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#10 in our series by Jacques Casanova de Seingalt
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Title: Under the Leads, Casanova, v10
Author: Jacques Casanova de Seingalt
Release Date: December, 2001 [Etext #2960]
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MEMOIRS OF JACQUES CASANOVA de SEINGALT 1725-1798
TO PARIS AND PRISON, Volume 2e--UNDER THE LEADS
THE RARE UNABRIDGED LONDON EDITION OF 1894 TRANSLATED BY ARTHUR
MACHEN TO WHICH HAS BEEN ADDED THE CHAPTERS DISCOVERED
BY ARTHUR SYMONS.
UNDER THE LEADS
CHAPTER XXVI
Under The Leads--The Earthquake
What a strange and unexplained power certain words exercise upon the
soul! I, who the evening before so bravely fortified myself with my
innocence and courage, by the word tribunal was turned to a stone,
with merely the faculty of passive obedience left to me.
My desk was open, and all my papers were on a table where I was
accustomed to write.
"Take them," said I, to the agent of the dreadful Tribunal, pointing
to the papers which covered the table. He filled a bag with them,
and gave it to one of the sbirri, and then told me that I must also
give up the bound manuscripts which I had in my possession. I shewed
him where they were, and this incident opened my eyes. I saw now,
clearly enough, that I had been betrayed by the wretch Manuzzi. The
books were, "The Key of Solomon the King," "The Zecorben," a
"Picatrix," a book of "Instructions on the Planetary Hours," and the
necessary incantations for conversing with demons of all sorts.
Those who were aware that I possessed these books took me for an
expert magician, and I was not sorry to have such a reputation.
Messer-Grande took also the books on the table by my bed, such as
Petrarch, Ariosto, Horace. "The Military' Philosopher" (a manuscript
which Mathilde had given me), "The Porter of Chartreux," and "The
Aretin," which Manuzzi had also denounced, for Messer-Grande asked me
for it by name. This spy, Manuzzi, had all the appearance of an
honest man--a very necessary qualification for his profession. His
son made his fortune in Poland by marrying a lady named Opeska, whom,
as they say, he killed, though I have never had any positive proof
on the matter, and am willing to stretch Christian charity to the
extent of believing he was innocent, although he was quite capable of
such a crime.
While Messer-Grande was thus rummaging among my manuscripts, books
and letters, I was dressing myself in an absent-minded manner,
neither hurrying myself nor the reverse. I made my toilette, shaved
myself, and combed my hair; putting on mechanically a laced shirt and
my holiday suit without saying a word, and without Messer-Grande--who
did not let me escape his sight for an instant--complaining that I
was dressing myself as if I were going to a wedding.
As I went out I was surprised to see a band of forty men-at-arms in
the ante-room. They had done me the honour of thinking all these men
necessary for my arrest, though, according to the axiom 'Ne Hercules
quidem contra duos', two would have been enough. It is curious that
in London, where everyone is brave, only one man is needed to arrest
another, whereas in my dear native land, where cowardice prevails,
thirty are required. The reason is, perhaps, that the coward on the
offensive is more afraid than the coward on the defensive, and thus a
man usually cowardly is transformed for the moment into a man of
courage. It is certain that at Venice one often sees a man.
defending himself against twenty sbirri, and finally escaping after
beating them soundly. I remember once helping a friend of mine at
Paris to escape from the hands of forty bum-bailiffs, and we put the
whole vile rout of them to flight.
Messer-Grande made me get into a gondola, and sat down near me with
an escort of four men. When we came to our destination he offered me
coffee, which I refused; and he then shut me up in a room. I passed
these four hours in sleep, waking up every quarter of an hour to pass
water--an extraordinary occurrence, as I was not at all subject to
stranguary; the heat was great, and I had not supped the evening
before. I have noticed at other times that surprise at a deed of
oppression acts on me as a powerful narcotic, but I found out at the
time I speak of that great surprise is also a diuretic. I make this
discovery over to the doctors, it is possible that some learned man
may make use of it to solace the ills of humanity. I remember
laughing very heartily at Prague six years ago, on learning that some
thin-skinned ladies, on reading my flight from The Leads, which was
published at that date, took great offence at the above account,
which they thought I should have done well to leave out. I should
have left it out, perhaps, in speaking to a lady, but the public is
not a pretty woman whom I am intent on cajoling, my only aim is to be
instructive. Indeed, I see no impropriety in the circumstance I have
narrated, which is as common to men and women as eating and drinking;
and if there is anything in it to shock too sensitive nerves, it is
that we resemble in this respect the cows and pigs.
It is probable that just as my overwhelmed soul gave signs of its
failing strength by the loss of the thinking faculty, so my body
distilled a great part of those fluids which by their continual
circulation set the thinking faculty in motion. Thus a sudden shock
might cause instantaneous death, and send one to Paradise by a cut
much too short.
In course of time the captain of the men-at-arms came to tell me that
he was under orders to take me under the Leads. Without a word I
followed him. We went by gondola, and after a thousand turnings
among the small canals we got into the Grand Canal, and landed at the
prison quay. After climbing several flights of stairs we crossed a
closed bridge which forms the communication between the prisons and
the Doge's palace, crossing the canal called Rio di Palazzo. On the
other side of this bridge there is a gallery which we traversed. We
then crossed one room, and entered another, where sat an individual
in the dress of a noble, who, after looking fixedly at me, said,
"E quello, mettetelo in deposito:"
This man was the secretary of the Inquisitors, the prudent Dominic
Cavalli, who was apparently ashamed to speak Venetian in my presence
as he pronounced my doom in the Tuscan language.
Messer-Grande then made me over to the warden of The Leads, who stood
by with an enormous bunch of keys, and accompanied by two guards,
made me climb two short flights of stairs, at the top of which
followed a passage and then another gallery, at the end of which he
opened a door, and I found myself in a dirty garret, thirty-six feet
long by twelve broad, badly lighted by a window high up in the roof.
I thought this garret was my prison, but I was mistaken; for, taking
an enormous key, the gaoler opened a thick door lined with iron,
three and a half feet high, with a round hole in the middle, eight
inches in diameter, just as I was looking intently at an iron
machine. This machine was like a horse shoe, an inch thick and about
five inches across from one end to the other. I was thinking what
could be the use to which this horrible instrument was put, when the
gaoler said, with a smile,
"I see, sir, that you wish to know what that is for, and as it
happens I can satisfy your curiosity. When their excellencies give
orders that anyone is to be strangled, he is made to sit down on a
stool, the back turned to this collar, and his head is so placed that
the collar goes round one half of the neck. A silk band, which goes
round the other half, passes through this hole, and the two ends are
connected with the axle of a wheel which is turned by someone until
the prisoner gives up the ghost, for the confessor, God be thanked!
never leaves him till he is dead."
"All this sounds very ingenious, and I should think that it is you
who have the honour of turning the wheel."
He made no answer, and signing to me to enter, which I did by bending
double, he shut me up, and afterwards asked me through the grated
hole what I would like to eat.
"I haven't thought anything about it yet," I answered. And he went
away, locking all the doors carefully behind him.
Stunned with grief, I leant my elbows on the top of the grating. It
was crossed, by six iron bars an inch thick, which formed sixteen
square holes. This opening would have lighted my cell, if a square
beam supporting the roof which joined the wall below the window had
not intercepted what little light came into that horrid garret.
After making the tour of my sad abode, my head lowered, as the cell
was not more than five and a half feet high, I found by groping along
that it formed three-quarters of a square of twelve feet. The fourth
quarter was a kind of recess, which would have held a bed; but there
was neither bed, nor table, nor chair, nor any furniture whatever,
except a bucket--the use of which may be guessed, and a bench fixed
in the wall a foot wide and four feet from the ground. On it I
placed my cloak, my fine suit, and my hat trimmed with Spanish paint
and adorned with a beautiful white feather. The heat was great, and
my instinct made me go mechanically to the grating, the only place
where I could lean on my elbows. I could not see the window, but I
saw the light in the garret, and rats of a fearful size, which walked
unconcernedly about it; these horrible creatures coming close under
my grating without shewing the slightest fear. At the sight of these
I hastened to close up the round hole in the middle of the door with
an inside shutter, for a visit from one of the rats would have frozen
my blood. I passed eight hours in silence and without stirring, my
arms all the time crossed on the top of the grating.
At last the clock roused me from my reverie, and I began to feel
restless that no one came to give me anything to eat or to bring me a
bed whereon to sleep. I thought they might at least let me have a
chair and some bread and water. I had no appetite, certainly; but
were my gaolers to guess as much? And never in my life had I been so
thirsty. I was quite sure, however, that somebody would come before
the close of the day; but when I heard eight o'clock strike I became
furious, knocking at the door, stamping my feet, fretting and fuming,
and accompanying this useless hubbub with loud cries. After more
than an hour of this wild exercise, seeing no one, without the
slightest reason to think I could be heard, and shrouded in darkness,
I shut the grating for fear of the rats, and threw myself at full
length upon the floor. So cruel a desertion seemed to me unnatural,
and I came to the conclusion that the Inquisitors had sworn my death.
My investigation as to what I had done to deserve such a fate was not
a long one, for in the most scrupulous examination of my conduct I
could find no crimes. I was, it is true, a profligate, a gambler, a
bold talker, a man who thought of little besides enjoying this
present life, but in all that there was no offence against the state.
Nevertheless, finding myself treated as a criminal, rage and despair
made me express myself against the horrible despotism which oppressed
me in a manner which I will leave my readers to guess, but which I
will not repeat here. But notwithstanding my brief and anxiety, the
hunger which began to make itself felt, and the thirst which
tormented me, and the hardness of the boards on which I lay, did not
prevent exhausted nature from reasserting her rights; I fell asleep.
My strong constitution was in need of sleep; and in a young and
healthy subject this imperious necessity silences all others, and in
this way above all is sleep rightly termed the benefactor of man.
The clock striking midnight awoke me. How sad is the awaking when it
makes one regret one's empty dreams. I could scarcely believe that I
had spent three painless hours. As I lay on my left side, I
stretched out my right hand to get my handkerchief, which I
remembered putting on that side. I felt about for it, when--heavens!
what was my surprise to feel another hand as cold as ice. The fright
sent an electric shock through me, and my hair began to stand on end.
Never had I been so alarmed, nor should I have previously thought
myself capable of experiencing such terror. I passed three or four
minutes in a kind of swoon, not only motionless but incapable of
thinking. As I got back my senses by degrees, I tried to make myself
believe that the hand I fancied I had touched was a mere creature of
my disordered imagination; and with this idea I stretched out my hand
again, and again with the same result. Benumbed with fright, I
uttered a piercing cry, and, dropping the hand I held, I drew back my
arm, trembling all over:
Soon, as I got a little calmer and more capable of reasoning, I
concluded that a corpse had been placed beside me whilst I slept, for
I was certain it was not there when I lay down.
"This," said I, "is the body of some strangled wretch, and they would
thus warn me of the fate which is in store for me."
The thought maddened me; and my fear giving place to rage, for the
third time I stretched my arm towards the icy hand, seizing it to
make certain of the fact in all its atrocity, and wishing to get up,
I rose upon my left elbow, and found that I had got hold of my other
hand. Deadened by the weight of my body and the hardness of the
boards, it had lost warmth, motion, and all sensation.
In spite of the humorous features in this incident, it did not cheer
me up, but, on the contrary, inspired me with the darkest fancies. I
saw that I was in a place where, if the false appeared true, the
truth might appear false, where understanding was bereaved of half
its prerogatives, where the imagination becoming affected would
either make the reason a victim to empty hopes or to dark despair. I
resolved to be on my guard; and for the first time in my life, at the
age of thirty, I called philosophy to my assistance. I had within me
all the seeds of philosophy, but so far I had had no need for it.
I am convinced that most men die without ever having thought, in the
proper sense of the word, not so much for want of wit or of good
sense, but rather because the shock necessary to the reasoning
faculty in its inception has never occurred to them to lift them out
of their daily habits.
After what I had experienced, I could think of sleep no more, and to
get up would have been useless as I could not stand upright, so I
took the only sensible course and remained seated. I sat thus till
four o'clock in the morning, the sun would rise at five, and I longed
to see the day, for a presentiment which I held infallible told me
that it would set me again at liberty. I was consumed with a desire
for revenge, nor did I conceal it from myself. I saw myself at the
head of the people, about to exterminate the Government which had
oppressed me; I massacred all the aristocrats without pity; all must
be shattered and brought to the dust. I was delirious; I knew the
authors of my misfortune, and in my fancy I destroyed them. I
restored the natural right common to all men of being obedient only
to the law, and of being tried only by their peers and by laws to
which they have agreed-in short, I built castles in Spain. Such is
man when he has become the prey of a devouring passion. He does not
suspect that the principle which moves him is not reason but wrath,
its greatest enemy.
I waited for a less time than I had expected, and thus I became a
little more quiet. At half-past four the deadly silence of the
place--this hell of the living--was broken by the shriek of bolts
being shot back in the passages leading to my cell.
"Have you had time yet to think about what you will take to eat?"
said the harsh voice of my gaoler from the wicket.
One is lucky when the insolence of a wretch like this only shews
itself in the guise of jesting. I answered that I should like some
rice soup, a piece of boiled beef, a roast, bread, wine, and water.
I saw that the lout was astonished not to hear the lamentations he
expected. He went away and came back again in a quarter of an hour
to say that he was astonished I did not require a bed and the
necessary pieces of furniture, "for" said he, "if you flatter
yourself that you are only here for a night, you are very much
mistaken."
"Then bring me whatever you think necessary."
"Where shall I go for it? Here is a pencil and paper; write it
down."
I skewed him by writing where to go for my shirts, stockings, and
clothes of all sorts, a bed, table, chair, the books which Messer-
Grande had confiscated, paper, pens, and so forth. On my reading out
the list to him (the lout did not know how to read) he cried,
"Scratch out," said he, "scratch out books, paper, pens, looking-
glass and razors, for all that is forbidden fruit here, and then give
me some money to get your dinner." I had three sequins so I gave him
one, and he went off. He spent an hour in the passages engaged, as I
learnt afterwards, in attending on seven other prisoners who were
imprisoned in cells placed far apart from each other to prevent all
communication.
About noon the gaoler reappeared followed by five guards, whose duty
it was to serve the state prisoners. He opened: the cell door to
bring in my dinner and the furniture I had asked for. The bed was
placed in the recess; my dinner was laid out on a small table, and I
had to eat with an ivory spoon he had procured out of the money I had
given him; all forks, knives, and edged tools being forbidden.
"Tell me what you would like for to-morrow," said he, "for I can only
come here once a day at sunrise. The Lord High Secretary has told me
to inform you that he will send you some suitable books, but those
you wish for are forbidden."
"Thank him for his kindness in putting me by myself."
"I will do so, but you make a mistake in jesting thus."
"I don't jest at all, for I think truly that it is much better to be
alone than to mingle with the scoundrels who are doubtless here."
"What, sir! scoundrels? Not at all, not at all. They are only
respectable people here, who, for reasons known to their excellencies
alone, have to be sequestered from society. You have been put by
yourself as an additional punishment, and you want me to thank the
secretary on that account?"
"I was not aware of that."
The fool was right, and I soon found it out. I discovered that a man
imprisoned by himself can have no occupations. Alone in a gloomy
cell where he only sees the fellow who brings his food once a day,
where he cannot walk upright, he is the most wretched of men. He
would like to be in hell, if he believes in it, for the sake of the
company. So strong a feeling is this that I got to desire the
company of a murderer, of one stricken with the plague, or of a bear.
The loneliness behind the prison bars is terrible, but it must be
learnt by experience to be understood, and such an experience I would
not wish even to my enemies. To a man of letters in my situation,
paper and ink would take away nine-tenths of the torture, but the
wretches who persecuted me did not dream of granting me such an
alleviation of my misery.
After the gaoler had gone, I set my table near the grating for the
sake of the light, and sat down to dinner, but I could only swallow a
few spoonfuls of soup. Having fasted for nearly forty-eight hours,
it was not surprising that I felt ill. I passed the day quietly
enough seated on my sofa, and proposing myself to read the "suitable
books" which they had been good enough to promise me. I did not shut
my eyes the whole night, kept awake by the hideous noise made by the
rats, and by the deafening chime of the clock of St. Mark's, which
seemed to be striking in my room. This double vexation was not my
chief trouble, and I daresay many of my readers will guess what I am
going to speak of-namely, the myriads of fleas which held high
holiday over me. These small insects drank my blood with unutterable
voracity, their incessant bites gave me spasmodic convulsions and
poisoned my blood.
At day-break, Lawrence (such was the gaoler's name) came to my cell
and had my bed made, and the room swept and cleansed, and one of the
guards gave me water wherewith to wash myself. I wanted to take a
walk in the garret, but Lawrence told me that was forbidden. He gave
me two thick books which I forbore to open, not being quite sure of
repressing the wrath with which they might inspire me, and which the
spy would have infallibly reported to his masters. After leaving me
my fodder and two cut lemons he went away.
As soon as I was alone I ate my soup in a hurry, so as to take it
hot, and then I drew as near as I could to the light with one of the
books, and was delighted to find that I could see to read. I looked
at the title, and read, "The Mystical City of Sister Mary of Jesus,
of Agrada." I had never heard of it. The other book was by a Jesuit
named Caravita. This fellow, a hypocrite like the rest of them, had
invented a new cult of the "Adoration of the Sacred Heart of our Lord
Jesus Christ." This, according to the author, was the part of our
Divine Redeemer, which above all others should be adored a curious
idea of a besotted ignoramus, with which I got disgusted at the first
page, for to my thinking the heart is no more worthy a part than the
lungs, stomach; or any other of the inwards. The "Mystical City"
rather interested me.
I read in it the wild conceptions of a Spanish nun, devout to
superstition, melancholy, shut in by convent walls, and swayed by the
ignorance and bigotry of her confessors. All these grotesque,
monstrous, and fantastic visions of hers were dignified with the name
of revelations. The lover and bosom-friend of the Holy Virgin, she
had received instructions from God Himself to write the life of His
divine mother; the necessary information was furnished her by the
Holy Ghost.
This life of Mary began, not with the day of her birth, but with her
immaculate conception in the womb of Anne, her mother. This Sister
Mary of Agrada was the head of a Franciscan convent founded by
herself in her own house. After telling in detail all the deeds of
her divine heroine whilst in her mother's womb, she informs us that
at the age of three she swept and cleansed the house with the
assistance of nine hundred servants, all of whom were angels whom God
had placed at her disposal, under the command of Michael, who came
and went between God and herself to conduct their mutual
correspondence.
What strikes the judicious reader of the book is the evident belief
of the more than fanatical writer that nothing is due to her
invention; everything is told in good faith and with full belief.
The work contains the dreams of a visionary, who, without vanity but
inebriated with the idea of God, thinks to reveal only the
inspirations of the Divine Spirit.
The book was published with the permission of the very holy and very
horrible Inquisition. I could not recover from my astonishment! Far
from its stirring up in my breast a holy and simple zeal of religion,
it inclined me to treat all the mystical dogmas of the Faith as
fabulous.
Such works may have dangerous results; for example, a more
susceptible reader than myself, or one more inclined to believe in
the marvellous, runs the risk of becoming as great a visionary as the
poor nun herself.
The need of doing something made me spend a week over this
masterpiece of madness, the product of a hyper-exalted brain. I took
care to say nothing to the gaoler about this fine work, but I began
to feel the effects of reading it. As soon as I went off to sleep I
experienced the disease which Sister Mary of Agrada had communicated
to my mind weakened by melancholy, want of proper nourishment and
exercise, bad air, and the horrible uncertainty of my fate. The
wildness of my dreams made me laugh when I recalled them in my waking
moments. If I had possessed the necessary materials I would have
written my visions down, and I might possibly have produced in my
cell a still madder work than the one chosen with such insight by
Cavalli.
This set me thinking how mistaken is the opinion which makes human
intellect an absolute force; it is merely relative, and he who
studies himself carefully will find only weakness. I perceived that
though men rarely become mad, still such an event is well within the
bounds of possibility, for our reasoning faculties are like powder,
which, though it catches fire easily, will never catch fire at all
without a spark. The book of the Spanish nun has all the properties
necessary to make a man crack-brained; but for the poison to take
effect he must be isolated, put under the Leads, and deprived of all
other employments.
In November, 1767, as I was going from Pampeluna to Madrid, my
coachman, Andrea Capello, stopped for us to dine in a town of Old
Castille. So dismal and dreary a place did I find it that I asked
its name. How I laughed when I was told that it was Agrada!
"Here, then," I said to myself, "did that saintly lunatic produce
that masterpiece which but for M. Cavalli I should never have known."
An old priest, who had the highest possible opinion of me the moment
I began to ask him about this truthful historian of the mother of
Christ, shewed me the very place where she had written it, and
assured me that the father, mother, sister, and in short all the
kindred of the blessed biographer, had been great saints in their
generation. He told me, and spoke truly, that the Spaniards had
solicited her canonization at Rome, with that of the venerable
Palafox. This "Mystical City," perhaps, gave Father Malagrida the
idea of writing the life of St. Anne, written, also, at the dictation
of the Holy Ghost, but the poor devil of a Jesuit had to suffer
martyrdom for it--an additional reason for his canonization, if the
horrible society ever comes to life again, and attains the universal
power which is its secret aim.
At the end of eight or nine days I found myself moneyless. Lawrence
asked me for some, but I had not got it.
"Where can I get some?"
"Nowhere."
What displeased this ignorant and gossiping fellow about me was my
silence and my laconic manner of talking.
Next day he told me that the Tribunal had assigned me fifty sous per
diem of which he would have to take charge, but that he would give me
an account of his expenditure every month, and that he would spend
the surplus on what I liked.
"Get me the Leyden Gazette twice a week."
"I can't do that, because it is not allowed by the authorities."
Sixty-five livres a month was more than I wanted, since I could not
eat more than I did: the great heat and the want of proper
nourishment had weakened me. It was in the dog-days; the strength of
the sun's rays upon the lead of the roof made my cell like a stove,
so that the streams of perspiration which rolled off my poor body as
I sat quite naked on my sofa-chair wetted the floor to right and left
of me.
I had been in this hell-on-earth for fifteen days without any
secretion from the bowels. At the end of this almost incredible time
nature re-asserted herself, and I thought my last hour was come. The
haemorrhoidal veins were swollen to such an extent that the pressure
on them gave me almost unbearable agony. To this fatal time I owe
the inception of that sad infirmity of which I have never been able
to completely cure myself. The recurrence of the same pains, though
not so acute, remind me of the cause, and do not make my remembrance
of it any the more agreeable. This disease got me compliments in
Russia when I was there ten years later, and I found it in such
esteem that I did not dare to complain. The same kind of thing
happened to me at Constantinople, when I was complaining of a cold in
the head in the presence of a Turk, who was thinking, I could see,
that a dog of a Christian was not worthy of such a blessing.
The same day I sickened with a high fever and kept my bed. I said
nothing to Lawrence about it, but the day after, on finding my dinner
untouched, he asked me how I was.
"Very well."
"That can't be, sir, as you have eaten nothing. You are ill, and you
will experience the generosity of the Tribunal who will provide you,
without fee or charge, with a physician, surgeon, and all necessary
medicines."
He went out, returning after three hours without guards, holding a
candle in his hand, and followed by a grave-looking personage; this
was the doctor. I was in the height of the fever, which had not left
me for three days. He came up to me and began to ask me questions,
but I told him that with my confessor and my doctor I would only
speak apart. The doctor told Lawrence to leave the room, but on the
refusal of that Argus to do so, he went away saying that I was
dangerously ill, possibly unto death. For this I hoped, for my life
as it had become was no longer my chiefest good. I was somewhat glad
also to think that my pitiless persecutors might, on hearing of my
condition, be forced to reflect on the cruelty of the treatment to
which they had subjected me.
Four hours afterwards I heard the noise of bolts once more, and the
doctor came in holding the candle himself. Lawrence remained
outside. I had become so weak that I experienced a grateful
restfulness. Kindly nature does not suffer a man seriously ill to
feel weary. I was delighted to hear that my infamous turnkey was
outside, for since his explanation of the iron collar I had looked an
him with loathing.
In a quarter of an hour I had told the doctor all.
"If we want to get well," said he, "we must not be melancholy."
"Write me the prescription, and take it to the only apothecary who
can make it up. M. Cavalli is the bad doctor who exhibited 'The
Heart of Jesus,' and 'Tire Mystical City.'"
"Those two preparations are quite capable of having brought on the
fever and the haemorrhoids. I will not forsake you"
After making me a large jug of lemonade, and telling the to drink
frequently, he went away. I slept soundly, dreaming fantastic
dreams.
In he morning the doctor came again with Lawrence and a surgeon, who
bled me. The doctor left me some medicine which he told me to take
in the evening, and a bottle of soap. "I have obtained leave," said
he, "for you to move into the garret where the heat is less, and the
air better than here."
"I decline the favour, as I abominate the rats, which you know
nothing about, and which would certainly get into my bed."
"What a pity! I told M. Cavalli that he had almost killed you with
his books, and he has commissioned me to take them back, and to give
you Boethius; and here it is."
"I am much obliged to you. I like it better than Seneca, and I am
sure it will do me good."
"I am leaving you a very necessary instrument, and some barley water
for you to refresh yourself with."
He visited me four times, and pulled me through; my constitution did
the rest, and my appetite returned. At the beginning of September I
found myself, on the whole, very well, suffering from no actual ills
except the heat, the vermin, and weariness, for I could not be always
reading Boethius.
One day Lawrence told me that I might go out of my cell to wash
myself whilst the bed was being made and the room swept. I took
advantage of the favour to walk up and down for the ten minutes taken
by these operations, and as I walked hard the rats were alarmed and
dared not shew themselves. On the same day Lawrence gave me an
account of my money, and brought himself in as my debtor to the
amount of thirty livres, which however, I could not put into my
pocket. I left the money in his hands, telling him to lay it out on
masses on my behalf, feeling sure that he would make quite a
different use of it, and he thanked me in a tone that persuaded me he
would be his own priest. I gave him the money every month, and I
never saw a priest's receipt. Lawrence was wise to celebrate the
sacrifice at the tavern; the money was useful to someone at all
events.
I lived from day to day, persuading myself every night that the next
day I should be at liberty; but as I was each day deceived, I decided
in my poor brain that I should be set free without fail on the 1st of
October, on which day the new Inquisitors begin their term of office.
According to this theory, my imprisonment would last as long as the
authority of the present Inquisitors, and thus was explained the fact
that I had seen nothing of the secretary, who would otherwise have
undoubtedly come to interrogate, examine, and convict me of my
crimes, and finally to announce my doom. All this appeared to me
unanswerable, because it seemed natural, but it was fallacious under
the Leads, where nothing is done after the natural order. I imagined
the Inquisitors must have discovered my innocence and the wrong they
had done me, and that they only kept me in prison for form's sake,
and to protect their repute from the stain of committing injustice;
hence I concluded that they would give me my freedom when they laid
down their tyrannical authority. My mind was so composed and quiet
that I felt as if I could forgive them, and forget the wrong that
they had done me. "How can they leave me here to the mercy of their
successors," I thought, "to whom they cannot leave any evidence
capable of condemning me?" I could not believe that my sentence had
been pronounced and confirmed, without my being told of it, or of the
reasons by which my judges had been actuated. I was so certain that
I had right on my side, that I reasoned accordingly; but this was not
the attitude I should have assumed towards a court which stands aloof
from all the courts in the world for its unbounded absolutism. To
prove anyone guilty, it is only necessary for the Inquisitors to
proceed against him; so there is no need to speak to him, and when he
is condemned it would be useless to announce to the prisoner his
sentence, as his consent is not required, and they prefer to leave
the poor wretch the feeling of hope; and certainly, if he were told
the whole process, imprisonment would not be shortened by an hour.
The wise man tells no one of his business, and the business of the
Tribunal of Venice is only to judge and to doom. The guilty party is
not required to have any share in the matter; he is like a nail,
which to be driven into a wall needs only to be struck.
To a certain extent I was acquainted with the ways of the Colossus
which was crushing me under foot, but there are things on earth which
one can only truly understand by experience. If amongst my readers
there are any who think such laws unjust, I forgive them, as I know
they have a strong likeness to injustice; but let me tell them that
they are also necessary, as a tribunal like the Venetian could not
subsist without them. Those who maintain these laws in full vigour
are senators, chosen from amongst the fittest for that office, and
with a reputation for honour and virtue.
