744, the anniversary of my birth, which ten times during my life has been marked by some important event. The very next morning I went to the exchange in order to procure a passage to Constantinople, but I could not find any passenger ship sailing before two or three months, and I engaged a birth in a Venetianship called Our Lady of the Rosary, Commander Zane, which was to sail for Corfu in the course of the month. Having thus prepared myself to obey my destiny, which, according to my superstitious feelings, called me imperiously to Constantinople, I went to St. Mark's Square in order to see and to be seen, enjoying by anticipation the surprise of my acquaintances at not finding me any longer in Abbe. I must not forget to state that at Revaroe I had decorated my hat with a red cockade. I thought that my first visit was, by right, due to the Abbe Grimani. The moment he saw me he raised a perfect shriek of astonishment, for he thought I was still with Cardinal Aquaviva on the road to a political career, and he saw standing before him a son of Mars. He had just left the dinner table as I entered, and he had company. I observed amongst the guests an officer wearing the Spanish uniform, but I was not put out of countenance. I told the Abbe Grimani that I was only passing through Venice, and that I had felt it a duty and a pleasure to pay my respects to him. I did not expect to see you in such a costume. I have resolved to throw off the garb which could not procure me a fortune likely to satisfy my ambition. Where are you going? To Constantinople, and I hope to find a quick passage to Corfu as I have dispatches from Cardinal Aquaviva. Where do you come from now? From the Spanish army, which I left ten days ago. These words were hardly spoken when I heard the voice of a young nobleman exclaiming, that is not true. The profession to which I belong, I said to him with great animation, does not permit me to let anyone give me the lie. And upon that, bowing all round, I went away without taking any notice of those who were calling me back. I wore a uniform. It seemed to me that I was right in showing that sensitive and haughty pride which forms one of the characteristics of military men. I was no longer a priest. I could not bear being given the lie, especially when it had been given to me in so public a manner. I called upon Madame Monzoni, whom I was longing to see. She was very happy to see me and did not fail to remind me of her prediction. I told her my history, which amused her much, but she said that if I went to Constantinople I should most likely never see her again. After my visit to Madame Monzoni I went to the house of Madame Oreo, where I found worthy M. Rosa, Nanette, and Martone. They were all greatly surprised, indeed petrified, at seeing me. The two lovely sisters looked more beautiful than ever, but I did not think it necessary to tell them the history of my nine months' absence, for it would not have edified the aunt or pleased the nieces. I satisfied myself with telling them as much as I thought fit and amused them for three hours. Seeing that the good old lady was carried away by her enthusiasm I told her that I should be very happy to pass under her roof the four or five weeks of my stay in Venice if she could give me a room and supper, but on condition that I should not prove a burden to her or to her charming nieces. I should be only too happy, she answered, to have you so long, but I have no room to offer you. Yes, you have one, my dear, exclaimed M. Rosa, and I undertake to put it to rights within two hours. It was the room adjoining the chamber of the two sisters. Nanette said immediately that she would come downstairs with her sister, but M. Oreo answered that it was unnecessary as they could lock themselves in their room. There would be no need for them to do that, madam, I said, with a serious and modest error, and if I am likely to occasion the slightest disturbance I can remain at the inn. There will be no disturbance whatever, but forgive my nieces they are young prudes and have a very high opinion of themselves. Everything being satisfactorily arranged I forced upon madam Oreo a payment of fifteen sequins in advance, assuring her that I was rich and that I had made a very good bargain as I should spend a great deal more if I kept my room at the inn. I added that I would send my luggage and take up my quarters in her house on the following day. During the whole of the conversation I could see the eyes of my two dear little wives sparkling with pleasure, and they reconquered all their influence over my heart in spite of my love for Teresa, whose image was, all the same, brilliant in my soul. This was a passing infidelity, but not in constancy. On the following day I called at the war-office, but to avoid every chance of unpleasantness I took care to remove my cockade. I found in the office Major Pelodoro who could not control his joy when he saw me in a military uniform and hugged me with delight. As soon as I had explained to him that I wanted to go to Constantinople and that, although in uniform I was free, he advised me earnestly to seek the favor of going to Turkey with the bailow who intended to leave within two months and even to try to obtain service in the Venetian army. His advice suited me exactly, and the Secretary of War, who had known me the year before, happening to see me, summoned me to him. He told me that he had received letters from Bologna which had informed him of a certain adventure entirely to my honor, adding that he knew that I would not acknowledge it. He then asked me if I had received my discharge from the Spanish army. I could not receive my discharge as I was never in the service. And how did you manage to come to Venice without performing quarantine? Persons coming from Mantua are not subject to it. True, but I advise you to enter the Venetian service like Major Pelodoro. As I was leaving the Ducal Palace I met the Abe Grimani who told me that the abrupt manner of the house had displeased everybody. Even the Spanish officer? No, for he remarked that if you had truly been with the army you could not act differently. And he has himself assured me that you were there and to prove what he asserted he made me read an article in the newspaper in which it is stated that you killed your captain in a duel. Of course it is only a fable. How do you know that it is not a fact? Is it true then? I do not say so, but it may be true. Quite as true as my having been with the Spanish army ten days ago. But that is impossible unless you have broken through the quarantine. I have broken nothing. I have openly crossed the pole at Revarro. And here I am. I am sorry not to be able to present myself at your Excellencies' Palace but I cannot do so until I have received the most complete satisfaction from the person who has given me the lie. I could put up with an insult when I wore the livery of humility but I cannot bear one now that I wear the garb of honor. You are wrong to take it in such a high tone. The person who attacked your veracity is M. Valmarna, the proveditore of the sanitary department. And he contends that as nobody can pass through the cordon it would be impossible for you to be here. Satisfaction indeed? Have you forgotten who you are? No, I know who I am and I know likewise that if I was taken for a coward before leaving Venice now that I have returned no one shall insult me without repenting it. Come and dine with me. No, because the Spanish officer would know it. He would even see you for he dines with me every day. Very well then I will go and let him be the judge of my quarrel with M. Valmarna. I dined that day with Major Pellodoro and several other officers who agreed in advising me to enter the service of the Republic and I resolved to do so. I am acquainted, said the Major, with a young lieutenant whose health is not sufficiently strong to allow him to go to the East and who would be glad to sell his commission for which he wants one hundred sequins but it would be necessary to obtain the consent of the Secretary of War. Mention the matter to him, I replied, the one hundred sequins are ready. The Major undertook the commission. In the evening I went to Madame Oreo and I found myself very comfortably lodged. After supper the aunt told her nieces to show me to my room and, as may well be supposed, we spent a most delightful night. After that they took the agreeable duty by turns and, in order to avoid any surprise in case the aunt should take it into her head to pay them a visit, we skillfully displaced a part of the partition which allowed them to come in and out of my room without opening the door. But the good lady believed us three living specimens of virtue and never thought of putting us to the test. Two or three days afterwards M. Grimani contrived an interview between me and M. Valmarna who told me that if he had been aware that the sanitary line could be eluded he would never have impugned my veracity and thanked me for the information I had given him. The affair was thus agreeably arranged and until my departure I honored M. Grimani's excellent dinner with my presence every day. Towards the end of the month I entered the service of the Republic in the capacity of Ensign in the Bela Regiment, then at Corfu. The young man who had left the regiment through the magical virtue of my 100 sequins was Lieutenant but the Secretary of War objected to my having that rank for reasons to which I had to submit if I wished to enter the army. But he promised me that at the end of the year I would be promoted to the grade of Lieutenant and he granted me a furlough to go to