The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Complete. Giacomo Casanova

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СКАЧАТЬ reverse of what I meant to say. But generally my ‘quid pro quos’ only resulted in curious jokes which made my fortune; and the best of it is that my gibberish did me no harm on the score of wit: on the contrary, it procured me fine acquaintances.

      Several ladies of the best society begged me to teach them Italian, saying that it would afford them the opportunity of teaching me French; in such an exchange I always won more than they did.

      Madame Preodot, who was one of my pupils, received me one morning; she was still in bed, and told me that she did not feel disposed to have a lesson, because she had taken medicine the night previous. Foolishly translating an Italian idiom, I asked her, with an air of deep interest, whether she had well ‘decharge’?

      “Sir, what a question! You are unbearable.”

      I repeated my question; she broke out angrily again.

      “Never utter that dreadful word.”

      “You are wrong in getting angry; it is the proper word.”

      “A very dirty word, sir, but enough about it. Will you have some breakfast?”

      “No, I thank you. I have taken a ‘cafe’ and two ‘Savoyards’.”

      “Dear me! What a ferocious breakfast! Pray, explain yourself.”

      “I say that I have drunk a cafe and eaten two Savoyards soaked in it, and that is what I do every morning.”

      “You are stupid, my good friend. A cafe is the establishment in which coffee is sold, and you ought to say that you have drunk ‘use tasse de cafe’”

      “Good indeed! Do you drink the cup? In Italy we say a ‘caffs’, and we are not foolish enough to suppose that it means the coffee-house.”

      “He will have the best of it! And the two ‘Savoyards’, how did you swallow them?”

      “Soaked in my coffee, for they were not larger than these on your table.”

      “And you call these ‘Savoyards’? Say biscuits.”

      “In Italy, we call them ‘Savoyards’ because they were first invented in Savoy; and it is not my fault if you imagined that I had swallowed two of the porters to be found at the corner of the streets—big fellows whom you call in Paris Savoyards, although very often they have never been in Savoy.”

      Her husband came in at that moment, and she lost no time in relating the whole of our conversation. He laughed heartily, but he said I was right. Her niece arrived a few minutes after; she was a young girl about fourteen years of age, reserved, modest, and very intelligent. I had given her five or six lessons in Italian, and as she was very fond of that language and studied diligently she was beginning to speak.

      Wishing to pay me her compliments in Italian, she said to me,

      “‘Signore, sono in cantata di vi Vader in bona salute’.”

      “I thank you, mademoiselle; but to translate ‘I am enchanted’, you must say ‘ho pacer’, and for to see you, you must say ‘di vedervi’.”

      “I thought, sir, that the ‘vi’ was to be placed before.”

      “No, mademoiselle, we always put it behind.”

      Monsieur and Madame Preodot were dying with laughter; the young lady was confused, and I in despair at having uttered such a gross absurdity; but it could not be helped. I took a book sulkily, in the hope of putting a stop to their mirth, but it was of no use: it lasted a week. That uncouth blunder soon got known throughout Paris, and gave me a sort of reputation which I lost little by little, but only when I understood the double meanings of words better. Crebillon was much amused with my blunder, and he told me that I ought to have said after instead of behind. Ah! why have not all languages the same genius! But if the French laughed at my mistakes in speaking their language, I took my revenge amply by turning some of their idioms into ridicule.

      “Sir,” I once said to a gentleman, “how is your wife?”

      “You do her great honour, sir.”

      “Pray tell me, sir, what her honour has to do with her health?”

      I meet in the Bois de Boulogne a young man riding a horse which he cannot master, and at last he is thrown. I stop the horse, run to the assistance of the young man and help him up.

      “Did you hurt yourself, sir?”

      “Oh, many thanks, sir, au contraire.”

      “Why au contraire! The deuce! It has done you good? Then begin again, sir.”

      And a thousand similar expressions entirely the reverse of good sense. But it is the genius of the language.

      I was one day paying my first visit to the wife of President de N–, when her nephew, a brilliant butterfly, came in, and she introduced me to him, mentioning my name and my country.

      “Indeed, sir, you are Italian?” said the young man. “Upon my word, you present yourself so gracefully that I would have betted you were French.”

      “Sir, when I saw you, I was near making the same mistake; I would have betted you were Italian.”

      Another time, I was dining at Lady Lambert’s in numerous and brilliant company. Someone remarked on my finger a cornelian ring on which was engraved very beautifully the head of Louis XV. My ring went round the table, and everybody thought that the likeness was striking.

      A young marquise, who had the reputation of being a great wit, said to me in the most serious tone,

      “It is truly an antique?”

      “The stone, madam, undoubtedly.”

      Everyone laughed except the thoughtless young beauty, who did not take any notice of it. Towards the end of the dinner, someone spoke of the rhinoceros, which was then shewn for twenty-four sous at the St. Germain’s Fair.

      “Let us go and see it!” was the cry.

      We got into the carriages, and reached the fair. We took several turns before we could find the place. I was the only gentleman; I was taking care of two ladies in the midst of the crowd, and the witty marquise was walking in front of us. At the end of the alley where we had been told that we would find the animal, there was a man placed to receive the money of the visitors. It is true that the man, dressed in the African fashion, was very dark and enormously stout, yet he had a human and very masculine form, and the beautiful marquise had no business to make a mistake. Nevertheless, the thoughtless young creature went up straight to him and said,

      “Are you the rhinoceros, sir?”

      “Go in, madam, go in.”

      We were dying with laughing; and the marquise, when she had seen the animal, thought herself bound to apologize to the master; assuring him that she had never seen a rhinoceros in her life, and therefore he could not feel offended if she had made a mistake.

      One evening I was in the foyer of the Italian Comedy, where between the acts the highest noblemen were in the habit of coming, in order to converse and joke with the actresses who used to sit there waiting for their turn to appear on the stage, and I was seated near Camille, Coraline’s sister, whom I amused by making love to her. A young councillor, who СКАЧАТЬ