without confidence in his discretion, especially after the proof of it
he had just given me in his foolish request. I thought, however, I might
make him useful, for he seemed just the kind of man to follow my
directions in everything. I began a reply to it; but while writing it a
suspicion crossed my mind, which induced me to hold it back for a time.
What if this correspondence might, after all, be a mere device of
Laurent’s for finding out how I obtained my tools! But, in order to
satisfy Balbi without compromising myself, I told him that I had made
the opening by means of a strong knife, which I had hidden in the sill
of the corridor window. In less than three days I was satisfied that the
suspicion was groundless, for Laurent took no notice of the window-sill.
Balbi, too, wrote to say that he could easily understand how I had
concealed the knife, for Laurent himself had told him that I had not
been searched on entering the prison. He concluded by begging me to send
him my knife, through Nicholas, in whom, he assured me, I might safely
confide. The carelessness of this monk was almost inconceivable. I wrote
to tell him that I was not by any means inclined to share my secrets
with Nicholas, and that I was still less disposed to trust them to
paper.
“My suspicions were, however, quite set at rest, and I again began to
think about my escape. I reflected in this way:--I wish at any price to
procure my liberty. The crowbar I have is an excellent one, but it is
impossible to use it, for every part of my cell, except the ceiling, is
sounded and examined every day. To escape from here I must make a hole
through the ceiling; but that will be no easy matter, working, as I do,
from below; and in no case will it be the affair of a day. I want an
ally, who would be willing to escape with me. There was not much choice,
and the only person whose name suggested itself to my mind was the monk.
He was twenty-eight years of age, and, though he was not rich in good
sense, I thought that the love of liberty--that most enduring of man’s
passions--would, at least, give him resolution enough to obey my
instructions. I was obliged to commence with a resolution to confide
everything to him, and then to find out how to make him my
instrument--both very difficult points.
“I began by asking him if he desired his liberty, and if he were willing
to risk everything for the sake of procuring it with me. He replied that
both his companion and himself were capable of any enterprise that might
lead to freedom, but that it would be folly to peril one’s life in
schemes that had no reasonable prospect of success. He filled four long
pages with a list of the impossibilities which overawed his poor spirit.
I replied that in forming my plans I paid no attention to mere
difficulties of detail, for that I felt sure of being able to overcome
them the moment they presented themselves, and I went on to give him my
word of honour that I would set him free if he would follow my
directions in everything. He gave the required promise, and I then
informed him that I had a crowbar some twenty inches in length, and that
by means of this instrument he was to break through the ceiling of his
cell, and then make a hole in the wall that separated us, and join me,
and that afterwards he was to help me to break through my ceiling and to
make my way through the opening.
“‘When we have arrived at that point,’ I added, ‘your task will be done,
and mine will begin, and I will undertake to set you and the Count
Asquin at liberty.’
“He replied that when he had helped me out of my cell we should still be
nevertheless in prison,--that we should simply have effected a change of
place without any corresponding change of circumstances, for we should
be wandering in the gallery, cut off from the outer world by the three
strong doors.
“‘I know that very well, reverend father,’ I replied; ‘but we are not
going to leave the place by the doors at all. My plan is complete, and I
feel certain of success. All that I ask of you is exactness and fidelity
in the execution of your part of it, and some self-control in the matter
of raising objections. Try to think only of a way of getting the crowbar
conveyed to you without exciting the suspicion of the man who carries
it. In the meantime ask the jailer to buy you some hangings ornamented
with the images of saints, and cover your cell with them. The saintly
images will remove all suspicion from Laurent’s mind, and they will
serve excellently well to hide the hole in the ceiling. It will take you
several days to make the hole, and you can by this means always contrive
to hide the signs of your activity. I would undertake that part of the
plan myself, but I am already suspected, as you know.’
