“Now the gondola docked; marble steps led into the magnificent, gaily illuminated house of Senator Bragadino …; masked figures flitted up and down the stairs; some paused, curious …. He stepped into the room, where a serious game of cards was in progress. When Casanova entered, everyone murmured his name, like terrified prey, because they had recognized him by the flash of his eyes behind the mask” (from “The Return of Casanova” by Arthur Schnitzler).
His name is legendary. Venice is the city in which he was born and from which he escaped, a city he never forgot. His face, even concealed by a mask, was well known to the noble Venetian ladies who could not resist his penetrating gaze and artful seduction. Single or married, they had only to hear his name to feel a thrill of passion: Giacomo Casanova. And for them he had thrown away everything—for the nobility and the commoners, for the passionate and the aloof, for the virgins and the harlots. He was always willing to risk the honors and blessings of that world for one night in a new bed.
This figure was often spoken of in Venice: the celebrated seducer, player, businessman, political emissary…. His name was whispered amid the scowls of betrayed husbands and the trembling lips of women, and even among the clergy who were determined to purify the degenerate and lecherous society of the 1700s—the society that Casanova loved and frequented so much that he ended up in the courts of the Inquisition. Libertinism with married women was the accusation, a heresy in those days. But not even prison could impede a man with such extensive experience in flouting laws and fleeing. Casanova, after all, had been a spy, a secret agent, and a skilled diplomat. Captured red-handed once again, he managed to escape from the Venetian prison—the dreadful barred cells inside the Ducal Palace—and vanished without a trace.
Life in 18th-century Venice, especially for the nobility, was frivolous, rowdy, and merry; there was nothing to do but flit from one diversion to another, to the theater, to a banquet.
In the grand halls of luxurious mansions (many of which are now open to the public)—decorated with stucco, frescoes, damasks, and wood inlaid with pure gold—the days were spent dancing the minuet among the crinolines, corsets, and silks of gaudy gowns; among the curly wigs, the smell of face powder, the tasseled lacquered shoes.
After the evening’s entertainment, pleasure-seekers gathered with their aristocratic and literary friends in the most intimate sitting rooms, surrounded by damask, mirrors, and paintings by Canaletto and Gianbattista Tiepolo. And if the great palaces seemed too austere and official, the high-spirited groups simply moved to the “casini,” charming little mezzanine apartments, well-appointed and 
cozy, near the Piazza San Marco, or to the theatres where they could chat and play cards. Many patricians spent whole days and nights around the card tables in the “lounges” (gambling houses owned by nobles). Besides gambling, they passed the hours conversing, snacking, and drinking coffee—all the better if they were masked. In the lounge of San Moisè, for example, ten salons were reserved for gambling, while others were dedicated to various entertainments. Cafes started opening by the dozens, especially around Piazza San Marco (Florian’s 1720, Quadri 1775), and became the habitual haunts for meetings and conversation among friends.
And that is why Casanova’s story is a thoroughly Venetian one—a kind of comedy with an erotic backdrop, set in the most romantic corner of the Italian peninsula. The scene against which he played out his intr
epid amorous enterprises is a rococo city, fashionable and refined, magically surreal, suspended in space and time.
Eighteenth-century Venice was proud of its freedom. It had been independent since the time it was founded on the tiny isle of Rialto, and kept its distance from the revolutionary turmoil. It was a free state in every sense—politically, culturally, even in its style of dress. It was an obligatory stop on the travels of young intellectuals like Voltaire, revolutionaries like Montesquieu, and writers like Goethe. The city was vivacious, rich, boisterous, and playful, and offered its inhabitants every type of amusement. From the carnival parades to the festivals and banquets, life was carefree and lived between one luxury, love, or betrayal and the next.
In the afternoons in Piazza San Marco, the Venetian sense of humor came to life in the form of improvised marionette performances, a funny and ironic way to mock the illustrious personages of the time. To this day, creating marionettes is a true Venetian art: clever and diverse with beautifully refined details, there’s nothing left but to choose one.
But the real show began at night when the canals shimmered under the lamps, making the atmosphere even more magical. Even during the humid nights of three centuries ago, Venice never slept. In the velvet and gold ballrooms of the historic mansions, noble Venetians gave in to sensuality and sin. The provocative tight corsets of the ladies shed light on their best qualities. Men flaunted voluminous white wigs for the occasion, a status symbol for the upper class. And to add to the intrigue, everyone wore a mask. For today’s tourists those masks are just a souvenir, but in Casanova’s time they were so popular that the government was forced to pass specific laws to limit their use.
Masks could have arisen and proliferated only in this city with its distinct historical-cultural alchemy. While elsewhere a mask represented a character or a state of mind, in Venice it was used simply to hide. People went about their daily business in
masks, titillated by the possibilities that anonymity presented: not only amorous adventures, but also the freedom to pose as a noble and thus circumvent the rigid social structure or, for a noble, to mix with the commoners without damaging one’s reputation, or still, to enter the casinos without being recognized. Casanova himself used a mask to keep his true identity hidden from creditors, officials of the Inquisition, and even disappointed lovers. A mask designed for these purposes had to be inexpressive, anonymous, and functional; thus was born the traditional Venetian mask—the masks of Harlequin and Pantaloon, the characters of the commedia dell’arte of Venetian Carlo Goldoni.
Today it’s enough to visit Ca’ Rezzonico to relive the wonders of that era. The Museum of 18th-Century Venice rises next to other grand rococo buildings such as Ca’ Pesaro and Ca’ d’Oro, whose images are reflected in the Grand Canal.
But there isn’t just one canal in Venice. The winding waterways represent the irresistible and romantic allure of Venice that is so elegantly engraved on the very face of the city. Drifting through them aboard a gondola can be an incredibly evocative experience. Gondoliers suggest various routes, and paddle leisurely from Piazza San Marco toward the Ducal Palace, the prison, and the Bridge of Sighs.
Venice is astounding even when it’s not the period of Carnival. Each year thousands of visitors stroll through its narrow streets, linger in its squares, wander along its canals. It’s impossible to say no to a city like this; like a noble lady, one succumbs to the seduction. And once known, Venice is difficult to forget. There is no other place like it: beautiful, even behind the mask.
Would you like to have the opportunity of visiting one of the most fascinating cities in the world?
Browse exclusive Italy Tours that will take you to Venice !