Constantinople. I was determined to serve in the army. M. Pierre Vendramine an illustrious senator obtained me the favor of a passage to Constantinople with the Chevalier Venier who was proceeding to that city in the quality of Bela but as he would arrive in Corfu a month after me the Chevalier very kindly promised to take me as he called at Corfu. A few days before my departure I received a letter from Teresa who informed me that the Duke de Castro Pignano escorted her everywhere. The Duke is old, she wrote but even if he were young you would have no cause for uneasiness on my account. Should you ever want any money draw upon me from any place where you may happen to be and be quite certain that your letters of exchange will be paid even if I had to sell everything I possessed to honor your signature. There was to be another passenger on board the ship of the line on which I had engaged my passage namely a noble Venetian who was going to Zanti in the quality of counselor with a numerous and brilliant retinue. The captain of the ship told me that if I was obliged to take my meals alone I was not likely to fare very well and he advised me to obtain an introduction to the nobleman who had not failed to invite me his name was Antonio Dolphin and he had been nicknamed Bucintoro in consequence of his air of grandeur and the elegance of his toilet. Fortunately I did not require to beg an introduction for M. Grimani offered of his own accord to present me to the magnificent counselor who received me in the kindest manner and invited me at once to take my meals at his table. He expressed a desire that I should make the acquaintance of his wife who was to accompany him in the journey. I called upon her the next day and I found the lady perfect in manners but already of a certain age and completely deaf. I had therefore but little pleasure to expect from her conversation. She had a very charming young daughter whom she left in a convent. She became celebrated afterwards and she is still alive I believe the widow of procurator Iron whose family is extinct. I have seldom seen a finer-looking man or a man of more imposing appearance than M. Dolphin. He was eminently distinguished for his wit and politeness. He was eloquent, always cheerful when he lost at cards, the favorite of ladies whom he endeavored to please in everything, always courageous and of an equal temper whether in good or in adverse fortune. He had ventured on traveling without permission and had entered a foreign service which had brought him into disgrace with the government, for a noble son of Venice cannot be guilty of a greater crime. For this offense he had been imprisoned in the Leeds, a favor which destiny kept also in reserve for me. Highly gifted, generous, but not wealthy, M. Dolphin had been compelled to solicit on counsel a lucrative governorship and had been appointed to Zanti. But he started with such a splendid sweet that he was not likely to save much out of his salary. Such a man as I have just portrayed could not make a fortune in Venice because an aristocratic government cannot obtain a state of lasting steady peace at home unless equality is maintained amongst the nobility and equality, either moral or physical cannot be appreciated in any other way than by appearances. The result is that the man who does not want to lay himself open to persecution and who happens to be superior or inferior to the others must endeavor to conceal it by all possible means. If he is ambitious he must feign great contempt for dignities. If he seeks employment he must not appear to want any. If his features are handsome he must be careless of his physical appearance. He must dress badly, wear nothing in good taste, ridicule every foreign importation, make his bow without grace, be careless in his manner, care nothing for the fine arts, conceal his good breeding, have no foreign cook, wear an uncombed wig and look rather dirty. Emdolfine was not endowed with any of those eminent qualities and therefore he had no hope of a great fortune in his native country. The day before my departure from Venice I did not go out. I devoted the whole of the day to friendship. Madame Oreo and her lovely nieces shed many tears and I joined them in that delightful employment. During the last night that I spent with both of them the sisters repeated over and over in the midst of the raptures of love that they never would see me again. They guessed rightly, but if they had happened to see me again they would have guessed wrongly. Observe how wonderful prophets are. I went on board on the 5th of May with a good supply of clothing, jewels and ready cash. Our ship carried 24 guns and 200 Sclavonian soldiers. We sailed from Malamaca to the shores of Istria during the night and we came to anchor of Orsara to take ballast. I landed with several others to take a stroll through the wretched place where I had spent three days nine months before a recollection which caused me a pleasant sensation when I compared my present position to what it was at that time. What a difference in everything health, social condition and money. I felt quite certain that in the splendid uniform I was now wearing nobody would recognize the miserable-looking Abe who, but for Friar Stefano would have become God knows what. The Venetian Years by Giacomo Casanova Chapter 14 An amusing meeting in Orsara. Journey to Corfu My stay in Constantinople Bonavalle My return to Corfu Madame F. The False Prince I run away from Corfu. My frolics at Casopo I surrender myself a prisoner. My speedy release and triumph is a success with Madame F. I affirm that a stupid servant is more dangerous than a bad one and a much greater plague, for one can be on one's guard against a wicked person but never against a fool. You can punish wickedness but not stupidity unless you send away the fool, male or female who is guilty of it, and if you do so you generally find out that the change has only thrown you out of the frying pan and into the fire. This chapter and the two following ones were written. They gave at full length all the particulars which I must now abridge, for my silly servant has taken the three chapters for her own purposes. She pleaded as an excuse that the sheets of paper were old, written upon, covered with scribbling and erasures, and that she had taken them in preference to nice clean paper, thinking that I would care much more for the last than for the first. I flew into a violent passion, but I was wrong, for the poor girl was violent. Her judgment alone had misled her. It is well known that the first result of anger is to deprive the angry man of the faculty of reason, for anger and reason do not belong in the same family. Luckily, passion does not keep me long under its sway. Heraschi, Keerarum, Tanum, Iplacibium esse. After I had wasted my time in hurling at her, bitter reproaches, the force of which did not strike a stupid fool, she refuted all of my arguments by the most complete silence. There was nothing to do but to resign myself, and although not yet in the best of tempers I went to work. What I am going to write will probably not be so good as what I composed when I felt in the proper humor, but my readers must be satisfied with it. They will, like the engineer, gain in time what they lose in strength. I landed at Ossara while our ship was taking ballast, sailing sail well when she is too light, and I was walking about when I remarked a man who was looking at me very attentively. As I had no dread of any creditor, I thought that he was interested by my fine appearance. I could find no fault in such a feeling, and kept walking on, but as I passed him he addressed me. Might I presume to inquire whether this is your first visit to Ossara, Captain? No, sir, it is my second visit to this city. Were you not here last year? I was. But you are not in uniform then. True enough, but your questions begin to sound rather indiscreet. Be good enough to forgive me, sir, for my curiosity is the offspring of gratitude. I am indebted to you for the greatest benefits, and I trust that Providence has brought you here, again, only to give me the opportunity of making greater still my debt of gratitude to you. What on earth have I done, and what can I do for you? I am lost to guess your meaning. Will you be so kind as to come and breakfast with me? My house is near at hand. My refosco is delicious. Please taste it, and I will convince you in a few words that you are truly my benefactor, and that I have a right to expect that you have returned Ossara to load me with fresh benefits. I could not suspect the man of insanity, but as I could not make him out, I fancy that he wanted me to purchase some of his refosco, and he left me for a few moments to order breakfast. I observed several surgical instruments which made me suppose that he was a surgeon, and I asked him when he returned. Yes, Captain, I have been practicing surgery in this place for twenty years and in a very poor way, for I had nothing to do except a few cases of bleeding, of cupping, and occasionally some slight escoriation to dress or a sprained ankle to put to rights. I did not even earn the poorest living. But since last year a great change has taken place. I have made a great deal of money. I have laid it out advantageously, and it is to you, Captain, and to you may God bless you that I am indebted for my present comforts. But how so? In this way, Captain, you had a connection with Don Jerome's housekeeper, and you left her when you went away a certain souvenir which she communicated to a friend of hers who, in perfect faith, made a present of it to his wife. The lady did