“Although I urged him to find out a means for the removal of the
crowbar, I tried constantly to discover one myself, and at length I had
an idea, which I hastened to carry out. I told Laurent to buy me a copy
of a Bible in folio, which had just appeared. I hoped to be able to
place my crowbar in the back of this Bible, and thus to get it conveyed
to the monk. But as soon as I obtained the book I saw that it was
shorter than the instrument by just two inches. My correspondent had
already written to inform me that his cell was covered with images, and
I had told him of my plan for sending him the crowbar, and of the
difficulty I had met with. I was however firmly resolved to send him the
implement by some means, and at length I hit on the following stratagem.
I told Laurent that I wished to celebrate St. Michael’s day by feasting
on a dish of maccaroni with cheese, and that in return for the
politeness of the person who had lent me the books, I thought of sending
him a dish especially prepared by myself. Laurent observed that the
gentleman was very anxious to read the large book, which had cost three
sequins. ‘Very well,’ I replied, ‘I will send it to him with the
maccaroni, only bring me the very largest dish you have in the place,
for I wish to make him a present worth his acceptance.’ I then wrapped
the crowbar up in paper and placed it in the back of the book, taking
care that it projected equally at either end. I was sure that if I
placed a good dishfull of maccaroni on the Bible, Laurent’s attention
would be too much occupied by that delicacy to allow him any opportunity
to discover the hiding-place of the crowbar. I prepared Balbi for all
that was about to happen, and enjoined him above all to be careful to
take both the dish and the book from the jailer’s hands.
“On the appointed day Laurent came earlier than was his wont, with a pot
full of boiling maccaroni, and all the ingredients for seasoning it. I
then melted a quantity of butter, and placing the maccaroni in the dish,
I poured the butter over it until it touched the very edges. The dish
was an enormous one, and it very greatly exceeded the book in size. All
this was done at the door of my cell while Laurent was standing outside.
When everything was ready, I carefully lifted Bible and dish, and
placing the back of the book towards the gaoler, I told him to hold out
his arms, to be very careful not to spill the sauce, and to make the
best of his way to the other cell. While giving him this important
commission I kept my eyes fixed on his, and I was delighted to see that
he did not remove his gaze from the dish, for fear of spilling the
butter. He suggested that it might be better to take the dish first, and
then to return for the Bible, but I replied that the present would lose
something of its value if both were not sent together. He then
complained that I had put too much butter, and warned me laughingly that
if he should spill any of it he would not hold himself responsible for
the damage.
“As soon as I saw the Bible in the simpleton’s arms, I felt certain of
success, for the ends of the crowbar were quite imperceptible. I
followed him with my eyes until I saw him enter the antechamber, and in
a few moments, the monk, blowing his nose three times, gave the signal
that everything had turned out well. Laurent’s speedy reappearance, too,
gave me another intimation of the same joyful event.
“Father Balbi lost no time in carrying out my intimations and in eight
days he had made an opening which he concealed with a piece of bread
crumb. On the 8th October,
[Illustration: I told him to be very careful not to spill the sauce.]
he wrote to tell me that he had been working all night. On the 16th, at
ten o’clock in the morning, just as I was occupied in translating an ode
of Horace, I heard a stamping of feet overhead, followed by three gentle
raps--the signal agreed on--to show us that the first part of our plan
had been carried to a successful termination. He worked on until the
evening, and the next day he wrote to say that if my ceiling was only
two boards thick, his labours would be finished on that day. He told me,
moreover, that he would take great care to make the hole circular, as I
had suggested, and that he would not cut through the floor. This
precaution was absolutely essential, for the smallest crack in the floor
would have led to instant detection. The excavation, he added, was in
such a state that another quarter of an hour’s work would suffice to
finish it.
“I had determined to leave my cell during the night, for with a
companion I felt sure of being able to make a hole in the great roof of
the ducal palace, in three or four hours; and once on the roof, I would
take what opportunity offered to reach the ground. But I had not yet
reached the roof, alas, for my bad fortune placed yet another difficulty
in my way, that demanded all my skill and address. On this very day--it
was Monday--while Balbi was striking his last strokes, I heard the
opening of a door close to my cell. I felt all the blood in my body
freeze, but I had enough presence of mind to give the two raps that
warned Balbi to hurry back to his cell, and put everything in order. In
less than a minute Laurent came in, and asked my pardon for thrusting a
very disagreeable companion upon me. The new comer, whom he immediately
introduced, was a little thin man, between forty and fifty years of age,
very ugly, and very badly dressed. There could be no doubt about his
being a scoundrel, the more especially as Laurent announced the fact to
his face, without making any visible impression on him. ‘The tribunal,’
I said sulkily, in reply to my jailer’s communication, ‘will of course
do what it pleases.’
