Expelled from Spain | Page 4

Arrive at
Barcelona

If these Memoirs, only written to console me in the dreadful weariness
which is slowly killing me in Bohemia--and which, perhaps, would kill
me anywhere, since, though my body is old, my spirit and my desires
are as young as ever--if these Memoirs are ever read, I repeat, they will
only be read when I am gone, and all censure will be lost on me.
Nevertheless, seeing that men are divided into two sections, the one
and by far the greater composed of the ignorant and superficial, and the
other of the learned and reflective, I beg to state that it is to the latter I
would appeal. Their judgment, I believe, will be in favour of my
veracity, and, indeed, why should I not be veracious? A man can have
no object in deceiving himself, and it is for myself that I chiefly write.
Hitherto I have spoken nothing but the truth, without considering
whether the truth is in my favour or no. My book is not a work of
dogmatic theology, but I do not think it will do harm to anyone; while I
fancy that those who know how to imitate the bee and to get honey
from every flower will be able to extract some good from the catalogue
of my vices and virtues.
After this digression (it may be too long, but that is my business and
none other's), I must confess that never have I had so unpleasant a truth
to set down as that which I am going to relate. I committed a fatal act
of indiscretion--an act which after all these years still gives my heart a
pang as I think of it.
The day after my conquest I dined with the Venetian ambassador, and I
had the pleasure of hearing that all the ministers and grandees with
whom I had associated had the highest possible opinion of me. In three
or four days the king, the royal family, and the ministers would return
to town, and I expected to have daily conferences with the latter
respecting the colony in the Sierra Morena, where I should most
probably be going. Manucci, who continued to treat me as a valued
friend, proposed to accompany me on my journey, and would bring
with him an adventuress, who called herself Porto-Carrero, pretending
to be the daughter or niece of the late cardinal of that name, and thus
obtained a good deal of consideration; though in reality she was only
the mistress of the French consul at Madrid, the Abbe Bigliardi.

Such was the promising state of my prospects when my evil genius
brought to Madrid a native of Liege, Baron de Fraiture, chief huntsman
of the principality, and a profligate, a gamester, and a cheat, like all
those who proclaim their belief in his honesty nowadays.
I had unfortunately met him at Spa, and told him I was was going to
Portugal. He had come after me, hoping to use me as a means of getting
into good society, and of filling his pocket with the money of the dupes
he aspired to make.
Gamesters have never had any proof of my belonging to their infernal
clique, but they have always persisted in believing that I too am a
"Greek."
As soon as this baron heard that I was in Madrid he called on me, and
by dint of politeness obliged me to receive him. I thought any small
civilities I might shew or introductions I might give could do me no
harm. He had a travelling companion to whom he introduced me. He
was a fat, ignorant fellow, but a Frenchman, and therefore agreeable. A
Frenchman who knows how to present himself, who is well dressed,
and has the society air, is usually accepted without demur or scrutiny.
He had been a cavalry captain, but had been fortunate enough to obtain
an everlasting furlough.
Four or five days after his appearance the baron asked me quietly
enough to lend him a score of louis, as he was hard up. I replied as
quietly, thanking him for treating me as a friend, but informing him that
I really could not lend him the money, as I wanted what little I had for
my own necessities.
"But we can do good business together, and you cannot possibly be
moneyless."
"I do not know anything about good business, but I do know that I want
my money and cannot part with it."
"We are at our wits' end to quiet our landlord; come and speak to him."

"If I were to do so I should do you more harm than good. He would ask
me if I would answer for you, and I should reply that you are one of
those noblemen who stand in need of