not wish I supposed to be selfish, and she gave the souvenir to a libertine who, in his turn, was so generous with it that in less than a month I had about fifty clients. The following months were not less fruitful, and I gave the benefit of my attendance to everybody, of course, for a consideration. There are a few patients still under my care, but in a short time there will be no more as the souvenir left by you to torch you. You can easily realize now the joy I felt when I saw you. You are a bird of good omen. May I hope that your visit will last long enough to enable you to renew the source of my fortune? I laughed heartily, but he was grieved to hear that I was an excellent health. He remarked, however, that I was not likely to be so well off on my return. Because in the country where I was going there was an abundance of damaged goods, left by such bad merchandise. He begged that I would depend upon it, and not trust myself in the hands of quacks, who would be sure to palm their remedies upon me. I promised him everything, and taking leave of him with many thanks I returned to the ship. I related the whole affair to Missour Dolphin, who was highly amused. We sailed on the following day, but on the fourth day, on the other side of Crisola, we were visited by a storm that had happened. The chaplain of the ship was a Sclavonian priest, very ignorant, insolent, and course-mannered, and as I turned him into ridicule whenever the opportunity offered, he had naturally become my sworn enemy. Tant des fils entre, till d'un l'armée d'un dévot. When the storm was at its height, he posted himself on the quarter-deck, and, with book in hand, proceeded to exorcise all the spirits and to whom he pointed for the benefits of the sailors, who, believing themselves lost, were crying, howling, and giving way to despair, instead of attending to the workings of the ship, then in great danger on account of the rocks and of the breakers which surrounded us. Seeing the peril of our position, and the evil effect of his stupid incantations upon the minds of the sailors, whom the ignorant priest was throwing into the apathy of despair instead of keeping up their courage, I thought it prudent to interfere. I went up the rigging, calling upon the sailors to do their duty cheerfully, telling them that there were no devils and that the priest who pretended to see them was a fool. But it was in vain that I spoke in the most forcible manner. In vain that I went to work myself and showed that safety was only to be insured by active means. I could not prevent the priest declaring that I was an atheist, and he managed to rouse against me the anger of the greatest part of the crew. I watched the sea into fury for the two following days, and the nave contrived to persuade the sailors who listened to him that the hurricane would not abate as long as I was on board. Embued with that conviction, one of the men, thinking that he found a good opportunity of fulfilling the wishes of the priest, came up to me as I was standing at the extreme end of the forecastle and pushed me so roughly that I was thrown over. I would have been irretrievably lost, but the sharp point of an anchor alongside the ship, catching in my clothes, prevented me from falling in the sea, and proved truly my sheet anchor. Some men came to my assistance and I was saved. A corporal then pointed out to me the sailor who had tried to murder me, and taking a stout stick, I treated the scoundrel to a sound thrashing. But the sailors, headed by the furious priest, rushed towards us when they heard his screams, and I would have been killed if the soldiers had not taken my part. My matured dolphin then came on deck, but they were compelled to listen to the chaplain, and to promise, in order to pacify the vile rabble, that they would land me at the first opportunity. But even this was not enough. The priest demanded that I should give up to him a certain parchment that I had purchased from a Greek at Malamoko just before sailing. I had no recollection of it, but it was true. I laughed and gave it to my matured dolphin. He handed it to the fanatic chaplain, who, exalting in his victory, called for a large pan of live coals from the cook's gallery, and made an altodafi of the document. The unlucky parchment, before it was entirely consumed, kept writhing on the fire for half an hour, and the priest did not fail to represent those contortions as a miracle, and all the sailors were sure that it was an infernal manuscript given to me by the devil. The virtue claimed for that piece of parchment by the man who sold it to me was that it ensured its lucky possessor the love of all women. But I trust my readers will do me the justice to believe that I had no faith whatsoever and amorous filters, talismans or amulets of any kind. I had purchased it only for a joke. You can find throughout Italy, in Greece, and generally in every country, the inhabitants of which are yet wrapped in primitive ignorance, a tribe of Jews, of Greeks, of astronomers, and of exorcists who sell their dupes, rags, and toys to which they boastingly attach wondrous virtues and properties, amulets which render invulnerable, scraps of cloth which defend from witchcraft, small bags filled with drugs to keep away goblins, and thousands of gaggles of the same description. These wonderful goods have no marketable value whatever in France, in England, in Germany, and throughout the north of Europe generally, but in revenge the inhabitants of those countries indulge in navish practices of a much worse kind. This storm abated just as the innocent parchment was writhing on the fire, and the sailors, believing that the spirits of hell had been exorcised, thought no more of getting rid of my person. And after a prosperous voyage of a week, we cast anchor at Corfu. As soon as I had found a comfortable lodging, I took my letters to his eminence, the Providore Generale, and to all the naval commanders to whom I was recommended. And after paying my respects to my colonel and making the acquaintance of the officers of the regiment, I prepared to enjoy myself until the arrival of the Chevalier Vignet, who had promised to take me to Constantinople. He arrived towards the middle of June, but in the meantime I had been playing basset and had lost all my money and sold or pledged all of my jewelry. Such must be the fate awaiting every man who has a taste for gambling, unless he should know how to fix fickle fortune by playing with the real advantage derived from calculation and brightness which defies chance. I think that a cool and prudent player can manage both without exposing himself to censure or deserving to be called a cheat. During the month that I spent in Corfu, awaiting for the arrival of Monsieur Vignet, I did not devote any time to the study, either moral or physical, of the country. For, accepting the days on which I was on duty, I passed my life at the coffee house and tent upon the game, and sinking as a matter of course which I braved with obscenity. I never won, and I had not the moral strength to stop till all my means were gone. The only comfort I had, and a sorry one truly, was to hear the banker himself call me, perhaps sarcastically a fine player, every time I lost a large stake. My misery was at its height when new life was infused in me by the booming of the guns fired in honor of the arrival of the bailo. He had taken only eight days to sail from Venice to Corfu. The moment he cast anchor, the bailo hosted to the port, the Chevalier Vignet who had with him in his distinguished and brilliant suite, Count Annabelle Gambera, Count Charles Zenobio, both Venetian noblemen and of the first class, and the Marquis de Anchotti of Brezin, who accompanied him to Constantinople for their own amusement. The bailo remained a week in Corfu, and all the naval authorities entertained him in his suite in turn, so there was a constant secession of balls and suppers. When I presented myself to his Excellency, he informed me that he had already spoken to the Providatore, who had granted me a furlough of six months to enable me to accompany him to Constantinople as his adjunctant, and as soon as the official document from my furlough had been delivered to me. I set my small stock of worldly goods on board the Europa, and we wait anchor early the next day. We sailed with a favorable wind, which remained steady and brought us in six days to Carigo, where we stopped to take in some water, feeling some curiosity to visit the ancient Sithera. I went on shore with the sailors on duty, but it would have been better for me if I remained on board. For in Carigo I made a bad acquaintance. I was accompanied by the captain of Marines. The moment we set foot on shore, two men, very poorly dressed and of unprepossessing appearance, came to us and begged for assistance. I asked them who they were, and one, quicker than the other, answered, we are sentenced to live and perhaps to die in this island by the despotism of the Council of Ten. There are forty others as unfortunate as ourselves, and we are all born subjects of the Republic. The crime of which we have been accused, which is not considered a crime anywhere, is that we were in the habit of living with our mistresses, without being jealous of our friends, when finding our ladies handsome, they obtained their favors with our ready consent. As we were not rich, we felt no remorse in availing ourselves of the generosity of our friends in such cases. But it was said that we were carrying on in illicit trade, and we have been sent to this place where we receive every day Tensu in Moneta Lunga. We are called Mangia