The volume opens with Casanova renouncing the clerical profession and, in a burst of youthful fancy, transforming himself into an officer. He commissions a white uniform with blue vest and gold-and-silver shoulder-knot from a tailor named Morte—an ominous name he notes without irony. The memoirist dwells on his own reflection in a large mirror, pleased with the martial image he has adopted. This self-conscious performance of identity, complete with a long false pigtail and a well-brushed hat, sets the tone for a narrative in which costume and appearance are deliberate tools of social ascent.

Casanova's military career is less about combat than about navigating hierarchies through wit, dress, and calculated restraint. He recounts learning from his mentor M. de Malipiero that to make others laugh, one must keep a serious countenance—a principle he applies in the drawing rooms of Venice and Corfu. The text is dense with such strategic observations, revealing a narrator who treats social life as a game of masks and mirrors.

The Uniform as a Statement

Casanova's decision to join the military is presented not as a calling but as a sartorial and social calculation. He writes that he had seen 'no respect paid to any garb but to the military uniform' and wished to 'cause myself to be respected likewise.' The uniform is white with a blue vest, and he procures a long sword and a black cockade. The tailor's name, Morte (death), adds a dark irony that Casanova himself remarks upon. He moves to a better inn to match his new status, and his first act as an officer is to parade through the city, admiring himself in mirrors. The memoir dwells on the material details—the shoulder-knot, the sword-knot, the false pigtail—as if the costume itself confers identity. This emphasis on external transformation suggests that for Casanova, social rank is a performance that can be put on with the right clothes.

The Art of Pleasing Without Appearing to Try

In his interactions with Madame F——, Casanova employs a deliberate strategy of indirection. He aims to please her but avoids looking at her unless she speaks to him, forcing her curiosity. He writes that he wanted 'to compel her to suspect nay, to guess my secret, but without giving her any advantage over me.' This careful calibration of attention and detachment mirrors the advice from his early mentor M. de Malipiero: to make an audience laugh, one must look serious. Casanova applies this principle to social advancement, using wit and education in conversation while maintaining a grave expression. The memoir shows him as a performer who studies his audience, adjusting his demeanor to provoke interest. His success in this game is measured by the 'consideration' he gains, which he attributes to money and good conduct rather than to his position or age.

A Soldier's Secret: The Prince in the Ranks

A striking episode involves the death of Casanova's soldier-servant, who reveals himself on his deathbed as François VI Charles Philippe Louis Foucaud, Prince de la Rochefoucault. The dying man entrusts a parcel to his confessor containing a brass seal, a baptismal certificate, and a French will requesting burial in a vault that can be exhumed by his father, the duke. Casanova translates the document for the captain, who speaks only Italian. The revelation is presented without commentary on its plausibility; Casanova reports the facts as they occurred. This incident underscores the theme of hidden identity that runs through the volume—the prince disguised as a common soldier, the cleric turned officer, the social climber masking his origins. The memoir treats such disclosures as dramatic turns in the narrative of a life where rank is never fixed.

Money, Manners, and the Mask of Gravity

Casanova repeatedly links financial solvency to social standing. He notes that his money and good conduct earned him 'consideration much greater than I could have hoped to obtain either through my position, or from my age.' In one scene, he carefully crosses out the contents of a note of hand, leaving only the name, and deposits it with a notary—a gesture of prudence that also signals his mastery of legal and social formalities. His behavior at table with Madame F—— is described as a performance: he tells amusing stories 'blended with instruction and witty jests' while keeping a serious face. The memoir presents these as learned skills, not innate gifts. Casanova's voice is analytical, dissecting his own motives and methods. He treats social life as a series of calculated moves, where a grave expression can mask a jest, and a uniform can conceal a former cleric.

Readers approaching this volume should attend to the gap between Casanova's self-presentation and the events he records. He is both the hero and the chronicler, shaping his past into a narrative of clever ascent. The memoir rewards attention to its small details—the tailor's name, the false pigtail, the prince's seal—because these are the materials from which Casanova builds his persona. The military career, as he describes it, is less a profession than a stage.