The last day of September I passed a sleepless night, and was on
thorns to see the dawn appear, so sure was I that that day would make
me free. The reign of those villains who had made me a captive drew
to a close; but the dawn appeared, Lawrence came as usual, and told
me nothing new. For five or six days I hovered between rage and
despair, and then I imagined that for some reasons which to me were
unfathomable they had decided to keep me prisoner for the remainder
of my days. This awful idea only made me laugh, for I knew that it
was in my power to remain a slave for no long time, but only till I
should take it into my own hands to break my prison. I knew that I
should escape or die: 'Deliberata morte ferocior'.
In the beginning of November I seriously formed the plan of forcibly
escaping from a place where I was forcibly kept. I began to rack my
brains to find a way of carrying the idea into execution, and I
conceived a hundred schemes, each one bolder than the other, but a
new plan always made me give up the one I was on the point of
accepting.
While I was immersed in this toilsome sea of thought, an event
happened which brought home to me the sad state of mind I was in.
I was standing up in the garret looking towards the top, and my
glance fell on the great beam, not shaking but turning on its right
side, and then, by slow and interrupted movement in the opposite
direction, turning again and replacing itself in its original
position. As I lost my balance at the same time, I knew it was the
shock of an earthquake. Lawrence and the guards, who just then came
out of my room, said that they too, had felt the earth tremble. In
such despair was I that this incident made me feel a joy which I kept
to myself, saying nothing. Four or five seconds after the same
movement occurred, and I could not refrain from saying,
"Another, O my God! but stronger."
The guards, terrified with what they thought the impious ravings of a
desperate madman, fled in horror.
After they were gone, as I was pondering the matter over, I found
that I looked upon the overthrow of the Doge's palace as one of the
events which might lead to liberty; the mighty pile, as it fell,
might throw me safe and sound, and consequently free, on St. Mark's
Place, or at the worst it could only crush me beneath its ruins.
Situated as I was, liberty reckons for all, and life for nothing, or
rather for very little. Thus in the depths of my soul I began to
grow mad.
This earthquake shock was the result of those which at the same time
destroyed Lisbon.
CHAPTER XXVII
Various Adventures--My Companions--I Prepare to Escape--Change of
Cell
To make the reader understand how I managed to escape from a place
like the Leads, I must explain the nature of the locality.
The Leads, used for the confinement of state prisoners, are in fact
the lofts of the ducal palace, and take their name from the large
plates of lead with which the roof is covered. One can only reach
them through the gates of the palace, the prison buildings, or by the
bridge of which I have spoken called the Bridge of Sighs. It is
impossible to reach the cells without passing through the hall where
the State Inquisitors hold their meetings, and their secretary has
the sole charge of the key, which he only gives to the gaoler for a
short time in the early morning whilst he is attending to the
prisoners. This is done at day-break, because otherwise the guards
as they came and went would be in the way of those who have to do
with the Council of Ten, as the Council meets every day in a hall
called The Bussola, which the guards have to cross every time they go
to the Leads.
The prisons are under the roof on two sides of the palace; three to
the west (mine being among the number) and four to the east. On the
west the roof looks into the court of the palace, and on the east
straight on to the canal called Rio di Palazzo. On this side the
cells are well lighted, and one can stand up straight, which is not
the case in the prison where I was, which was distinguished by the
name of 'Trave', on account of the enormous beam which deprived me of
light. The floor of my cell was directly over the ceiling of the
Inquisitors' hall, where they commonly met only at night after the
sitting of the Council of Ten of which the whole three are members.
As I knew my ground and the habits of the Inquisitors perfectly well,
the only way to escape--the only way at least which I deemed likely
to succeed--was to make a hole in the floor of my cell; but to do
this tools must be obtained--a difficult task in a place where all
communication with the outside world was forbidden, where neither
letters nor visits were allowed. To bribe a guard a good deal of
money would be necessary, and I had none. And supposing that the
gaoler and his two guards allowed themselves to be strangled--for my
hands were my only weapons--there was always a third guard on duty at
the door of the passage, which he locked and would not open till his
fellow who wished to pass through gave him the password. In spite of
all these difficulties my only thought was how to escape, and as
Boethius gave me no hints on this point I read him no more, and as I
was certain that the difficulty was only to be solved by stress of
thinking I centered all my thoughts on this one object.
It has always been my opinion that when a man sets himself
determinedly to do something, and thinks of nought but his design, he
must succeed despite all difficulties in his path: such an one may
make himself Pope or Grand Vizier, he may overturn an ancient line of
kings--provided that he knows how to seize on his opportunity, and be
a man of wit and pertinacity. To succeed one must count on being
fortunate and despise all ill success, but it is a most difficult
operation.
Towards the middle of November, Lawrence told me that Messer-Grande
had a prisoner in his hands whom the new secretary, Businello, had
ordered to be placed in the worst cell, and who consequently was
going to share mine. He told me that on the secretary's reminding
him that I looked upon it as a favour to be left alone, he answered
that I had grown wiser in the four months of my imprisonment. I was
not sorry to hear the news or that there was a new secretary. This
M. Pierre Businello was a worthy man whom I knew at Paris. He
afterwards went to London as ambassador of the Republic.
In the afternoon I heard the noise of the bolts, and presently
Lawrence and two guards entered leading in a young man who was
weeping bitterly; and after taking off his handcuffs they shut him up
with me, and went out without saying a word. I was lying on my bed,
and he could not see me. I was amused at his astonishment. Being,
fortunately for himself, seven or eight inches shorter than I, he was
able to stand upright, and he began to inspect my arm-chair, which he
doubtless thought was meant for his own use. Glancing at the ledge
above the grating he saw Boethius, took it up, opened it, and put it
down with a kind of passion, probably because being in Latin it was
of no use to him. Continuing his inspection of the cell he went to
the left, and groping about was much surprised to find clothes. He
approached the recess, and stretching out his hand he touched me, and
immediately begged my pardon in a respectful manner. I asked him to
sit down and we were friends.
"Who are you?" said I.
"I am Maggiorin, of Vicenza. My father, who was a coachman, kept me
at school till I was eleven, by which time I had learnt to read and
write; I was afterwards apprenticed to a barber, where I learnt my
business thoroughly. After that I became valet to the Count of X---.
I had been in the service of the nobleman for two years when his
daughter came from the convent. It was my duty to do her hair, and
by degrees I fell in love with her, and inspired her with a
reciprocal passion. After having sworn a thousand times to exist
only for one another, we gave ourselves up to the task of shewing
each other marks of our affection, the result of which was that the
state of the young countess discovered all. An old and devoted
servant was the first to find out our connection and the condition of
my mistress, and she told her that she felt in duty bound to tell her
father, but my sweetheart succeeded in making her promise to be
silent, saying that in the course of the week she herself would tell
him through her confessor. She informed me of all this, and instead
of going to confession we prepared for flight. She had laid hands on
a good sum of money and some diamonds which had belonged to her
mother, and we were to set out for Milan to-night. But to-day the
count called me after dinner, and giving me a letter, he told me to
start at once and to deliver it with my own hand to the person to
whom it was addressed at Venice. He spoke to me so kindly and
quietly that I had not the slightest suspicion of the fate in store
for me. I went to get my cloak, said good-bye to my little wife,
telling her that I should soon return. Seeing deeper below the
surface than I, and perchance having a presentiment of my misfortune,
she was sick at heart. I came here in hot haste, and took care to
deliver the fatal letter. They made me wait for an answer, and in
the mean time I went to an inn; but as I came out I was arrested and
put in the guard-room, where I was kept till they brought me here. I
suppose, sir, I might consider the young countess as my wife?"
"You make a mistake."
"But nature----"
"Nature, when a man listens to her and nothing else, takes him from
one folly to another, till she puts him under the Leads."
"I am under the Leads, then, am I?"
"As I am."
The poor young man shed some bitter tears. He was a well-made lad,
open, honest, and amorous beyond words. I secretly pardoned the
countess, and condemned the count for exposing his daughter to such
temptation. A shepherd who shuts up the wolf in the fold should not
complain if his flock be devoured. In all his tears and lamentations
he thought not of himself but always of his sweetheart. He thought
that the gaoler would return and bring him some food and a bed; but I
undeceived him, and offered him a share of what I had. His heart,
however, was too full for him to eat. In the evening I gave him my
mattress, on which he passed the night, for though he looked neat and
clean enough I did not care to have him to sleep with me, dreading
the results of a lover's dreams. He neither understood how wrongly
he had acted, nor how the count was constrained to punish him
publicly as a cloak to the honour of his daughter and his house.
The next day he was given a mattress and a dinner to the value of
fifteen sous, which the Tribunal had assigned to him, either as a
favour or a charity, for the word justice would not be appropriate in
speaking of this terrible body. I told the gaoler that my dinner
would suffice for the two of us, and that he could employ the young
man's allowance in saying masses in his usual manner. He agreed
willingly, and having told him that he was lucky to be in my company,
he said that we could walk in the garret for half an hour. I found
this walk an excellent thing for my health and my plan of escape,
which, however, I could not carry out for eleven months afterwards.
At the end of this resort of rats, I saw a number of old pieces of
furniture thrown on the ground to the right and left of two great
chests, and in front of a large pile of papers sewn up into separate
volumes. I helped myself to a dozen of them for the sake of the
reading, and I found them to be accounts of trials, and very
diverting; for I was allowed to read these papers, which had once
contained such secrets. I found some curious replies to the judges'
questions respecting the seduction of maidens, gallantries carried a
little too far by persons employed in girls' schools, facts relating
to confessors who had abused their penitents, schoolmasters convicted
of pederasty with their pupils, and guardians who had seduced their
wards. Some of the papers dating two or three centuries back, in
which the style and the manners illustrated gave me considerable
entertainment. Among the pieces of furniture on the floor I saw a
warming-pan, a kettle, a fire-shovel, a pair of tongs, some old
candle-sticks, some earthenware pots, and even a syringe. From this
I concluded that some prisoner of distinction had been allowed to
make use of these articles. But what interested me most was a
straight iron bar as thick as my thumb, and about a foot and a half
long. However, I left everything as it was, as my plans had not been
sufficiently ripened by time for me to appropriate any object in
particular.
One day towards the end of the month my companion was taken away, and
Lawrence told me that he had been condemned to the prisons known as
The Fours, which are within the same walls as the ordinary prisons,
but belong to the State Inquisitors. Those confined in them have the
privilege of being able to call the gaoler when they like. The
prisons are gloomy, but there is an oil lamp in the midst which gives
the necessary light, and there is no fear of fire as everything is
made of marble. I heard, a long time after, that the unfortunate
Maggiorin was there for five years, and was afterwards sent to Cerigo
for ten. I do not know whether he ever came from there. He had kept
me good company, and this I discovered as soon as he was gone, for in
a few days I became as melancholy as before. Fortunately, I was
still allowed my walk in the garret, and I began to examine its
contents with more minuteness. One of the chests was full of fine
paper, pieces of cardboard, uncut pens, and clews of pack thread; the
other was fastened down. A piece of polished black marble, an inch
thick, six inches long, and three broad, attracted my attention, and
I possessed myself of it without knowing what I was going to do with
it, and I secreted it in my cell, covering it up with my shirts.
A week after Maggiorin had gone, Lawrence told me that in all
probability I should soon get another companion. This fellow
Lawrence, who at bottom was a mere gabbling fool, began to get uneasy
at my never asking him any questions. This fondness for gossip was
not altogether appropriate to his office, but where is one to find
beings absolutely vile? There are such persons, but happily they are
few and far between, and are not to be sought for in the lower
orders. Thus my gaoler found himself unable to hold his tongue, and
thought that the reason I asked no questions must be that I thought
him incapable of answering them; and feeling hurt at this, and
wishing to prove to me that I made a mistake, he began to gossip
without being solicited.
"I believe you will often have visitors," said he, "as the other six
cells have each two prisoners, who are not likely to be sent to the
Fours." I made him no reply, but he went on, in a few seconds, "They
send to the Fours all sorts of people after they have been sentenced,
though they know nothing of that. The prisoners whom I have charge
of under the Leads are like yourself, persons of note, and are only
guilty of deeds of which the inquisitive must know nothing. If you
knew, sir, what sort of people shared your fate, you would be
astonished, It's true that you are called a man of parts; but you
will pardon me.... You know that all men of parts are treated well
here. You take me, I see. Fifty sous a day, that's something. They
give three livres to a citizen, four to a gentleman, and eight to a
foreign count. I ought to know, I think, as everything goes through
my hands."
He then commenced to sing his own praises, which consisted of
negative clauses.
"I'm no thief, nor traitor, nor greedy, nor malicious, nor brutal, as
all my predecessors were, and when I have drunk a pint over and above
I am all the better for it. If my father had sent me to school I
should have learnt to read and write, and I might be Messer-Grande
to-day, but that's not my fault. M. Andre Diedo has a high opinion
of me. My wife, who cooks for you every day, and is only twenty-
four, goes to see him when she will, and he will have her come in
without ceremony, even if he be in bed, and that's more than he'll do
for a senator. I promise you you will be always having the new-
comers in your cell, but never for any length of time, for as soon
as the secretary has got what he wants to know from them, he sends
them to their place--to the Fours, to some fort, or to the Levant;
and if they be foreigners they are sent across the frontier, for our
Government does not hold itself master of the subjects of other
princes, if they be not in its service. The clemency of the Court is
beyond compare; there's not another in the world that treats its
prisoners so well. They say it's cruel to disallow writing and
visitors; but that's foolish, for what are writing and company but
waste of time? You will tell me that you have nothing to do, but we
can't say as much."
Such was, almost word for word, the first harangue with which the
fellow honoured me, and I must say I found it amusing. I saw that if
the man had been less of a fool he would most certainly have been
more of a scoundrel.
The next day brought me a new messmate, who was treated as Maggiorin
had been, and I thus found it necessary to buy another ivory spoon,
for as the newcomers were given nothing on the first day of their
imprisonment I had to do all the honours of the cell.
My new mate made me a low bow, for my beard, now four inches long,
was still more imposing than my figure. Lawrence often lent me
scissors to cut my nails, but he was forbidden, under pain of very
heavy punishment, to let me touch my beard. I knew not the reason of
this order, but I ended by becoming used to my beard as one gets used
to everything.
The new-comer was a man of about fifty, approaching my size, a little
bent, thin, with a large mouth, and very bad teeth. He had small
grey eyes hidden under thick eyebrows of a red colour, which made him
look like an owl; and this picture was set off by a small black wig,
which exhaled a disagreeable odour of oil, and by a dress of coarse
grey cloth. He accepted my offer of dinner, but was reserved, and
said not a word the whole day, and I was also silent, thinking he
would soon recover the use of his tongue, as he did the next day.
Early in the morning he was given a bed and a bag full of linen. The
gaoler asked him, as he had asked me, what he would have for dinner,
and for money to pay for it.
"I have no money."
"What! a moneyed man like you have no money?"
"I haven't a sou."
"Very good; in that case I will get you some army biscuit and water,
according to instructions."
He went out, and returned directly afterwards with a pound and a half
of biscuit, and a pitcher, which he set before the prisoner, and then
went away.
Left alone with this phantom I heard a sigh, and my pity made me
break the silence.
"Don't sigh, sir, you shall share my dinner. But I think you have
made a great mistake in coming here without money."
"I have some, but it does not do to let those harpies know of it:"
"And so you condemn yourself to bread and water. Truly a wise
proceeding! Do you know the reason of your imprisonment?"
"Yes, sir, and I will endeavour in a few words to inform you of it."
"My name is Squaldo Nobili. My father was a countryman who had me
taught reading and writing, and at his death left me his cottage and
the small patch of ground belonging to it. I lived in Friuli, about
a day's journey from the Marshes of Udine. As a torrent called Corno
often damaged my little property, I determined to sell it and to set
up in Venice, which I did ten years ago. I brought with me eight
thousand livres in fair sequins, and knowing that in this happy
commonwealth all men enjoyed the blessings of liberty, I believed
that by utilizing my capital I might make a little income, and I
began to lend money, on security. Relying on my thrift, my judgment,
and my, knowledge of the world, I chose this business in preference
to all others. I rented a small house in the neighbourhood of the
Royal Canal, and having furnished it I lived there in comfort by
myself; and in the course of two years I found I had made a profit of
ten thousand livres, though I had expended two thousand on household
expenses as I wished to live in comfort. In this fashion I saw
myself in a fair way of making a respectable fortune in time; but
one, day, having lent a Jew two sequins upon some books, I found one
amongst them called "La Sagesse," by Charron. It was then I found
out how good a thing it is to be able to read, for this book, which
you, sir, may not have read, contains all that a man need know--
purging him of all the prejudices of his childhood. With Charron
good-bye to hell and all the empty terrors of a future life; one's
eyes are opened, one knows the way to bliss, one becomes wise indeed.
Do you, sir, get this book, and pay no heed to those foolish persons
who would tell you this treasure is not to be approached."
This curious discourse made me know my man. As to Charron, I had
read the book though I did not know it had been translated into
Italian. The author who was a great admirer of Montaigne thought to
surpass his model, but toiled in vain. He is not much read despite
the prohibition to read his works, which should have given them some
popularity. He had the impudence to give his book the title of one
of Solomon's treatises--a circumstance which does not say much for
his modesty. My companion went on as follows:
"Set free by Charron from any scruples I still might have, and from
those false ideas so hard to rid one's self of, I pushed my business
in such sort, that at the end of six years I could lay my hand on ten
thousand sequins. There is no need for you to be astonished at that,
as in this wealthy city gambling, debauchery, and idleness set all
the world awry and in continual need of money; so do the wise gather
what the fool drops.
"Three years ago a certain Count Seriman came and asked me to take
from him five hundred sequins, to put them in my business, and to
give him half profits. All he asked for was an obligation in which I
promised to return him the whole sum on demand. At the end of a year
I sent him seventy-five sequins, which made fifteen per cent. on his
money; he gave me a receipt for it, but was ill pleased. He was
wrong, for I was in no need of money, and had not used his for
business purposes. At the end of the second year, out of pure
generosity, I sent him the same amount; but we came to a quarrel and
he demanded the return of the five hundred sequins. 'Certainly,' I
said, 'but I must deduct the hundred and fifty you have already
received.' Enraged at this he served me with a writ for the payment
of the whole sum. A clever lawyer undertook my defence and was able
to gain me two years. Three months ago I was spoken to as to an
agreement, and I refused to hear of it, but fearing violence I went
to the Abbe Justiniani, the Spanish ambassador's secretary, and for a
small sum he let me a house in the precincts of the Embassy, where
one is safe from surprises. I was quite willing to let Count Seriman
have his money, but I claimed a reduction of a hundred sequins on
account of the costs of the lawsuit. A week ago the lawyers on both
sides came to me. I shewed them a purse of two hundred and fifty
sequins, and told them they might take it, but not a penny more.
They went away without saying a word, both wearing an ill-pleased
air, of which I took no notice. Three days ago the Abbe Justiniani
told me that the ambassador had thought fit to give permission to the
State Inquisitors to send their men at once to my house to make
search therein. I thought the thing impossible under the shelter of
a foreign ambassador, and instead of taking the usual precautions, I
waited the approach of the men-at-arms, only putting my money in a
place of safety. At daybreak Messer-Grande came to the house, and
asked me for three hundred and fifty sequins, and on my telling him
that I hadn't a farthing he seized me, and here I am."
I shuddered, less at having such an infamous companion than at his
evidently considering me as his equal, for if he had thought of me in
any other light he would certainly not have told me this long tale,
doubtless in the belief that I should take his part. In all the
folly about Charron with which he tormented me in the three days we
were together, I found by bitter experience the truth of the Italian
proverb: 'Guardati da colui che non ha letto che un libro solo'. By
reading the work of the misguided priest he had become an Atheist,
and of this he made his boast all the day long. In the afternoon
Lawrence came to tell him to come and speak with the secretary. He
dressed himself hastily, and instead of his own shoes he took mine
without my seeing him. He came back in half an hour in tears, and
took out of his shoes two purses containing three hundred and fifty
sequins, and, the gaoler going before, he went to take them to the
secretary. A few moments afterwards he returned, and taking his
cloak went away. Lawrence told me that he had been set at liberty.
I thought, and with good reason, that, to make him acknowledge his
debt and pay it, the secretary had threatened him with the torture;
and if it were only used in similar cases, I, who detest the
principle of torture, would be the first to proclaim its utility.
On New Year's Day, 1733, I received my presents. Lawrence brought me
a dressing-gown lined with foxskin, a coverlet of wadded silk, and a
bear-skin bag for me to put my legs in, which I welcomed gladly, for
the coldness was unbearable as the heat in August. Lawrence told me
that I might spend to the amount of six sequins a month, that I might
have what books I liked, and take in the newspaper, and that this
present came from M. de Bragadin. I asked him for a pencil, and I
wrote upon a scrap of paper: "I am grateful for the kindness of the
Tribunal and the goodness of M. de Bragadin."
The man who would know what were my feelings at all this must have
been in a similar situation to my own. In the first gush of feeling
I forgave my oppressors, and was on the point of giving up the idea
of escape; so easily shall you move a man that you have brought low
and overwhelmed with misfortune. Lawrence told me that M. de
Bragadin had come before the three Inquisitors, and that on his
knees, and with tears in his eyes, he had entreated them to let him
give me this mark of his affection if I were still in the land of the
living; the Inquisitors were moved, and were not able to refuse his
request.
I wrote down without delay the names of the books I wanted.
One fine morning, as I was walking in the garret, my eyes fell on the
iron bar I have mentioned, and I saw that it might very easily be
made into a defensive or offensive weapon. I took possession of it,
and having hidden it under my dressing-gown I conveyed it into my
cell. As soon as I was alone, I took the piece of black marble, and
I found that I had to my hand an excellent whetstone; for by rubbing
the bar with the stone I obtained a very good edge.
My interest roused in this work in which I was but an apprentice, and
in the fashion in which I seemed likely to become possessed of an
instrument totally prohibited under the Leads, impelled, perhaps,
also by my vanity to make a weapon without any of the necessary
tools, and incited by my very difficulties (for I worked away till
dark without anything to hold my whetstone except my left hand, and
without a drop of oil to soften the iron), I made up my mind to
persevere in my difficult task. My saliva served me in the stead of
oil, and I toiled eight days to produce eight edges terminating in a
sharp point, the edges being an inch and a half in length. My bar
thus sharpened formed an eight-sided dagger, and would have done
justice to a first-rate cutler. No one can imagine the toil and
trouble I had to bear, nor the patience required to finish this
difficult task without any other tools than a loose piece of stone.
I put myself, in fact, to a kind of torture unknown to the tyrants of
all ages. My right arm had become so stiff that I could hardly move
it; the palm of my hand was covered with a large scar, the result of
the numerous blisters caused by the hardness and the length of the
work. No one would guess the sufferings I underwent to bring my work
to completion.
Proud of what I had done, without thinking what use I could make of
my weapon, my first care was to hide it in such a manner as would
defy a minute search. After thinking over a thousand plans, to all
of which there was some objection, I cast my eyes on my arm-chair,
and there I contrived to hide it so as to be secure from all
suspicion. Thus did Providence aid me to contrive a wonderful and
almost inconceivable plan of escape. I confess to a feeling of
vanity, not because I eventually succeeded--for I owed something to
good luck--but because I was brave enough to undertake such a scheme
in spite of the difficulties which might have ruined my plans and
prevented my ever attaining liberty.
After thinking for three or four days as to what I should do with the
bar I had made into an edged tool, as thick as a walking-stick and
twenty inches long, I determined that the best plan would be to make
a hole in the floor under my bed.
I was sure that the room below my cell was no other than the one in
which I had seen M. Cavalli. I knew that this room was opened every
morning, and I felt persuaded that, after I had made my hole, I could
easily let myself down with my sheets, which I would make into a rope
and fasten to my bed. Once there, I would hide under the table of
the court, and in the morning, when the door was opened, I could
escape and get to a place of safety before anyone could follow me. I
thought it possible that a sentry might be placed in the hall, but my
short pike ought to soon rid me of him. The floor might be of double
or even of triple thickness, and this thought puzzled me; for in that
case how was I to prevent the guard sweeping out the room throughout
the two months my work might last. If I forbade them to do so, I
might rouse suspicion; all the more as, to free myself of the fleas,
I had requested them to sweep out the cell every day, and in sweeping
they would soon discover what I was about. I must find some way out
of this difficulty.
I began by forbidding them to sweep, without giving any reason. A
week after, Lawrence asked me why I did so. I told him because of
the dust which might make me cough violently and give me some fatal
injury.
"I will make them water the floor," said he.
"That would be worse, Lawrence, for the damp might cause a plethora."
In this manner I obtained a week's respite, but at the end of that.
time the lout gave orders that my cell should be swept. He had the
bed carried out into the garret, and on pretence of having the
sweeping done with greater care, he lighted a candle. This let me
know that the rascal was suspicious of something; but I was crafty
enough to take no notice of him, and so far from giving up my plea, I
only thought how I could put it on good train. Next morning I
pricked my finger and covered my handkerchief with the blood, and
then awaited Lawrence in bed. As soon as he came I told him that I
had coughed so violently as to break a blood-vessel, which had made
me bring up all the blood he saw. "Get me a doctor." The doctor
came, ordered me to be bled, and wrote me a prescription. I told him
it was Lawrence's fault, as he had persisted in having the room
swept. The doctor blamed him for doing so, and just as if I had
asked him he told us of a young man who had died from the same cause,
and said that there was nothing more dangerous than breathing in
dust. Lawrence called all the gods to witness that he had only had
the room swept for my sake, and promised it should not happen again.
I laughed to myself, for the doctor could not have played his part
better if I had given him the word. The guards who were there were
delighted, and said they would take care only to sweep the cells of
those prisoners who had angered them.
When the doctor was gone, Lawrence begged my pardon, and assured me
that all the other prisoners were in good health although their cells
were swept out regularly.
"But what the doctor says is worth considering," said he, "and I
shall tell them all about it, for I look upon them as my children."
The blood-letting did me good, as it made me sleep, and relieved me
of the spasms with which I was sometimes troubled. I had regained my
appetite and was getting back my strength every day, but the time to
set about my work was not yet come; it was still too cold, and I
could not hold the bar for any length of time without my hand
becoming stiff. My scheme required much thought. I had to exercise
boldness and foresight to rid myself of troubles which chance might
bring to pass or which I could foresee. The situation of a man who
had to act as I had, is an unhappy one, but in risking all for all
half its bitterness vanishes.
The long nights of winter distressed me, for I had to pass nineteen
mortal hours in darkness; and on the cloudy days, which are common
enough at Venice, the light I had was not sufficient for me to be
able to read. Without any distractions I fell back on the idea of my
escape, and a man who always thinks on one subject is in danger of
becoming a monomaniac. A wretched kitchen-lamp would have made me
happy, but how am I to get such a thing? O blessed prerogative of
thought! how happy was I when I thought I had found a way to possess
myself of such a treasure! To make such a lamp I required a vase,
wicks, oil, a flint and steel, tinder, and matches. A porringer
would do for the vase, and I had one which was used for cooking eggs
in butter. Pretending that the common oil did not agree with me, I
got them to buy me Lucca oil for my salad, and my cotton counterpane
would furnish me with wicks. I then said I had the toothache, and
asked Lawrence to get me a pumice-stone, but as he did not know what
I meant I told him that a musket-flint would do as well if it were
soaked in vinegar for a day, and, then being applied to the tooth the
pain would be eased. Lawrence told me that the vinegar I had was
excellent, and that I could soak the stone myself, and he gave me
three or four flints he had in his pocket. All I had to do was to
get some sulphur and tinder, and the procuring of these two articles
set all my wits to work. At last fortune came to my assistance.
I had suffered from a kind of rash, which as it came off had left
some red spots on my arms, and occasionally caused me some
irritation. I told Lawrence to ask the doctor for a cure, and the
next day he brought me a piece of paper which the secretary had seen,
and on which the doctor had written, "Regulate the food for a day,
and the skin will be cured by four ounces of oil of sweet almonds or
an ointment of flour of sulphur, but this local application is
hazardous."
"Never mind the danger," said I to Lawrence; "buy me the ointment, or
rather get me the sulphur, as I have some butter by me, and I can
make it up myself. Have you any matches? Give me a few."
He found some in his pockets, and he gave me them.
What a small thing brings comfort in distress! But in my place these
matches were no small thing, but rather a great treasure.
I had puzzled my head for several hours as to what substitute I could
find for tinder--the only thing I still lacked, and which I could not
ask for under any pretense whatsoever--when I remembered that I had
told the tailor to put some under the armpits of my coat to prevent
the perspiration spoiling the stuff. The coat, quite new, was before
me, and my heart began to beat, but supposing the tailor had not put
it in! Thus I hung between hope and fear. I had only to take a step
to know all; but such a step would have been decisive, and I dared
not take it. At last I drew nigh, and feeling myself unworthy of
such mercies I fell on my knees and fervently prayed of God that the
tailor might not have forgotten the tinder. After this heartfelt
prayer I took my coat, unsewed it, and found-the tinder! My joy knew
no bounds. I naturally gave thanks to God, since it was with
confidence in Him that I took courage and searched my coat, and I
returned thanks to Him with all my heart.
