The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 05: Milan and Mantua — Key Ideas to Explore

Departure and Social Calculus

The volume begins with Casanova's departure from Venice, framed as a consequence of "slight misfortunes." The opening pages are dominated by social negotiations: visits to Charles and his wife Christine, whose happiness is described in terms of domestic harmony. Casanova notes Christine's new Venetian dialect and her writing progress, details that underscore his role as observer of others' transformations. The narrative lingers on Charles's virtues—"all the noble qualities of an honest and distinguished man"—and on Casanova's own delicacy in not visiting too often. This section establishes a pattern of measured social performance, where every interaction is weighed and catalogued.

The Storm and the Magic Ring

The volume's most intense passage describes a thunderstorm that traps Casanova inside a magic ring he had drawn to impress two companions. The prose shifts into a first-person account of escalating fear: "the cloud spreads with fearful rapidity," lightning flashes, and he trembles "like an aspen leaf." Crucially, Casanova admits that his own belief in the ring's protection—"that foolish reason"—kept him from fleeing. The scene is a rare moment of self-indictment, where the memoirist acknowledges his own cowardice and superstition. The storm's aftermath brings a sudden calm: "the moon shone in all its splendour, like silver in the pure, blue sky." This structural contrast between terror and relief is a hallmark of Casanova's narrative technique.

Aftermath and Apathy

Following the storm, Casanova experiences an uncharacteristic state of apathy. He notes that "the sight of Genevieve did not move me in any way" and that he felt "reduced to a state of apathy." This emotional flatness is linked to superstitious ideas: he imagines the innocence of a young girl, Javotte, is "under the special protection of Heaven." The episode echoes an earlier reference to "poor Lucy, of Pasean," suggesting a recurring pattern of sexual encounters with consequences. Casanova's decision to leave is described as "irrevocable," driven by a fear of the Inquisition and a desire to avoid further duplicity. The narrative here turns inward, examining the psychological residue of the storm.

Recurring Images and Structural Movement

Throughout this volume, Casanova's narrative moves between social interiors and natural exteriors, between control and vulnerability. The storm scene is the most vivid example, but the pattern appears earlier: the description of Christine's hair—"raven black" versus powdered town fashion—uses visual contrast to signal authenticity versus artifice. The memoir's structure relies on such juxtapositions: the calm of domestic scenes versus the violence of the storm; the bravado of the magician versus the trembling poltroon. These recurring images—lightning, trembling, the magic ring—create a cohesive texture. The volume's movement from Venice to Milan and Mantua is not just geographical but psychological, tracing a descent into self-doubt and a subsequent retreat.

Readers attentive to Casanova's self-presentation will find this volume revealing not for its adventures but for its moments of unguarded confession. The storm scene, in particular, offers a rare glimpse of the memoirist questioning his own systems of belief. The narrative rewards those who track its shifts in tone—from social polish to raw fear—and who notice how the same hand that draws a magic ring also trembles inside it.

I’ve often thought Casanova’s storm-tossed dread in Milan, that crack in his swagger, finds a quiet echo in Lady Fanshawe’s own fragile bravery across foreign courts. Both travelers kept such careful accounts of their uncertainties. The Memoirs of Lady Fanshawe Wife of Sir Richard Fanshawe, Bt., Ambassador from Charles II to the Courts of Portugal and Madrid. — Text and Context holds that same tender, honest tremor beneath its decorum.