To Paris And Prison: Under the Leads

J >> Jacques Casanova de Seingalt >> To Paris And Prison: Under the Leads


"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 difficulties 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.