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.