I now had all the necessary materials, and I soon made myself a lamp.
Let the reader imagine my joy at having in a manner made light in the
midst of darkness, and it was no less sweet because against the
orders of my infamous oppressors. Now there was no more night for
me, and also no more salad, for though I was very fond of it the need
of keeping the oil to give light caused me to make this sacrifice
without it costing me many pangs. I fixed upon the first Monday in
Lent to begin the difficult work of breaking through the floor, for I
suspected that in the tumult of the carnival I might have some
visitors, and I was in the right.
At noon, on Quinquagesima Sunday, I heard the noise of the bolts, and
presently Lawrence entered, followed by a thick-set man whom I
recognized as the Jew, Gabriel Schalon, known for lending money to
young men.
We knew each other, so exchanged compliments. His company was by no
means agreeable to me, but my opinion was not asked. He began by
congratulating me on having the pleasure of his society; and by way
of answer I offered him to share my dinner, but he refused, saying he
would only take a little soup, and would keep his appetite for a
better supper at his own house.
"When?"
"This evening. You heard when I asked for my bed he told me that we
would talk about that to-morrow. That means plainly that I shall
have no need of it. And do you think it likely that a man like me
would be left without anything to eat?"
"That was my experience."
"Possibly, but between ourselves our cases are somewhat different;
and without going any farther into that question, the Inquisitors
have made a mistake in arresting me, and they will be in some
trouble, I am certain, as to how to atone for doing so."
"They will possibly give you a pension. A man of your importance has
to be conciliated."
"True, there's not a broker on the exchange more useful than myself,
and the five sages have often profited by the advice I have given
them. My detention is a curious incident, which, perchance, will be
of service to you."
"Indeed. How, may I ask?"
"I will get you out of here in a month's time. I know to whom to
speak and what way to do it:"
"I reckon on you, then."
"You may do so."
This knave and fool together believed himself to be somebody. He
volunteered to inform me as to what was being said of me in the town,
but as he only related the idle tales of men as ignorant as himself,
he wearied me, and to escape listening to him I took up a book. The
fellow had the impudence to ask me not to read, as he was very fond
of talking, but henceforth he talked only to himself. I did not dare
to light my lamp before this creature, and as night drew on he
decided on accepting some bread and Cyprus wine, and he was
afterwards obliged to do as best he could with my mattress, which was
now the common bed of all new-comers.
In the morning he had a bed and some food from his own house. I was
burdened with this wretched fellow for two months, for before
condemning him to the Fours the secretary had several interviews with
him to bring to light his knaveries, and to oblige him to cancel a
goodly number of illegal agreements. He confessed to me himself that
he had bought of M. Domenico Micheli the right to moneys which could
not belong to the buyer till after the father of the seller was dead.
"It's true," said he, "that he agreed to give me fifty per cent., but
you must consider that if he died before his father I should lose
all." At last, seeing that my cursed fellow did not go, I determined
to light my lamp again after having made him promise to observe
secrecy. He only kept his promise while he was with me, as Lawrence
knew all about it, but luckily he attached no importance to the fact.
This unwelcome guest was a true burden to me, as he not only
prevented me from working for my escape but also from reading. He
was troublesome, ignorant, superstitious, a braggart, cowardly, and
sometimes like a madman. He would have had me cry, since fear made
him weep, and he said over and over again that this imprisonment
would ruin his reputation. On this count I reassured him with a
sarcasm he did not understand. I told him that his reputation was
too well known to suffer anything from this little misfortune, and he
took that for a compliment. He would not confess to being a miser,
but I made him admit that if the Inquisitors would give him a hundred
sequins for every day of his imprisonment he would gladly pass the
rest of his life under the Leads.
He was a Talmudist, like all modern Jews, and he tried to make me
believe that he was very devout; but I once extracted a smile of
approbation from him by telling him that he would forswear Moses if
the Pope would make him a cardinal. As the son of a rabbi he was
learned in all the ceremonies of his religion, but like most men he
considered the essence of a religion to lie in its discipline and
outward forms.
This Jew, who was extremely fat, passed three-quarters of his life in
bed; and though he often dozed in the daytime, he was annoyed at not
being able to sleep at night--all the more as he saw that I slept
excellently. He once took it into his head to wake me up as I was
enjoying my sleep.
"What do you want?" said I; "waking me up with a start like this."
"My dear fellow, I can't sleep a wink. Have compassion on me and let
us have a little talk."
"You scoundrel! You act thus and you dare to call yourself my friend!
I know your lack of sleep torments you, but if you again deprive me
of the only blessing I enjoy I will arise and strangle you."
I uttered these words in a kind of transport.
"Forgive me, for mercy's sake! and be sure that I will not trouble
you again."
It is possible that I should not have strangled him, but I was very
much tempted to do so. A prisoner who is happy enough to sleep
soundly, all the while he sleeps is no longer a captive, and feels no
more the weight of his chains. He ought to look upon the wretch who
awakens him as a guard who deprives him of his liberty, and makes him
feel his misery once more, since, awakening, he feels all his former
woes. Furthermore, the sleeping prisoner often dreams that he is
free again, in like manner as the wretch dying of hunger sees himself
in dreams seated at a sumptuous feast.
I congratulated myself on not having commenced my great work before
he came, especially as he required that the room should be swept out.
The first time he asked for it to be dote, the guards made me laugh
by saying that it would kill me. However, he insisted; and I had my
revenge by pretending to be ill, but from interested motives I made
no further opposition.
On the Wednesday in Holy Week Lawrence told us that the secretary
would make us the customary visit in the afternoon, the object being
to give peace to them that would receive the sacrament at Easter, and
also to know if they had anything to say against the gaoler. "So,
gentlemen," said Lawrence, "if you have any complaints to make of me
make them. Dress yourselves fully, as is customary." I told
Lawrence to get me a confessor for the day.
I put myself into full dress, and the Jew followed my example, taking
leave of me in advance, so sure was he that the secretary would set
him free on hearing what he had to say. "My presentiment," said he,
"is of the same kind as I have had before, and I have never been
deceived."
"I congratulate you, but don't reckon without your host." He did not
understand what I meant.
In course of time the secretary came, and as soon as the cell-door
was opened the Jew ran out and threw himself at his feet on both
knees, I heard for five minutes nothing but his tears and complaints,
for the secretary said not one word. He came back, and Lawrence told
me to go out. With a beard of eight months' growth, and a dress made
for love-making in August, I must have presented a somewhat curious
appearance. Much to my disgust I shivered with cold, and was afraid
that the secretary would think I was trembling with fear. As I was
obliged to bend low to come out of my hole, my bow was ready made,
and drawing myself up, I looked at him calmly without affecting any
unseasonable hardihood, and waited for him to speak. The secretary
also kept silence, so that we stood facing each other like a pair of
statues. At the end of two minutes, the secretary, seeing that I
said nothing, gave me a slight bow, and went away. I re-entered my
cell, and taking off my clothes in haste, got into bed to get warm
again. The Jew was astonished at my not having spoken to the
secretary, although my silence had cried more loudly than his
cowardly complaints. A prisoner of my kind has no business to open
his mouth before his judge, except to answer questions. On Maundy
Thursday a Jesuit came to confess me, and on Holy Saturday a priest
of St. Mark's came to administer to me the Holy Communion. My
confession appearing rather too laconic to the sweet son of Ignatius
he thought good to remonstrate with me before giving me his
absolution.
"Do you pray to God?" he said.
"From the morning unto the evening, and from the evening unto the
morning, for, placed as I am, all that I feel--my anxiety, my grief,
all the wanderings of my mind--can be but a prayer in the eyes of the
Divine Wisdom which alone sees my heart."
The Jesuit smiled slightly and replied by a discourse rather
metaphysical than moral, which did not at all tally with my views.
I should have confuted him on every point if he had not astonished me
by a prophecy he made. "Since it is from us," said he, "that you
learnt what you know of religion, practise it in our fashion, pray
like us, and know that you will only come out of this place on the
day of the saint whose name you bear." So saying he gave me
absolution, and left me. This man left the strongest possible
impression on my mind. I did my best, but I could not rid myself of
it. I proceeded to pass in review all the saints in the calendar.
The Jesuit was the director of M. Flaminio Corner, an old senator,
and then a State Inquisitor. This statesman was a famous man of
letters, a great politician, highly religious, and author of several
pious and ascetic works written in Latin. His reputation was
spotless.
On being informed that I should be set free on the feast-day of my
patron saint, and thinking that my informant ought to know for
certain what he told me, I felt glad to have a patron-saint. "But
which is it?" I asked myself. "It cannot be St. James of
Compostella, whose name I bear, for it was on the feast-day of that
saint that Messer-Grande burst open my door." I took the almanac and
looking for the saints' days nearest at hand I found St. George--a
saint of some note, but of whom I had never thought. I then devoted
myself to St. Mark, whose feast fell on the twenty-fifth of the
month, and whose protection as a Venetian I might justly claim. To
him, then, I addressed my vows, but all in vain, for his feast came
round and still I was in prison. Then I took myself to St. James,
the brother of Christ, who comes before St. Philip, but again in the
wrong. I tried St. Anthony, who, if the tale told at Padua be true,
worked thirteen miracles a day. He worked none for me. Thus I
passed from one to the other, and by degrees I got to hope in the
protection of the saints just as one hopes for anything one desires,
but does not expect to come to pass; and I finished up by hoping only
in my Saint Bar, and in the strength of my arms. Nevertheless the
promise of the Jesuit came to pass, since I escaped from The Leads on
All Hallows Day; and it is certain that if I had a patron-saint, he
must be looked for in their number since they are all honoured on
that day.
A fortnight after Easter I was delivered from my troublesome
Israelite, and the poor devil instead of being sent back to his home
had to spend two years in The Fours, and on his gaining his freedom
he went and set up in Trieste, where he ended his days.
No sooner was I again alone than I set zealously about my work. I
had to make haste for fear of some new visitor, who, like the Jew,
might insist on the cell being swept. I began by drawing back my
bed, and after lighting my lamp I lay down on my belly, my pike in my
hand, with a napkin close by in which to gather the fragments of
board as I scooped them out. My task was to destroy the board by
dint of driving into it the point of my tool. At first the pieces I
got away were not much larger than grains of wheat, but they soon
increased in size.
The board was made of deal, and was sixteen inches broad. I began to
pierce it at its juncture with another board, and as there were no
nails or clamps my work was simple. After six hours' toil I tied up
the napkin, and put it on one side to empty it the following day
behind the pile of papers in the garret. The fragments were four or
five times larger in bulk than the hole from whence they came. I put
back my bed in its place, and on emptying the napkin the next morning
I took care so to dispose the fragments that they should not be seen.
Having broken through the first board, which I found to be two inches
thick, I was stopped by a second which I judged to be as thick as the
first. Tormented by the fear of new visitors I redoubled my efforts,
and in three weeks I had pierced the three boards of which the floor
was composed; and then I thought that all was lost, for I found I had
to pierce a bed of small pieces of marble known at Venice as terrazzo
marmorin. This forms the usual floor of venetian houses of all
kinds, except the cottages, for even the high nobility prefer the
terrazzo to the finest boarded floor. I was thunderstruck to find
that my bar made no impression on this composition; but,
nevertheless, I was not altogether discouraged and cast down. I
remembered Hannibal, who, according to Livy, opened up a passage
through the Alps by breaking the rocks with axes and other
instruments, having previously softened them with vinegar. I thought
that Hannibal had succeeded not by aceto, but aceta, which in the
Latin of Padua might well be the same as ascia; and who can guarantee
the text to be free from the blunders of the copyist? All the same,
I poured into the hole a bottle of strong vinegar I had by me, and in
the morning, either because of the vinegar or because I, refreshed
and rested, put more strength and patience into the work, I saw that
I should overcome this new difficulty; for I had not to break the
pieces of marble, but only to pulverize with the end of my bar the
cement which kept them together. I soon perceived that the greatest
difficulty was on the surface, and in four days the whole mosaic was
destroyed without the point of my pike being at all damaged.
Below the pavement I found another plank, but I had expected as much.
I concluded that this would be the last; that is the first to be put
down when the rooms below were being ceiled. I pierced it with some
difficulty, as, the hole being ten inches deep, it had become
troublesome to work the pike. A thousand times I commended myself to
the mercy of God. Those Free-thinkers who say that praying is no
good do not know what they are talking about; for I know by
experience that, having prayed to God, I always felt myself grow
stronger, which fact amply proves the usefulness of prayer, whether
the renewal of strength come straight from God, or whether it comes
only from the trust one has in Him.
On the 25th of June, on which day the Republic celebrates the
wonderful appearance of St. Mark under the form of a winged lion in
the ducal church, about three o'clock in the afternoon, as I was
labouring on my belly at the hole, stark naked, covered with sweat,
my lamp beside me. I heard with mortal fear the shriek of a bolt and
the noise of the door of the first passage. It was a fearful moment!
I blew out my lamp, and leaving my bar in the hole I threw into it
the napkin with the shavings it contained, and as swift as lightning
I replaced my bed as best I could, and threw myself on it just as the
door of my cell opened. If Lawrence had come in two seconds sooner
he would have caught me. He was about to walk over me, but crying
out dolefully I stopped him, and he fell back, saying,
"Truly, sir, I pity you, for the air here is as hot as a furnace.
Get up, and thank God for giving you such good company."
"Come in, my lord, come in," said he to the poor wretch who followed
him. Then, without heeding my nakedness, the fellow made the noble
gentleman enter, and he seeing me to be naked, sought to avoid me
while I vainly tried to find my shirt.
The new-comer thought he was in hell, and cried out,
"Where am I? My God! where have I been put? What heat! What a
stench! With whom am I?"
Lawrence made him go out, and asked me to put on my shirt to go into
the garret for a moment. Addressing himself to the new prisoner, he
said that, having to get a bed and other necessaries, he would leave
us in the garret till he came back, and that, in the mean time, the
cell would be freed from the bad smell, which was only oil. What a
start it gave me as I heard him utter the word "oil." In my hurry I
had forgotten to snuff the wick after blowing it out. As Lawrence
asked me no questions about it, I concluded that he knew all, and the
accursed Jew must have betrayed me. I thought myself lucky that he
was not able to tell him any more.
From that time the repulsion which I had felt for Lawrence
disappeared.
After putting on my shirt and dressing-gown, I went out and found my
new companion engaged in writing a list of what he wanted the gaoler
to get him. As soon as he saw me, he exclaimed, "Ah! it's Casanova."
I, too, recognised him as the Abbe and Count Fenarolo, a man of
fifty, amiable, rich, and a favourite in society. He embraced me,
and when I told him that I should have expected to see anybody in
that place rather than him, he could not keep back his tears, which
made me weep also.
When we were alone I told him that, as soon as his bed came, I should
offer him the recess, begging him at the same time not to accept it.
I asked him, also, not to ask to have the cell swept, saying that I
would tell him the reason another time. He promised to keep all
secrecy in the matter, and said he thought himself fortunate to be
placed with me. He said that as no one knew why I was imprisoned,
everyone was guessing at it. Some said that I was the heresiarch of
a new sect; others that Madame Memmo had persuaded the Inquisitors
that I had made her sons Atheists, and others that Antony Condulmer,
the State Inquisitor, had me imprisoned as a disturber of the peace,
because I hissed Abbe Chiari's plays, and had formed a design to go
to Padua for the express purpose of killing him.
All these accusations had a certain foundation in fact which gave
them an air of truth, but in reality they were all wholly false. I
cared too little for religion to trouble myself to found a new one.
The sons of Madame Memmo were full of wit, and more likely to seduce
than to be seduced; and Master Condulmer would have had too much on
his hands if he had imprisoned all those who hissed the Abbe Chiari;
and as for this abbe, once a Jesuit, I had forgiven him, as the
famous Father Origo, himself formerly a Jesuit, had taught me to take
my revenge by praising him everywhere, which incited the malicious to
vent their satire on the abbe; and thus I was avenged without any
trouble to myself.
In the evening they brought a good bed, fine linen, perfumes, an
excellent supper, and choice wines. The abbe ate nothing, but I
supped for two. When Lawrence had wished us good night and had shut
us up till the next day, I got out my lamp, which I found to be
empty, the napkin having sucked up all the oil. This made me laugh,
for as the napkin might very well have caught and set the room on
fire, the idea of the confusion which would have ensued excited my
hilarity. I imparted the cause of my mirth to my companion, who
laughed himself, and then, lighting the lamp, we spent the night in
pleasant talk. The history of his imprisonment was as follows:
"Yesterday, at three o'clock in the afternoon, Madame Alessandria,
Count Martinengo, and myself, got into a gondola. We went to Padua
to see the opera, intending to return to Venice afterwards. In the
second act my evil genius led me to the gaming-table, where I
unfortunately saw Count Rosenberg, the Austrian ambassador, without
his mask, and about ten paces from him was Madame Ruzzini, whose
husband is going to Vienna to represent the Republic. I greeted them
both, and was just going away, when the ambassador called out to me,
so as to be heard by everyone, 'You are very fortunate in being able
to pay your court to so sweet a lady. At present the personage I
represent makes the fairest land in the world no better for me than a
galley. Tell the lady, I beseech you, that the laws which now
prevent me speaking to her will be without force at Venice, where I
shall go next year, and then I shall declare war against her.'
Madame Ruzzini, who saw that she was being spoken of, asked me what
the count had said, and I told her, word for word. 'Tell him,' said
she, 'that I accept his declaration of war, and that we shall see who
will wage it best.' I did not think I had committed a crime in
reporting her reply, which was after all a mere compliment. After
the opera we set out, and got here at midnight. I was going to sleep
when a messenger brought me a note ordering me to go to the Bussola
at one o'clock, Signor Bussinello, Secretary of the Council of Ten,
having something to say to me. Astonished at such an order--always
of bad omen, and vexed at being obliged to obey, I went at the time
appointed, and my lord secretary, without giving me a word, ordered
me to be taken here."
Certainly no fault could be less criminal than that which Count
Fenarolo had committed, but one can break certain laws in all
innocence without being any the less punishable. I congratulated him
on knowing what his crime had been, and told him that he would be set
free in a week, and would be requested to spend six months in the
Bressian. "I can't think," said he, "that they will leave me here
for a week." I determined to keep him good company, and to soften
the bitterness of his imprisonment, and so well did I sympathize with
his position that I forgot all about my own.
The next morning at day-break, Lawrence brought coffee and a basket
filled with all the requisites for a good dinner. The abbe was
astonished, for he could not conceive how anyone could eat at such an
early hour. They let us walk for an hour in the garret and then shut
us up again, and we saw no more of them throughout the day. The
fleas which tormented us made the abbe ask why I did not have the
cell swept out. I could not let him think that dirt and untidiness
was agreeable to me, or that my skin was any harder than his own, so
I told him the whole story, and shewed him what I had done. He was
vexed at having as it were forced me to make him my confidant, but he
encouraged me to go on, and if possible to finish what I was about
that day, as he said he would help me to descend and then would draw
up the rope, not wishing to complicate his own difficulties by an
escape. I shewed him the model of a contrivance by means of which I
could certainly get possession of the sheets which were to be my
rope; it was a short stick attached by one end to a long piece of
thread. By this stick I intended to attach my rope to the bed, and
as the thread hung down to the floor of the room below, as soon as I
got there I should pull the thread and the rope would fall down. He
tried it, and congratulated me on my invention, as this was a
necessary part of my scheme, as otherwise the rope hanging down would
have immediately discovered me. My noble companion was convinced
that I ought to stop my work, for I might be surprised, having to do
several days' work before finishing the hole which would cost
Lawrence his life. Should the thought of gaining my liberty at the
expense of a fellow-creature have made me desist? I should have
still persisted if my escape had meant death to the whole body of
Venetian guards, and even to the Inquisitors themselves. Can the
love of country, all holy though it be, prevail in the heart of the
man whose country is oppressing him?
My good humour did not prevent my companion having some bad quarters
of an hour. He was in love with Madame Alessandria, who had been a
singer, and was either the mistress or the wife of his friend
Martinengo; and he should have deemed himself happy, but the happier
a lover is, so much the more his unhappiness when he is snatched from
the beloved object. He sighed, wept, and declared that he loved a
woman in whom all the noble virtues were contained. I compassionated
him, and took care not to comfort him by saying that love is a mere
trifle--a cold piece of comfort given to lovers by fools, and,
moreover, it is not true that love is a mere trifle.
The week I had mentioned as the probable term of his imprisonment
passed quickly enough, and I lost my friend, but did not waste my
time by mourning for him; he was set free, and I was content. I did
not beg him to be discreet, for the least doubt on that score would
have wounded his noble spirit. During the week he was with me he
only ate soup and fruit, taking a little Canary wine. It was I who
made good cheer in his stead and greatly to his delight. Before he
left we swore eternal friendship.
The next day Lawrence gave me an account of my money, and on finding
that I had a balance of four sequins I gave them to him, telling him
it was a present from me to his wife. I did not tell him that it was
for the rent of my lamp, but he was free to think so if he chose.
Again betaking myself to my work, and toiling without cessation, on
the 23rd of August I saw it finished. This delay was caused by an
inevitable accident. As I was hollowing out the last plank, I put my
eye to a little hole, through which I ought to have seen the hall of
the Inquisitors-in fact, I did see it, but I saw also at one side of
the hole a surface about eight inches thick. It was, as I had feared
all the time it would be, one of the beams which kept up the ceiling.
I was thus compelled to enlarge my hole on the other side, for the
beam would have made it so narrow that a man of my size could never
have got through. I increased the hole, therefore, by a fourth,
working--between fear and hope, for it was possible that the space
between two of the beams would not be large enough. After I had
finished, a second little hole assured me that God had blessed my
labour. I then carefully stopped up the two small holes to prevent
anything falling down into the hall, and also lest a ray from my lamp
should be perceived, for this would have discovered all and ruined
me.
I fixed my escape for the eve of St. Augustine's Day, because I knew
that the Grand Council assembled on that feast, and there would
consequently be nobody near the room through which I must pass in
getting away. This would have been on the twenty-seventh of the
month, but a misfortune happened to me on the twenty-fifth which
makes me still shudder when I think of it, notwithstanding the years
which have passed since then.
Precisely at noon I heard the noise of bolts, and I thought I should
die; for a violent beating of the heart made me imagine my last hour
was come. I fell into my easy chair, and waited. Lawrence came into
the garret and put his head at the grating, and said, "I give you
joy, sir, for the good news I am bringing you." At first, not being
able to think of any other news which could be good to me, I fancied
I had been set at liberty, and I trembled, for I knew that the
discovery of the hole I had made would have caused my pardon to be
recalled.
Lawrence came in and told me to follow him.
"Wait till I put on my clothes."
"It's of no consequence, as you only have to walk from this
abominable cell to another, well lighted and quite fresh, with two
windows whence you can see half Venice, and you can stand upright
too." -----I could bear no more, I felt that I was fainting.
"Give me the vinegar," said I, "and go and tell the secretary that I
thank the Court for this favour, and entreat it to leave me where I
am."
"You make me laugh, sir. Have you gone mad? They would take you
from hell to put you in heaven, and you would refuse to stir? Come,
come, the Court must be obeyed, pray rise, sir. I will give you my
arm, and will have your clothes and your books brought for you."
Seeing that resistance was of no avail, I got up, and was much
comforted at hearing him give orders for my arm-chair to be brought,
for my pike was to follow me, and with it hope. I should have much
liked to have been able to take the hole--the object of so much
wasted trouble and hope--with me. I may say with truth that, as I
came forth from that horrible and doleful place, my spirit remained
there.
Leaning on Lawrence's shoulder, while he, thinking to cheer me up,
cracked his foolish jokes, I passed through two narrow passages, and
going down three steps I found myself in a well-lighted hall, at the
end of which, on the left-hand side, was a door leading into another
passage two feet broad by about twelve long, and in the corner was my
new cell. It had a barred window which was opposite to two windows,
also barred, which lighted the passage, and thus one had a fine view
as far as Lido. At that trying moment I did not care much for the
view; but later on I found that a sweet and pleasant wind came
through the window when it was opened, and tempered the insufferable
heat; and this was a true blessing for the poor wretch who had to
breathe the sultry prison air, especially in the hot season.
As soon as I got into my new cell Lawrence had my arm-chair brought
in, and went away, saying that he would have the remainder of my
effects brought to me. I sat on my arm-chair as motionless as a
statue, waiting for the storm, but not fearing it. What overwhelmed
me was the distressing idea that all my pains and contrivances were
of no use, nevertheless I felt neither sorry nor repentant for what I
had done, and I made myself abstain from thinking of what was going
to happen, and thus kept myself calm.
Lifting up my soul to God I could not help thinking that this
misfortune was a Divine punishment for neglecting to escape when all
was ready. Nevertheless, though I could have escaped three days
sooner, I thought my punishment too severe, all the more as I had put
off my escape from motives of prudence, which seemed to me worthy of
reward, for if I had only consulted my own impatience to be gone I
should have risked everything. To controvert the reasons which made
me postpone my flight to the 27th of August, a special revelation
would have been requisite; and though I had read "Mary of Agrada" I
was not mad enough for that.
CHAPTER XXVIII
The Subterranean Prisons Known as the Wells--Lawrence's Vengeance--
I Enter into a Correspondence With Another Prisoner, Father Balbi:
His Character--I Plan With Him a Means of Escape--How I Contrived to
Let Him Have My Pike I Am Given a Scoundrelly Companion: His
Portrait.
I was thus anxious and despairing when two of the guards brought me
my bed. They went back to fetch the rest of my belongings, and for
two hours I saw no one, although the door of my cell remained open.
This unnatural delay engendered many thoughts, but I could not fix
exactly on the reason of it. I only knew that I had everything to
fear, and this knowledge made me brace up my mind so that I should be
able to meet calmly all possible misfortunes.
Besides The Leads and The Fours the State Inquisitors also possess
certain horrible subterranean cells beneath the ducal palace, where
are sent men whom they do not wish to put to death, though they be
thought worthy of it.
These subterranean prisons are precisely like tombs, but they call
them "wells," because they always contain two feet of water, which
penetrates from the sea by the same grating by which light is given,
this grating being only a square foot in size. If the unfortunates
condemned to live in these sewers do not wish to take a bath of
filthy water, they have to remain all day seated on a trestle, which
serves them both for bed and cupboard. In the morning they are given
a pitcher of water, some thin soup, and a ration of army bread which
they have to eat immediately, or it becomes the prey of the enormous
water rats who swarm in those dreadful abodes. Usually the wretches
condemned to The Wells are imprisoned there for life, and there have
been prisoners who have attained a great age. A villain who died
whilst I was under the Leads had passed thirty-seven years in The
Wells, and he was forty-four when sentenced. Knowing that he
deserved death, it is possible that he took his imprisonment as a
favour, for there are men who fear nought save death. His name was
Beguelin. A Frenchman by birth, he had served in the Venetian army
during the last war against the Turks in 1716, under the command of
Field-Marshal the Count of Schulenbourg, who made the Grand Vizier
raise the siege of Corfu. This Beguelin was the marshal's spy. He
disguised himself as a Turk, and penetrated into the Mussulman
quarters, but at the same time he was also in the service of the
Grand Vizier, and being detected in this course he certainly had
reason to be thankful for being allowed to die in The Wells. The
rest of his life must have been divided between weariness and hunger,
but no doubt he often said, 'Dum vita superest, bene est'.
I have seen at Spiegelberg, in Moravia, prisons fearful in another
way. There mercy sends the prisoners under sentence of death, and
not one of them ever survives a year of imprisonment. What mercy!
During the two mortal hours of suspense, full of sombre thoughts and
the most melancholy ideas, I could not help fancying that I was going
to be plunged in one of these horrible dens, where the wretched
inhabitants feed on idle hopes or become the prey of panic fears.
The Tribunal might well send him to hell who had endeavoured to
escape from purgatory.
At last I heard hurried steps, and I soon saw Lawrence standing
before me, transformed with rage, foaming at the mouth, and
blaspheming God and His saints. He began by ordering me to give him
the hatchet and the tools I had used to pierce the floor, and to tell
him from which of the guards I had got the tools. Without moving,
and quite calmly, I told him that I did not know what he was talking
about. At this reply he gave orders that I should be searched, but
rising with a determined air I shook my fist at the knaves, and
having taken off my clothes I said to them, "Do your duty, but let no
one touch me."
They searched my mattress, turned my bed inside out, felt the
cushions of my arm-chair, and found nothing.
"You won't tell me, then, where are the instruments with which you
made the hole. It's of no matter, as we shall find a way to make you
speak."
