Caesar was in prison for two years, always hoping that Louis XII would
reclaim him as peer of the kingdom of France; but Louis, much disturbed
by the loss of the battle of Garigliano, which robbed him of the kingdom
of Naples, had enough to do with his own affairs without busying himself
with his cousin's. So the prisoner was beginning to despair, when one
day as he broke his bread at breakfast he found a file and a little
bottle containing a narcotic, with a letter from Michelotto, saying that
he was out of prison and had left Italy for Spain, and now lay in hiding
with the Count of Benevento in the neighbouring village: he added that
from the next day forward he and the count would wait every night on the
road between the fortress and the village with three excellent horses;
it was now Caesar's part to do the best he could with his bottle and
file. When the whole world had abandoned the Duke of Romagna he had been
remembered by a sbirro.
The prison where he had been shut up for two years was so hateful to
Caesar that he lost not a single moment: the same day he attacked one of
the bars of a window that looked out upon an inner court, and soon
contrived so to manipulate it that it would need only a final push to
come out. But not only was the window nearly seventy feet from the
ground, but one could only get out of the court by using an exit
reserved for the governor, of which he alone had the key; also this key
never left him; by day it hung at his waist, by night it was under his
pillow: this then was the chief difficulty.
But prisoner though he was, Caesar had always been treated with the
respect due to his name and rank: every day at the dinner-hour he was
conducted from the room that served as his prison to the governor, who
did the honours of the table in a grand and courteous fashion. The fact
was that Dan Manuel had served with honour under King Ferdinand, and
therefore, while he guarded Caesar rigorously, according to orders, he
had a great respect for so brave a general, and took pleasure in
listening to the accounts of his battles. So he had often insisted that
Caesar should not only dine but also breakfast with him; happily the
prisoner, yielding perhaps to some presentiment, had till now refused
this favour. This was of great advantage to him, since, thanks to his
solitude, he had been able to receive the instruments of escape sent by
Michelotto. The same day he received them, Caesar, on going back to his
room, made a false step and sprained his foot; at the dinner-hour he
tried to go down, but he pretended to be suffering so cruelly that he
gave it up. The governor came to see him in his room, and found him
stretched upon the bed.
The day after, he was no better; the governor had his dinner sent in,
and came to see him, as on the night before; he found his prisoner so
dejected and gloomy in his solitude that he offered to come and sup with
him: Caesar gratefully accepted.
This time it was the prisoner who did the honours: Caesar was charmingly
courteous; the governor thought he would profit by this lack of
restraint to put to him certain questions as to the manner of his
arrest, and asked him as an Old Castilian, for whom honour is still of
some account, what the truth really was as to Gonzalvo's and Ferdinand's
breach of faith, with him. Caesar appeared extremely inclined to give
him his entire confidence, but showed by a sign that the attendants were
in the way. This precaution appeared quite natural, and the governor
took no offense, but hastened to send them all away, so as to be sooner
alone with his companion. When the door was shut, Caesar filled his
glass and the governor's, proposing the king's health: the governor
honoured the toast: Caesar at once began his tale; but he had scarcely
uttered a third part of it when, interesting as it was, the eyes of his
host shut as though by magic, and he slid under the table in a profound
sleep.
After half a hour had passed, the servants, hearing no noise, entered
and found the two, one on the table, the other under it: this event was
not so extraordinary that they paid any great attention to it: all they
did was to carry Don Manuel to his room and lift Caesar on the bed; then
they put away the remnant of the meal for the next day's supper, shut
the door very carefully, and left their prisoner alone.
Caesar stayed for a minute motionless and apparently plunged in the
deepest sleep; but when he had heard the steps retreating, he quietly
raised his head, opened his eyes, slipped off the bed, walked to the
door, slowly indeed, but not to all appearance feeling the accident of
the night before, and applied his ear for some minutes to the keyhole;
then lifting his head with an expression of indescribable pride, he
wiped his brow with his hand, and for the first time since his guards
went out, breathed freely with full-drawn breaths.
There was no time to lose: his first care was to shut the door as
securely on the inside as it was already shut on the outside, to blow
out the lamp, to open the window, and to finish sawing through the bar.