“Overwhelmed with vexation at this miserable misadventure, I stared
fixedly at my fellow prisoner, whose hang-dog physiognomy as I have
said, betrayed him. I was thinking of saying something to him, when he
began a conversation by thanking me for giving him a palliasse. With a
view to gaining him over, I asked him if he would share my meals with
me. He kissed my hand, and asked whether his acceptance of my generous
invitation would deprive him of his right to the ten sous, which the
tribunal had assigned him for his support. On my telling him that it
would, he fell on his feet, and drawing an enormous chaplet from his
pocket, he rolled his eyes about, until his glance fell in every corner
of the room. I asked him what he was looking for. ‘Pardon, Signor,’ he
replied: ‘I was in hopes of finding some image of the Virgin, for I am a
Christian.’ It was with difficulty that I kept from laughing--not on
account of his piety, for conscience and faith are sentiments which it
is not given to any of us to control--but because of the oddity of his
appearance and manner. I concluded that he mistook me for a Jew, so to
undeceive him, I gave him an image of the Virgin, which he kissed with
great fervour, and proceeded to inform me that his father, an alquazil,
had neglected to have him taught to read. ‘I am,’ he added, ‘devoted to
the holy rosary;’ and he went on to relate a number of miracles he had
witnessed, while I listened with the patience of an angel. When he had
done, I asked him if he had dined, and he told me that he was dying of
hunger. I gave him everything I had, and he ate and drank more like a
beast than a human being. At length he got quite drunk, and began to
weep, and to babble all kinds of foolish things. I asked him what
afflicted him, and received the following answer. ‘My sole passion has
always been the glory of God, and of this holy republic; and an exact
obedience to the laws. Ever watchful of the tricks of rogues, I have
tried to discover their secrets, and to disclose them to the
authorities. I have been well paid, it is true, but that was no more
than I deserved, and I have always been unable to understand the
prejudices of those people who pretend to see something shameful in the
trade of a spy. A spy is a person who seeks the good of the state, and
is a faithful subject of his government and prince. And I can truly say,
that unlike others of my calling, I have never suffered private
friendship to stand in the way of my performance of a public duty.’
“The wretch went on in this manner till I knew him for the foulest spy
the imagination can conceive. His last achievement had been the
discovery of a political plot, but he had had the weakness--incredible,
in a man of his stamp--to give one of his friends engaged in the
conspiracy a recommendation to prudence. The friend, and his companions,
had thereupon fled, and our spy had been sent to prison in their stead.
He ended by telling me that he had hopes of being soon released, his
wife being a Legrenzi, and daughter of one of the secretaries of the
Council of Ten.
“I shuddered to think with what a monster I was associated, but feeling
that my situation was a delicate one, I at once chose my part. I
pretended to sympathise with him, and was loud in praises of his
patriotism, nor did I hesitate to assure him that so excellent a man
must be set at liberty in a few days. He shortly after fell asleep, and
I took the opportunity of writing to Father Balbi, to tell him
everything, and to warn him to suspend his labours until he should hear
from me again. On the next day, I asked Laurent to buy me a wooden
crucifix, an image of the Holy Virgin, and a portrait of St. Francis,
and at the same time to procure two bottles of holy water. Soradaci (my
companion) took the opportunity to ask for the ten sous allowed for his
maintenance, and Laurent tossed twenty sous to him with an air of great
disdain. When the jailer had gone away, I opened the book, and found a
letter from Balbi, depicting his fright in very moving terms. He thought
that all was lost, so far as our plan of escape was concerned, but he
none the less congratulated me and himself on our good fortune in having
Soradaci brought to my cell, rather than to theirs, ‘for if Laurent had
come to our cell,’ he continued, ‘I should have been missed, and
everything would have been discovered.’
