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Old Age and Death The Memoirs Of Jacques Casanova De Seingalt ...

Old Age and Death The Memoirs Of Jacques Casanova De Seingalt ...

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71<br />

resulted in the loss of the first three chapters of the second volume of<br />

the <strong>Memoirs</strong> through the carelessness of a servant girl at Dux who took<br />

the papers "old, written upon, covered with scribbling <strong>and</strong> erasures," for<br />

"her own purposes," thus necessitating a re-writing, "which I must now<br />

abridge," of these chapters. Thirty years before, <strong>Casanova</strong> would<br />

doubtless have made love to the girl <strong>and</strong> all would have been forgiven.<br />

But, alas for the "hateful old age" permitting no relief except<br />

irritation <strong>and</strong> impotent anger.<br />

On the 1st August, 1797, Cecilia Roggendorff, the daughter of the Count<br />

Roggendorff [printed Roquendorf] whom <strong>Casanova</strong> had met at Vienna in 1753,<br />

wrote: "You tell me in one of your letters that, at your death, you will<br />

leave me, by your will, your <strong>Memoirs</strong> which occupy twelve volumes."<br />

At this time, <strong>Casanova</strong> was revising, or had completed his revision of,<br />

the twelve volumes. In July 1792, as mentioned above, <strong>Casanova</strong> wrote Opiz<br />

that he had arrived at the twelfth volume. In the <strong>Memoirs</strong> themselves we<br />

read, ". . . the various adventures which, at the age of seventy-two<br />

years, impel me to write these <strong>Memoirs</strong> . . .," written probably during a<br />

revision in 1797.<br />

At the beginning of one of the two chapters of the last volume, which<br />

were missing until discovered by Arthur Symons at Dux in 1899, we read:<br />

"When I left Venice in the year 1783, God ought to have sent me to Rome,<br />

or to Naples, or to Sicily, or to Parma, where my old age, according to<br />

all appearances, might have been happy. My genius, who is always right,<br />

led me to Paris, so that I might see my brother Francois, who had run<br />

into debt <strong>and</strong> who was just then going to the Temple. I do not care<br />

whether or not he owes me his regeneration, but I am glad to have<br />

effected it. If he had been grateful to me, I should have felt myself<br />

paid; it seems to me much better that he should carry the burden of his

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