Giacomo of all trades

One evening in November 1763 the splendidly named Sir Wellbore Ellis Agar passed a middle-aged Venetian man on Westminster Bridge who, he thought, looked a little glum. Sir Wellbore knew what the stranger needed: ‘a drink, a woman, beef and Yorkshire pudding’. And so he took the 38-year old Casanova to a tavern on Cockspur Street which supplied all these delights of British life. A band of blind musicians was rustled up, so that the orgy would be spared an audience. Casanova found he could only manage the drink; he was fastidious about his food at the best of times, but to his mortification he was too depressed even to enjoy the French dancing girls.

Casanova’s visit to London was disastrous, and his humiliation that night crowned a miserable few months. He was beginning to acknowledge that age was dimming his energies; he was fast running out of money; yet again he had a dose of venereal disease; and his heart had been broken by a merciless Soho-based courtesan named Marie Anne Chaprillon.