“Soradaci’s tale convinced me that he was no better than a spy upon me,
so I made up my mind to meet him with his own weapons of stratagem and
cunning. I wrote and confided to his care two letters, so worded, that
if sent to their address, they would do me neither harm nor good, while
they would be likely to do me good, if handed over to the secretary, and
that I did not doubt would be the case.”
Soradaci, on receiving the letters, took the most solemn and the most
terrible oaths that he would faithfully deliver them at their
destinations when he recovered his liberty. In some few days he was
called before the secretary of the tribunal, and afterwards taken back
to prison. Cassanova wishing to assure himself of the correctness of his
suspicions, asked him to return one of the letters, on the plea that it
contained something he wished to alter.
“The monster then threw himself at my feet, and declared that on his
appearance before the terrible secretary, he had been so seized with
fright, that it was seen he had some secret on his mind, and he had been
obliged to betray me. I pretended to be greatly troubled, and throwing
myself before an image of the Virgin, I solemnly demanded vengeance on
the head of the villain who had consigned me to destruction. I next
flung myself on the bed with my face to the wall, and had the constancy
to remain in this position all day, without moving, or uttering a word,
and pretending not to hear the sobs, the repentant cries, and the
protestations of this miserable wretch. In short, I admirably played my
part in a comedy of which I had the entire plan in my head. During the
night, I wrote to Balbi to come and finish his work at half-past eleven
in the morning--not a moment sooner or later--and to work exactly four
hours, and not a moment more. ‘Our liberty,’ I said, ‘depends on the
most rigorous exactitude in this matter, and you have nothing to fear.’
“It was the 25th of October, and the time for me to carry out my plan or
to abandon it for ever was at hand. The state inquisitors and the
secretary went every year to pass the three first days of November in
the country; and Laurent, taking advantage of their absence, used
invariably to get drunk in the evening and to make a very late
appearance among the prisoners in the morning. I chose this time,
therefore, for my flight, persuaded that I should not be missed till the
day was pretty well advanced. Another reason, too, had something to do
with my determination. I had consulted an oracle of fate by looking into
Ariosto, according to certain cabalistic formulas, and had lighted oil
the following verse:--‘_Frà il fin d’ ottobre e il capo di novembre_’
(between the end of October and the beginning of November). The
precision of the passage and its applicability to the design I had
already formed both seemed so extraordinary that the reader will pardon
me if I used every effort to bring about the fulfilment of the prophecy
it seemed to contain.
“I passed the morning in the following manner, in order to deceive this
base and stupid creature, to confuse his weak understanding, to hinder
him, in a word, from ruining my scheme. As soon as Laurent had left us I
bade Sorodaci come and take his soup. The wretch had gone to bed; he had
told Laurent that he was ill, and he would not have dared to come to me
if I had not called him. He advanced towards me with every sign of fear,
and throwing himself flat on his stomach he crawled to my feet, kissed
them, and assured me, amid floods of tears, that if I did not forgive
him it would certainly be the death of him before the day was out, for
he already felt the effect of the Holy Virgin’s curse. He was seized
with racking pains in the inside, and his mouth was full of ulcers. I
did not take the trouble to examine him to ascertain if he spoke the
truth; my object was to appear to believe him and to make him entertain
hopes of pardon; and to do that it was at first necessary to make him
eat and drink. The traitor probably intended to deceive me; but as I had
the same intention with regard to him it was simply a question as to
which of us should forestal the other. I had prepared an attack on his
credulity which I knew it would be difficult for him to withstand. I
assumed an inspired air, and bade him, in a voice of authority, sit down
and eat his soup, assuring him that when he had done that I would give
him ‘a piece of good news.’ ‘Know,’ I continued, ‘that the Holy Virgin
has appeared to me and has commanded me to pardon you; you will not
die, but you will leave this place with me.’ He was thunderstruck, and
he at once began to eat his soup, submissively resting on his knees,
there being no chair in the cell. He afterwards sat down on his
palliasse and listened attentively for further revelations. I then
continued: ‘Your horrible treason has cost me a sleepless night, for my
letter was of a nature to ensure my condemnation to perpetual
imprisonment. My sole consolation, I confess, was the certainty that in
less than three days you would die in torments before my eyes. With my
heart full of this wicked thought--unworthy of a Christian, for God
commands us to pardon our enemies--I went to sleep, and in my dream the
Holy Virgin came to me in a vision and said, “Sorodaci is a devotee of
the Holy Rosary and I protect him. I command you to pardon him, and I
will remove the curse which you have called down upon his head. As a
reward for your generous act I will command one of my angels to assume
the human form, to descend from heaven to break your prison bonds, and
to release you from this place in five or six days. The angel will
commence his work to-day at half-past eleven precisely, and will finish
it at half-past three, for he must re-ascend to heaven in open day. On
leaving the prison, in company with the angel, you must take Sorodaci
with you and provide for his safety, on condition of his giving up his
trade of spy. Repeat to him all I have said to you.” At these words the
Holy Virgin disappeared, and I awoke.’
