Casanova, and which remains as he left it, contains some 25,000 volumes, some of them of considerable value; one of the most famous books in Bohemian literature, Skala’s History of the Church, exists in manuscript at Dux, and it is from this manuscript that the two published volumes of it were printed.  The library forms part of the Museum, which occupies a ground-floor wing of the castle.  The first room is an armoury, in which all kinds of arms are arranged, in a decorative way, covering the ceiling and the walls with strange patterns.  The second room contains pottery, collected by Casanova’s Waldstein on his Eastern travels.  The third room is full of curious mechanical toys, and cabinets, and carvings in ivory.  Finally, we come to the library, contained in the two innermost rooms.  The book-shelves are painted white, and reach to the low-vaulted ceilings, which are whitewashed.  At the end of a bookcase, in the corner of one of the windows, hangs a fine engraved portrait of Casanova.

After I had been all over the castle, so long Casanova’s home, I was taken to Count Waldstein’s study, and left there with the manuscripts.  I found six huge cardboard cases, large enough to contain foolscap paper, lettered on the back:  ’Grafl.  Waldstein-Wartenberg’sches Real Fideicommiss.  Dux-Oberleutensdorf:  Handschriftlicher Nachlass Casanova.’  The cases were arranged so as to stand like books; they opened at the side; and on opening them, one after another, I found series after series of manuscripts roughly thrown together, after some pretence at arrangement, and lettered with a very generalised description of contents.  The greater part of the manuscripts were in Casanova’s handwriting, which I could see gradually beginning to get shaky with years.  Most were written in French, a certain number in Italian.  The beginning of a catalogue in the library, though said to be by him, was not in his handwriting.  Perhaps it was taken down at his dictation.  There were also some copies of Italian and Latin poems not written by him.  Then there were many big bundles of letters addressed to him, dating over more than thirty years.  Almost all the rest was in his own handwriting.

I came first upon the smaller manuscripts, among which I, found, jumbled together on the same and on separate scraps of paper, washing-bills, accounts, hotel bills, lists of letters written, first drafts of letters with many erasures, notes on books, theological and mathematical notes, sums, Latin quotations, French and Italian verses, with variants, a long list of classical names which have and have not been ‘francises,’ with reasons for and against; ‘what I must wear at Dresden’; headings without anything to follow, such as:  ’Reflexions on respiration, on the true cause of youth-the crows’; a new method of winning the lottery at Rome; recipes, among which is a long printed list of perfumes sold at Spa; a newspaper cutting, dated Prague, 25th October 1790, on the thirty-seventh balloon ascent of Blanchard; thanks to some ‘noble donor’ for the gift of a dog called ‘Finette’; a passport for ’Monsieur de Casanova, Venitien, allant d’ici en Hollande, October 13, 1758 (Ce Passeport bon pour quinze jours)’, together with an order for post-horses, gratis, from Paris to Bordeaux and Bayonne.’