"If it be true that I have made a hole at all, I shall say that you
gave me the tools, and that I have returned them to you."
At this threat, which made his followers smile with glee, probably
because he had been abusing them, he stamped his feet, tore his hair,
and went out like one possessed. The guards returned and brought me
all my properties, the whetstone and lamp excepted. After locking up
my cell he shut the two windows which gave me a little air. I thus
found myself confined in a narrow space without the possibility of
receiving the least breath of air from any quarter. Nevertheless, my
situation did not disturb me to any great extent, as I must confess I
thought I had got off cheaply. In spite of his training, Lawrence
had not thought of turning the armchair over; and thus, finding
myself still possessor of the iron bar, I thanked Providence, and
thought myself still at liberty to regard the bar as means by which,
sooner or later, I should make my escape.
I passed a sleepless night, as much from the heat as the change in my
prospects. At day-break Lawrence came and brought some insufferable
wine, and some water I should not have cared to drink. All the rest
was of a piece; dry salad, putrid meat, and bread harder than English
biscuit. He cleaned nothing, and when I asked him to open the
windows he seemed not to hear me; but a guard armed with an iron bar
began to sound all over my room, against the wall, on the floor, and
above all under my bed. I looked on with an unmoved expression, but
it did not escape my notice that the guard did not sound the ceiling.
"That way," said I to myself, "will lead me out of this place of
torments." But for any such project to succeed I should have to
depend purely on chance, for all my operations would leave visible
traces. The cell was quite new, and the least scratch would have
attracted the notice of my keepers.
I passed a terrible day, for the heat was like that of a furnace, and
I was quite unable to make any use of the food with which I had been
provided. The perspiration and the lack of nourishment made me so
weak that I could neither walk nor read. Next day my dinner was the
same; the horrible smell of the veal the rascal brought me made me
draw back from it instantly. "Have you received orders," said I, "to
kill me with hunger and heat?"
He locked the door, and went out without a word. On the third day I
was treated in the same manner. I asked for a pencil and paper to
write to the secretary. Still no answer.
In despair, I eat my soup, and then soaking my bread in a little
Cyprus wine I resolved to get strength to avenge myself on Lawrence
by plunging my pike into his throat. My rage told me that I had no
other course, but I grew calmer in the night, and in the morning,
when the scoundrel appeared, I contented myself with saying that I
would kill him as soon as I was at liberty. He only laughed at my
threat, and again went out without opening his lips.
I began to think that he was acting under orders from the secretary,
to whom he must have told all. I knew not what to do. I strove
between patience and despair, and felt as if I were dying for want of
food. At last on the eighth day, with rage in my heart and in a
voice of thunder, I bade him, under the name of "hangman," and in the
presence of the archers, give me an account of my money. He answered
drily that I should have it the next day. Then as he was about to go
I took my bucket, and made as if I would go and empty it in the
passage. Foreseeing my design, he told a guard to take it, and
during the disgusting operation opened a window, which he shut as
soon as the affair was done, so that in spite of my remonstrances I
was left in the plague-stricken atmosphere. I determined to speak to
him still worse the next day; but as soon as he appeared my anger
cooled, for before giving me the account of my money he presented me
with a basket of lemons which M. de Bragadin had sent me, also a
large bottle of water, which seemed drinkable, and a nice roasted
fowl; and, besides this, one of the guards opened the two windows.
When he gave me the account I only looked at the sum total, and I
told him to give the balance to his wife with the exception of a
sequin, which I told him to give the guards who were with him. I
thus made friends with these fellows, who thanked me heartily.
Lawrence, who remained alone with me on purpose, spoke as follows:
"You have already told me, sir, that I myself furnished you with the
tools to make that enormous hole, and I will ask no more about it;
but would you kindly tell me where you got the materials to make a
lamp?"
"From you."
"Well, for the moment, sir, I'm dashed, for I did not think that wit
meant impudence."
"I am not telling you any lies. You it was who with your own hands
gave me all the requisites--oil, flint, and matches; the rest I had
by me."
"You are right; but can you shew me as simply that I gave you the
tools to make that hole?"
"Certainly, for you are the only person who has given me anything."
"Lord have mercy upon me! what do I hear? Tell me, then, how I gave
you a hatchet?"
"I will tell you the whole story and I will speak the truth, but only
in the presence of the secretary."
"I don't wish to know any more, and I believe everything you say. I
only ask you to say nothing about it, as I am a poor man with a
family to provide for." He went out with his head between his hands.
I congratulated myself heartily on having found a way to make the
rascal afraid of me; he thought that I knew enough to hang him. I
saw that his own interest would keep him from saying anything to his
superiors about the matter.
I had told Lawrence to bring me the works of Maffei, but the expense
displeased him though he did not dare to say so. He asked me what I
could want with books with so many to my hand.
"I have read them all," I said, "and want some fresh ones."
"I will get someone who is here to lend you his books, if you will
lend yours in return; thus you will save your money."
"Perhaps the books are romances, for which I do not care."
"They are scientific works; and if you think yours is the only long
head here, you are very much mistaken."
"Very good, we shall see. I will lend this book to the 'long head,'
and do you bring me one from him."
I had given him Petau's Rationarium, and in four minutes he brought
me the first volume of Wolff's works. Well pleased with it I told
him, much to his delight, that I would do without Maffei.
Less pleased with the learned reading than at the opportunity to
begin a correspondence with someone who might help me in my plan of
escape (which I had already sketched out in my head), I opened the
book as soon as Lawrence was gone, and was overjoyed to find on one
of the leaves the maxim of Seneca, 'Calamitosus est animus futuri
anxius', paraphrased in six elegant verses. I made another six on
the spot, and this is the way in which I contrived to write them, I
had let the nail of my little finger grow long to serve as an
earpick; I out it to a point, and made a pen of it. I had no ink,
and I was going to prick myself and write in my blood, when I
bethought me that the juice of some mulberries I had by me would be
an excellent substitute for ink. Besides the six verses I wrote out
a list of my books, and put it in the back of the same book. It must
be understood that Italian books are generally bound in parchment,
and in such a way that when the book is opened the back becomes a
kind of pocket. On the title page I wrote, 'latet'. I was anxious
to get an answer, so the next day I told Lawrence that I had read the
book and wanted another; and in a few minutes the second volume was
in my hands.
As soon as I was alone I opened the book, and found a loose leaf with
the following communication in Latin:
"Both of us are in the same prison, and to both of us it must be
pleasant to find how the ignorance of our gaoler procures us a
privilege before unknown to such a place. I, Marin Balbi, who write
to you, am a Venetian of high birth, and a regular cleric, and my
companion is Count Andre Asquin, of Udine, the capital of Friuli. He
begs me to inform you that all the books in his possession, of which
you will find a list at the back of this volume, are at your service;
but we warn you that we must use all possible care to prevent our
correspondence being discovered by Lawrence."
In our position there was nothing wonderful in our both pitching on
the idea of sending each other the catalogues of our small libraries,
or in our choosing the same hiding-place--the back of the books; all
this was plain common sense; but the advice to be careful contained
on the loose leaf struck me with some astonishment. It seemed next
to impossible that Lawrence should leave the book unopened, but if he
had opened it he would have seen the leaf, and not knowing how to
read he would have kept it in his pocket till he could get someone to
tell him the contents, and thus all would have been strangled at its
birth. This made me think that my correspondent was an arrant block-
head.
After reading through the list, I wrote who I was, how I had been
arrested, my ignorance as to what crime I had committed, and my hope
of soon becoming free. Balbi then wrote me a letter of sixteen
pages, in which he gave me the history of all his misfortunes. He
had been four years in prison, and the reason was that he had enjoyed
the good graces of three girls, of whom he had three children, all of
whom he baptized under his own name.
The first time his superior had let him off with an admonition, the
second time he was threatened with punishment, and on the third and
last occasion he was imprisoned. The father-superior of his convent
brought him his dinner every day. He told me in his letter that both
the superior and the Tribunal were tyrants, since they had no lawful
authority over his conscience: that being sure that the three
children were his, he thought himself constrained as a man of honour
not to deprive them of the advantage of bearing his name. He
finished by telling me that he had found himself obliged to recognize
his children to prevent slander attributing them to others, which
would have injured the reputation of the three honest girls who bore
them; and besides he could not stifle the voice of nature, which
spoke so well on behalf of these little ones. His last words were,
"There is no danger of the superior falling into the same fault, as
he confines his attention to the boys."
This letter made me know my man. Eccentric, sensual, a bad logician,
vicious, a fool, indiscreet, and ungrateful, all this appeared in his
letter, for after telling me that he should be badly off without
Count Asquin who was seventy years old, and had books and money, he
devoted two pages to abusing him, telling me of his faults and
follies. In society I should have had nothing more to do with a man
of his character, but under the Leads I was obliged to put everything
to some use. I found in the back of the book a pencil, pens, and
paper, and I was thus enabled to write at my ease.
He told me also the history of the prisoners who were under the
Leads, and of those who had been there since his imprisonment. He
said that the guard who secretly brought him whatever he wanted was
called Nicolas, he also told me the names of the prisoners, and what
he knew about them, and to convince me he gave me the history of the
hole I had made. It seems I had been taken from my cell to make room
for the patrician Priuli, and that Lawrence had taken two hours to
repair the damage I had done, and that he had imparted the secret to
the carpenter, the blacksmith, and all the guards under pain of death
if they revealed it. "In another day," the guard had said, "Casanova
would have escaped, and Lawrence would have swung, for though he
pretended great astonishment when he saw the hole, there can be no
doubt that he and no other provided the tools." "Nicolas has told
me," added my correspondent, "that M. de Bragadin has promised him a
thousand sequins if he will aid you to make your escape but that
Lawrence, who knows of it, hopes to get the money without risking his
neck, his plan being to obtain your liberty by means of the influence
of his wife with M. Diedo. None of the guards dare to speak of what
happened for fear Lawrence might get himself out of the difficulty,
and take his revenge by having them dismissed." He begged me to tell
him all the details, and how I got the tools, and to count upon his
keeping the secret.
I had no doubts as to his curiosity, but many as to his discretion,
and this very request shewed him to be the most indiscreet of men.
Nevertheless, I concluded that I must make use of him, for he seemed
to me the kind of man to assist me in my escape. I began to write an
answer to him, but a sudden suspicion made me keep back what I had
written. I fancied that the correspondence might be a mere artifice
of Lawrence's to find out who had given me the tools, and what I had
done with them. To satisfy him without compromising myself I told
him that I had made the hole with a strong knife in my possession,
which I had placed on the window-ledge in the passage. In less than
three days this false confidence of mine made me feel secure, as
Lawrence did not go to the window, as he would certainly have done if
the letter had been intercepted. Furthermore, Father Balbi told me
that he could understand how I might have a knife, as Lawrence had
told him that I had not been searched previous to my imprisonment.
Lawrence himself had received no orders to search me, and this
circumstance might have stood him in good stead if I had succeeded in
escaping, as all prisoners handed over to him by the captain of the
guard were supposed to have been searched already. On the other
hand, Messer-Grande might have said that, having seen me get out of
my bed, he was sure that I had no weapons about me, and thus both of
them would have got out of trouble. The monk ended by begging me to
send him my knife by Nicolas, on whom I might rely.
The monk's thoughtlessness seemed to me almost incredible. I wrote
and told him that I was not at all inclined to put my trust in
Nicolas, and that my secret was one not to be imparted in writing.
However, I was amused by his letters. In one of them he told me why
Count Asquin was kept under the Leads, in spite of his helplessness,
for he was enormously fat, and as he had a broken leg which had been
badly set he could hardly put one foot before another. It seems that
the count, not being a very wealthy man, followed the profession of
a barrister at Udine, and in that capacity defended the country-folk
against the nobility, who wished to deprive the peasants of their
vote in the assembly of the province. The claims of the farmers
disturbed the public peace, and by way of bringing them to reason the
nobles had recourse to the State Inquisitors, who ordered the count-
barrister to abandon his clients. The count replied that the
municipal law authorized him to defend the constitution, and would
not give in; whereon the Inquisitors arrested him, law or no law, and
for the last five years he had breathed the invigorating air of The
Leads. Like myself he had fifty sous a day, but he could do what he
liked with the money. The monk, who was always penniless, told me a
good deal to the disadvantage of the count, whom he represented as
very miserly. He informed me that in the cell on the other side of
the hall there were two gentlemen of the "Seven Townships," who were
likewise imprisoned for disobedience, but one of them had become mad,
and was in chains; in another cell, he said, there were two lawyers.
My suspicions quieted, I reasoned as follows:
I wish to regain my liberty at all hazards. My pike is an admirable
instrument, but I can make no use of it as my cell is sounded all
over (except the ceiling) every day. If I would escape, it is by the
ceiling, therefore, that way I must go, but to do that I must make a
hole through it, and that I cannot do from my side, for it would not
be the work of a day. I must have someone to help me; and not having
much choice I had to pick out the monk. He was thirty-eight, and
though not rich in common sense I judged that the love of liberty--
the first need of man--would give him sufficient courage to carry out
any orders I might give. I must begin by telling him my plan in its
entirety, and then I shall have to find a way to give him the bar. I
had, then, two difficult problems before me.
My first step was to ask him if he wished to be free, and if he were
disposed to hazard all in attempting his escape in my company. He
replied that his mate and he would do anything to break their chains,
but, added he, "it is of no use to break one's head against a stone
wall." He filled four pages with the impossibilities which presented
themselves to his feeble intellect, for the fellow saw no chance of
success on any quarter. I replied that I did not trouble myself with
general difficulties, and that in forming my plan I had only thought
of special difficulties, which I would find means to overcome, and I
finished by giving him my word of honour to set him free, if he would
promise to carry out exactly whatever orders I might give.
He gave me his promise to do so. I told him that I had a pike twenty
inches long, and with this tool he must pierce the ceiling of his
cell next the wall which separated us, and he would then be above my
head; his next step would be to make a hole in the ceiling of my cell
and aid me to escape by it. "Here your task will end and mine will
begin, and I will undertake to set both you and Count Asquin at
liberty."
He answered that when I had got out of my cell I should be still in
prison, and our position would be the same as now, as we should only
be in the garrets which were secured by three strong doors.
"I know that, reverend father," I replied, "but we are not going to
escape by the doors. My plan is complete, and I will guarantee its
success. All I ask of you is to carry out my directions, and to make
no difficulties. Do you busy yourself to find out some way of
getting my bar without the knowledge of the gaoler. In the
meanwhile, make him get you about forty pictures of saints, large
enough to cover all the walls of your cell. Lawrence will suspect
nothing, and they will do to conceal the opening you are to make in
the ceiling. To do this will be the work of some days, and of
mornings Lawrence will not see what you have done the day before, as
you will have covered it up with one of the pictures. If you ask me
why I do not undertake the work myself, I can only say that the
gaoler suspects me, and the objection will doubtless seem to you a
weighty one."
Although I had told him to think of a plan to get hold of the pike, I
thought of nothing else myself, and had a happy thought which I
hastened to put into execution. I told Lawrence to buy me a folio
Bible, which had been published recently; it was the Vulgate with the
Septuagint. I hoped to be able to put the pike in the back of the
binding of this large volume, and thus to convey it to the monk, but
when I saw the book I found the tool to be two inches longer.
My correspondent had written to tell me that his cell was covered
with pictures, and I had communicated him my idea about the Bible and
the difficulty presented by its want of length. Happy at being able
to display his genius, he rallied me on the poverty of my
imagination, telling me that I had only to send him the pike wrapped
up in my fox-skin cloak.
"Lawrence," said he, "had often talked about your cloak, and Count
Asquin would arouse no suspicion by asking to see it in order to buy
one of the same kind. All you have to do is to send it folded up.
Lawrence would never dream of unfolding it."
I, on the other hand, was sure that he would. In the first place,
because a cloak folded up is more troublesome to carry than when it
is unfolded. However, not to rebuff him and at the same time to shew
him that I was the wiser, I wrote that he had only to send for the
cloak. The next day Lawrence asked me for it, and I gave it folded
up, but without the bar, and in a quarter of an hour he brought it
back to me, saying that the gentleman had admired it very much.
The monk wrote me a doleful letter, in which he confessed he had
given me a piece of bad advice, adding that I was wrong to follow it.
According to him the pike was lost, as Lawrence had brought in the
cloak all unfolded. After this, all hope was gone. I undeceived
him, and begged him for the future to be a little more sparing of his
advice. It was necessary to bring the matter to a head, and I
determined to send him the bar under cover of my Bible, taking
measures to prevent the gaoler from seeing the ends of the great
volume. My scheme was as follows:
I told Lawrence that I wanted to celebrate St. Michael's Day with a
macaroni cheese; but wishing to shew my gratitude to the person who
had kindly lent me his books, I should like to make him a large dish
of it, and to prepare it with my own hands. Lawrence told me (as had
been arranged between the monk and myself) that the gentleman in
question wished to read the large book which cost three sequins.
"Very good," said I, "I will send it him with the macaroni; but get
me the largest dish you have, as I wish to do the thing on a grand
scale."
He promised to do what I asked him. I wrapped up the pike in paper
and put it in the back of the Bible, taking care that it projected an
equal distance at each end. Now, if I placed on the Bible a great
dish of macaroni full of melted butter I was quite sure that Lawrence
would not examine the ends. All his gaze would be concentrated upon
the plate, to avoid spilling the grease on the book. I told Father
Balbi of my plan, charging him to take care how he took the dish, and
above all to take dish and Bible together, and not one by one.
On the day appointed Lawrence came earlier than usual, carrying a
saucepan full of boiling macaroni, and all the necessary ingredients
for seasoning the dish. I melted a quantity of butter, and after
putting the macaroni into the dish I poured the butter over it till
it was full to the brim. The dish was a huge one, and was much
larger than the book on which I placed it. I did all this at the
door of my cell, Lawrence being outside.
When all was ready I carefully took up the Bible and dish, placing
the back of the book next to the bearer, and told Lawrence to stretch
out his arms and take it, to be careful not to spill the grease over
the book, and to carry the whole to its destination immediately. As
I gave him this weighty load I kept my eyes fixed on his, and I saw
to my joy that he did not take his gaze off the butter, which he was
afraid of spilling. He said it would be better to take the dish
first, and then to come back for the book; but I told him that this
would spoil the present, and that both must go together. He then
complained that I had put in too much butter, and said, jokingly,
that if it were spilt he would not be responsible for the loss.
As soon as I saw the Bible in the lout's arms I was certain of
success, as he could not see the ends of the pike without twisting
his head, and I saw no reason why he should divert his gaze from the
plate, which he had enough to do to carry evenly. I followed him
with my eyes till he disappeared into the ante-chamber of the monk's
cell, and he, blowing his nose three times, gave me the pre-arranged
signal that all was right, which was confirmed by the appearance of
Lawrence in a few moments afterwards.
Father Balbi lost no time in setting about the work, and in eight
days he succeeded in making a large enough opening in the ceiling,
which he covered with a picture pasted to the ceiling with
breadcrumbs. On the 8th of October he wrote to say that he had
passed the whole night in working at the partition wall, and had only
succeeded in loosening one brick. He told me the difficulty of
separating the bricks joined to one another by a strong cement was
enormous, but he promised to persevere, "though," he said, "we shall
only make our position worse than it is now." I told him that I was
certain of success; that he must believe in me and persevere.
Alas! I was certain of nothing, but I had to speak thus or to give
up all. I was fain to escape from this hell on earth, where I was
imprisoned by a most detestable tyranny, and I thought only of
forwarding this end, with the resolve to succeed, or at all events
not to stop before I came to a difficulty which was insurmountable.
I had read in the great book of experience that in important schemes
action is the grand requisite, and that the rest must be left to
fortune. If I had entrusted Father Balbi with these deep mysteries
of moral philosophy he would have pronounced me a madman.
His work was only toilsome on the first night, for the more he worked
the easier it became, and when he had finished he found he had taken
out thirty-six bricks.
On the 16th of October, as I was engaged in translating an ode of
Horace, I heard a trampling noise above my head, and then three light
blows were struck. This was the signal agreed upon to assure us that
our calculations were correct. He worked till the evening, and the
next day he wrote that if the roof of my cell was only two boards
thick his work would be finished that day. He assured me that he was
carefully making the hole round as I had charged him, and that he
would not pierce the ceiling. This was a vital point, as the
slightest mark would have led to discovery. "The final touch," he
said, "will only take a quarter of an hour." I had fixed on the day
after the next to escape from my cell at night-time to enter no more,
for with a mate I was quite sure that I could make in two or three
hours a hole in the roof of the ducal palace, and once on the outside
of the roof I would trust to chance for the means of getting to the
ground.
I had not yet got so far as this, for my bad luck had more than one
obstacle in store for me. On the same day (it was a Monday) at two
o'clock in the afternoon, whilst Father Balbi was at work, I heard
the door of the hall being opened. My blood ran cold, but I had
sufficient presence of mind to knock twice-the signal of alarm--at
which it had been agreed that Father Balbi was to make haste back to
his cell and set all in order. In less than a minute afterwards
Lawrence opened the door, and begged my pardon for giving me a very
unpleasant companion. This was a man between forty and fifty, short,
thin, ugly, and badly dressed, wearing a black wig; while I was
looking at him he was unbound by two guards. I had no reason to
doubt that he was a knave, since Lawrence told me so before his face
without his displaying the slightest emotion. "The Court," I said,
"can do what seems good to it." After Lawrence had brought him a bed
he told him that the Court allowed him ten sous a day, and then
locked us up together.
Overwhelmed by this disaster, I glanced at the fellow, whom his every
feature proclaimed rogue. I was about to speak to him when he began
by thanking me for having got him a bed. Wishing to gain him over, I
invited him to take his meals with me. He kissed my hand, and asked
me if he would still be able to claim the ten sous which the Court
had allowed him. On my answering in the affirmative he fell on his
knees, and drawing an enormous rosary from his pocket he cast his
gaze all round the cell.
"What do you want?"
"You will pardon me, sir, but I am looking for some statue of the
Holy Virgin, for I am a Christian; if there were even a small
crucifix it would be something, for I have never been in so much need
of the protection of St. Francis d'Assisi, whose name I bear, though
all unworthy."
I could scarcely help laughing, not at his Christian piety, since
faith and conscience are beyond control, but at the curious turn he
gave his remonstrance. I concluded he took me for a Jew; and to
disabuse him of this notion I made haste to give him the "Hours of
the Holy Virgin," whose picture he kissed, and then gave me the book
back, telling me in a modest voice that his father--a, galley
officer--had neglected to have him taught to read. "I am," said he,
"a devotee of the Holy Rosary," and he told me a host of miracles, to
which I listened with the patience of an angel. When he had come to
an end I asked him if he had had his dinner, and he replied that he
was dying of hunger. I gave him everything I had, which he devoured
rather than ate; drinking all my wine, and then becoming maudlin he
began to weep, and finally to talk without rhyme or reason. I asked
him how he got into trouble, and he told me the following story:
"My aim and my only aim has always been the glory of God, and of the
holy Republic of Venice, and that its laws may be exactly obeyed.
Always lending an attentive ear to the plots of the wicked, whose end
is to deceive, to deprive their prince of his just dues, and to
conspire secretly, I have over and again unveiled their secret plans,
and have not failed to report to Messer-Grande all I know. It is
true that I am always paid, but the money has never given me so much
pleasure as the thought that I have been able to serve the blessed
St. Mark. I have always despised those who think there is something
dishonourable in the business of a spy. The word sounds ill only to
the ill-affected; for a spy is a lover of the state, the scourge of
the guilty, and faithful subject of his prince. When I have been put
to the test, the feeling of friendship, which might count for
something with other men, has never had the slightest influence over
me, and still less the sentiment which is called gratitude. I have
often, in order to worm out a secret, sworn to be as silent as the
grave, and have never failed to reveal it. Indeed, I am able to do
so with full confidence, as my director who is a good Jesuit has told
me that I may lawfully reveal such secrets, not only because my
intention was to do so, but because, when the safety of the state is
at stake, there is no such thing as a binding oath. I must confess
that in my zeal I have betrayed my own father, and that in me the
promptings of our weak nature have been quite mortified. Three weeks
ago I observed that there was a kind of cabal between four or five
notables of the town of Isola, where I live. I knew them to be
disaffected to the Government on account of certain contraband
articles which had been confiscated. The first chaplain--a subject
of Austria by birth--was in the plot. They gathered together of
evenings in an inn, in a room where there was a bed; there they drank
and talked, and afterwards went their ways. As I was determined to
discover the conspiracy, I was brave enough to hide under the bed on
a day on which I was sure I would not be seen. Towards the evening
my gentlemen came, and began to talk; amongst other things, they said
that the town of Isola was not within the jurisdiction of St. Mark,
but rather in the principality of Trieste, as it could not possibly
be considered to form part of the Venetian territory. The chaplain
said to the chief of the plot, a man named Pietro Paolo, that if he
and the others would sign a document to that effect, he himself would
go to the imperial ambassador, and that the Empress would not only
take possession of the island, but would reward them for what they
had done. They all professed themselves ready to go on, and the
chaplain promised to bring the document the next day, and afterwards
to take it to the ambassadors.
"I determined to frustrate this detestable project, although one of
the conspirators was my gossip--a spiritual relationship which gave
him a greater claim on me than if he had been my own brother.
"After they were gone, I came out of my hiding-place and did not
think it necessary to expose myself to danger by hiding again as I
had found out sufficient for my purpose. I set out the same night in
a boat, and reached here the next day before noon. I had the names
of the six rebels written down, and I took the paper to the secretary
of the Tribunal, telling him all I had heard. He ordered me to
appear, the day following, at the palace, and an agent of the
Government should go back with me to Isola that I might point the
chaplain out to him, as he had probably not yet gone to the Austrian
ambassador's. 'That done,' said the lord secretary, 'you will no
longer meddle in the matter.' I executed his orders, and after
having shewn the chaplain to the agent, I was at leisure for my own
affairs.
"After dinner my gossip called me in to shave him (for I am a barber
by profession), and after I had done so he gave me a capital glass of
refosco with some slices of sausages, and we ate together in all good
fellowship. My love for him had still possession of my soul, so I
took his hand, and, shedding some heartfelt tears, I advised him to
have no more to do with the canon, and above all, not to sign the
document he knew of. He protested that he was no particular friend
of the chaplain's, and swore he did not know what document I was
talking about. I burst into a laugh, telling him it was only my
joke, and went forth very sorry at having yielded to a sentiment of
affection which had made me commit so grievous a fault. The next day
I saw neither the man nor the chaplain. A week after, having paid a
visit to the palace, I was promptly imprisoned, and here I am with
you, my dear sir. I thank St. Francis for having given me the
company of a good Christian, who is here for reasons of which I
desire to know nothing, for I am not curious. My name is Soradaci,
and my wife is a Legrenzi, daughter of a secretary to the Council of
Ten, who, in spite of all prejudice to the contrary, determined to
marry me. She will be in despair at not knowing what has become of
me, but I hope to be here only for a few days, since the only reason
of my imprisonment is that the secretary wishes to be able to examine
me more conveniently."
I shuddered to think of the monster who was with me, but feeling that
the situation was a risky one, And that I should have to make use of
him, I compassionated him, praised his patriotism, and predicted that
he would be set at liberty in a few days. A few moments after he
fell asleep, and I took the opportunity of telling the whole story to
Father Balbi, shewing him that we should be obliged to put off our
work to a more convenient season. Next day I told Lawrence to buy me
a wooden crucifix, a statue of Our Lady, a portrait of St. Francis,
and two bottles of holy water. Soradaci asked for his ten sous, and
Lawrence, with an air of contempt, gave him twenty. I asked Lawrence
to buy me four times the usual amount of garlic, wine, and salt--a
diet in which my hateful companion delighted. After the gaoler was
gone I deftly drew out the letter Balbi had written me, and in which
he drew a vivid picture of his alarm. He thought all was lost, and
over and over again thanked Heaven that Lawrence had put Soradaci in
my cell, "for," said he, "if he had come into mine, he would not have
found me there, and we should possibly have shared a cell in The
Wells as a reward for our endeavours."
Soradaci's tale had satisfied me that he was only imprisoned to be
examined, as it seemed plain that the secretary had arrested him on
suspicion of bearing false witness. I thereupon resolved to entrust
him with two letters which would do me neither good nor harm if they
were delivered at their addresses, but which would be beneficial to
me if the traitor gave them to the secretary as a proof of his
loyalty, as I had not the slightest doubt he would do.
I spent two hours in writing these two letters in pencil. Next day
Lawrence brought me the crucifix, the two pictures, and the holy
water, and having worked the rascal well up to the point, I said,
"I reckon upon your friendship and your courage. Here are two
letters I want you to deliver when you recover your liberty. My
happiness depends on your loyality, but you must hide the letters, as
they were found upon you we should both of us be undone. You must
swear by the crucifix and these holy pictures not to betray me."