Meroni and are worse off than galley slaves, for we are dying of ennui, and we are often starving without knowing how to stay our hunger. My name is Don Antonio Puccini. I am of a noble Paduan family, and my mother belongs to the illustrious family of Campo San Piero. We gave them some money, and went about the island, returning to the ship after we visited the fortress. I shall have to speak of that Puccini in a few years. The wind continued in our favor, and we reached the Dardanelles in eight or ten days. The Turkish barges met us there to carry us to Constantinople. The sight offered by that city in a distance of a league is truly wonderful, and I believe that a more magnificent panorama cannot be found in any part of the world. It was that splendid view which was the cause of the fall of the Roman and the rise of the Greek Empire. Constantine the Great, arriving at Byzantium by sea, was so much struck by the wonderful beauty that he exclaimed, here is the proper seat of the Empire of the whole world. And in order to secure the fulfillment of his prediction, he left Rome for Byzantium. If he had known the prophecy of Horus, or rather if he had believed it, he would not have been guilty of such folly. The poet had said that the downfall of the Roman Empire would begin only when one of the successors of Augustus bethought him removing the capital of the Empire to where it had originated. We arrived at the Venetian Embassy in Para, toward the middle of July, and, for a wonder, there was no talk of the plague in Constantinople just then. We were all provided with very comfortable lodgings, but the intensity of the heat induced the Bale'i to seek for a little coolness in a country mansion which had been hired by the Bailodana. It was situated at Boiore, the very first order laid upon me was to never go out unknown to the Bailo, being escorted by a Janissary, and this order I obeyed to the letter. In those days the Russians had not tamed the insolence of the Turkish people. I am told that foreigners can now go about as much as they please in perfect security. The day after our arrival I took a Janissary to accompany me to Asampasha, of Karamania, the name assumed by Count de Bonoval, ever since he had adopted the turban. I sent in my letter. It was immediately shown into an apartment on the ground floor, furnished in the French fashion, where I saw a stout elderly gentleman dressed like a Frenchman who, as I entered the room, came to meet me with a smiling countenance and asked me how he could serve the protégé of a cardinal of the Roman Catholic Church, which he could no longer call his mother. I gave him all the particulars of my circumstances, which, in a moment of despair, had induced me to ask the cardinal that the letters once in my possession my superstitious feelings had made me believe that I was bound to deliver them in person. Then without this letter, he said, you would never have come to Constantinople and you have no need of me? True, but I consider myself fortunate in having made the acquaintance of a man who has attracted the attention of the whole of Europe and still commands that attention. His Excellency made some remark respecting the happiness of young men that any fixed purpose abandoned themselves to fortune with that confidence which knows no fear, and telling me that the cardinal's letter made it desirable that he should do something for me. He promised to introduce me to three or four of his Turkish friends who deserved to be known. He invited me to dine with him every Thursday and undertook to send me a Janissary who would protect me from the insults of the rabble and show me everything worth seeing. The cardinal's letter representing me as a literary man, the Pasha, served that I ought to see his library. I followed him through the garden and we entered a room furnished with grated cupboards, curtains which could be seen behind the wire work. The books were most likely behind the curtains. Taking a key out of his pocket he opened one of the cupboards and instead of folios I saw long rows of bottles of the finest wines. We both laughed heartily. Here are, said the Pasha, my library and my harem. I am old, women would only shorten my life, but good wine will prolong it or at least make it more agreeable. I imagine your Excellency has obtained a dispensation from the Mufti. You are mistaken, for the Pope of the Turks is very far from enjoying so great a power as the Christian Pope. He cannot in any case permit what is forbidden by the Koran, but everybody is at liberty to work out his own damnation if he likes. The Turkish devotees pity the Libertines but they do not persecute them. There is no inquisition in Turkey. Those who do not know the precepts of religion, say the Turks, will suffer enough in the life to come. There is no need to make them suffer in this life. The only dispensation I have asked and obtained has been respecting circumcision. Although it can hardly be called so because at my age it might have proved dangerous, that ceremony is generally performed but is not compulsory. During the two hours that we spent together the Pasha inquired after several of his friends in Venice, particularly after Mark Antonio Dieto. I told him that his friends were still faithful to their affection for him and did not find fault with his apostasy. He answered that he was a Mohammedan as he had been a Christian and that he had not been better acquainted with the Koran than he had been with the Gospel. I am certain, he added, that I shall die calmer and much happier than Prince Eugene. I have had to say that God is God and that Mohammed is the Prophet. I have said it and the Turks care very little about whether I believe it or not. I wear the turban as the soldier wears the uniform. I was nothing but a military man. I have not turned my hand to any other profession. I made up my mind to become Lieutenant General of the Grand Turk only when I found myself entirely at a loss how to earn my living. When I left Venice, the pitcher had gone too often to the well. It was broken at last and if the Jews had offered me command of an army of 50,000 men I would have gone and besieged Jerusalem. Bonaville was handsome but too stout. He had received a saber-cut in the lower part of his abdomen which compelled him to wear constantly a bandage supported by a silver plate. He had been exiled to Asia but only for a short time. Four, as he told me, the cabals are not as tenacious in Turkey as they are in Europe and particularly at the court of Vienna. As I was taking leave of him he was kind enough to say that since his arrival in Turkey he had never passed two hours as pleasantly as he spent with me and would compliment the Beiello about me. The Beiello Dona, who had known him intimately in Venice desired me to be the bearer of all his friendly compliments for him and M. Venier expressed his deep regret in not being able to make his acquaintance. The second day after my visit to him being a Thursday the Pasha did not forget to send a Janissary according to his promise. It was about eleven in the morning when the Janissary called for me. The next time I found Bonavalle dressed in the Turkish style his guests soon arrived and we sat down at dinner all very well disposed to be cheerful and happy. The dinner was entirely French and cooking and service. His steward and cook were both worthy French renegades. He had taken care to introduce me to all his guests and at the same time to let me know who they were but he did not give me an opportunity of speaking before dinner and I was very proud of that to be a guest of the Italian and I remarked that the Turks did not utter a single word in their own language even to say the most ordinary thing. Each guest had near him a bottle which might well have contained either white wine or hydra-mel all I know is that I drank as well as M. Bonavalle next to whom I was seated some excellent white burgundy. The guests got me on the subject of Venice and particularly of Rome questions, the discipline of religion and liturgical questions were alone discussed. One of the guests, who was addressed as a Fendi, because he had been secretary for foreign affairs, said that the ambassador from Venice to Rome was a friend of his, and spoke of him in the highest manner. I told him that I shared his admiration for that ambassador, who had given me a letter of introduction for a Turkish nobleman, whom he had represented as an intimate friend. He inquired for the name of the person to whom the letter was addressed, but I could not recollect it, and took the letter out of my pocketbook. The Offendi was delighted to find out that the letter was for himself. He begged leave to read it at once, and after he perused it, he kissed the signature, and came to embrace me. This scene pleased Monsieur de Bonneval and all his friends. The Offendi, whose name was Ismael, and treated the Pasha to come dine with him, and to bring me. Bonneval accepted, and fixed the day. Notwithstanding all the politeness of the Offendi, I was particularly interested during our charming dinner in a fine elderly man of about sixty, whose countenance breathed at the same time the greatest sagacity and the most perfect kindness. Two years afterwards I found again the same features on the handsome face of Monsieur de Bragedon, a Venetian senator of whom I shall have to speak at length when we come to that period of my life. That elderly gentleman had listened to me with the greatest attention, but without uttering one word. In society a man whose face and general appearance excite your interest stimulates strongly your curiosity if you