“Still maintaining my seriousness and my inspired air, I watched the
traitor’s face, and observed that he was petrified with astonishment and
fear. I then took my breviary in one hand, and with the other sprinkled
the cell with holy water in every part. In a little time the fellow
asked me at what hour the angel would descend, and whether he would
make any noise in breaking into the prison.
“‘I am certain,’ I replied, ‘that he will come at half-past three, that
we shall hear him at work, and that he will leave precisely at the time
the Virgin has named.’
“‘You may have been merely dreaming,’ he ventured, timidly.
“‘No; I am sure I did not dream. And now, do you feel yourself capable
of taking an oath never again to become a spy?’
“Instead of replying, he lay down on the bed and went to sleep. He awoke
in two hours with the question. Whether it was not possible to defer the
taking of the oath?
“‘You may defer it,’ I replied, ‘until the coming of the angel, if you
like; but if you are not ready to swear then, I will leave you to your
miserable trade and the miserable fate that will surely overtake you if
you continue thus to offend God and man.’
“I read in his detestable face the satisfaction he derived from this
announcement, for it was easy to see he felt sure the angel would not
come. I waited anxiously to hear the clock strike, for I felt certain
that the ‘arrival of the angel’ would end in the overthrow of his
miserable reason. As soon, therefore, as I heard the first stroke of the
appointed hour, I threw myself on my knees and ordered him, in a voice
of authority, to do the same. He obeyed me with a terrified air. As soon
as I heard the monk approaching I cried out hastily, ‘The angel is
coming!’ and throwing myself flat on my stomach I gave the terrified spy
a vigorous blow with my fist, that forced him to assume the same
posture. The monk’s operations made a great noise, and they lasted a
sufficiently long time, for I had to remain for at least a quarter of
an hour in my disagreeable position. In any other case I should have
been ready to die with laughter at the sight of the miserable wretch
lying motionless at my side. But I carefully refrained even from
smiling, for I felt that too much was at stake to permit of such an
indulgence. I presently got up and assumed a kneeling attitude, giving
him to understand that he was to do the same; and he passed three hours
and a half in this manner, telling his beads all the while. From time to
time he fell asleep, from sheer weariness, and now and then he cast a
furtive glance at the ceiling, his face all the while wearing an
expression of the most complete stupor. At length I called out, in a
tone half solemn, half devotional, ‘Prostrate yourself, for the angel is
leaving!’ and just then Balbi went away to his own cell, and every sound
was hushed. On rising, I perceived, by the wretch’s countenance, that
his mind was full of anxiety and fright. I was delighted, for I saw in
this an opportunity of imposing on him some penance adequate to his
manifold misdeeds. ‘When Laurent comes in the morning,’ I said, ‘you
will throw yourself on the bed, with your face to the wall, without
making the slightest movement or uttering a word. If he _should_ speak
you must reply, without looking at him, that you have not been able to
sleep, and that you are in want of rest. Do you promise this without
reserve?’
“‘I promise,’ he stammered out, ‘to do everything you have said.’