"I am ready, dear master, to swear to anything you like, and I owe
you too much to betray you."
This speech was followed by much weeping and lamentation. He called
himself unhappy wretch at being suspected of treason towards a man
for whom he would have given his life. I knew my man, but I played
out the comedy. Having given him a shirt and a cap, I stood up bare-
headed, and then having sprinkled the cell with holy water, and
plentifully bedewed him with the same liquid, I made him swear a
dreadful oath, stuffed with senseless imprecations, which for that
very reason were the better fitted to strike terror to his soul.
After his having sworn the oath to deliver my letters to their
addresses, I gave him them, and he himself proposed to sew them up at
the back of his waistcoat, between the stuff and the lining, to which
proceedings I assented.
I was morally sure that he would deliver my letters to the secretary
in the first opportunity, so I took the utmost care that my style of
writing should not discover the trick. They could only gain me the
esteem of the Court, and possibly its mercy. One of the letters was
addressed to M. de Bragadin and the other to the Abbe Grimani, and I
told them not to be anxious about me as I was in good hopes of soon
being set at liberty, that they would find when I came out that my
imprisonment had done me more good than harm, as there was no one in
Venice who stood in need of reform more than I.
I begged M. de Bragadin to be kind enough to send me a pair of fur
boots for the winter, as my cell was high enough for me to stand
upright and to walk up and down.
I took care that Soradaci should not suspect the innocent nature of
these letters, as he might then have been seized with the temptation
to do an honest thing for me, and have delivered them, which was not
what I was aiming at. You will see, dear reader, in the following
chapter, the power of oaths over the vile soul of my odious
companion, and also if I have not verified the saying 'In vino
veritas', for in the story he told me the wretch had shewn himself in
his true colours.
CHAPTER XXIX
Treason of Soradaci--How I Get the Best of Him--Father Balbi Ends His
Work--I Escape from My Cell--Unseasonable Observations of Count
Asquin The Critical Moment
Soradaci had had my letters for two or three days when Lawrence came
one afternoon to take him to the secretary. As he was several hours
away, I hoped to see his face no more; but to my great astonishment
he was brought back in the evening. As soon as Lawrence had gone, he
told me that the secretary suspected him of having warned the
chaplain, since that individual had never been near the ambassador's
and no document of any kind was found upon him. He added that after
a long examination he had been confined in a very small cell, and was
then bound and brought again before the secretary, who wanted him to
confess that he told someone at Isola that the priest would never
return, but that he had not done so as he had said no such thing. At
last the secretary got tired, called the guards, and had him brought
back to my cell.
I was distressed to hear his account, as I saw that the wretch would
probably remain a long time in my company. Having to inform Father
Balbi of this fatal misadventure, I wrote to him during the night,
and being obliged to do so more than once, I got accustomed to write
correctly enough in the dark.
On the next day, to assure myself that my suspicions were well
founded, I told the spy to give me the letter I had written to M. de
Bragadin as I wanted to add something to it. "You can sew it up
afterwards," said I.
"It would be dangerous," he replied, "as the gaoler might come in in
the mean time, and then we should be both ruined."
"No matter. Give me my letters:"
Thereupon the hound threw himself at my feet, and swore that on his
appearing for a second time before the dreaded secretary, he had been
seized with a severe trembling; and that he had felt in his back,
especially in the place where the letters were, so intolerable an
oppression, that the secretary had asked him the cause, and that he
had not been able to conceal the truth. Then the secretary rang his
bell, and Lawrence came in, unbound him, and took off his waist-coat
and unsewed the lining. The secretary then read the letters and put
them in a drawer of his bureau, telling him that if he had taken the
letters he would have been discovered and have lost his life.
I pretended to be overwhelmed, and covering my face with my hands I
knelt down at the bedside before the picture of the Virgin, and
asked, her to avenge me on the wretch who had broken the most sacred
oaths. I afterwards lay down on the bed, my face to the wall, and
remained there the whole day without moving, without speaking a word,
and pretending not to hear the tears, cries, and protestations of
repentance uttered by the villain. I played my part in the comedy I
had sketched out to perfection. In the night I wrote to Father Balbi
to come at two o'clock in the afternoon, not a minute sooner or
later, to work for four hours, and not a minute more. "On this
precision," I wrote, "our liberty depends and if you observe it all
will be well."
It was the 25th of October, and the time for me to carry out my
design or to give it up for ever drew near. The State Inquisitors
and their secretary went every year to a village on the mainland, and
passed there the first three days of November. Lawrence, taking
advantage of his masters' absence, did not fail to get drunk every
evening, and did not appear at The Leads in the morning till a late
hour.
Advised of these circumstances, I chose this time to make my escape,
as I was certain that my flight would not be noticed till late in the
morning. Another reason for my determination to hurry my escape,
when I could no longer doubt the villainy of my detestable companion,
seems to me to be worthy of record.
The greatest relief of a man in the midst of misfortune is the hope
of escaping from it. He sighs for the hour when his sorrows are to
end; he thinks he can hasten it by his prayers; he will do anything
to know when his torments shall cease. The sufferer, impatient and
enfeebled, is mostly inclined to superstition. "God," says he,
"knows the time, and God may reveal it to me, it matters not how."
Whilst he is in this state he is ready to trust in divination in any
manner his fancy leads him, and is more or less disposed to believe
in the oracle of which he makes choice.
I then was in this state of mind; but not knowing how to make use of
the Bible to inform me of the moment in which I should recover my
liberty, I determined to consult the divine Orlando Furioso, which I
had read a hundred times, which I knew by heart, and which was my
delight under the Leads. I idolized the genius of Ariosto, and
considered him a far better fortune-teller than Virgil.
With this idea I wrote a question addressed to the supposed
Intelligence, in which I ask in what canto of Ariosto I should find
the day of my deliverance. I then made a reversed pyramid composed
of the number formed from the words of the question, and by
subtracting the number nine I obtained, finally, nine. This told me
that I should find my fate in the ninth canto. I followed the same
method to find out the exact stanza and verse, and got seven for the
stanza and one for the verse.
I took up the poem, and my heart beating as if I trusted wholly in
the oracle, I opened it, turned down the leaf, and read;
'Fra il fin d'ottobre, a il capo di novembre'.
The precision of the line and its appropriateness to my circumstances
appeared so wonderful to me, that I will not confess that I placed my
faith entirely in it; but the reader will pardon me if I say that I
did all in my power to make the prediction a correct one. The most
singular circumstance is that between the end of October and the
beginning of November, there is only the instant midnight, and it was
just as the clock was striking midnight on the 3ist of October that I
escaped from my cell, as the reader will soon see.
The following is the manner in which I passed the morning to strike
awe into the soul of that vicious brute, to confound his feeble
intellect, and to render him harmless to me.
As soon as Lawrence had left us I told Soradaci to come and take some
soup. The scoundrel was in bed, and he had told Lawrence that he was
ill. He would not have dared to approach me if I had not called him.
However, he rose from his bed, and threw himself flat upon the ground
at my feet, and said, weeping violently, that if I would not forgive
him he would die before the day was done, as he already felt the
curse and the vengeance of the Holy Virgin which I had denounced
against him. He felt devouring pains in his bowels, and his mouth
was covered with sores. He shewed it me, and I saw it was full of
ulcers, but I cannot say whether it was thus the night before. I did
not much care to examine him to see if he were telling me the truth.
My cue was to pretend to believe him, and to make him hope for mercy.
I began by making him eat and drink. The traitor most likely intended
to deceive me, but as I was myself determined to deceive him it
remained to be seen which was the a cuter. I had planned an attack
against which it was improbable that he could defend himself.
Assuming an inspired air, I said, "Be seated and take this soup, and
afterwards I will tell you of your good fortune, for know that the
Virgin of the Rosary appeared to me at day-break, and bids me pardon
you. Thou shalt not die but live, and shalt come out of this place
with me." In great wonderment, and kneeling on the ground for want
of a chair, he ate the soup with me, and afterwards seated himself on
the bed to hear what I had to say. Thus I spoke to him:
"The grief I experienced at your dreadful treason made me pass a
sleepless night, as the letters might condemn me to spend here the
remnant of my days. My only consolation, I confess, was the
certainty that you would die here also before my eyes within three
days. Full of this thought not worthy of a Christian (for God bids
us forgive our enemies) my weariness made me sleep, and in my sleep I
had a vision. I saw that Holy Virgin, Mother of God, whose likeness
you behold--I saw her before me, and opening her lips she spoke thus:
"'Soradaci is a devotee of my Holy Rosary. I protect him, and I will
that you forgive him, and then the curse he has drawn on himself will
cease. In return for your generosity, I will order one of my angels
to take the form of man, to come down from heaven, to break open the
roof of your prison, and set you free within five or six days. The
angel will begin his task this day at two o'clock precisely, and he
will work till half an hour before sunset, since he must ascend again
into heaven while the daylight lasts. When you come out of this
place, take Soradaci with you, and have a care for him if he will
renounce his business of spying. Tell him all.'
"With these words the Holy Virgin vanished out of my sight, and I
awoke."
I spoke all the while with a serious face and the air of one
inspired, and I saw that the traitor was petrified. I then took my
Book of Hours, sprinkled the cell with holy water, and pretended to
pray, kissing from time to time the picture of the Virgin. An hour
afterwards the brute, who so far had not opened his mouth, asked me
bluntly at what time the angel would come down from heaven, and if we
should hear him breaking in the cell.
"I am certain that he will begin at two o'clock, that we shall hear
him at his work, and that he will depart at the hour named by the
Holy Virgin."
"You may have dreamt it all."
"Nay, not so. Will you swear to me to spy no more?"
Instead of answering he went off to sleep, and did not awake for two
hours after, when he asked if he could put off taking the oath. I
asked of him,
"You can put off taking it," I said, "till the angel enters to set me
free; but if you do not then renounce by an oath the infamous trade
which has brought you here, and which will end by bringing you to the
gallows, I shall leave you in the cell, for so the Mother of God
commands, and if you do not obey you will lose her protection."
As I had expected, I saw an expression of satisfaction on his hideous
features, for he was quite certain that the angel would not come. He
looked at me with a pitying air. I longed to hear the hour strike.
The play amused me intensely, for I was persuaded that the approach
of the angel would set his miserable wits a-reeling. I was sure,
also, that the plan would succeed if Lawrence had not forgotten to
give the monk the books, and this was not likely.
An hour before the time appointed I was fain to dine. I only drank
water, and Soradaci drank all the wine and consumed all the garlic I
had, and thus made himself worse.
As soon as I heard the first stroke of two I fell on my knees,
ordering him, in an awful voice, to do the like. He obeyed, looking
at me in a dazed way. When I heard the first slight noise I
examined, "Lo! the angel cometh!" and fell down on my face, and with
a hearty fisticuff forced him into the same position. The noise of
breaking was plainly heard, and for a quarter of an hour I kept in
that troublesome position, and if the circumstances had been
different I should have laughed to see how motionless the creature
was; but I restrained myself, remembering my design of completely
turning the fellow's head, or at least of obsessing him for a time.
As soon as I got up I knelt and allowed him to imitate me, and I
spent three hours in saying the rosary to him. From time to time he
dozed off, wearied rather by his position than by the monotony of the
prayer, but during the whole time he never interrupted me. Now and
again he dared to raise a furtive glance towards the ceiling. With a
sort of stupor on his face, he turned his head in the direction of
the Virgin, and the whole of his behaviour was for me the highest
comedy. When I heard the clock strike the hour for the work to
cease, I said to him,
"Prostrate thyself, for the angel departeth."
Balbi returned to his cell, and we heard him no more. As I rose to
my feet, fixing my gaze on the wretched fellow, I read fright on
every feature, and was delighted. I addressed a few words to him
that I might see in what state of mind he was. He shed tears in
abundance, and what he said was mostly extravagant, his ideas having
no sequence or connection. He spoke of his sins, of his acts of
devotion, of his zeal in the service of St. Mark, and of the work he
had done for the Commonwealth, and to this attributed the special
favours Mary had shewn him. I had to put up with a long story about
the miracles of the Rosary which his wife, whose confessor was a
young Dominican, had told him. He said that he did not know what use
I could make of an ignorant fellow like him.
"I will take you into my service, and you shall have all that you
need without being obliged to pursue the hazardous trade of a spy."
"Shall we not be able to remain at Venice?"
"Certainly not. The angel will take us to a land which does not
belong to St. Mark. Will you swear to me that you will spy no more?
And if you swear, will you become a perjurer a second time?"
"If I take the oath, I will surely keep it, of that there can be no
doubt; but you must confess that if I had not perjured myself you
would never have received such favour at the hands of the Virgin. My
broken faith is the cause of your bliss. You ought, therefore, to
love me and to be content with my treason."
"Dost love Judas who betrayed Jesus Christ?"
"No."
"You perceive, then, that one detests the traitor and at the same
time adores the Divine Providence, which knows how to bring good out
of evil. Up to the present time you have done wickedly. You have
offended God and the Virgin His Mother, and I will not receive your
oath till you have expiated your sins."
"What sin have I done?"
"You have sinned by pride, Soradaci, in thinking that I was under an
obligation to you for betraying me and giving my letters to the
secretary."
"How shall I expiate this sin?"
"Thus. To-morrow, when Lawrence comes, you must lie on your bed,
your face towards the wall, and without the slightest motion or a
single glance at Lawrence. If he address you, you must answer,
without looking at him, that you could not sleep, and need rest. Do
you promise me entirely to do this thing?"
"I will do whatsoever you tell me."
"Quick, then, take your oath before this holy picture."
"I promise, Holy Mother of God, that when Lawrence comes I will not
look at him, nor stir from my bed."
"And I, Most Holy Virgin, swear by the bowels of your Divine Son that
if I see Soradici move in the least or look towards Lawrence, I will
throw myself straightway upon him and strangle him without mercy, to
your honour and glory."
I counted on my threat having at least as much effect upon him as his
oath. Nevertheless, as I was anxious to make sure, I asked him if he
had anything to say against the oath, and after thinking for a moment
he answered that he was quite content with it. Well pleased myself,
I gave him something to eat, and told him to go to bed as I needed
sleep.
As soon as he was asleep I began to write, and wrote on for two
hours. I told Balbi all that had happened, and said that if the work
was far enough advanced he need only come above my cell to put the
final stroke to it and break through. I made him note that we should
set out on the night of the 31st of October, and that we should be
four in all, counting his companion and mine. It was now the twenty-
eighth of the month.
In the morning the monk wrote me that the passage was made, and that
he should only require to work at the ceiling of my cell to break
through the last board and this would be done in four minutes.
Soradaci observed his oath, pretending to sleep, and Lawrence said
nothing to him. I kept my eyes upon him the whole time, and I verily
believe I should have strangled him if he had made the slightest
motion towards Lawrence, for a wink would have been enough to betray
me.
The rest of the day was devoted to high discourses and exalted
expressions, which I uttered as solemnly as I could, and I enjoyed
the sight of seeing him become more and more fanatical. To heighten
the effect of my mystic exhortation I dosed him heavily with wine,
and did not let him go till he had fallen into a drunken sleep.
Though a stranger to all metaphysical speculations, and a man who had
never exercised his reasoning faculties except in devising some piece
of spy-craft, the fellow confused me for a moment by saying that he
could not conceive how an angel should have to take so much trouble
to break open our cell. But after lifting my eyes to heaven, or
rather to the roof of my dungeon-cell, I said,
"The ways of God are inscrutable; and since the messenger of Heaven
works not as an angel (for then a slight single blow would be
enough), he works like a man, whose form he has doubtless taken, as
we are not worthy to look upon his celestial body. And,
furthermore," said I, like a true Jesuit, who knows how to draw
advantage from everything, "I foresee that the angel, to punish us
for your evil thought, which has offended the Holy Virgin, will not
come to-day. Wretch, your thoughts are not those of an honest,
pious, and religious man, but those of a sinner who thinks he has to
do with Messer-Grande and his myrmidons."
I wanted to drive him to despair, and I had succeeded. He began to
weep bitterly, and his sobs almost choked him, when two o'clock
struck and not sign of the angel was heard. Instead of calming him I
endeavoured to augment his misery by my complaints. The next morning
he was obedient to my orders, for when Lawrence asked him how he was,
he replied without moving his head. He behaved in the same manner on
the day following, and until I saw Lawrence for the last time on the
morning of the 31st October. I gave him the book for Barbi, and told
the monk to come at noon to break through the ceiling. I feared
nothing, as Lawrence had told me that the Inquisitors and the
secretary had already set out for the country. I had no reason to
dread the arrival of a new companion, and all I had to do was to
manage my knave.
After Lawrence was gone I told Soradaci that the angel would come and
make an opening in the ceiling about noon.
"He will bring a pair of scissors with him," I said, "and you will
have to cut the angel's beard and mine."
"Has the angel a beard?"
"Yes, you shall see it for yourself. Afterwards we will get out of
the cell and proceed to break the roof of the palace, whence we shall
descend into St. Mark's Place and set out for Germany."
He answered nothing. He had to eat by himself, for my mind was too
much occupied to think about dinner--indeed, I had been unable to
sleep.
The appointed hour struck--and the angel came, Soradaci was going to
fall down on his face, but I told him it was not necessary. In three
minutes the passage was completed, the piece of board fell at my
feet, and Father Balbi into my arms. "Your work is ended and mine
begun," said I to him. We embraced each other, and he gave me the
pike and a pair of scissors. I told Soradaci to cut our beards, but
I could not help laughing to see the creature--his mouth all agape-
staring at the angel, who was more like a devil. However, though
quite beside himself, he cut our beards admirably.
Anxious to see how the land lay, I told the monk to stay with
Soradaci, as I did not care to leave him alone, and I went out. I
found the hole in the wall narrow, but I succeeded in getting through
it. I was above the count's cell, and I came in and greeted the
worthy old man. The man before me was not fitted to encounter such
diffiulties as would be involved in an escape by a steep roof covered
with plates of lead. He asked me what my plan was, and told me that
he thought I had acted rather inconsiderately. "I only ask to go
forward," said I, "till I find death or freedom." "If you intend,"
he answered, "to pierce the roof and to descend from thence, I see no
prospect of success, unless you have wings; and I at all events have
not the courage to accompany you. I will remain here, and pray to
God on your behalf."
I went out again to look at the roof, getting as close as I could to
the sides of the loft. Touching the lower part of the roof, I took
up a position between the beams, and feeling the wood with the end of
the bar I luckily found them to be half rotten. At every blow of the
bar they fell to dust, so feeling certain of my ability to make a
large enough hole in less than a hour I returned to my cell, and for
four hours employed myself in cutting up sheets, coverlets, and
bedding, to make ropes. I took care to make the knots myself and to
be assured of their strength, for a single weak knot might cost us
our lives. At last I had ready a hundred fathoms of rope.
In great undertakings there are certain critical points which the
leader who deserves to succeed trusts to no one but himself. When
the rope was ready I made a parcel of my suit, my cloak, a few
shirts, stockings, and handkerchiefs, and the three of us went into
the count's cell. The first thing the count did was to congratulate
Soradaci on having been placed in the same cell as myself, and on
being so soon about to regain his liberty. His air of speechless
confusion made me want to laugh. I took no more trouble about him,
for I had thrown off the mask of Tartuffe which I had found terribly
inconvenient all the time I had worn it for the rascal's sake. He
knew, I could see, that he had been deceived, but he understood
nothing else, as he could not make out how I could have arranged with
the supposed angel to come and go at certain fixed times. He
listened attentively to the count, who told us we were going to our
destruction, and like the coward that he was, he began to plan how to
escape from the dangerous journey. I told the monk to put his bundle
together while I was making the hole in the roof by the side of the
loft.
At eight o'clock, without needing any help, my opening was made. I
had broken up the beams, and the space was twice the size required.
I got the plate of lead off in one piece. I could not do it by
myself, because it was riveted. The monk came to my aid, and by dint
of driving the bar between the gutter and the lead I succeeded in
loosening it, and then, heaving at it with our shoulders, we beat it
up till the opening was wide enough. On putting my head out through
the hole I was distressed to see the brilliant light of the crescent
moon then entering in its first quarter. This was a piece of bad
luck which must be borne patiently, and we should have to wait till
midnight, when the moon would have gone to light up the Antipodes.
On such a fine night as this everybody would be walking in St.
Mark's Place, and I dared not shew myself on the roof as the
moonlight would have thrown a huge shadow of me on the place, and
have drawn towards me all eyes, especially those of Messer-Grande and
his myrmidons, and our fine scheme would have been brought to nothing
by their detestable activity. I immediately decided that we could
not escape till after the moon set; in the mean time I prayed for the
help of God, but did not ask Him to work any miracles for me. I was
at the mercy of Fortune, and I had to take care not to give her any
advantages; and if my scheme ended in failure I should be consoled by
the thought that I had not made a single mistake. The moon would set
at eleven and sunrise was at six, so we had seven hours of perfect
darkness at our service; and though we had a hard task, I considered
that in seven hours it would be accomplished.
I told Father Balbi that we could pass the three hours in talking to
Count Asquin. I requested him to go first and ask the count to lend
me thirty sequins, which would be as necessary to me as my pike had
been hitherto. He carried my message, and a few minutes after came
and asked me to go myself, as the count wished to talk to me alone.
The poor old man began by saying with great politeness that I really
stood in no need of money to escape, that he had none, that he had a
large family, that if I was killed the money would be lost, with a
thousand other futilities of the same kind to disguise his avarice,
or the dislike he felt to parting with his money. My reply lasted
for half an hour, and contained some excellent arguments, which never
have had and never will have any force, as the finest weapons of
oratory are blunted when used against one of the strongest of the
passions. It was a matter of a 'nolenti baculus'; not that I was
cruel enough to use force towards an unhappy old man like the count.
I ended my speech by saying that if he would flee with us I would
carry him upon my back like AEneas carried Anchises; but if he was
going to stay in prison to offer up prayers for our success, his
prayers would be observed, as it would be a case of praying God to
give success when he himself had refused to contribute the most
ordinary aid.
He replied by a flood of tears, which affected me. He then asked if
two sequins would be enough, and I answered in the affirmative. He
then gave them to me begging me to return them to him if after
getting on the roof I saw my wisest course would be to come back. I
promised to do so, feeling somewhat astonished that he should deem me
capable of a retreat. He little knew me, for I would have preferred
death to an imprisonment which would have been life-long.
I called my companions, and we set all our baggage near the hole. I
divided the hundred fathoms of rope into two packets, and we spent
two hours in talking over the chances of our undertaking. The first
proof which Father Balbi gave me of his fine character was to tell
me, ten times over, that I had broken my word with him, since I had
assured him that my scheme was complete and certain, while it was
really nothing of the kind. He went so far as to tell me that if he
had known as much he would not have taken me from my cell. The count
also, with all the weight of his seventy years, told me that I should
do well to give up so hazardous an undertaking, in which success was
impossible and death probable. As he was a barrister he made me a
speech as follows, and I had not much difficulty in guessing that he
was inspired by the thought of the two sequins which I should have
had to give him back, if he had succeeded in persuading me to stay
where I was:
"The incline of the roof covered with lead plates," said he, "will
render it impossible for you to walk, indeed you will scarcely be
able to stand on your feet. It is true that the roof has seven or
eight windows, but they are all barred with iron, and you could not
keep your footing near them since they are far from the sides. Your
ropes are useless, as you will find nothing whereon to fasten them;
and even if you did, a man descending from such a height cannot reach
the ground by himself. One of you will therefore have to lower the
two others one at a time as one lowers a bucket or a bundle of wood,
and he who does so will have to stay behind and go back to his cell.
Which of you three has a vocation for this dangerous work of charity?
And supposing that one of you is heroic enough to do so, can you tell
me on which side you are going to descend? Not by the side towards
the palace, for you would be seen; not by the church, as you would
find yourselves still shut up, and as to the court side you surely
would not think of it, for you would fall into the hands of the
'arsenalotti' who are always going their rounds there. You have only
the canal side left, and where is your gondola to take you off? Not
having any such thing, you will be obliged to throw yourself in and
escape by swimming towards St. Appollonia, which you will reach in a
wretched condition, not knowing where to turn to next. You must
remember that the leads are slippery, and that if you were to fall
into the canal, considering the height of the fall and the
shallowness of the water, you would most certainly be killed if you
could swim like sharks. You would be crushed to death, for three or
four feet of water are not sufficient to counteract the effect of a
fall from such a height. In short, the best fate you can expect is
to find yourselves on the ground with broken arms and legs."
The effect of this discourse--a very unseasonable one, under the
circumstances--was to make my blood boil, but I listened with a
patience wholly foreign to my nature. The rough reproaches of the
monk enraged me, and inclined me to answer him in his own way; but I
felt that my position was a difficult one, and that unless I was
careful I might ruin all, for I had to do with a coward quite capable
of saying that he was not going to risk his life, and by myself I
could not hope to succeed. I constrained myself, therefore, and as
politely as I could I told them that I was sure of success, though I
could not as yet communicate the details of my plan. "I shall profit
by your wise counsels," said I to Count Asquin, "and be very prudent,
but my trust in God and in my own strength will carry me through all
difficulties."
From time to time I stretched out my hand to assure myself that
Soradaci was there, for he did not speak a word. I laughed to myself
to think what he might be turning in his head now that he was
convinced that I had deceived him. At half-past ten I told him to go
and see what was the position of the moon. He obeyed and returned,
saying that in an hour and a-half it would have disappeared, and that
there was a thick fog which would make the leads very dangerous.
"All I ask," I said, "is that the fog be not made of oil. Put your
cloak in a packet with some of the rope which must be divided equally
between us."
At this I was astonished to find him at my knees kissing my hands,
and entreating me not to kill him. "I should be sure," said he, "to
fall over into the canal, and I should not be of any use to you. Ah!
leave me here, and all the night I will pray to St. Francis for you.
You can kill me or save me alive; but of this I am determined, never
to follow you."
The fool never thought how he had responded to my prayers.
"You are right," I said, "you may stop here on the condition that you
will pray to St. Francis; and that you go forthwith and fetch my
books, which I wish to leave to the count."
He did so without answering me, doubtless with much joy. My books
were worth at least a hundred crowns. The count told me that he
would give them back on my return.
"You may be sure," I said, "that you will never see me here again.
The books will cover your expenditure of two sequins. As to this
rascal, I am delighted, as he cannot muster sufficient courage to
come with me. He would be in the way, and the fellow is not worthy
of sharing with Father Balbi and myself the honours of so brave a
flight."
"That's true," said the count, "provided that he does not
congratulate himself to-morrow."
I asked the count to give me pens, ink, and paper, which he possessed
in spite of the regulations to the contrary, for such prohibitions
were nothing to Lawrence, who would have sold St. Mark himself for a
crown. I then wrote the following letter, which I gave to Soradaci,
not being able to read it over, as I had written it in the dark. I
began by a fine heading, which I wrote in Latin, and which in English
would run thus:
"'I shall not die, but live and declare the works of the Lord.'"
"Our lords of state are bound to do all in their power to keep a
prisoner under the Leads, and on the other hand the prisoner, who is
fortunately not on parole, is bound also to make his escape. Their
right to act thus is founded on justice, while the prisoner follows
the voice of nature; and since they have not asked him whether he
will be put in prison, so he ought not to ask them leave to escape.
"Jacques Casanova, writing in the bitterness of his heart, knows that
he may have the ill luck to be recaptured before he succeeds in
leaving the Venetian territory and escaping to a friendly state; but
if so, he appeals to the humanity of the judges not to add to the
misery of the condition from which, yielding to the voice of nature,
he is endeavouring to escape. He begs them, if he be taken, to
return him whatever may be in his cell, but if he succeed he gives
the whole to Francis Soradaci, who is still a captive for want of
courage to escape, not like me preferring liberty to life. Casanova
entreats their excellencies not to refuse the poor wretch this gift.
Dated an hour before midnight, in the cell of Count Asquin, on
October 31st, 1756."
I warned Soradaci not to give this letter to Lawrence, but to the
secretary in person, who, no doubt, would interrogate him if he did
not go himself to the cell, which was the more likely course. The
count said my letter was perfect, but that he would give me back all
my books if I returned. The fool said he wished to see me again to
prove that he would return everything gladly.
But our time was come. The moon had set. I hung the half of the
ropes by Father Balbi's neck on one side and his clothes on the
other. I did the same to myself, and with our hats on and our coats
off we went to the opening.
E quindi uscimmo a rimirar le stelle.--DANTE.