remain silent. When we left the dining room I inquired from de Bonneval who he was. He answered that he was wealthy, a philosopher, a man of acknowledged merit, of great purity of morals, and strongly attached to his religion. He advised me to cultivate his acquaintance if he made any advances to me. I was pleased with his advice, and when, after a walk under the shady trees of the garden, we returned to a drawing room furnished in the Turkish fashion, I purposefully took a seat near Yusuf Ali. Such was the name of the Turk for whom I felt so much sympathy. He offered me his pipe in a very graceful manner. I refused it politely, and took one brought to me by one of Monsieur de Bonneval's servants. Whenever I had been among smokers, I have smoked or left the room. Otherwise I would have fancied that I was swallowing the smoke of others, and that idea which is true and unpleasant disgusted me. I have never been able to understand how in Germany the ladies, otherwise so polite and delicate, could inhale the suffocating fumes of a crowd of smokers. Yusuf, pleased to have me near him, had once led the conversation to subjects similar to those which had been disgusted table, and particularly to the reasons which had been induced me to give up the peaceful profession of the church and to choose a military life. And in order to gratify his curiosity without losing his good opinion, I gave him, but with proper caution, some of the particulars of my life, for I wanted him to be satisfied that, if I had first entered the career of the Holy Priesthood, it had not been through any vocation of mine. He seemed pleased with my recital, speak of natural vocations as a stoic philosopher, and I saw that he was a fatalist, but I was careful not to attack his system openly. He did not dislike my objections, most likely because he thought himself strong enough to overthrow them. I must have inspired the honest Muslim men with very great esteem, for he thought me worthy of becoming his disciple. It was not likely that he could entertain the idea of becoming himself the disciple of a young man of nineteen, lost as he thought in a false religion. After spending an hour in examining me, and listening to my principles, he said that he believed me fit to know the real truth, because he saw that I was seeking for it, and that I was not certain of having obtained it so far. He invited me to come and spend a whole day with him, naming the days when I would be certain to find him at home, but he advised me to consult the Pasha Osman before accepting his invitation. I told him that the Pasha had already mentioned him to me, and spoke very highly of his character. He seemed much pleased. I fixed the day for my visit and left him. I informed M. de Bonneval of all that had occurred. He was delighted, and promised that his Janissary would be every day at the Venetian palace, ready to execute my orders. I received the congratulations of the Bala'i upon the excellent acquaintances I had already made, and M. Venier advised me not to neglect such friends in a country where rariness of life was more deadly to foreigners than the plague. On the day appointed, I went early to Yusef's palace, but he was out. His gardener, who had received his instructions, showed me every attention, and entertained me very agreeably for two hours, in doing the honors of his master's splendid garden, where I found the most beautiful flowers. This gardener was a Neapolitan, and had belonged to Yusef for thirty years. His manners made me suspect that he was well-born and well-educated, but he told me frankly that he had never been taught even to read, that he was a sailor when he was taken into slavery, and that he was so happy in the surface of Yusef that liberty would be a punishment to him. Of course, I did not venture to address him any questions about his master, for his reserve might as put my curiosity to the blush. Yusef had gone out on horseback. He returned, and after the usual compliments we dined alone in a summer house, from which we had a very fine view of the sea, and in which the heat was cooled by a delightful breeze which blows regularly at the same hour every day from the northwest, and is called the mistrow. We had a good dinner. There was no prepared dish, except for the cowrowmen, a particular delicacy of the Turks. I drank water and hydromel, and I told Yusef that I preferred the last to wine, of which I never took too much at that time. Your hydromel, I said, is very good, and the Muslims who offend against the law by drinking wine do not deserve any indulgence. I believe they drink wine only because it is forbidden. Many of the true believers, he answered, think that they could take it as a medicine. The Grand Turk's physician has brought it into vogue as a medicine, and that it has been the cause of his fortune, for he has captivated the favor of his master, who is in reality constantly ill because he is always in a state of intoxication. I told Yusef that in my country drunkards were scarce, and that drunkenness was a vice to be found only among the lowest people. He was much astonished. I cannot understand, he said, why wine is allowed by all religions, when its use deprives man of his reason. All religions, I answered, forbid excess in drinking wine, and the crime is only in the abuse. I proved him the truth of what I said by telling him that opium produced the same results as wine, but more powerfully, and consequently, Muhammad ought to have forbidden the use of it. He observed that he had never taken either wine or opium in the course of his life. After dinner, pipes were brought in, and we filled them ourselves. I was smoking with pleasure, but at the same time was expectorating. Yusef, who smoked like a Turk, that is to say without spitting, said, tobacco you are now smoking as of a very fine quality, and you ought to swallow its balsam which is mixed with the saliva. I suppose you're right, smoking cannot truly be enjoyed without the best tobacco. That is true to a certain extent, but the enjoyment found in smoking good tobacco is not the principal pleasure, because it only pleases our senses. True enjoyment is that which works upon the soul, and is completely independent of the senses. I cannot realize, pleasure is enjoyed by the soul without the instrumentality of the senses. Listen to me. When you fill your pipe, do you feel any pleasure? Yes. Whence does that pleasure arise, if it is not from your soul? Let us go further. Do you not feel pleased when you give up your pipe after having smoked all the tobacco in it when you see that nothing is left but some ashes? It is true. Well, there are two pleasures in which your senses have certainly nothing to do, but I want you to guess the third and the most essential. The most essential? It is the perfume. No, it is the pleasure of the organ of smelling, essential pleasure. Then I do not know. Listen, the principal pleasure derived from tobacco smoking is the sight of the smoke itself. You must never see it go out of the bowl of your pipe, but only from the corner of your mouth and regular intervals, which must not be too frequent. It is so truly the greatest pleasure connected with the pipe that you cannot find anywhere a blind man who smokes. Try yourself the experiment of smoking a pipe in your room at night and without a light. You will soon lay the pipe down. It is all perfectly true, yet you must forgive me if I give the preference to several pleasures, in which my senses are interested, over those which afford enjoyment only to my soul. Forty years ago I was of the same opinion, and in forty years, if you succeed in acquiring wisdom, you will think like me. Pleasures which give activity to our senses, my dear son, disturb the repose of our soul, a proof that they do not deserve the name of real enjoyments. But if I feel them to be real enjoyments, it is enough to prove that they are truly so. Granted, but if you would take the trouble of analyzing them after you tasted them, you would not find them unalloyed. It may be so, but why should I take the trouble which would only lessen my enjoyment? A time will come when you will feel pleasure in that very trouble. It strikes me, dear father, that you prefer mature age to youth. You may boldly say old age. You surprise me. Must I believe that your early life has been unhappy? Far from it, I was always fortunate in good health and the master of my own passions. But all I saw on my equals was, for me, a good school in which I have acquired the knowledge of man, and learned the real road to happiness. The happiest of men is not the most voluptuous, but the one who knows how to choose the highest standards of voluptuousness, which can be found, I say again, not in the pleasures which excite our senses, but in those which give greater repose to the soul. This is the voluptuousness which you consider unalloyed. Yes. And such is the sight of a vast prairie all covered with grain. The green color so strongly recommended by our divine prophet strikes my ears, and at the same moment I feel my soul is wrapped up in a calm, so delightful that I fancy myself nearer the creator. I enjoy the same peace, the same repose, when I am seated on the banks of a river. When I look upon the water so quiet, yet always moving, which flows constantly, yet never disappears from my sight, never loses any of its clearness in spite of its constant motion. It strikes me as an image of my own existence, and the calm which I require for my life in order to reach, like the water I am gazing upon, the goal which I do not see, and which can only be found at the other end of the journey. Thus