When this was done, he undid the bandages on his leg, took down the
window and bed curtains, tore them into strips, joined the sheets, table
napkins and cloth, and with all these things tied together end to end,
formed a rope fifty or sixty feet long, with knots every here and there.
This rope he fixed securely to the bar next to the one he had just cut
through; then he climbed up to the window and began what was really the
hardest part of his perilous enterprise, clinging with hands and feet to
this fragile support. Luckily he was both strong and skilful, and he
went down the whole length of the rope without accident; but when he
reached the end and was hanging on the last knot, he sought in vain to
touch the ground with his feet; his rope was too short.
The situation was a terrible one: the darkness of the night prevented
the fugitive from seeing how far off he was from the ground, and his
fatigue prevented him from even attempting to climb up again. Caesar put
up a brief prayer, whether to God or Satan he alone could say; then
letting go the rope, he dropped from a height of twelve or fifteen feet.
The danger was too great for the fugitive to trouble about a few
trifling contusions: he at once rose, and guiding himself by the
direction of his window, he went straight to the little door of exit; he
then put his hand into the pocket of his doublet, and a cold sweat
damped his brow; either he had forgotten and left it in his room or had
lost it in his fall; anyhow, he had not the key.
But summoning his recollections, he quite gave up the first idea for the
second, which was the only likely one: again he crossed the court,
looking for the place where the key might have fallen, by the aid of the
wall round a tank on which he had laid his hand when he got up; but the
object of search was so small and the night so dark that there was
little chance of getting any result; still Caesar sought for it, for in
this key was his last hope: suddenly a door was opened, and a night
watch appeared, preceded by two torches. Caesar for the moment thought
he was lost, but remembering the tank behind him, he dropped into it,
and with nothing but his head above water anxiously watched the
movements of the soldiers, as they advanced beside him, passed only a
few feet away, crossed the court, and then disappeared by an opposite
door. But short as their luminous apparition had been, it had lighted up
the ground, and Caesar by the glare of the torches had caught the
glitter of the long-sought key, and as soon as the door was shut behind
the men, was again master of his liberty.
Half-way between the castle and the village two cavaliers and a led
horse were waiting for him: the two men were Michelotto and the Count of
Benevento. Caesar sprang upon the riderless horse, pressed with fervour
the hand of the count and the sbirro; then all three galloped to the
frontier of Navarre, where they arrived three days later, and were
honourably received by the king, Jean d'Albret, the brother of Caesar's
wife.
From Navarre he thought to pass into France, and from France to make an
attempt upon Italy, with the aid of Louis XII; but during Caesar's
detention in the castle of Medina del Campo, Louis had made peace with
the King of Spain; and when he heard of Caesar's flight; instead of
helping him, as there was some reason to expect he would, since he was a
relative by marriage, he took away the duchy of Valentinois and also his
pension. Still, Caesar had nearly 200,000 ducats in the charge of
bankers at Genoa; he wrote asking for this sum, with which he hoped to
levy troops in Spain and in Navarre, and make an attempt upon Pisa: 500
men, 200,000 ducats, his name and his word were more than enough to save
him from despair.
The bankers denied the deposit.
Caesar was at the mercy of his brother-in-law.
One of the vassals of the King of Navarre, named Prince Alarino, had
just then revolted: Caesar then took command of the army which Jean
d'Albret was sending out against him, followed by Michelotto, who was as
faithful in adversity as ever before. Thanks to Caesar's courage and
skilful tactics, Prince Alarino was beaten in a first encounter; but the
day after his defeat he rallied his army, and offered battle about three
o'clock in the afternoon. Caesar accepted it.
For nearly four hours they fought obstinately on both sides; but at
length, as the day was going down, Caesar proposed to decide the issue
by making a charge himself, at the head of a hundred men-at-arms, upon a
body of cavalry which made his adversary's chief force. To his great
astonishment, this cavalry at the first shock gave way and took flight
in the direction of a little wood, where they seemed to be seeking
refuge. Caesar followed close on their heels up to the edge of the
forest; then suddenly the pursued turned right about face, three or four
hundred archers came out of the wood to help them, and Caesar's men,
seeing that they had fallen into an ambush, took to their heels like
cowards, and abandoned their leader.