CHAPTER XXX
The Escape I Nearly Lose My Life on the Roof I Get out of the Ducal
Palace, Take a Boat, and Reach the Mainland--Danger to Which I Am
Exposed by Father Balbi--My Scheme for Ridding Myself of Him
I got out the first, and Father Balbi followed me. Soradaci who had
come as far as the opening, had orders to put the plate of lead back
in its place, and then to go and pray to St. Francis for us. Keeping
on my hands and knees, and grasping my pike firmly I pushed it
obliquely between the joining of the plates of lead, and then holding
the side of the plate which I had lifted I succeeded in drawing
myself up to the summit of the roof. The monk had taken hold of my
waistband to follow me, and thus I was like a beast of burden who has
to carry and draw along at the same time; and this on a steep and
slippery roof.
When we were half-way up the monk asked me to stop, as one of his
packets had slipped off, and he hoped it had not gone further than
the gutter. My first thought was to give him a kick and to send him
after his packet, but, praised be to God! I had sufficient self-
control not to yield to it, and indeed the punishment would have been
too heavy for both of us, as I should have had no chance of escaping
by myself. I asked him if it were the bundle of rope, and on his
replying that it was a small packet of his own containing manuscript
he had found in one of the garrets under the Leads, I told him he
must bear it patiently, as a single step might be our destruction.
The poor monk gave a sigh, and he still clinging to my waist we
continued climbing.
After having surmounted with the greatest difficulty fifteen or
sixteen plates we got to the top, on which I sat astride, Father
Balbi imitating my example. Our backs were towards the little island
of St. George the Greater, and about two hundred paces in front of us
were the numerous cupolas of St. Mark's Church, which forms part of
the ducal palace, for St. Mark's is really the Doge's private chapel,
and no monarch in the world can boast of having a finer. My first
step was to take off my bundle, and I told my companion to do the
same. He put the rope as best he could upon his thighs, but wishing
to take off his hat, which was in his way, he took hold of it
awkwardly, and it was soon dancing from plate to plate to join the
packet of linen in the gutter. My poor companion was in despair.
"A bad omen," he exclaimed; "our task is but begun and here am I
deprived of shirt, hat, and a precious manuscript, containing a
curious account of the festivals of the palace."
I felt calmer now that I was no longer crawling on hands and knees,
and I told him quietly that the two accidents which had happened to
him had nothing extraordinary in them, and that not even a
superstitious person would call them omens, that I did not consider
them in that light, and that they were far from damping my spirits.
"They ought rather," said I, "to warn you to be prudent, and to
remind you that God is certainly watching over us, for if your hat
had fallen to the left instead of to the right, we should have been
undone; as in that case it would have fallen into the palace court,
where it would have caught the attention of the guards, and have let
them know that there was someone on the roof; and in a few minutes we
should have been retaken."
After looking about me for some time I told the monk to stay still
till I came back, and I set out, my pike in my hand, sitting astride
the roof and moving along without any difficulty. For nearly an hour
I went to this side and that, keeping a sharp look-out, but in vain;
for I could see nothing to which the rope could be fastened, and I
was in the greatest perplexity as to what was to be done. It was of
no use thinking of getting down on the canal side or by the court of
the palace, and the church offered only precipices which led to
nothing. To get to the other side of the church towards the
Canonica, I should have had to climb roofs so steep that I saw no
prospect of success. The situation called for hardihood, but not the
smallest piece of rashness.
It was necessary, however, either to escape, or to reenter the
prison, perhaps never again to leave it, or to throw myself into the
canal. In such a dilemma it was necessary to leave a good deal to
chance, and to make a start of some kind. My eye caught a window on
the canal sides, and two-thirds of the distance from the gutter to
the summit of the roof. It was a good distance from the spot I had
set out from, so I concluded that the garret lighted by it did not
form part of the prison I had just broken. It could only light a
loft, inhabited or uninhabited, above some rooms in the palace, the
doors of which would probably be opened by day-break. I was morally
sure that if the palace servants saw us they would help us to escape,
and not deliver us over to the Inquisitors, even if they recognized
us as criminals of the deepest dye; so heartily was the State
Inquisition hated by everyone.
It was thus necessary for me to get in front of the window, and
letting myself slide softly down in a straight line I soon found
myself astride on top of the dormer-roof. Then grasping the sides I
stretched my head over, and succeeded in seeing and touching a small
grating, behind which was a window of square panes of glass joined
with thin strips of lead. I did not trouble myself about the window,
but the grating, small as it was, appeared an insurmountable
difficulty, failing a file, and I had only my pike.
I was thoroughly perplexed, and was beginning to lose courage, when
an incident of the simplest and most natural kind came to my aid and
fortified my resolution.
Philosophic reader, if you will place yourself for a moment in my
position, if you will share the sufferings which for fifteen months
had been my lot, if you think of my danger on the top of a roof,
where the slightest step in a wrong direction would have cost me my
life, if you consider the few hours at my disposal to overcome
difficulties which might spring up at any moment, the candid
confession I am about to make will not lower me in your esteem; at
any rate, if you do not forget that a man in an anxious and dangerous
position is in reality only half himself.
It was the clock of St. Mark's striking midnight, which, by a
violent shock, drew me out of the state of perplexity I had fallen
into. The clock reminded me that the day just beginning was All
Saints' Day--the day of my patron saint (at least if I had one)--and
the prophecy of my confessor came into my mind. But I confess that
what chiefly strengthened me, both bodily and mentally, was the
profane oracle of my beloved Ariosto: 'Fra il fin d'ottobre, a il
capo di novembre'.
The chime seemed to me a speaking talisman, commanding me to be up
and doing,--and--promising me the victory. Lying on my belly I
stretched my head down towards the grating, and pushing my pike into
the sash which held it I resolved to take it out in a piece. In a
quarter of an hour I succeeded, and held the whole grate in my hands,
--and putting it on one side I easily broke the glass window, though
wounding my left hand.
With the aid of my pike, using it as I had done before, I regained
the ridge of the roof, and went back to the spot where I had left
Balbi. I found him enraged and despairing, and he abused me heartily
for having left him for so long. He assured me that he was only
waiting for it to get light to return to the prison.
"What did you think had become of me?"
"I thought you must have fallen over."
"And you can find no better way than abuse to express the joy you
ought to feel at seeing me again?"
"What have you been doing all this time?"
"Follow me, and you shall see."
I took up my packets again and made my way towards the window. As
soon as were opposite to it I told Balbi what I had done, and asked
him if he could think of any way of getting into the loft. For one
it was easy enough, for the other could lower him by the rope; but I
could not discover how the second of us was to get down afterwards,
as there was nothing to which the rope could be fastened. If I let
myself fall I might break my arms and legs, for I did not know the
distance between the window and the floor of the room. To this chain
of reasoning uttered in the friendliest possible tone, the brute
replied thus:
"You let me down, and when I have got to the bottom you will have
plenty of time to think how you are going to follow me."
I confess that my first indignant impulse was to drive my pike into
his throat. My good genius stayed my arm, and I uttered not a word
in reproach of his base selfishness. On the contrary, I straightway
untied my bundle of rope and bound him strongly under the elbows, and
making him lie flat down I lowered him feet foremost on to the roof
of the dormer-window. When he got there I told him to lower himself
into the window as far as his hips, supporting himself by holding his
elbows against the sides of the window. As soon as he had done so, I
slid down the roof as before, and lying down on the dormer-roof with
a firm grasp of the rope I told the monk not to be afraid but to let
himself go. When he reached the floor of the loft he untied himself,
and on drawing the rope back I found the fall was one of fifty feet-
too dangerous a jump to be risked. The monk who for two hours had
been a prey to terror; seated in a position which I confess was not a
very reassuring one, was not quite cool, and called out to me to
throw him the ropes for him to take care of--a piece of advice you
may be sure I took care not to follow.
Not knowing what to do next, and waiting for some fortunate idea, I
made my way back to the ridge of the roof, and from there spied out a
corner near a cupola; which I had not visited. I went towards it and
found a flat roof, with a large window closed with two shutters. At
hand was a tubful of plaster, a trowel, and ladder which I thought
long enough for my purpose. This was enough, and tying my rope to
the first round I dragged this troublesome burden after me to the
window. My next task was to get the end of the ladder (which was
twelve fathoms long) into the opening, and the difficulties I
encountered made me sorry that I had deprived myself of the aid of
the monk. [The unit of measure:'fathoms' describing the ladder and
earlier the 100 fathoms of rope, is likely a translation error:
Casanova might have manufactured 100 feet of rope and might have
dragged a 12 foot ladder up the steep roof, but not a longer. D.W.]
I had set the ladder in such a way that one end touched the window,
and the other went below the gutter. I next slid down to the roof of
the window, and drawing the ladder towards me I fastened the end of
my rope to the eighth round, and then let it go again till it was
parallel with the window. I then strove to get it in, but I could
not insert it farther than the fifth round, for the end of the ladder
being stopped by the inside roof of the window no force on earth
could have pushed it any further without breaking either the ladder
or the ceiling. There was nothing to be done but to lift it by the
other end; it would then slip down by its own weight. I might, it is
true, have placed the ladder across the window, and have fastened the
rope to it, in which manner I might have let myself down into the
loft without any risk; but the ladder would have been left outside to
shew Lawrence and the guards where to look for us and possibly to
find us in the morning.
I did not care to risk by a piece of imprudence the fruit of so much
toil and danger, and to destroy all traces of our whereabouts the
ladder must be drawn in. Having no one to give me a helping hand, I
resolved to go myself to the parapet to lift the ladder and attain
the end I had in view. I did so, but at such a hazard as had almost
cost me my life. I could let go the ladder while I slackened the
rope without any fear of its falling over, as it had caught to the
parapet by the third rung. Then, my pike in my hand, I slid down
beside the ladder to the parapet, which held up the points of my
feet, as I was lying on my belly. In this position I pushed the
ladder forward, and was able to get it into the window to the length
of a foot, and that diminished by a good deal its weight. I now only
had to push it in another two feet, as I was sure that I could get it
in altogether by means of the rope from the roof of the window. To
impel the ladder to the extent required I got on my knees, but the
effort I had to use made me slip, and in an instant I was over the
parapet as far as my chest, sustained by my elbows.
I shudder still when I think of this awful moment, which cannot be
conceived in all its horror. My natural instinct made me almost
unconsciously strain every nerve to regain the parapet, and--I had
nearly said miraculously--I succeeded. Taking care not to let myself
slip back an inch I struggled upwards with my hands and arms, while
my belly was resting on the edge of the parapet. Fortunately the
ladder was safe, for with that unlucky effort which had nearly cost
me so dearly I had pushed it in more than three feet, and there it
remained.
Finding myself resting on my groin on the parapet, I saw that I had
only to lift up my right leg and to put up first one knee and then
the other to be absolutely out of danger; but I had not yet got to
the end of my trouble. The effort I made gave me so severe a spasm
that I became cramped and unable to use my limbs. However, I did not
lose my head, but kept quiet till the pain had gone off, knowing by
experience that keeping still is the best cure for the false cramp.
It was a dreadful moment! In two minutes I made another effort, and
had the good fortune to get my two knees on to the parapet, and as
soon as I had taken breath I cautiously hoisted the ladder and pushed
it half-way through the window. I then took my pike, and crawling up
as I had done before I reached the window, where my knowledge of the
laws of equilibrium and leverage aided me to insert the ladder to its
full length, my companion receiving the end of it. I then threw into
the loft the bundles and the fragments that I had broken off the
window, and I stepped down to the monk, who welcomed me heartily and
drew in the ladder. Arm in arm, we proceeded to inspect the gloomy
retreat in which we found ourselves, and judged it to be about thirty
paces long by twenty wide.
At one end were folding-doors barred with iron. This looked bad, but
putting my hand to the latch in the middle it yielded to the
pressure, and the door opened. The first thing we did was to make
the tour of the room, and crossing it we stumbled against a large
table surrounded by stools and armchairs. Returning to the part
where we had seen windows, we opened the shutters of one of them, and
the light of the stars only shewed us: the cupolas and the depths
beneath them. I did not think for a moment of lowering myself down,
as I wished to know where I was going, and I did not recognize our
surroundings. I shut the window up, and we returned to the place
where we had left our packages. Quite exhausted I let myself fall on
the floor, and placing a bundle of rope under my head a sweet sleep
came to my, relief. I abandoned myself to it without resistance, and
indeed, I believe if death were to have been the result, I should
have slept all the same, and I still remember how I enjoyed that
sleep.
It lasted for three and a half hours, and I was awakened by the
monk's calling out and shaking me. He told me that it had just
struck five. He said it was inconceivable to him how I could sleep
in the situation we were in. But that which was inconceivable to him
was not so to me. I had not fallen asleep on purpose, but had only
yielded to the demands of exhausted nature, and, if I may say so, to
the extremity of my need. In my exhaustion there was nothing to
wonder at, since I had neither eaten nor slept for two days, and the
efforts I had made--efforts almost beyond the limits of mortal
endurance--might well have exhausted any man. In my sleep my
activity had come back to me, and I was delighted to see the darkness
disappearing, so that we should be able to proceed with more
certainty and quickness.
Casting a rapid glance around, I said to myself, "This is not a
prison, there ought, therefore, be some easy exit from it." We
addressed ourselves to the end opposite to the folding-doors, and in
a narrow recess I thought I made out a doorway. I felt it over and
touched a lock, into which I thrust my pike, and opened it with three
or four heaves. We then found ourselves in a small room, and I
discovered a key on a table, which I tried on a door opposite to us,
which, however, proved to be unlocked. I told the monk to go for our
bundles, and replacing the key we passed out and came into a gallery
containing presses full of papers. They were the state archives. I
came across a short flight of stone stairs, which I descended, then
another, which I descended also, and found a glass door at the end,
on opening which I entered a hall well known to me: we were in the
ducal chancery. I opened a window and could have got down easily,
but the result would have been that we should have been trapped in
the maze of little courts around St. Mark's Church. I saw on a desk
an iron instrument, of which I took possession; it had a rounded
point and a wooden handle, being used by the clerks of the chancery
to pierce parchments for the purpose of affixing the leaden seals.
On opening the desk I saw the copy of a letter advising the
Proveditore of Corfu of a grant of three thousand sequins for the
restoration of the old fortress. I searched for the sequins but they
were not there. God knows how gladly I would have taken them, and
how I would have laughed the monk to scorn if he had accused me of
theft! I should have received the money as a gift from Heaven, and
should have regarded myself as its master by conquest.
Going to the door of the chancery, I put my bar in the keyhole, but
finding immediately that I could not break it open, I resolved on
making a hole in the door. I took care to choose the side where the
wood had fewest knots, and working with all speed I struck as hard
and as cleaving strokes as I was able. The monk, who helped me as
well as he could with the punch I had taken from the desk, trembled
at the echoing clamour of my pike which must have been audible at
some distance. I felt the danger myself, but it had to be risked.
In half an hour the hole was large enough--a fortunate circumstance,
for I should have had much trouble in making it any larger without
the aid of a saw. I was afraid when I looked at the edges of the
hole, for they bristled with jagged pieces of wood which seemed made
for tearing clothes and flesh together. The hole was at a height of
five feet from the ground. We placed beneath it two stools, one
beside the other, and when we had stepped upon them the monk with
arms crossed and head foremost began to make his way through the
hole, and taking him by the thighs, and afterwards by the legs, I
succeeded in pushing him through, and though it was dark I felt quite
secure, as I knew the surroundings. As soon as my companion had
reached the other side I threw him my belongings, with the exception
of the ropes, which I left behind, and placing a third stool on the
two others, I climbed up, and got through as far as my middle, though
with much difficulty, owing to the extreme narrowness of the hole.
Then, having nothing to grasp with my hands, nor anyone to push me as
I had pushed the monk, I asked him to take me, and draw me gently and
by slow degrees towards him. He did so, and I endured silently the
fearful torture I had to undergo, as my thighs and legs were torn by
the splinters of wood.
As soon as I got through I made haste to pick up my bundle of linen,
and going down two flights of stairs I opened without difficulty the
door leading into the passage whence opens the chief door to the
grand staircase, and in another the door of the closet of the 'Savio
alla scrittura'. The chief door was locked, and I saw at once that,
failing a catapult or a mine of gunpowder, I could not possibly get
through. The bar I still held seemed to say, "Hic fines posuit. My
use is ended and you can lay me down." It was dear to me as the
instrument of freedom, and was worthy of being hung as an 'ex voto'
on the altar of liberty.
I sat down with the utmost tranquillity, and told the monk to do the
same.
"My work is done," I said, "the rest must be left to God and fortune.
"Abbia chi regge il ciel cura del resto,
O la fortuna se non tocca a lui.
"I do not know whether those who sweep out the palace will come here
to-day, which is All Saints' Day, or tomorrow, All Souls' Day. If
anyone comes, I shall run out as soon as the door opens, and do you
follow after me; but if nobody comes, I do not budge a step, and if I
die of hunger so much the worse for me."
At this speech of mine he became beside himself. He called me a
madman, seducer, deceiver, and a liar. I let him talk, and took no
notice. It struck six; only an hour had passed since I had my
awakening in the loft.
My first task was to change my clothes. Father Balbi looked like a
peasant, but he was in better condition than I, his clothes were not
torn to shreds or covered with blood, his red flannel waistcoat and
purple breeches were intact, while my figure could only inspire pity
or terror, so bloodstained and tattered was I. I took off my
stockings, and the blood gushed out of two wounds I had given myself
on the parapet, while the splinters in the hole in the door had torn
my waistcoat, shirt, breeches, legs and thighs. I was dreadfully
wounded all over my body. I made bandages of handkerchiefs, and
dressed my wounds as best I could, and then put on my fine suit,
which on a winter's day would look odd enough. Having tied up my
hair, I put on white stockings, a laced shirt, failing any other, and
two others over it, and then stowing away some stockings and
handkerchiefs in my pockets, I threw everything else into a corner of
the room. I flung my fine cloak over the monk, and the fellow looked
as if he had stolen it. I must have looked like a man who has been
to a dance and has spent the rest of the night in a disorderly house,
though the only foil to my reasonable elegance of attire was the
bandages round my knees.
In this guise, with my exquisite hat trimmed with Spanish lace and
adorned with a white feather on my head, I opened a window. I was
immediately remarked by some lounger in the palace court, who, not
understanding what anyone of my appearance was doing there at such an
early hour, went to tell the door-keeper of the circumstance. He,
thinking he must have locked somebody in the night before, went for
his keys and came towards us. I was sorry to have let myself be seen
at the window, not knowing that therein chance was working for our
escape, and was sitting down listening to the idle talk of the monk,
when I heard the jingling of keys. Much perturbed I got up and put
my eye to a chink in the door, and saw a man with a great bunch of
keys in his hand mounting leisurely up the stairs. I told the monk
not to open his mouth, to keep well behind me, and to follow my
steps. I took my pike, and concealing it in my right sleeve I got
into a corner by the door, whence I could get out as soon as it was
opened and run down the stairs. I prayed that the man might make no
resistance, as if he did I should be obliged to fell him to the
earth, and I determined to do so.
The door opened; and the poor man as soon as he saw me seemed turned
to a stone. Without an instant's delay and in dead silence, I made
haste to descend the stairs, the monk following me. Avoiding the
appearance of a fugitive, but walking fast, I went by the giants'
Stairs, taking no notice of Father Balbi, who kept cabling: out "To
the church! to the church!"
The church door was only about twenty paces from the stairs, but the
churches were no longer sanctuaries in Venice; and no one ever took
refuge in them. The monk knew this, but fright had deprived him of
his faculties. He told me afterwards that the motive which impelled
him to go to the church was the voice of religion bidding him seek
the horns of the altar.
"Why didn't you go by yourself?" said I.
"I did not, like to abandon you," but he should rather have said, "I
did not like to lose the comfort of your company."
The safety I sought was beyond the borders of the Republic, and
thitherward I began to bend my steps. Already there in spirit, I
must needs be there in body also. I went straight towards the chief
door of the palace, and looking at no one that might be tempted to
look at me I got to the canal and entered the first gondola that I
came across, shouting to the boatman on the poop,
"I want to go to Fusina; be quick and, call another gondolier."
This was soon done, and while the gondola was being got off I sat
down on the seat in the middle, and Balbi at the side. The odd
appearance of the monk, without a hat and with a fine cloak on his
shoulders, with my unseasonable attire, was enough to make people
take us for an astrologer and his man.
As soon as we had passed the custom-house, the gondoliers began to
row with a will along the Giudecca Canal, by which we must pass to go
to Fusina or to Mestre, which latter place was really our
destination. When we had traversed half the length of the canal I
put my head out, and said to the waterman on the poop,
"When do you think we shall get to Mestre?"
"But you told me to go to Fusina."
"You must be mad; I said Mestre."
The other boatman said that I was mistaken, and the fool of a monk,
in his capacity of zealous Christian and friend of truth, took care
to tell me that I was wrong. I wanted to give him a hearty kick as a
punishment for his stupidity, but reflecting that common sense comes
not by wishing for it I burst into a peal of laughter, and agreed
that I might have made a mistake, but that my real intention was to
go to Mestre. To that they answered nothing, but a minute after the
master boatman said he was ready to take me to England if I liked.
"Bravely spoken," said I, "and now for Mestre, ho!" "We shall be
there in three quarters of an hour, as the wind and tide are in our
favour."
Well pleased I looked at the canal behind us, and thought it had
never seemed so fair, especially as there was not a single boat
coming our way. It was a glorious morning, the air was clear and
glowing with the first rays of the sun, and my two young watermen
rowed easily and well; and as I thought over the night of sorrow, the
dangers I had escaped, the abode where I had been fast bound the day
before, all the chances which had been in my favour, and the liberty
of which I now began to taste the sweets, I was so moved in my heart
and grateful to my God that, well nigh choked with emotion, I burst
into tears.
My nice companion who had hitherto only spoken to back up the
gondoliers, thought himself bound to offer me his consolations. He
did not understand why I was weeping, and the tone he took made me
pass from sweet affliction to a strange mirthfulness which made him
go astray once more, as he thought I had got mad. The poor monk, as
I have said, was a fool, and whatever was bad about him was the
result of his folly. I had been under the sad necessity of turning
him to account, but though without intending to do so he had almost
been my ruin. It was no use trying to make him believe that I had
told the gondoliers to go to Fusina whilst I intended to go to
Mestre; he said I could not have thought of that till I got on to the
Grand Canal.
In due course we reached Mestre. There were no horses to ride post,
but I found men with coaches who did as well, and I agreed with one
of them to take me to Trevisa in an hour and a quarter. The horses
were put in in three minutes, and with the idea that Father Balbi was
behind me I turned round to say "Get up," but lie was not there. I
told an ostler to go and look for him, with the intention of
reprimanding him sharply, even if he had gone for a necessary
occasion, for we had no time to waste, not even thus. The man came
back saying he could not find' him, to my great rage and indignation.
I was tempted to abandon him, but a feeling of humanity restrained
me. I made enquiries all round; everybody had seen him, but not a
soul knew where he was. I walked along the High Street, and some
instinct prompting me to put my head in at the window of a cafe.
I saw the wretched man standing at the bar drinking chocolate and
making love to the girl. Catching sight of me, he pointed to the
girl and said--
"She's charming," and then invited me to take a cup of chocolate,
saying that I must pay, as he hadn't a penny. I kept back my wrath
and answered,
"I don't want any, and do you make haste!" and caught hold of his arm
in such sort that he turned white with pain. I paid the money and we
went out. I trembled with anger. We got into our coach, but we had
scarcely gone ten paces before I recognised: an inhabitant, of Mestre
named Balbi Tommasi, a good sort of man; but reported to be one of
the familiars of the Holy Office. He knew me, too, and coming up
called out,
"I am delighted to see you here. I suppose you have just escaped.
How did you do it?"
"I have not escaped, but have been set at liberty."
"No, no, that's not possible, as I was at M. Grimani's yesterday
evening, and I should have heard of it."
It will be easier for the reader to imagine my state of mind than for
me to describe it. I was discovered by a man whom I believed to be a
hired agent of the Government, who only had to give a glance to one
of the sbirri with whom Mestre swarmed to have me arrested. I told
him to speak softly, and getting down I asked him to come to one
side. I took him behind a house, and seeing that there was nobody in
sight, a ditch in front, beyond which the open country extended, I
grasped my pike and took him by the neck. At this: he gave a
struggle, slipped out of my hands, leapt over the ditch, and without
turning round set off to run at, full speed. As soon as he was some
way off he slackened his course, turned round and kissed his hand to
me, in token of wishing me a prosperous journey. And as soon; as he
was out of my sight I gave thanks to God that, this man by his
quickness had preserved me from the commission of a crime, for I
would have killed him; and he, as it turned out, bore me no ill will.
I was in a terrible position. In open war with all the powers of-
the Republic, everything had to give way to my safety, which made me
neglect no means of attaining my ends.
With the gloom of a man who has passed through a great peril, I gave
a glance of contempt towards the monk, who now saw to what danger he
had exposed us, and then got up again into the carriage. We reached
Trevisa without further adventure, and I told the posting-master to
get me a carriage and two horses ready by ten o'clock; though I had
no intention of continuing my journey along the highway, both
because. I lacked means; and because I feared pursuit. The inn-
keeper asked me, if I would take any breakfast, of which I stood in
great need, for I was dying with hunger, but I did not dare to,
accept his offer, as a quarter of an hour's delay might, prove fatal.
I was afraid of being retaken, and of being ashamed of it for the
rest of my life; for a man of sense ought to be able to snap his
fingers at four hundred thousand men in the open country, and if he
cannot escape capture he must be a fool.
I went out by St. Thomas's Gate as if I was going for a short walk,
and after walking for a mile on the highway I struck into the fields,
resolving not to leave them as long as I should be within the borders
of the Republic. The shortest way was by Bassano, but I took the
longer path, thinking I might possibly be expected on the more direct
road, while they would never think of my leaving the Venetian
territory by way of Feltre, which is the longest way of getting into
the state subject to the Bishop of Trent.
After walking for three hours I let myself drop to the ground, for I
could not move a step further. I must either take some food or die
there, so I told the monk to leave the cloak with me and go to a farm
I saw, there to buy something to eat. I gave him the money, and he
set off, telling me that he thought I had more courage. The
miserable man did not know what courage was, but he was more robust
than myself, and he had, doubtless, taken in provisions before
leaving the prison. Besides he had had some chocolate; he was thin
and wiry, and a monk, and mental anxieties were unknown to him.
Although the house was not an inn, the good farmer's wife sent me a
sufficient meal which only cost me thirty Venetian sous. After
satisfying my appetite, feeling that sleep was creeping on me, I set
out again on the tramp, well braced up. In four hours' time I
stopped at a hamlet, and found that I was twenty-four miles from
Trevisa. I was done up, my ankles were swollen, and my shoes were in
holes. There was only another hour of day-light before us.
Stretching myself out beneath a grove of trees I made Father Balbi
sit by me, and discoursed to him in the manner following:
"We must make for Borgo di Valsugano, it is the first town beyond the
borders of the Republic. We shall be as safe there as if we were in
London, and we can take our ease for awhile; but to get there we must
go carefully to work, and the first thing we must do is to separate.
You must go by Mantello Woods, and I by the mountains; you by the
easiest and shortest way, and I by the longest and most difficult;
you with money and I without a penny. I will make you a present of
my cloak, which you must exchange for a great coat and a hat, and
everybody will take you for a countryman, as you are luckily rather
like one in the face. Take these seventeen livres, which is all that
remains to me of the two sequins Count Asquin gave me. You will
reach Borgo by the day after to-morrow, and I shall be twenty-four
hours later. Wait for me in the first inn on the left-hand side of
the street, and be sure I shall come in due season. I require a good
night's rest in a good bed; and Providence will get me one somewhere,
but I must sleep without fear of being disturbed, and in your company
that would be out of the question. I am certain that we are being
sought for on all sides, and that our descriptions have been so
correctly given that if we went into any inn together we should be
certain to be arrested. You see the state I am in, and my urgent
necessity for a ten hours' rest. Farewell, then, do you go that way
and I will take this, and I will find somewhere near here a rest for
the sole of my foot."
"I have been expecting you to say as much," said Father Balbi, "and
for answer I will remind you of the promise you gave me when I let
myself be persuaded to break into your cell. You promised me that we
should always keep company; and so don't flatter yourself that I
shall leave you, your fate and mine are linked together. We shall be
able to get a good refuge for our money, we won't go to the inns, and
no one will arrest us."
"You are determined, are you, not to follow the good advice I have
given you?"
"I am."
"We shall see about that."
I rose to my feet, though with some difficulty, and taking the
measure of his height I marked it out upon the ground, then drawing
my pike from my pocket, I proceeded with the utmost coolness to
excavate the earth, taking no notice of the questions the monk asked
me. After working: for a quarter of an hour I set myself to gaze
sadly upon him, and I told him that I felt obliged as a Christian to
warn him to commend his soul to God, "since I am about to bury you
here, alive or dead; and if you prove the stronger, you will bury me.