did the Turk reason, and we passed four hours in this sort of conversation. He had buried two wives, and he had two sons and a daughter. The eldest son, having received his patrimony, had established himself in the city of Salonica, where he was a wealthy merchant. The other was in the Sraglio, in the service of the Grand Turk, and his fortune was in the hands of a trustee. His daughter, Zelmi, then fifteen years of age, was to inherit all his remaining property. He had given her all the accomplishments which could minister to the happiness of the man whom heaven had destined for her husband. We shall hear more of that daughter anon. The mother of the three children was dead, and five years previous to the time of my visit, Yusuf had taken another wife, a native of Skyo, young and very beautiful, but he told me himself that he was too old now, and could not hope to have any child by her. Yet he was only sixty years of age. Before I left he made me promise to spend at least one day every week with him. At supper I told the Bale'i how pleasantly the day had passed. We envy you, they said. The prospect you have before you of spending agreeably three or four months in this country, while, in the quality of our ministers, we must pine away with melancholy. A few days afterwards, M. de Bonneville took me with him to dine at Ismail's house, where I saw Asiatic luxury on a grand scale. But there were great many guests, and the conversation was held almost entirely in the Turkish language, a circumstance which annoyed me, and M. de Bonneville also. Ismail saw it, and he invited me to breakfast whenever I felt disposed, assuring me that he would have much pleasure in receiving me. I accepted the invitation, and I went ten or twelve days afterwards. When we reached that period my readers must kindly accompany me to that breakfast. For the present I must return to Yusuf, who, during my second visit, displayed a character which inspired me with the greatest esteem and the warmest affection. We had dined alone as before, and the conversation happened to turn upon the fine arts. I gave my opinion on one of the precepts in the Koran, by which the Mohammedans are deprived of the innocent enjoyment of paintings and statues. He told me that Mohammed, a very sagacious legislator, had been right in removing all images from the site of the followers of Islam. No one ever worshipped an image as an image. The deity of which that image is a representation is what is worshipped. I may grant that, but God cannot be matter, and it is right to remove from the thoughts of the vulgar the idea of a material divinity. You are the only men, you Christians, who believe that you see God. It is true, we are sure of it, but observe that faith alone gives us that certainty. I know it, but you are idolaters for you see nothing but material representation, and yet you have a complete certainty that you see God unless you should tell me that faith disaffirms it. God forbid I should tell such a thing. Faith on the contrary, affirms our certainty. We thank God that we have no need of such self-delusion, and there is not one philosopher in the world who could prove to me that you require it. That would not be the province of philosophy, dear father, but of theology, a very superior science. You are now speaking the language of our theologians, who differ from yours only in this. They use their science to make clearer the truths we ought to know, whilst your theologians try and render those truths more obscure. Recollect, dear father, that they are mysteries. The existence of God is a sufficiently important mystery to prevent men from daring to add anything to it. God can only be simple. Any kind of combination would destroy his essence, such as the God announced by our prophet, who must be the same for all men and in all times. Agree with me that we can add nothing to the simplicity of God. We say that God is one. That is the image of simplicity. You say that he is one and three at the same time, and such a definition that strikes this as contradictory, absurd, and impious. It is a mystery. Do you mean God or the definition? I'm speaking only of the definition, which ought not to be a mystery or absurd. Common sense, my son, must consider as absurd an assertion which is substantially nonsensical. Prove to me that three is not a compound, that it cannot be a compound, and I will become a Christian at once. My religion tells me to believe without arguing, and I shudder, my dear Yusuf, when I think that, through some specious reasoning I might be led to renounce the creed of my fathers. I first must be convinced that they lived in error. Tell me whether, respecting my father's memory, I ought to have such a good opinion of myself as to sit in judgment over him, with the intention of giving my sentence against him. My livery remonstrants move Yusuf deeply, but after a few instances of silence he said to me, With such feelings, my son, you are sure to find grace in the eyes of God, and you are therefore one of the elect. If you are in error, God alone can convince you of it, for no just man on earth can refute the sentiment that you have just given expression to. We spoke of many other things in a friendly manner, and in the evening we parted with the often repeated assurance of the warmest affection and the most perfect devotion. But my mind was full of our conversation, and as I went on pondering over the matter, I thought that Yusuf might be right in his opinion as to the essence of God, for it seemed evident that the creator of all things ought to be perfectly simple, but I thought at the same time how impossible it would be for me, because the Christian religion had made a mistake to accept the Turkish creed, which might perhaps have just a conception of God, but which caused me to smile when I recollected that the man who had given birth to it had been an iron impostor. I had not the slightest idea, however, that Yusuf wished to make a convert of me. The third time I dined with him, religion was again the subject of conversation. Do you believe, dear father, that the religion of Muhammad is the only one in which salvation can be secured? No, my dear son, I am not certain of it, and no man can have such a certainty, but I am sure that the Christian religion is not the true one, because it cannot be universal. Well, why not? Because there is neither bread nor wine to be found in three-fourths of the world, observed that the precepts of the Koran can be followed everywhere. I do not know how to answer, and I would not equivocate. If God cannot be matter, I said, then he must be a spirit. We know what he is not, but we do not know what he is. Man cannot affirm that God is a spirit, because he cannot realize the idea in an abstract manner. God immaterial, that is the extent of our knowledge, and it can never be greater. I was reminded of Plato, who said exactly the same thing, and most certainly, Yusef had never read Plato. He added that the existence of God could be useful only to those who do not entertain a doubt of that existence, and that, as a natural consequence, atheists must be the most miserable of men. God is made in his man, his own image, in order that, amongst all the animals created by him, there should be no one that can understand and confess the existence of the Creator. Without man, God would have no witness of his own glory, and man must therefore understand his first and highest duty is to glorify God by practicing justice and trusting to his providence. Observe, my son, that God never abandons the man who, in the midst of misfortunes, falls down in prayer before him, and he often allows the wretch who has no faith in prayer to die miserably. Yet we meet with atheists who are fortunate and happy. True, but in spite of their tranquility, I pity them, because they have no hope beyond this life, and are on a level with animals. Besides, if they are philosophers, they must linger in dark ignorance, and if they never think, they have no consolation, no resource when adversity reaches them. God has made man in such a matter that he cannot be happy unless he entertains no doubt of the existence of his divine Creator. In all stations of life, man is naturally prone to believe in that existence. Otherwise, man would never have emitted one God, Creator of all beings, and of all things. I should like to know why atheism only existed in the systems of the learned, and never as a national creed, because the poor feel their once much more than the rich. There are, amongst us, a great many impious men who deride the true believers because they have faith in the pilgrimage to Mecca. Wretches that they are, they ought to respect the ancient customs, which, exciting the devotion of fervent souls, feed religious principles, and impart courage under all misfortunes. Without such consolation, people would give way to all the excesses of despair. Much pleased with the attention I gave to all he said, Yusuf would thus yield to the inclination he felt to instruct me, and on my side, feeling myself drawn towards him by the charm which amiable goodness exerts upon all hearts, I would often go and spend the day with him, even without any previous invitation, and Yusuf's friendship soon became one of my most precious treasures. One morning, I told my Janissary to take me to the palace of Ismail Effendi, in order to fulfill my promise to breakfast with him. He gave me the most friendly welcome, and after an excellent breakfast, he invited me to take a walk in his garden. We found there a pretty summer house which we entered. In Ismail attempted some liberties which