Left alone, Caesar would not budge one step; possibly he had had enough
of life, and his heroism was rather the result of satiety than courage:
however that may be, he defended himself like a lion; but, riddled with
arrows and bolts, his horse at last fell, with Caesar's leg under him.
His adversaries rushed upon him, and one of them thrusting a sharp and
slender iron pike through a weak place in his armour, pierced his
breast; Caesar cursed God and died.
But the rest of the enemy's army was defeated, thanks to the courage of
Michelotto, who fought like a valiant condottiere, but learned, on
returning to the camp in the evening, from those who had fled that they
had abandoned Caesar and that he had never reappeared. Then only too
certain, from his master's well-known courage, that disaster had
occurred, he desired to give one last proof of his devotion by not
leaving his body to the wolves and birds of prey. Torches were lighted,
for it was dark, and with ten or twelve of those who had gone with
Caesar as far as the little wood, he went to seek his master. On
reaching the spot they pointed out, he beheld five men stretched side by
side; four of them were dressed, but the fifth had been stripped of his
clothing and lay completely naked. Michelotto dismounted, lifted the
head upon his knees, and by the light of the torches recognised Caesar.
Thus fell, on the 10th of March, 1507, on an unknown field, near an
obscure village called Viane, in a wretched skirmish with the vassal of
a petty king, the man whom Macchiavelli presents to all princes as the
model of ability, diplomacy, and courage.
As to Lucrezia, the fair Duchess of Ferrara, she died full of years, and
honours, adored as a queen by her subjects, and sung as a goddess by
Ariosto and by Bembo.
EPILOGUE
There was once in Paris, says Boccaccio, a brave and good merchant named
Jean de Civigny, who did a great trade in drapery, and was connected in
business with a neighbour and fellow-merchant, a very rich man called
Abraham, who, though a Jew, enjoyed a good reputation. Jean de Civigny,
appreciating the qualities of the worthy Israelite; feared lest, good
man as he was, his false religion would bring his soul straight to
eternal perdition; so he began to urge him gently as a friend to
renounce his errors and open his eyes to the Christian faith, which he
could see for himself was prospering and spreading day by day, being the
only true and good religion; whereas his own creed, it was very plain,
was so quickly diminishing that it would soon disappear from the face of
the earth. The Jew replied that except in his own religion there was no
salvation, that he was born in it, proposed to live and die in it, and
that he knew nothing in the world that could change his opinion. Still,
in his proselytising fervour Jean would not think himself beaten, and
never a day passed but he demonstrated with those fair words the
merchant uses to seduce a customer, the superiority of the Christian
religion above the Jewish; and although Abraham was a great master of
Mosaic law, he began to enjoy his friend's preaching, either because of
the friendship he felt for him or because the Holy Ghost descended upon
the tongue of the new apostle; still obstinate in his own belief, he
would not change. The more he persisted in his error, the more excited
was Jean about converting him, so that at last, by God's help, being
somewhat shaken by his friend's urgency, Abraham one day said--
"Listen, Jean: since you have it so much at heart that I should be
converted, behold me disposed to satisfy you; but before I go to Rome to
see him whom you call God's vicar on earth, I must study his manner of
life and his morals, as also those of his brethren the cardinals; and
if, as I doubt not, they are in harmony with what you preach, I will
admit that, as you have taken such pains to show me, your faith is
better than mine, and I will do as you desire; but if it should prove
otherwise, I shall remain a Jew, as I was before; for it is not worth
while, at my age, to change my belief for a worse one."
Jean was very sad when he heard these words; and he said mournfully to
himself, "Now I have lost my time and pains, which I thought I had spent
so well when I was hoping to convert this unhappy Abraham; for if he
unfortunately goes, as he says he will, to the court of Rome, and there
sees the shameful life led by the servants of the Church, instead of
becoming a Christian the Jew will be more of a Jew than ever." Then
turning to Abraham, he said, "Ah, friend, why do you wish to incur such
fatigue and expense by going to Rome, besides the fact that travelling
by sea or by land must be very dangerous for so rich a man as you are?