You can escape if you wish to, as I shall not pursue you."
He made no reply, and I betook myself to my work again, but I confess
that I began to be afraid of being rushed to extremities by this
brute, of whom I was determined to rid myself.
At last, whether convinced by my arguments or afraid Of my pike, he
came towards me. Not guessing. What he was about, I presented the
point of my pike towards him, but I had nothing to fear.
"I will do what you want," said he.
I straightway gave him all the money I had, and promising to rejoin
him at Borgo I bade him farewell. Although I had not a penny in my
pocket and had two rivers to cross over, I congratulated myself on
having got rid of a man of his character, for by myself I felt
confident of being able to cross the bounds of the Republic.
CHAPTER XXXI
I Find a Lodging in the House of the Chief of the Sbirri--I Pass a
Good Night There and Recover My Strength--I Go to Mass--
A Disagreeable Meeting I Am Obliged to Take Six Sequins by Force--
Out of Danger--Arrived at Munich--Balbi I Set Out for Paris--
My Arrival--Attempt on the Life of Louis XV
As soon as I saw Father Balbi far enough off I got up, and seeing at
a little distance a shepherd keeping his flock on the hill-side, I
made my way-towards him to obtain such information as I needed.
"What is the name of this village, my friend?" said I.
"Valde Piadene, signor," he answered, to my surprise, for I found I
was much farther on my way that I thought. I next asked him the
owners of five or six houses which I saw scattered around, and the
persons he mentioned chanced to be all known to me, but were not the
kind of men I should have cared to trouble with my presence. On my
asking him the name of a palace before me, he said it belonged to the
Grimanis, the chief of whom was a State Inquisitor, and then resident
at the palace, so I had to take care not to let him see me. Finally,
an my enquiring the owner of a red house in the distance, he told me,
much to my surprise, that it belonged to the chief of the sbirri.
Bidding farewell to the kindly shepherd I began to go down the hill
mechanically, and I am still puzzled to know what instinct directed
my steps towards that house, which common sense and fear also should
have made me shun. I steered my course for it in a straight line,
and I can say with truth that I did so quite unwittingly. If it be
true that we have all of us an invisible intelligence--a beneficent
genius who guides our steps aright--as was the case with Socrates, to
that alone I should attribute the irresistible attraction which drew
me towards the house where I had most to dread. However that may be,
it was the boldest stroke I have played in my whole life.
I entered with an easy and unconstrained air, and asked a child who
was playing at top in the court-yard where his father was. Instead
of replying, the child went to call his mother, and directly
afterwards appeared a pretty woman in the family way, who politely
asked me my business with her husband, apologizing for his absence.
"I am sorry," I said, "to hear that my gossip is not in, though at
the same time I am delighted to make the acquaintance of his charming
wife."
"Your gossip? You will be M. Vetturi, then? My husband told me that
you had kindly promised to be the god-father of our next child. I am
delighted to know you, but my husband will be very vexed to have been
away:
"I hope he will soon return, as I wanted to ask him for a night's
lodging. I dare not go anywhere in the state you see me."
"You shall have the best bed in the house, and I will get you a good
supper. My husband when he comes back will thank your excellence for
doing us so much honour. He went away with all his people an hour
ago, and I don't expect him back for three or four days."
"Why is he away for such a long time, my dear madam?"
"You have not heard, then, that two prisoners have escaped from The
Leads? One is a noble and the other a private individual named
Casanova. My husband has received a letter from Messer-Grande
ordering him to make a search for them; if he find them he will take
them back to Venice, and if not he will return here, but he will be
on the look-out for three days at least."
"I am sorry for this accident, my dear madam, but I should not like
to put you out, and indeed I should be glad to lie down immediately."
"You shall do so, and my mother shall attend to your wants. But what
is the matter with your knees?"
"I fell down whilst hunting on the mountains, and gave myself some
severe wounds, and am much weakened by loss of blood."
"Oh! my poor gentleman, my poor gentleman! But my mother will cure
you."
She called her mother, and having told her of my necessities she went
out. This pretty sbirress had not the wit of her profession, for the
story I had told her sounded like a fairy-tale. On horseback with
white silk stockings! Hunting in sarcenet, without cloak and without
a man! Her husband would make fine game of her when he came back;
but God bless her for her kind heart and benevolent stupidity. Her
mother tended me with all the politeness I should have met with in
the best families. The worthy woman treated me like a mother, and
called me "son" as she attended to my wounds. The name sounded
pleasantly in my ears, and did no little towards my cure by the
sentiments it awoke in my breast. If I had been less taken up with
the position I was in I should have repaid her care with some evident
marks of the gratitude I felt, but the place I was in and the part I
was playing made the situation too serious a one for me to think of
anything else.
This kindly woman, after looking at my knees and my thighs, told me
that I must make my mind to suffer a little pain, but I might be sure
of being cured by the morning. All I had to do was to bear the
application of medicated linen to my wounds, and not to stir till the
next day. I promised to bear the pain patiently, and to do exactly
as she told me.
I was given an excellent supper, and I ate and drank with good
appetite. I then gave myself up to treatment, and fell asleep whilst
my nurse was attending to me. I suppose she undressed me as she
would a child, but I remembered nothing about it when I woke up--I
was, in fact, totally unconscious. Though I had made a good supper I
had only done so to satisfy my craving for food and to regain my
strength, and sleep came to me with an irresistible force, as my
physical exhaustion did not leave me the power of arguing myself out
of it. I took my supper at six o'clock in the evening, and I heard
six striking as I awoke. I seemed to have been enchanted. Rousing
myself up and gathering my wits together, I first took off the linen
bandages, and I was astonished to find my wounds healed and quite
free from pain. I did my hair, dressed myself in less than five
minutes, and finding the door of my room open I went downstairs,
crossed the court, and left the house behind me, without appearing to
notice two individuals who were standing outside, and must have been
sbirri. I made haste to lengthen the distance between me and the
place where I had found the kindliest hospitality, the utmost
politeness, the most tender care, and best of all, new health and
strength, and as I walked I could not help feeling terrified at the
danger I had been in. I shuddered involuntarily; and at the present
moment, after so many years, I still shudder when I think of the
peril to which I had so heedlessly exposed myself. I wondered how I
managed to go in, and still more how I came out; it seemed absurd
that I should not be followed. For five hours I tramped on, keeping
to the woods and mountains, not meeting a soul besides a few
countryfolk, and turning neither to the right nor left.
It was not yet noon, when, as I went along my way, I stopped short at
the sound of a bell. I was on high ground, and looking in the
direction from which the sound came I saw, a little church in the
valley, and many, people going towards it to hear mass. My heart
desired to express thankfulness for the protection of Providence,
and, though all nature was a temple worthy of its Creator, custom
drew me to the church. When men are in trouble, every passing
thought seems an inspiration. It was All Souls' Day. I went down
the hill, and came into the church, and saw, to my astonishment, M.
Marc Antoine Grimani, the nephew of the State Inquisitor, with Madame
Marie Visani, his wife. I made my bow; which was returned, and after
I had heard mass I left the church. M. Grimani followed me by
himself, and when he had got near me, called me by name, saying,
"What are you doing here, Casanova, and what has become of your
friend?"
"I have given him what little money I had for him to escape by
another road, whilst I, without a penny in my pocket, am endeavouring
to reach a place of safety by this way. If your excellence would
kindly give me some help, it would speed my journey for me."
"I can't give you anything, but you will find recluses on your way
who won't let you die of hunger. But tell me how you contrived to
pierce the roof of The Leads."
"The story is an interesting one, but it would take up too much time,
and in the meanwhile the recluses might eat up the food which is to
keep me from dying of hunger."
With this sarcasm I made him a profound bow, and went upon my way.
In spite of my great want, his refusal pleased me, as it made me
think myself a better gentleman than the "excellence" who had
referred me to the charity of recluses. I heard at Paris afterwards
that when his wife heard of it she reproached him for his hard-
hearted behaviour. There can be no doubt that kindly and generous
feelings are more often to be found in the hearts of women than of
men.
I continued my journey till sunset. Weary and faint with hunger I
stopped at a good-looking house, which stood by itself. I asked to
speak to the master, and the porter told me that he was not in as he
had gone to a wedding on the other side of the river, and would be
away for two days, but that he had bidden him to welcome all his
friends while he was away. Providence! luck! chance! whichever you
like.
I went in and was treated to a good supper and a good bed. I found
by the addresses of some letters which were lying about that I was
being entertained in the house of M. Rombenchi--a consul, of what
nation I know not. I wrote a letter to him and sealed it to await
his return. After making an excellent supper and having had a good
sleep, I rose, and dressing myself carefully set out again without
being able to leave the porter any mark of my gratitude, and shortly
afterwards crossed the river, promising to pay when I came back.
After walking for five hours I dined in a monastery of Capuchins, who
are very useful to people in my position. I then set out again,
feeling fresh and strong, and walked along at a good pace till three
o'clock. I halted at a house which I found from a countryman
belonged to a friend of mine. I walked in, asked if the master was
at home, and was shewn into a room where he was writing by himself.
I stepped forward to greet him, but as soon as he saw me he seemed
horrified and bid me be gone forthwith, giving me idle and insulting
reasons for his behaviour. I explained to him how I was situated,
and asked him to let me have sixty sequins on my note of hand, drawn
on M. de Bragadin. He replied that he could not so much as give me a
glass of water, since he dreaded the wrath of the Tribunal for my
very presence in his house. He was a stockbroker, about sixty years
old, and was under great obligations to me. His inhuman refusal
produced quite a different effect on me than that of M. Grimani.
Whether from rage, indignation, or nature, I took him by the collar,
I shewed him my pike, and raising my voice threatened to kill him.
Trembling all over, he took a key from his pocket and shewing me a
bureau told me he kept money there, and I had only to open it and
take what I wanted; I told him to open it himself. He did so, and on
his opening a drawer containing gold, I told him to count me out six
sequins.
"You asked me for sixty."
"Yes, that was when I was asking a loan of you as a friend; but since
I owe the money to force, I require six only, and I will give you no
note of hand. You shall be repaid at Venice, where I shall write of
the pass to which you forced me, you cowardly wretch!"
"I beg your pardon! take the sixty sequins, I entreat you."
"No, no more. I am going on my way, and I advise you not to hinder
me, lest in my despair I come back and burn your house about your
ears."
I went out and walked for two hours, until the approach of night and
weariness made me stop short at the house of a farmer, where I had a
bad supper and a bed of straw. In the morning, I bought an old
overcoat, and hired an ass to journey on, and near Feltre I bought a
pair of boots. In this guise I passed the hut called the Scala.
There was a guard there who, much to my delight, as the reader will
guess, did not even honour me by asking my name. I then took a two-
horse carriage and got to Borgo de Valsugano in good time, and found
Father Balbi at the inn I had told him of. If he had not greeted me
first I should not have known him. A great overcoat, a low hat over
a thick cotton cap, disguised him to admiration. He told me that a
farmer had given him these articles in exchange for my cloak, that he
had arrived without difficulty, and was faring well. He was kind
enough to tell me that he did not expect to see me, as he did not
believe my promise to rejoin him was made in good faith. Possibly I
should have been wise not to undeceive him on this account.
I passed the following day in the inn, where, without getting out of
my bed, I wrote more than twenty letters to Venice, in many of which
I explained what I had been obliged to do to get the six sequins.
The monk wrote impudent letters to his superior, Father Barbarigo,
and to his brother nobles, and love-letters to the servant girls who
had been his ruin. I took the lace off my dress, and sold my hat,
and thus got rid of a gay appearance unsuitable to my position, as it
made me too much an object of notice.
The next day I went to Pergina and lay there, and was visited by a
young Count d'Alberg, who had discovered, in some way or another,
that we had escaped from the state-prisons of Venice. From Pergina I
went to Trent and from there to Bolzan, where, needing money for my
dress, linen, and the continuation of my journey, I introduced myself
to an old banker named Mensch, who gave me a man to send to Venice
with a letter to M. de Bragadin. In the mean time the old banker put
me in a good inn where I spent the six days the messenger was away in
bed. He brought me the sum of a hundred sequins, and my first care
was to clothe my companion, and afterwards myself. Every day I found
the society of the wretched Balbi more intolerable. "Without me you
would never have escaped" was continually in his mouth, and he kept
reminding me that I had promised him half of whatever money I got.
He made love to all the servant girls, and as he had neither the
figure nor the manners to please them, his attentions were returned
with good hearty slaps, which he bore patiently, but was as
outrageous as ever in the course of twenty-four hours. I was amused,
but at the same time vexed to be coupled to a man of so low a nature.
We travelled post, and in three days we got to Munich, where I went
to lodge at the sign of the "Stag." There I found two young
Venetians of the Cantarini family, who had been there some time in
company with Count Pompei, a Veronese; but not knowing them, and
having no longer any need of depending on recluses for my daily
bread, I did not care to pay my respects to them. It was otherwise
with Countess Coronini, whom I knew at St. Justine's Convent at
Venice, and who stood very well with the Bavarian Court.
This illustrious lady, then seventy years old, gave me a good
reception and promised to speak on my behalf to the Elector, with a
view to his granting me an asylum in his country. The next day,
having fulfilled her promise, she told me that his highness had
nothing to say against me, but as for Balbi there was no safety for
him in Bavaria, for as a fugitive monk he might be claimed by the
monks at Munich, and his highness had no wish to meddle with the
monks. The countess advised me therefore to get him out of the town
as soon as possible, for him to fly to some other quarter, and thus
to avoid the bad turn which his beloved brethren the monks were
certain to do him.
Feeling in duty bound to look after the interests of the wretched
fellow, I went to the Elector's confessor to ask him to give Balbi
letters of introduction to some town in Swabia. The confessor, a
Jesuit, did not give the lie to the fine reputation of his brethren
of the order; his reception of me was as discourteous as it well
could be. He told me in a careless way that at Munich I was well
known. I asked him without flinching if I was to take this as a
piece of good or bad news; but he made no answer, and left me
standing. Another priest told me that he had gone out to verify the
truth of a miracle of which the whole town was talking.
"What miracle is that, reverend father?" I said.
"The empress, the widow of Charles VII, whose body is still exposed
to the public gaze, has warm feet, although she is dead."
"Perhaps something keeps them warm."
"You can assure yourself personally of the truth of this wonderful
circumstance."
To neglect such an opportunity would have been to lose the chance of
mirth or edification, and I was as desirous of the one as of the
other. Wishing to be able to boast that I had seen a miracle--and
one, moreover, of a peculiar interest for myself, who have always had
the misfortune to suffer from cold feet--I went to see the mighty
dead. It was quite true that her feet were warm, but the matter was
capable of a simple explanation, as the feet of her defunct majesty
were turned towards a burning lamp at a little distance off. A
dancer of my acquaintance, whom curiosity had brought there with the
rest, came up to me, complimented me upon my fortunate escape, and
told me everybody was talking about it. His news pleased me, as it
is always a good thing to interest the public. This son of
Terpsichore asked me to dinner, and I was glad to accept his
invitation. His name was Michel de l'Agata, and his wife was the
pretty Gandela, whom I had known sixteen years ago at the old
Malipiero's. The Gandela was enchanted to see me, and to hear from
my own lips the story of my wondrous escape. She interested herself
on behalf of the monk, and offered me to give him a letter of
introduction for Augsburg Canon Bassi, of Bologna, who was Dean of
St. Maurice's Chapter, and a friend of hers. I took advantage of the
offer, and she forthwith wrote me the letter, telling me that I need
not trouble myself any more about the monk, as she was sure that the
dean would take care of him, and even make it all right at Venice.
Delighted at getting rid of him in so honourable a manner, I ran to
the inn, told him what I had done, gave him the letter, and promised
not to abandon him in the case of the dean's not giving him a warm
welcome. I got him a good carriage, and started him off the next day
at daybreak. Four days after, Balbi wrote that the dean had received
him with great kindness, that he had given him a room in the deanery,
that he had dressed him as an abbe, that he had introduced him to
the Prince-Bishop of Armstadt, and that he had received assurances of
his safety from the civil magistrates. Furthermore, the dean had
promised to keep him till he obtained his secularization from Rome,
and with it freedom to return to Venice, for as soon as he ceased to
be a monk the Tribunal would have no lien upon him. Father Balbi
finished by asking me to send him a few sequins for pocket-money, as
he was too much of a gentleman to ask the dean who, quoth the
ungrateful fellow, "is not gentleman enough to offer to give me
anything." I gave him no answer.
As I was now alone in peace and quietness, I thought seriously of
regaining my health, for my sufferings had given me nervous spasms
which might become dangerous. I put myself on diet, and in three
weeks I was perfectly well. In the meanwhile Madame Riviere came
from Dresden with her son and two daughters. She was going to Paris
to marry the elder. The son had been diligent, and would have passed
for a young man of culture. The elder daughter, who was going to
marry an actor, was extremely beautiful, an accomplished dancer, and
played on the clavichord like a professional, and was altogether most
charming and graceful. This pleasant family was delighted to see me
again, and I thought myself fortunate when Madame Riviere,
anticipating my wishes, intimated to me that my company as far as
Paris would give them great pleasure. I had nothing to say
respecting the expenses of the journey. I had to accept their offer
in its entirety. My design was to settle in Paris, and I took this
stroke of fortune as an omen of success in the only town where the
blind goddess freely dispenses her favours to those who leave
themselves to be guided by her, and know how to take advantage of her
gifts. And, as the reader will see by and by, I was not mistaken;
but all the gifts of fortune were of no avail, since I abused them
all by my folly. Fifteen months under the Leads should have made me
aware of my weak points, but in point of fact I needed a little
longer stay to learn how to cure myself of my failings.
Madame Riviere wished to take me with her, but she could not put off
her departure, and I required a week's delay to get money and letters
from Venice. She promised to wait a week in Strassburg, and we
agreed that if possible I would join her there. She left Munich on
the 18th of December.
Two days afterwards I got from Venice the bill of exchange for which
I was waiting. I made haste to pay my debts, and immediately
afterwards I started for Augsburg, not so much for the sake of seeing
Father Balbi, as because I wanted to make the acquaintance of the
kindly dean who had rid me of him. I reached Augsburg in seven hours
after leaving Munich, and I went immediately to the house of the good
ecclesiastic. He was not in, but I found Balbi in an abbe's dress,
with his hair covered with white powder, which set off in a new but
not a pleasing manner the beauties of his complexion of about the
same colour as a horse chestnut. Balbi was under forty, but he was
decidedly ugly, having one of those faces in which baseness,
cowardice, impudence, and malice are plainly expressed, joining to
this advantage a tone of voice and manners admirably calculated to
repulse anyone inclined to do him a service. I found him comfortably
housed, well looked after, and well clad; he had books and all the
requisites for writing. I complimented him upon his situation,
calling him a fortunate fellow, and applying the same epithet to
myself for having gained him all the advantages he enjoyed, and the
hope of one day becoming a secular priest. But the ungrateful hound,
instead of thanking me, reproached me for having craftily rid myself
of him, and added that, as I was going to Paris, I might as well take
him with me, as the dullness of Augsburg was almost killing him.
"What do you want at Paris?"
"What do you want yourself?"
"To put my talents to account."
"So do I."
"Well, then, you don't require me, and can fly on your own wings.
The people who are taking me to Paris would probably not care for me
if I had you for a companion."
"You promised not to abandon me."
"Can a man who leaves another well provided for and an assured future
be said to abandon him?"
"Well provided! I have not got a penny."
"What do you want with money? You have a good table, a good lodging,
clothes, linen, attendance, and so forth. And if you want pocket-
money, why don't you ask your brethren the monks?"
"Ask monks for money? They take it, but they don't give it."
"Ask your friends, then."
"I have no friends."
"You are to be pitied, but the reason probably is that you have never
been a friend to anyone. You ought to say masses, that is a good way
of getting money."
"I am unknown."
"You must wait, then, till you are known, and then you can make up
for lost time."
"Your suggestions are idle; you will surely give me a few sequins."
"I can't spare any."
"Wait for the dean. He will be back to-morrow. You can talk to him
and persuade him to lend me some money. You can tell him that I will
pay it back."
"I cannot wait, for I am setting out on my journey directly, and were
he here this moment I should not have the face to tell him to lend
you money after all his generous treatment of you, and when he or
anyone can see that you have all you need."
After this sharp dialogue I left him, and travelling post I set out,
displeased with myself for having given such advantages to a man
wholly unworthy of them. In the March following I had a letter from
the good Dean Bassi, in which he told me how Balbi had run away,
taking with him one of his servant girls, a sum of money, a gold
watch, and a dozen silver spoons and forks. He did not know where he
was gone.
Towards the end of the same year I learnt at Paris that the wretched
man had taken refuge at Coire, the capital of the Grisons, where he
asked to be made a member of the Calvinistic Church, and to be
recognized as lawful husband of the woman with him; but in a short
time the community discovered that the new convert was no good, and
expelled him from the bosom of the Church of Calvin. Our ne'er-do-
well having no more money, his wife left him, and he, not knowing
what to do next, took the desperate step of going to Bressa, a town
within the Venetian territory, where he sought the governor, telling
him his name, the story of his flight, and his repentance, begging
the governor to take him under his protection and to obtain his
pardon.
The first effect of the podesta's protection was that the penitent
was imprisoned, and he then wrote to the Tribunal to know what to do
with him. The Tribunal told him to send Father Balbi in chains to
Venice, and on his arrival Messer-Grande gave him over to the
Tribunal, which put him once more under the Leads. He did not find
Count Asquin there, as the Tribunal, out of consideration for his
great age, had moved him to The Fours a couple of months after our
escape.
Five or six years later, I heard that the Tribunal, after keeping the
unlucky monk for two years under the Leads, had sent him to his
convent. There, his superior fearing lest his flock should take
contagion from this scabby sheep, sent him to their original
monastery near Feltre, a lonely building on a height. However, Balbi
did not stop there six months. Having got the key of the fields, he
went to Rome, and threw himself at the feet of Pope Rezzonico, who
absolved him of his sins, and released him from his monastic vows.
Balbi, now a secular priest, returned to Venice, where he lived a
dissolute and wretched life. In 1783 he died the death of Diogenes,
minus the wit of the cynic.
At Strassburg I rejoined Madame Riviere and her delightful family,
from whom I received a sincere and hearty welcome. We were staying
at the "Hotel de l'Esprit," and we passed a few days there most
pleasurably, afterwards setting out in an excellent travelling
carriage for Paris the Only, Paris the Universal. During the journey
I thought myself bound to the expense of making it a pleasant one, as
I had not to put my hand in my pocket for other expenses. The charms
of Mdlle. Riviere enchanted me, but I should have esteemed myself
wanting in gratitude and respect to this worthy family if I had
darted at her a single amorous glance, or if I had let her suspect my
feelings for her by a single word. In fact I thought myself obliged
to play the heavy father, though my age did not fit me for the part,
and I lavished on this agreeable family all the care which can be
given in return for pleasant society, a seat in a comfortable
travelling carriage, an excellent table, and a good bed.
We reached Paris on the 5th of January, 1757, and I went to the house
of my friend Baletti, who received me with open arms, and assured me
that though I had not written he had been expecting me, since he
judged that I would strive to put the greatest possible distance
between myself and Venice, and he could think of no other retreat for
me than Paris. The whole house kept holiday when my arrival became
known, and I have never met with more sincere regard than in that
delightful family. I greeted with enthusiasm the father and mother,
whom I found exactly the same as when I had seen them last in 1752,
but I was struck with astonishment at the daughter whom I had left a
child, for she was now a tall and well-shaped girl. Mdlle. Baletti
was fifteen years old, and her mother had brought her up with care,
had given her the best masters, virtue, grace, talents, a good
manner, tact, a knowledge of society-in short, all that a clever
mother can give to a dear daughter.
After finding a pleasant lodging near the Baletti's, I took a coach
and went to the "Hotel de Bourbon" with the intention of calling on
M. de Bernis, who was then chief secretary for foreign affairs. I
had good reasons for relying on his assistance. He was out; he had
gone to Versailles. At Paris one must go sharply to work, and, as it
is vulgarly but forcibly said, "strike while the iron's hot." As I
was impatient to see what kind of a reception I should get from the
liberal-minded lover of my fair M---- M----, I went to the Pont-
Royal, took a hackney coach, and went to Versailles. Again bad luck!
Our coaches crossed each other on the way, and my humble equipage had
not caught his excellency's eye. M. de Bernis had returned to Paris
with Count de Castillana, the ambassador from Naples, and I
determined to return also; but when I got to the gate I saw a mob of
people running here and there in the greatest confusion, and from all
sides I heard the cry, "The king is assassinated! The king is
assassinated!"
My frightened coachman only thought of getting on his way, but the
coach was stopped. I was made to get out and taken to the guard-
room, where there were several people already, and in less than three
minutes there were twenty of us, all under arrest, all astonished at
the situation, and all as much guilty as I was. We sat glum and
silent, looking at each other without daring to speak. I knew not
what to think, and not believing in enchantment I began to think I
must be dreaming. Every face expressed surprise, as everyone, though
innocent, was more or less afraid.
We were not left in this disagreeable position for long, as in five
minutes an officer came in, and after some polite apologies told us
we were free.
"The king is wounded," he said, "and he has been taken to his room.
The assassin, whom nobody knows, is under arrest. M. de la
Martiniere is being looked for everywhere."
As soon as I had got back to my coach, and was thinking myself lucky
for being there, a gentlemanly-looking young man came up to me and
besought me to give him a seat in my coach, and he would gladly pay
half the fare; but in spite of the laws of politeness I refused his
request. I may possibly have been wrong. On any other occasion I
should have been most happy to give him a place, but there are times
when prudence does not allow one to be polite. I was about three
hours on the way, and in this short time I was overtaken every minute
by at least two hundred couriers riding at a breakneck pace. Every
minute brought a new courier, and every courier shouted his news to
the winds. The first told me what I already knew; then I heard that
the king had been bled, that the wound was not mortal, and finally,
that the wound was trifling, and that his majesty could go to the
Trianon if he liked.
Fortified with this good news, I went to Silvia's and found the
family at table. I told them I had just come from Versailles.
"The king has been assassinated."
"Not at all; he is able to go to the Trianon, or the Parc-aux-cerfs,
if he likes. M. de la Martiniere has bled him, and found him to be
in no danger. The assassin has been arrested, and the wretched man
will be burnt, drawn with red-hot pincers, and quartered."
This news was soon spread abroad by Silvia's servants, and a crowd of
the neighbours came to hear what I had to say, and I had to repeat
the same thing ten times over. At this period the Parisians fancied
that they loved the king. They certainly acted the part of loyal
subjects to admiration. At the present day they are more
enlightened, and would only love the sovereign whose sole desire is
the happiness of his people, and such a king--the first citizens of a
great nation--not Paris and its suburbs, but all France, will be
eager to love and obey. As for kings like Louis XV., they have
become totally impracticable; but if there are any such, however much
they may be supported by interested parties, in the eyes of public
opinion they will be dishonoured and disgraced before their bodies
are in a grave and their names are written in the book of history.
CHAPTER XXXII
The Minister of Foreign Affairs M. de Boulogne, the Comptroller--
M. le Duc de Choiseul--M. Paris du Vernai--Establishment of the
Lottery--My Brother's Arrival at Paris; His Reception by the Academy
Once more, then, I was in Paris, which I ought to regard as my
fatherland, since I could return no more to that land which gave me
birth: an unworthy country, yet, in spite of all, ever dear to me,
possibly on account of early impressions and early prejudices, or
possibly because the beauties of Venice are really unmatched in the
world. But mighty Paris is a place of good luck or ill, as one takes
it, and it was my part to catch the favouring gale.
Paris was not wholly new to me, as my readers know I had spent two
years there, but I must confess that, having then no other aim than
to pass the time pleasantly, I had merely devoted myself to pleasure
and enjoyment. Fortune, to whom I had paid no court, had not opened
to me her golden doors; but I now felt that I must treat her more
reverently, and attach myself to the throng of her favoured sons whom
she loads with her gifts. I understood now that the nearer one draws
to the sun the more one feels the warmth of its rays. I saw that to
attain my end I should have to employ all my mental and physical
talents, that I must make friends of the great, and take cue from all
whom I found it to be my interest to please. To follow the plans
suggested by these thoughts, I saw that I must avoid what is called
bad company, that I must give up my old habits and pretensions, which
would be sure to make me enemies, who would have no scruple in
representing me as a trifler, and not fit to be trusted with affairs
of any importance.
I think I thought wisely, and the reader, I hope, will be of the same
opinion. "I will be reserved," said I, "in what I say and what I do,
and thus I shall get a reputation for discretion which will bring its
reward."