were not at all to my taste, and which I resented by rising in a very abrupt manner. Seeing that I was angry, the Turk affected to approve my reserve, and said that he had only been joking. I left him after a few minutes, with the intention of not visiting him again, but I was compelled to do so, as I will explain by and by. When I saw Monsieur de Bonneville, I told him what had happened, and he said that, according to Turkish manners, Ismail had intended to give me great proof of his friendship, but that I need not be afraid of the offense being repeated. He added that politeness required that I should visit him again, and that Ismail was, in spite of his failing, a perfect gentleman who had at his disposal the most beautiful female slaves in Turkey. Five or six weeks after the commencement of our intimacy, Yusuf asked me one day whether I was married. I answered that I was not. The conversation turned upon several moral questions, and last fell upon chastity, which, in his opinion, could be accounted of virtue, only if considered from one point of view, namely that of total abstinence, but he added that it would not be acceptable to God because it transgressed against the very first precept he had given to him. I would like to know, for instance, he said, What name could be given to the chastity of your knights of Malta? They take a vow of chastity, but it does not mean that they will renounce women altogether. They renounce marriage only. Their chastity, and therefore chastity in general, is violated only by marriage, and yet I observed that marriage is one of your sacraments. Therefore, those knights of Malta promise not to give way to lustful incontinence in the only case in which God might forgive it, but they reserve the license of being lustful unlawfully, as often as they please, and whenever an opportunity may offer itself, and that immoral illicit license is granted to them to such an extent that they are allowed to acknowledge legally a child, which can be bored to them only through a double crime. The most revolting part of it is that these children of crime, who are of course perfectly innocent themselves, are called natural children, as if children born in wedlock come into this world in an unnatural manner. In one word, my dear son, the vow of chastity is so much opposed to divine precepts and to human nature that it can be agreeable neither to God nor to society, nor to those who pledge themselves to keep it, in being in such opposition to every divine and human law, it must be a crime. He inquired for the second time whether I was married. I replied in the negative, and added that I had no idea of ever getting married. What, he exclaimed, I must then believe that you are not a perfect man, or that you intend to work out your own damn nation, unless you should tell me that you are a Christian only outwardly. I am a man, in the very strongest sense of the word, and I am a true Christian. I must confess that I adore women and that I have not the slightest idea of depriving myself of the most delightful of all pleasures. According to your religion, damn nation awaits you. I feel certain of the contrary because when we confess our sins, our priests are compelled to give us absolution. I know that, but you must agree with me that it is absurd to suppose that God will forgive a crime which you would, perhaps not commit, if you did not think that after confession a priest, a man like you, will give you absolution. God forgives only the repenting center. No doubt of it, in confession, supposes repentance. Without it, absolution has no effect. Is onanism a crime amongst you? Yes, even greater than lustful and illegitimate copulation. I am aware of it, and it has always caused me great surprise. For the legislator who enacts a law, the execution of which is impossible is a fool. A man of good health, if he cannot have a woman, must necessarily have recourse to onanism. Whenever impious nature demands it, and the man who, from fear of polluting his soul would abstain from it, would only draw upon himself a mortal disease. We believe exactly the reverse. We think that young people destroy their constitutions and shorten their lives through self abuse. In several communities, they are closely watched, and are as much as possible deprived of every opportunity of indulging in that crime. Those who watch them are ignorant fools, and those who pay the watchers for such a service are even more stupid, because prohibition must excite the wish to break through such a tyrannical law to set it not an interdiction so contrary to nature. Yet, it seems to me that self abuse and excess must be injurious to health, for it must weaken and enervate. Certainly, because excess and everything is prejudicial and pernicious, but all such excess is the result of our severe prohibition. If girls are not interfered with in the manner of self abuse, I don't see why boys should be. Because girls are very far from running the same risk, they do not lose a great deal in the action of self abuse, and what they lose does not come from the same source, whence flows the germinal liquid in men. I do not know, but we have some physicians who say that chlorosis in girls is the result of that pleasure indulged in to excess. After many such conversations, in which she seemed to consider me as endowed with reason and talent, even when I was not of his opinion, Yusuf Ali surprised me greatly one day by the following proposition. I have two sons and a daughter. I no longer think of my sons because they have received their share of my fortune. As far as my daughter is concerned, she will, after my death, inherit all of my possessions. And I am, besides in a position while I am alive, to promote the fortune of the man who may marry her. Five years ago, I took a young wife, but she has not given me any progeny, and I know to a certainty that no offspring will bless our union. My daughter, whose name is Zelmi, is now fifteen. She is handsome, her eyes are black, and lovely like her mother's. Her hair is the color of the raven's wing. Her complexion is animated alabaster. She is tall, well-made, and of a sweet disposition. I have given her an education which would make her worthy of our master, the sultan. She speaks Greek and Italian fluently. She sings delightfully, and accompanies herself on the harp. She can draw and embroider and is always contented and cheerful. No living man can boast of having seen her features, and she loves me so dearly that my will is hers. My daughter is a treasure, and I offer her to you, if you will consent to go from one year to Adrianople, to reside with a relative of mine, who will teach you our religion, our language, and our manners. You will return at the end of one year, and as soon as you become a Muslim, my daughter shall be your wife. You will find a husband, you will find a house ready furnished, slaves of your own, and an income which will enable you to live in comfort. I have no more to say at present. I do not wish you to answer me, either today or tomorrow, or on any fixed day. You will give me your decision whenever you feel yourself called upon by your genius to give it, and you need not give me an answer unless you accept my offer. For, should you refuse it, it is not necessary that the subject should be mentioned again. I do not ask you to give full consideration to my proposal. For now that I have thrown the seed in your soil, it must fructify, without hurry, without delay, without anxiety. You can but obey the decrees of God and follow the immutable decision of fate. Such as I know you, I believe that you only require the possession of Zelmi to be completely happy, and you will become one of the pillars of the Ottoman Empire. Saying these words, Yusuf pressed me affectionately in his arms, and let me by myself to avoid any answer I might be inclined to make. I went away in such wonder, at all I had just heard, that I found myself at the Venetian Embassy without knowing how I had reached it. The baili found me very pensive, and asked whether anything was the matter with me, but I do not feel disposed to gratify their curiosity. I found that Yusuf had indeed spoken truly. His proposal was of such importance that I felt it was my duty, not only not to mention it to anyone, but even to abstain from thinking it over, until my mind had recovered its calm sufficiently to give me assurance that no external consideration would weigh in the balance and influence my decision. I had to silence all my passions, prejudices, principles already formed, love, and even self-interest were to remain in a state of complete inaction. When I awoke the next morning, I began to think the matter over, and I soon discovered that, if I wanted to come to a decision, I ought not to ponder it over, as the more I considered, the less likely I should be to decide. This was truly a case for the sequere deum of the Stoics. I did not visit Yusuf for four days, and when I called on him on the fifth day, we talked cheerfully without once mentioning his proposal, although it was very evident that we were both thinking of it. We remained thus for a fortnight, without ever alluding to the matter, which engrossed all our thoughts. But our silence was not caused by dissimulation, nor by any feeling contrary to our mutual esteem and friendship, and one day Yusuf suggested that very likely I had communicated his proposal to some wise friend in order to obtain good advice. I immediately assured him it was not so, and that in a matter of so delicate a nature, I thought I ought not to ask anybody's advice. I have abandoned myself to God, dear Yusuf, and