Do you suppose there is no one here to baptize you? If you have any
doubts concerning the faith I have expounded, where better than here
will you find theologians capable of contending with them and allaying
them? So, you see, this voyage seems to me quite unnecessary: just
imagine that the priests there are such as you see here, and all the
better in that they are nearer to the supreme pastor. If you are guided
by my advice, you will postpone this toil till you have committed some
grave sin and need absolution; then you and I will go together."
But the Jew replied--
"I believe, dear Jean, that everything is as you tell me; but you know
how obstinate I am. I will go to Rome, or I will never be a Christian."
Then Jean, seeing his great wish, resolved that it was no use trying to
thwart him, and wished him good luck; but in his heart he gave up all
hope; for it was certain that his friend would come back from his
pilgrimage more of a Jew than ever, if the court of Rome was still as he
had seen it.
But Abraham mounted his horse, and at his best speed took the road to
Rome, where on his arrival he was wonderfully well received by his
coreligionists; and after staying there a good long time, he began to
study the behaviour of the pope, the cardinals and other prelates, and
of the whole court. But much to his surprise he found out, partly by
what passed under his eyes and partly by what he was told, that all from
the pope downward to the lowest sacristan of St. Peter's were committing
the sins of luxurious living in a most disgraceful and unbridled manner,
with no remorse and no shame, so that pretty women and handsome youths
could obtain any favours they pleased. In addition to this sensuality
which they exhibited in public, he saw that they were gluttons and
drunkards, so much so that they were more the slaves of the belly than
are the greediest of animals. When he looked a little further, he found
them so avaricious and fond of money that they sold for hard cash both
human bodies and divine offices, and with less conscience than a man in
Paris would sell cloth or any other merchandise. Seeing this and much
more that it would not be proper to set down here, it seemed to Abraham,
himself a chaste, sober, and upright man, that he had seen enough. So he
resolved to return to Paris, and carried out the resolution with his
usual promptitude. Jean de Civigny held a great fete in honour of his
return, although he had lost hope of his coming back converted. But he
left time for him to settle down before he spoke of anything, thinking
there would be plenty of time to hear the bad news he expected. But,
after a few days of rest, Abraham himself came to see his friend, and
Jean ventured to ask what he thought of the Holy Father, the cardinals,
and the other persons at the pontifical court. At these words the Jew
exclaimed, "God damn them all! I never once succeeded in finding among
them any holiness, any devotion, any good works; but, on the contrary,
luxurious living, avarice, greed, fraud, envy, pride, and even worse, if
there is worse; all the machine seemed to be set in motion by an impulse
less divine than diabolical. After what I saw, it is my firm conviction
that your pope, and of course the others as well, are using all their
talents, art, endeavours, to banish the Christian religion from the face
of the earth, though they ought to be its foundation and support; and
since, in spite of all the care and trouble they expend to arrive at
this end, I see that your religion is spreading every day and becoming
more brilliant and more pure, it is borne in upon me that the Holy
Spirit Himself protects it as the only true and the most holy religion;
this is why, deaf as you found me to your counsel and rebellious to your
wish, I am now, ever since I returned from this Sodom, firmly resolved
on becoming a Christian. So let us go at once to the church, for I am
quite ready to be baptized."
There is no need to say if Jean de Civigny, who expected a refusal, was
pleased at this consent. Without delay he went with his godson to Notre
Dame de Paris, where he prayed the first priest he met to administer
baptism to his friend, and this was speedily done; and the new convert
changed his Jewish name of Abraham into the Christian name of Jean; and
as the neophyte, thanks to his journey to Rome, had gained a profound
belief, his natural good qualities increased so greatly in the practice
of our holy religion, that after leading an exemplary life he died in
the full odour of sanctity.
This tale of Boccaccio's gives so admirable an answer to the charge of
irreligion which some might make against us if they mistook our
intentions, that as we shall not offer any other reply, we have not
hesitated to present it entire as it stands to the eyes of our readers.
And let us never forget that if the papacy has had an Innocent VIII and
an Alexander VI who are its shame, it has also had a Pius VII and a
Gregory XVI who are its honour and glory.
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