I was in no anxiety on the score of present needs, as I could reckon
on a monthly allowance of a hundred crowns, which my adopted father,
the good and generous M. de Bragadin, sent me, and I found this sum
sufficient in the meanwhile, for with a little self-restraint one can
live cheaply at Paris, and cut a good figure at the same time. I was
obliged to wear a good suit of clothes, and to have a decent lodging;
for in all large towns the most important thing is outward show, by
which at the beginning one is always judged. My anxiety was only for
the pressing needs of the moment, for to speak the truth I had
neither clothes nor linen--in a word, nothing.
If my relations with the French ambassador are recalled, it will be
found natural that my first idea was to address myself to him, as I
knew him sufficiently well to reckon on his serving me.
Being perfectly certain that the porter would tell me that my lord
was engaged, I took care to have a letter, and in the morning I went
to the Palais Bourbon. The porter took my letter, and I gave him my
address and returned home.
Wherever I went I had to tell the story of my escape from The Leads.
This became a service almost as tiring as the flight itself had been,
as it took me two hours to tell my tale, without the slightest bit of
fancy-work; but I had to be polite to the curious enquirers, and to
pretend that I believed them moved by the most affectionate interest
in my welfare. In general, the best way to please is to take the
benevolence of all with whom one has relation for granted.
I supped at Silvia's, and as the evening was quieter than the night
before, I had time to congratulate myself on all the friendship they
shewed me. The girl was, as I had said, fifteen years old, and I was
in every way charmed with her. I complimented the mother on the good
results of her education, and I did not even think of guarding myself
from falling a victim to her charms. I had taken so lately such
well-founded and philosophical resolutions, and I was not yet
sufficiently at my ease to value the pain of being tempted. I left
at an early hour, impatient to see what kind of an answer the
minister had sent me. I had not long to wait, and I received a short
letter appointing a meeting for two o'clock in the afternoon. It may
be guessed that I was punctual, and my reception by his excellence
was most flattering. M. de Bernis expressed his pleasure at seeing
me after my fortunate escape, and at being able to be of service to
me. He told me that M---- M---- had informed him of my escape, and
he had flattered himself that the first person I should go and see in
Paris would be himself. He shewed me the letters from M---- M----
relating to my arrest and escape, but all the details in the latter
were purely imaginary and had no foundation in fact. M---- M---- was
not to blame, as she could only write what she had heard, and it was
not easy for anyone besides myself to know the real circumstances of
my escape. The charming nun said that, no longer buoyed up by the
hope of seeing either of the men who alone had made her in love with
life, her existence had become a burden to her, and she was
unfortunate in not being able to take any comfort in religion. "C---
C---- often comes to see me," she said, "but I grieve to say she is
not happy with her husband."
I told M. de Bernis that the account of my flight from The Leads, as
told by our friend, was wholly inaccurate, and I would therefore take
the liberty of writing out the whole story with the minutest details.
He challenged me to keep my word, assuring me that he would send a
copy to M---- M----, and at the same time, with the utmost courtesy,
he put a packet of a hundred Louis in my hand, telling me that he
would think what he could do for me, and would advise me as soon as
he had any communication to make.
Thus furnished with ample funds, my first care was for my dress; and
this done I went to work, and in a week sent my generous protector
the result, giving him permission to have as many copies printed as
he liked, and to make any use he pleased of it to interest in my
behalf such persons as might be of service to me.
Three weeks after, the minister summoned me to say that he had spoken
of me to M. Erizzo, the Venetian ambassador, who had nothing to say
against me, but for fear of embroiling himself with the State
Inquisitors declined to receive me. Not wanting anything from him--
his refusal did me no harm. M. de Bernis then told me that he had
given a copy of my history to Madame la Marquise de Pompadour, and he
promised to take the first opportunity of presenting me to this all-
powerful lady. "You can present yourself, my dear Casanova," added
his excellence, "to the Duc de Choiseul, and M. de Boulogne, the
comptroller. You will be well received, and with a little wit you
ought to be able to make good use of the letter. He himself will
give you the cue, and you will see that he who listens obtains. Try
to invent some useful plan for the royal exchequer; don't let it be
complicated or chimerical, and if you don't write it out at too great
length I will give you my opinion on it."
I left the minister in a pleased and grateful mood, but extremely
puzzled to find a way of increasing the royal revenue. I knew
nothing of finance, and after racking my brains all that I could
think of was new methods of taxation; but all my plans were either
absurd or certain to be unpopular, and I rejected them all on
consideration.
As soon as I found out that M. de Choiseul was in Paris I called on
him. He received me in his dressing-room, where he was writing while
his valet did his hair. He stretched his politeness so far as to
interrupt himself several times to ask me questions, but as soon as I
began to reply his grace began to write again, and I suspect did not
hear what I was saying; and though now and again he seemed to be
looking at me, it was plain that his eyes and his thoughts were
occupied on different objects. In spite of this way of receiving
visitors--or me, at all events, M. de Choiseul was a man of wit.
When he had finished writing he said in Italian that M. de Bernis had
told him of some circumstances of my escape, and he added,
"Tell me how you succeeded."
"My lord, it would be too long a story; it would take me at least two
hours, and your grace seems busy."
"Tell me briefly about it."
"However much I speak to the point, I shall take two hours."
"You can keep the details for another time."
"The story is devoid of interest without the details"
"Well, well, you can tell me the whole story in brief, without losing
much of the interest:"
"Very good; after that I can say no more. I must tell your lordship,
then, that, the State Inquisitors shut me up under the Leads; that
after fifteen months and five days of imprisonment I succeeded in
piercing the roof; that after many difficulties I reached the
chancery by a window, and broke open the door; afterwards I got to
St. Mark's Place, whence, taking a gondola which bore me to the
mainland, I arrived at Paris, and have had the honour to pay my duty
to your lordship."
"But.... what are The Leads?"
"My lord, I should take a quarter of an hour, at least, to explain."
"How did you pierce the roof?"
"I could not tell your lordship in less than half an hour:"
"Why were you shut up?"
"It would be a long tale, my lord."
"I think you are right. The interest of the story lies chiefly in
the details."
"I took the liberty of saying as much to your grace."
"Well, I must go to Versailles, but I shall be delighted if you will
come and see me sometimes. In the meanwhile, M. Casanova, think what
I can do for you."
I had been almost offended at the way in which M. de Choiseul had
received me, and I was inclined to resent it; but the end of our
conversation, and above all the kindly tone of his last words,
quieted me, and I left him, if not satisfied, at least without
bitterness in my heart.
From him I went to M. de Boulogne's, and found him a man of quite a
different stamp to the duke--in manners, dress, and appearance. He
received me with great politeness, and began by complimenting me on
the high place I enjoyed in the opinion of M. de Bernis, and on my
skill in matters of finance.
I felt that no compliment had been so ill deserved, and I could
hardly help bursting into laughter. My good angel, however, made me
keep my countenance.
M. de Boulogne had an old man with him, every feature bore the
imprint of genius, and who inspired me with respect.
"Give me your views;" said the comptroller, "either on paper or 'viva
voce'. You will find me willing to learn and ready to grasp your
ideas. Here is M. Paris du Vernai, who wants twenty millions for his
military school; and he wishes to get this sum without a charge on
the state or emptying the treasury."
"It is God alone, sir, who has the creative power."
"I am not a god," said M. du Vernai, "but for all that I have now and
then created but the times have changed."
"Everything," I said, "is more difficult than it used to be; but in
spite of difficulties I have a plan which would give the king the
interest of a hundred millions."
"What expense would there be to the Crown?"
"Merely the cost of receiving."
"The nation, then, would furnish the sum in question?"
"Undoubtedly, but voluntarily."
"I know what you are thinking of."
"You astonish me, sir, as I have told nobody of my plan."
"If you have no other engagement, do me the honour of dining with me
to-morrow, and I will tell you what your project is. It is a good
one, but surrounded, I believe, with insuperable difficulties.
Nevertheless, we will talk it over and see what can be done. Will
you come?"
"I will do myself that honour."
"Very good, I will expect you at Plaisance."
After he had gone, M. de Boulogne praised his talents and honesty.
He was the brother of M. de Montmartel, whom secret history makes the
father of Madame de Pompadour, for he was the lover of Madame Poisson
at the same time as M. le Normand.
I left the comptroller's and went to walk in the Tuileries, thinking
over the strange stroke of luck which had happened to me. I had been
told that twenty millions were wanted, and I had boasted of being
able to get a hundred, without the slightest idea of how it was to be
done; and on that a well-known man experienced in the public business
had asked me to dinner to convince me that he knew what my scheme
was. There was something odd and comic about the whole affair; but
that corresponded very well with my modes of thought and action. "If
he thinks he is going to pump me," said I, "he will find himself
mistaken. When he tells me what the plan is, it will rest with me to
say he has guessed it or he is wrong as the inspiration of the moment
suggests. If the question lies within my comprehension I may,
perhaps, be able to suggest something new; and if I understand
nothing I will wrap myself up in a mysterious silence, which
sometimes produces a good effect. At all events, I will not repulse
Fortune when she appears to be favourable to me."
M. de Bernis had only told M. de Boulogne that I was a financier to
get me a hearing, as otherwise he might have declined to see me. I
was sorry not to be master, at least, of the jargon of the business,
as in that way men have got out of a similar difficulty, and by
knowing the technical terms, and nothing more, have made their mark.
No matter, I was bound to the engagement. I must put a good face on
a bad game, and if necessary pay with the currency of assurance. The
next morning I took a carriage, and in a pensive mood I told the
coachman to take me to M. du Vernai's, at Plaisance--a place a little
beyond Vincennes.
I was set down at the door of the famous man who, forty years ago,
had rescued France on the brink of the precipice down which Law had
almost precipitated her. I went in and saw a great fire burning on
the hearth, which was surrounded by seven or eight persons, to whom I
was introduced as a friend of the minister for foreign affairs and of
the comptroller; afterwards he introduced these gentlemen to me,
giving to each his proper title, and I noted that four of them were
treasury officials. After making my bow to each, I gave myself over
to the worship of Harpocrates, and without too great an air of
listening was all ears and eyes.
The conversation at first was of no special interest as they were
talking of the Seine being frozen over, the ice being a foot thick.
Then came the recent death of M. de Fontenelle, then the case of
Damien, who would confess nothing, and of the five millions his trial
would cost the Crown. Then coming to war they praised M. de Soubise,
who had been chosen by the king to command the army. Hence the
transition was easy to the expenses of the war, and how they were to
be defrayed.
I listened and was weary, for all they said was so full of
technicalities that I could not follow the meaning; and if silence
can ever be imposing, my determined silence of an hour and a half's
duration ought to have made me seem a very important personage in the
eyes of these gentlemen. At last, just as I was beginning to yawn,
dinner was announced, and I was another hour and a half without
opening my mouth, except to do honour to an excellent repast.
Directly the dessert had been served, M. du Vernai asked me to follow
him into a neighbouring apartment, and to leave the other guests at
the table. I followed him, and we crossed a hall where we found a
man of good aspect, about fifty years old, who followed us into a
closet and was introduced to me by M. du Vernai under the name of
Calsabigi. Directly after, two superintendents of the treasury came
in, and M. du Vernai smilingly gave me a folio book, saying,
"That, I think, M. Casanova, is your plan."
I took the book and read, Lottery consisting of ninety tickets, to be
drawn every month, only one in eighteen to be a winning number. I
gave him back the book and said, with the utmost calmness,
"I confess, sir, that is exactly my idea."
"You have been anticipated, then; the project is by M. de Calsabigi
here."
"I am delighted, not at being anticipated, but to find that we think
alike; but may I ask you why you have not carried out the plan?"
"Several very plausible reasons have been given against it, which
have had no decisive answers."
"I can only conceive one reason against it," said I, coolly; "perhaps
the king would not allow his subjects to gamble."
"Never mind that, the king will let his subjects gamble as much as
they like: the question is, will they gamble?"
"I wonder how anyone can have any doubt on that score, as the winners
are certain of being paid."
"Let us grant, then, that they will gamble: how is the money to be
found?"
"How is the money to be found? The simplest thing in the world. All
you want is a decree in council authorizing you to draw on the
treasury. All I want is for the nation to believe that the king can
afford to pay a hundred millions."
"A hundred millions!"
"Yes, a hundred millions, sir. We must dazzle people."
"But if France is to believe that the Crown can afford to pay a
hundred millions, it must believe that the Crown can afford to lose a
hundred millions, and who is going to believe that? Do you?"
"To be sure I do, for the Crown, before it could lose a hundred
millions, would have received at least a hundred and fifty millions,
and so there need be no anxiety on that score."
"I am not the only person who has doubts on the subject. You must
grant the possibility of the Crown losing an enormous sum at the
first drawing?"
"Certainly, sir, but between possibility and reality is all the
region of the infinite. Indeed, I may say that it would be a great
piece of good fortune if the Crown were to lose largely on the first
drawing."
"A piece of bad fortune, you mean, surely?"
"A bad fortune to be desired. You know that all the insurance
companies are rich. I will undertake to prove before all the
mathematicians in Europe that the king is bound to gain one in five
in this lottery. That is the secret. You will confess that the
reason ought to yield to a mathematical proof?"
"Yes, of course; but how is it that the Castelletto cannot guarantee
the Crown a certain gain?"
"Neither the Castelletto nor anybody in the world can guarantee
absolutely that the king shall always win. What guarantees us
against any suspicion of sharp practice is the drawing once a month,
as then the public is sure that the holder of the lottery may lose."
"Will you be good enough to express your sentiments on the subject
before the council?"
"I will do so with much pleasure."
"You will answer all objections?"
"I think I can promise as much."
"Will you give me your plan?"
"Not before it is accepted, and I am guaranteed a reasonable profit."
"But your plan may possibly be the same as the one before us."
"I think not. I see M. de Calsabigi for the first time, and as he
has not shewn me his scheme, and I have not communicated mine to him,
it is improbable, not to say impossible, that we should agree in all
respects. Besides, in my plan I clearly shew how much profit the
Crown ought to get per annum."
"It might, therefore, be formed by a company who would pay the Crown
a fixed sum?"
"I think not."
"Why?"
"For this reason. The only thing which would make the lottery pay,
would be an irresistible current of public opinion in its favour.
I should not care to have anything to do with it in the service of a
company, who, thinking to increase their profits, might extend their
operations--a course which would entail certain loss."
"I don't see how."
"In a thousand ways which I will explain to you another time, and
which I am sure you can guess for yourself. In short, if I am to
have any voice in the matter, it must be a Government lottery or
nothing."
"M. de Calsabigi thinks so, too."
"I am delighted to hear it, but not at all surprised; for, thinking
on the same lines, we are bound to arrive at the same results."
"Have you anybody ready for the Castelletto?"
"I shall only want intelligent machines, of whom there are plenty in
France."
I went out for a moment and found them in groups on my return,
discussing my project with great earnestness.
M. Calsabigi after asking me a few questions took my hand, which he
shook heartily, saying he should like to have some further
conversation with me; and returning the friendly pressure, I told him
that I should esteem it as an honour to be numbered amongst his
friends. Thereupon I left my address with M. du Vernai and took my
leave, satisfied, by my inspection of the faces before me, that they
all had a high opinion of my talents.
Three days after, M. de Calsabigi called on me; and after receiving
him in my best style I said that if I had not called on him it was
only because I did not wish to be troublesome. He told me that my
decisive way of speaking had made a great impression, and he was
certain that if I cared to make interest with the comptroller we
could set up the lottery and make a large profit.
"I think so, too," said I, "but the financiers will make a much
larger profit, and yet they do not seem anxious about it. They have
not communicated with me, but it is their look-out, as I shall not
make it my chief aim."
"You will undoubtedly hear something about it today, for I know for a
fact that M. de Boulogne has spoken of you to M. de Courteuil."
"Very good, but I assure you I did not ask him to do so."
After some further conversation he asked me, in the most friendly
manner possible, to come and dine with him, and I accepted his
invitation with a great pleasure; and just as we were starting I
received a note from M. de Bernis, in which he said that if I could
come to Versailles the next day he would present me to Madame de
Pompadour, and that I should have an opportunity of seeing M. de
Boulogne.
In high glee at this happy chance, less from vanity than policy I
made M. de Calsabigi read the letter, and I was pleased to see him
opening his eyes as he read it.
"You can force Du Vernai himself to accept the lottery," he said,
"and your fortune is made if you are not too rich already to care
about such matters."
"Nobody is ever rich enough to despise good fortune, especially when
it is not due to favour."
"Very true. We have been doing our utmost for two years to get the
plan accepted, and have met with nothing beyond foolish objections
which you have crushed to pieces. Nevertheless, our plans must be
very similar. Believe me it will be best for us to work in concert,
for by yourself you would find insuperable difficulties in the
working, and you will find no 'intelligent machines' in Paris. My
brother will do all the work, and you will be able to reap the
advantages at your ease."
"Are you, then, not the inventor of the scheme which has been shewn
me?"
"No, it is the work of my brother."
"Shall I have the pleasure or seeing him?"
"Certainly. His body is feeble, but his mind is in all its vigour.
We shall see him directly."
The brother was not a man of a very pleasing appearance, as he was
covered with a kind of leprosy; but that did not prevent him having a
good appetite, writing, and enjoying all his bodily and intellectual
faculties; he talked well and amusingly. He never went into society,
as, besides his personal disfigurement, he was tormented with an
irresistible and frequent desire of scratching himself, now in one
place, and now in another; and as all scratching is accounted an
abominable thing in Paris, he preferred to be able to use his
fingernails to the pleasures of society. He was pleased to say that,
believing in God and His works, he was persuaded his nails had been
given him to procure the only solace he was capable of in the kind of
fury with which he was tormented.
"You are a believer, then, in final causes? I think you are right,
but still I believe you would have scratched yourself if God had
forgotten to give you any nails."
My remarks made him laugh, and he then began to speak of our common
business, and I soon found him to be a man of intellect. He was the
elder of the two brothers, and a bachelor. He was expert in all
kinds of calculations, an accomplished financier, with a universal
knowledge of commerce, a good historian, a wit, a poet, and a man of
gallantry. His birthplace was Leghorn, he had been in a Government
office at Naples, and had come to Paris with M. de l'Hopital. His
brother was also a man of learning and talent, but in every respect
his inferior.
He shewed me the pile of papers, on which he had worked out all the
problems referring to the lottery.
"If you think you can do without me," said he, "I must compliment you
on your abilities; but I think you will find yourself mistaken, for
if you have no practical knowledge of the matter and no business men
to help you, your theories will not carry you far. What will you do
after you have obtained the decree? When you speak before the
council, if you take my advice, you will fix a date after which you
are not to be held responsible--that is to say, after which you will
have nothing more to do with it. Unless you do so, you will be
certain to encounter trifling and procrastination which will defer
your plan to the Greek Kalends. On the other hand, I can assure you
that M. du Vernai would be very glad to see us join hands:"
Very much inclined to take these gentlemen into partnership, for the
good reason that I could not do without them, but taking care that
they should suspect nothing, I went down with the younger brother,
who introduced me to his wife before dinner. I found present an old
lady well known at Paris under the name of General La Mothe, famous
for her former beauty and her gout, another lady somewhat advanced in
years, who was called Baroness Blanche, and was still the mistress of
M. de Vaux, another styled the President's lady, and a fourth, fair
as the dawn, Madame Razzetti, from Piedmont, the wife of one of the
violin players at the opera, and said to be courted by M. de
Fondpertuis, the superintendent of the opera.
We sat down to dinner, but I was silent and absorbed, all my thoughts
being monopolized by the lottery. In the evening, at Silvia's, I was
pronounced absent and pensive, and so I was in spite of the sentiment
with which Mademoiselle Baletti inspired me--a sentiment which every
day grew in strength.
I set out for Versailles next morning two hours before day-break, and
was welcomed by M. de Bernis, who said he would bet that but for him
I should never have discovered my talent for finance.
"M. de Boulogne tells me you astonished M. du Vernai, who is
generally esteemed one of the acutest men in France. If you will
take my advice, Casanova, you will keep up that acquaintance and pay
him assiduous court. I may tell you that the lottery is certain to
be established, that it will be your doing, and that you ought to
make something considerable out of it. As soon as the king goes out
to hunt, be at hand in the private apartments, and I will seize a
favourable moment for introducing you to the famous marquise.
Afterwards go to the Office for Foreign Affairs, and introduce
yourself in my name to the Abbe de la Ville. He is the chief
official there, and will give you a good reception."
M. de Boulogne told me that, as soon as the council of the military
school had given their consent, he would have the decree for the
establishment of the lottery published, and he urged me to
communicate to him any ideas which I might have on the subject of
finance.
At noon Madame de Pompadour passed through the private apartments
with the Prince de Soubise, and my patron hastened to point me out to
the illustrious lady. She made me a graceful curtsy, and told me
that she had been much interested in the subject of my flight.
"Do you go," said she, "to see your ambassador?"
"I shew my respect to him, madam, by keeping away."
"I hope you mean to settle in France."
"It would be my dearest wish to do so, madam, but I stand in need of
patronage, and I know that in France patronage is only given to men
of talent, which is for me a discouraging circumstance."
"On the contrary, I think you have reason to be hopeful, as you have
some good friends. I myself shall be delighted if I can be of any
assistance to you."
As the fair marquise moved on, I could only stammer forth my
gratitude.
I next went to the Abbe de la Ville, who received me with the utmost
courtesy, and told me that he would remember me at the earliest
opportunity.
Versailles was a beautiful spot, but I had only compliments and not
invitations to expect there, so after leaving M. de la Ville I went
to an inn to get some dinner. As I was sitting down, an abbe of
excellent appearance, just like dozens of other French abbes,
accosted me politely, and asked me if I objected to our dining
together. I always thought the company of a pleasant man a thing to
be desired, so I granted his request; and as soon as he sat down he
complimented me on the distinguished manner in which I had been
treated by M. de la Ville. "I was there writing a letter," said he,
"and I could hear all the obliging things the abbe said to you. May
I ask, sir, how you obtained access to him?"
"If you really wish to know, I may be able to tell you."
"It is pure curiosity on my part."
"Well, then, I will say nothing, from pure prudence."
"I beg your pardon."
"Certainly, with pleasure."
Having thus shut the mouth of the curious impertinent, he confined
his conversation to ordinary and more agreeable topics. After
dinner, having no further business at Versailles, I made preparations
for leaving, on which the abbe begged to be of my company. Although
a man who frequents the society of abbes is not thought much more of
than one who frequents the society of girls. I told him that as I
was going to Paris in a public conveyance--far from its being a
question of permission--I should be only too happy to have the
pleasure of his company. On reaching Paris we parted, after
promising to call on each other, and I went to Silvia's and took
supper there. The agreeable mistress of the house complimented me on
my noble acquaintances, and made me promise to cultivate their
society.
As soon as I got back to my own lodging, I found a note from M. du
Vernai, who requested me to come to the military school at eleven
o'clock on the next day, and later in the evening Calsabigi came to
me from his brother, with a large sheet of paper containing all the
calculations pertaining to the lottery.
Fortune seemed to be in my favour, for this tabular statement came to
me like a blessing from on high. Resolving, therefore, to follow the
instructions which I pretended to receive indifferently. I went to
the military school, and as soon as I arrived the conference began.
M. d'Alembert had been requested to be present as an expert in
arithmetical calculations. If M. du Vernai had been the only person
to be consulted, this step would not have been necessary; but the
council contained some obstinate heads who were unwilling to give in.
The conference lasted three hours.
After my speech, which only lasted half an hour, M. de Courteuil
summed up my arguments, and an hour was passed in stating objections
which I refuted with the greatest ease. I finally told them that no
man of honour and learning would volunteer to conduct the lottery on
the understanding that it was to win every time, and that if anyone
had the impudence to give such an undertaking they should turn him
out of the room forthwith, for it was impossible that such an
agreement could be maintained except by some roguery.
This had its effect, for nobody replied; and M. du Vernai remarked
that if the worst came to the worst the lottery could be suppressed.
At this I knew my business was done, and all present, after signing a
document which M. du Vernai gave them, took their leave, and I myself
left directly afterwards with a friendly leave-taking from M. du
Vernal.
M. Calsabigi came to see me the next day, bringing the agreeable news
that the affair was settled, and that all that was wanting was the
publication of the decree.
"I am delighted to hear it," I said, "and I will go to M. de
Boulogne's every day, and get you appointed chief administrator as
soon as I know what I have got for myself."
I took care not to leave a stone unturned in this direction, as I
knew that, with the great, promising and keeping a promise are two
different things. The decree appeared a week after. Calsabigi was
made superintendent, with an allowance of three thousand francs for
every drawing, a yearly pension of four thousand francs for us both,
and the chief of the lottery. His share was a much larger one than
mine, but I was not jealous as I knew he had a greater claim than I.
I sold five of the six offices that had been allotted to me for two
thousand francs each, and opened the sixth with great style in the
Rue St. Denis, putting my valet there as a clerk. He was a bright
young Italian, who had been valet to the Prince de la Catolica, the
ambassador from Naples.
The day for the first drawing was fixed, and notice was given that
the winning numbers would be paid in a week from the time of drawing
at the chief office.
With the idea of drawing custom to my office, I gave notice that all
winning tickets bearing my signature would be paid at my office in
twenty-four hours after the drawing. This drew crowds to my office
and considerably increased my profits, as I had six per cent. on the
receipts. A number of the clerks in the other offices were foolish
enough to complain to Calsabigi that I had spoilt their gains, but he
sent them about their business telling them that to get the better of
me they had only to do as I did--if they had the money.
My first taking amounted to forty thousand francs. An hour after the
drawing my clerk brought me the numbers, and shewed me that we had
from seventeen to eighteen thousand francs to pay, for which I gave
him the necessary funds.
Without my thinking of it I thus made the fortune of my clerk, for
every winner gave him something, and all this I let him keep for
himself.
The total receipts amounted to two millions, and the administration
made a profit of six hundred thousand francs, of which Paris alone
had contributed a hundred thousand francs. This was well enough for
a first attempt.
On the day after the drawing I dined with Calsabigi at M. du
Vernai's, and I had the pleasure of hearing him complain that he had
made too much money. Paris had eighteen or twenty ternes, and
although they were small they increased the reputation of the
lottery, and it was easy to see that the receipts at the next drawing
would be doubled. The mock assaults that were made upon me put me in
a good humour, and Calsabigi said that my idea had insured me an
income of a hundred thousand francs a year, though it would ruin the
other receivers.
"I have played similar strokes myself," said M. du Vernai, "and have
mostly succeeded; and as for the other receivers they are at perfect
liberty to follow M. Casanova's example, and it all tends to increase
the repute of an institution which we owe to him and to you."
At the second drawing a terne of forty thousand francs obliged me to
borrow money. My receipts amounted to sixty thousand, but being
obliged to deliver over my chest on the evening before the drawing, I
had to pay out of my own funds, and was not repaid for a week.
In all the great houses I went to, and at the theatres, as soon as I
was seen, everybody gave me money, asking me to lay it out as I liked
and to send them the tickets, as, so far, the lottery was strange to
most people. I thus got into the way of carrying about me tickets of
all sorts, or rather of all prices, which I gave to people to choose
from, going home in the evening with my pockets full of gold. This
was an immense advantage to me, as kind of privilege which I enjoyed
to the exclusion of the other receivers who were not in society, and
did not drive a carriage like myself--no small point in one's favour,
in a large town where men are judged by the state they keep. I found
I was thus able to go into any society, and to get credit everywhere.
I had hardly been a month in Paris when my brother Francis, with whom
I had parted in 1752, arrived from Dresden with Madame Sylvestre.
He had been at Dresden for four years, taken up with the pursuit of
his art, having copied all the battle pieces in the Elector's Galley.
We were both of us glad to meet once more, but on my offering to see
what my great friends could do for him with the Academicians, he
replied with all an artist's pride that he was much obliged to me,
but would rather not have any other patrons than his talents. "The
French," said he, "have rejected me once, and I am far from bearing
them ill-will on that account, for I would reject myself now if I
were what I was then; but with their love of genius I reckon on a
better reception this time."
His confidence pleased me, and I complimented him upon it, for I have
always been of the opinion that true merit begins by doing justice to
itself.
Francis painted a fine picture, which on being exhibited at the
Louvre, was received with applause. The Academy bought the picture
for twelve thousand francs, my brother became famous, and in twenty-
six years he made almost a million of money; but in spite of that,
foolish expenditure, his luxurious style of living, and two bad
marriages, were the ruin of him.
End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of MEMOIRES OF JACQUES CASANOVA
TO PARIS AND PRISON, Vol. 2e, UNDER THE LEADS
by Jacques Casanova de Seingalt