full of confidence in him, I feel certain that I shall decide for the best, whether I make up my mind to become your son, or believe that I ought to remain what I am now. In the meantime, my mind ponders over it day and night, whenever I am quiet and feel myself composed and collected. When I come to a decision, I will impart it to you alone, and from that moment you shall have over me the authority of a father. At these words, the worthy Yusuf, his eyes wet with tears, placed his left hand over my head, and the first two fingers of his right on my forehead saying, Continue to act in that way, my dear son, and be certain that you can never act wrongly. But, I said to him, one thing might happen, Zomi might not accept me. Have no anxiety about that. My daughter loves you. She, as well as my wife and her nurse, sees you every time that we dine together, and she listens to you with pleasure. Does she know that you are thinking of giving her to me as my wife? She knows that I ardently wish you to become a true believer, so as to enable me to link her destiny to yours. I am glad that your habits do not permit you to let me see her, because she might dazzle me with her beauty, and then passion would have too much weight in the scale. I could no longer flatter myself that my decision had been taken in all the unbiased purity of my soul. Yusuf was highly delighted at hearing me speak in that matter, and I spoke in perfect good faith. The mere idea of seeing Zomi caused me to shudder. I felt that, if I had fallen in love with her, I might have become a Muslim in order to possess her, and that I might have soon repented such a step. For the language of Muhammad presented to my eyes and to my mind nothing but a disagreeable picture, as well for this life as for a future one. As for wealth, I did not think it deserved the immense sacrifice demanded from me. I could find equal wealth in Europe, without stamping my forehead with the shameful brand of apostasy. I cared very deeply for the esteem of the persons of distinction who knew me, and did not want to render myself unworthy of it. Besides, I felt an immense desire to obtain fame among civilized and polite nations, either in the fine arts or in literature, or in some other honorable profession. And I could not reconcile myself to the fact of abandoning to my equals the triumph, which I might win if I lived amongst them. It seemed to me, and I am still of the same opinion, that the decision of wearing the turban befits only a Christian despairing of himself and at the end of his wits. Unfortunately, I was lost not in that predicament. My greatest objection was to spend a year in Adrianople to learn a language for which I did not feel any liking, in which I should therefore have learned but imperfectly. How could I at my age renounce the prerogative, so pleasant to my vanity, of being reputed a fine talker, and I had secured that reputation wherever I was known. Then I would often think that Zelmi, the eighth wonder of creation in the eyes of her father, might not appear such in my eyes, and it would have been enough to make me miserable, for Yusuf was likely to live 20 years longer, and I felt that gratitude as well as respect, would never have permitted me to give that excellent man any cause for unhappiness by ceasing to show myself a devoted and faithful husband to his daughter. Such were my thoughts, and, as Yusuf cannot guess them, it was useless to make a confident of him. A few days afterwards, I dined with the Pasha Osman, and met my Effendi Ismail. He was very friendly to me, and I reciprocated his attentions. Though I paid no attention to the reproaches he addressed to me, for not having come to breakfast with him for such a long time. I could not refuse to dine at his house with Bonneville, and he treated me to a very pleasing sight. Neapolitan slaves, men and women, performed a pantomime in some calabrian dances. Nusrede Bonneville happened to mention the dance called Forlana, and Ismail expressing a great wish to know it. I told him that I could give him that pleasure if I had a Venetian woman to dance with, and a fiddler who knew the time. I took a violin and played the Forlana, but, even if the partner had been found, I could not play it and dance at the same time. Ismail whispered a few words to one of his eunuchs, who went out of the room and returned soon with some message that he delivered to him. The Effendi told me that he had found the partner I wanted, and I answered that the musician could be had easily if he would send the note to the Venetian embassy, and this was done at once. The Bailodana sent one of his men who played the violin well enough for dancing purposes. As soon as the musician was ready, a door was thrown open, and a fine-looking woman came in, her face covered with a black velvet mask, such as we call Moreta in Venice. The appearance of that beautiful masked woman surprised and delighted every one of the guests, for it was impossible to imagine a more interesting object. Not only on account of the beauty of that part of the face which the mask left exposed, but also for the elegance of her shape, the perfection of her figure, and the exquisite taste displayed in her costume. The nymph took her place. I did the same, and we danced the Forlana six times without stopping. I was in perspiration and out of breath, for the Forlana is the most violent of our national dances, but my beautiful partner stood near me without betraying the slightest fatigue, and seemed to challenge me to a new performance. At the round of the dance, which is the most difficult step, she seemed to have wings. I was astounded, for I had never seen anyone even in Venice dance the Forlana so splendidly. After a few minutes' rest, rather ashamed of my feeling tired, I went up to her and said, Ancora sea, apoi basta, anon volete verdemi amoreae. She would have answered me if she had been able to, but she wore one of those cruel masks, which forbid speech. But the pressure of her hand, which nobody could see, made me guess all I wanted to know. The moment we finished dancing, the eunuch opened the door, and my lovely partner disappeared. Ismael cannot thank me enough, but it was I who owed him my thanks, for it was the only real pleasure which I enjoyed at Constantinople. I asked him whether the lady was from Venice, but he only answered by a significant smile. The worthy Ismael, said Monsieur de Bonneval to me, as we were leaving the house late in the evening, has been today the dupe of his vanity, and I have no doubt that he is very sorry already for what he has done, to bring out his beautiful slave to dance with you. According to the prejudices of this country, it is injurious to his dignity, for you are sure to have kindred an amorous flame in the poor girl's breast. I would advise you to be careful and to keep on your guard, because she will try to get up some intrigue with you. But be prudent, for intrigues are always dangerous in Turkey. I promised to be prudent, but I did not keep my promise. Four, three, or four days afterwards, an old slave woman met me in the street, and offered to sell me for one piester a tobacco bag in Boston gold. And as she put it in my hand, she contrived to make me feel that there was a letter in the bag. I observed that she tried to avoid the eyes of the Janissary who was walking behind me. I gave her one piester, she left me and I proceeded towards Yusuf's house. He was not at home, and I went to his garden to read the letter with perfect freedom. It was sealed and without any address, and the slave might have made a mistake, but my curiosity was excited to the highest pitch. I broke the seal and found the following note written in good enough Italian. Should you wish to see the person with whom you danced the Forlana, take a walk towards evening in the garden behind the fountain, and contrive to become acquainted with the old servant of the gardener by asking her for some lemonade. You may perchance manage to see your partner in the Forlana without running any risk. Even if you should happen to meet Ismael, she is a native of Venice. Be careful not to mention this invitation to any human being. I'm not such a fool, my lovely countrywoman, I exclaimed, as if she had been present, and put the letter in my pocket. But at that very moment a fine-looking elderly woman came out of the thicket and pronounced my name, and inquired what I wanted and how I had seen her. I answered that I had been speaking to the wind, and not supposing that anyone could hear me, and without any more preparation, she abruptly told me that she was very glad of the opportunity of speaking with me, that she was from Rome, that she had brought up Zelmi, and taught her to sing and play the harp. She then highly praised the beauty and excellent qualities of her pupil, and saying that if I saw her, I would certainly fall in love with her, and expressing how much she regretted that the law should not allow it. She sees us at this very moment, she added, from behind the green window blind, and we loved you ever since Yusuf has informed us that you may, perhaps, become Zelmi's husband. May I mention our conversation to Yusuf, I inquired? No, her answer in the negative made me understand that if I pressed her a little, she would have allowed me to see her lovely pupil, and perhaps it was with that intention that she contrived to speak with me. But I felt a great reluctance to do anything to displease my worthy host. I had another reason of even greater importance. I was afraid of entering an intricate maze in which seeing the sight of a turban hovering over me made me shudder.