To Paris And Prison: Under the Leads

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


"I want to go to Fusina; be quick and, call another gondolier."

This was soon done, and while the gondola was being got off I sat down on
the seat in the middle, and Balbi at the side. The odd appearance of the
monk, without a hat and with a fine cloak on his shoulders, with my
unseasonable attire, was enough to make people take us for an astrologer
and his man.

As soon as we had passed the custom-house, the gondoliers began to row
with a will along the Giudecca Canal, by which we must pass to go to
Fusina or to Mestre, which latter place was really our destination. When
we had traversed half the length of the canal I put my head out, and said
to the waterman on the poop,

"When do you think we shall get to Mestre?"

"But you told me to go to Fusina."

"You must be mad; I said Mestre."

The other boatman said that I was mistaken, and the fool of a monk, in
his capacity of zealous Christian and friend of truth, took care to tell
me that I was wrong. I wanted to give him a hearty kick as a punishment
for his stupidity, but reflecting that common sense comes not by wishing
for it I burst into a peal of laughter, and agreed that I might have made
a mistake, but that my real intention was to go to Mestre. To that they
answered nothing, but a minute after the master boatman said he was ready
to take me to England if I liked.

"Bravely spoken," said I, "and now for Mestre, ho!"

"We shall be there in three quarters of an hour, as the wind and tide
are in our favour."

Well pleased I looked at the canal behind us, and thought it had never
seemed so fair, especially as there was not a single boat coming our way.
It was a glorious morning, the air was clear and glowing with the first
rays of the sun, and my two young watermen rowed easily and well; and as
I thought over the night of sorrow, the dangers I had escaped, the abode
where I had been fast bound the day before, all the chances which had
been in my favour, and the liberty of which I now began to taste the
sweets, I was so moved in my heart and grateful to my God that, well nigh
choked with emotion, I burst into tears.

My nice companion who had hitherto only spoken to back up the gondoliers,
thought himself bound to offer me his consolations. He did not understand
why I was weeping, and the tone he took made me pass from sweet
affliction to a strange mirthfulness which made him go astray once more,
as he thought I had got mad. The poor monk, as I have said, was a fool,
and whatever was bad about him was the result of his folly. I had been
under the sad necessity of turning him to account, but though without
intending to do so he had almost been my ruin. It was no use trying to
make him believe that I had told the gondoliers to go to Fusina whilst I
intended to go to Mestre; he said I could not have thought of that till I
got on to the Grand Canal.

In due course we reached Mestre. There were no horses to ride post, but I
found men with coaches who did as well, and I agreed with one of them to
take me to Trevisa in an hour and a quarter. The horses were put in in
three minutes, and with the idea that Father Balbi was behind me I turned
round to say "Get up," but he was not there. I told an ostler to go and
look for him, with the intention of reprimanding him sharply, even if he
had gone for a necessary occasion, for we had no time to waste, not even
thus. The man came back saying he could not find' him, to my great rage
and indignation. I was tempted to abandon him, but a feeling of humanity
restrained me. I made enquiries all round; everybody had seen him, but
not a soul knew where he was. I walked along the High Street, and some
instinct prompting me to put my head in at the window of a cafe. I saw
the wretched man standing at the bar drinking chocolate and making love
to the girl. Catching sight of me, he pointed to the girl and said--

"She's charming," and then invited me to take a cup of chocolate, saying
that I must pay, as he hadn't a penny. I kept back my wrath and answered,

"I don't want any, and do you make haste!" and caught hold of his arm in
such sort that he turned white with pain. I paid the money and we went
out. I trembled with anger. We got into our coach, but we had scarcely
gone ten paces before I recognised: an inhabitant, of Mestre named Balbi
Tommasi, a good sort of man; but reported to be one of the familiars of
the Holy Office. He knew me, too, and coming up called out,

"I am delighted to see you here. I suppose you have just escaped. How did
you do it?"

"I have not escaped, but have been set at liberty."

"No, no, that's not possible, as I was at M. Grimani's yesterday evening,
and I should have heard of it."

It will be easier for the reader to imagine my state of mind than for me
to describe it. I was discovered by a man whom I believed to be a hired
agent of the Government, who only had to give a glance to one of the
sbirri with whom Mestre swarmed to have me arrested. I told him to speak
softly, and getting down I asked him to come to one side. I took him
behind a house, and seeing that there was nobody in sight, a ditch in
front, beyond which the open country extended, I grasped my pike and took
him by the neck. At this: he gave a struggle, slipped out of my hands,
leapt over the ditch, and without turning round set off to run at, full
speed. As soon as he was some way off he slackened his course, turned
round and kissed his hand to me, in token of wishing me a prosperous
journey. And as soon; as he was out of my sight I gave thanks to God
that, this man by his quickness had preserved me from the commission of a
crime, for I would have killed him; and he, as it turned out, bore me no
ill will.

I was in a terrible position. In open war with all the powers of-the
Republic, everything had to give way to my safety, which made me neglect
no means of attaining my ends.

With the gloom of a man who has passed through a great peril, I gave a
glance of contempt towards the monk, who now saw to what danger he had
exposed us, and then got up again into the carriage. We reached Trevisa
without further adventure, and I told the posting-master to get me a
carriage and two horses ready by ten o'clock; though I had no intention
of continuing my journey along the highway, both because I lacked means;
and because I feared pursuit. The inn-keeper asked me, if I would take
any breakfast, of which I stood in great need, for I was dying with
hunger, but I did not dare to, accept his offer, as a quarter of an
hour's delay might, prove fatal. I was afraid of being retaken, and of
being ashamed of it for the rest of my life; for a man of sense ought to
be able to snap his fingers at four hundred thousand men in the open
country, and if he cannot escape capture he must be a fool.

I went out by St. Thomas's Gate as if I was going for a short walk, and
after walking for a mile on the highway I struck into the fields,
resolving not to leave them as long as I should be within the borders of
the Republic. The shortest way was by Bassano, but I took the longer
path, thinking I might possibly be expected on the more direct road,
while they would never think of my leaving the Venetian territory by way
of Feltre, which is the longest way of getting into the state subject to
the Bishop of Trent.

After walking for three hours I let myself drop to the ground, for I
could not move a step further. I must either take some food or die there,
so I told the monk to leave the cloak with me and go to a farm I saw,
there to buy something to eat. I gave him the money, and he set off,
telling me that he thought I had more courage. The miserable man did not
know what courage was, but he was more robust than myself, and he had,
doubtless, taken in provisions before leaving the prison. Besides he had
had some chocolate; he was thin and wiry, and a monk, and mental
anxieties were unknown to him.

Although the house was not an inn, the good farmer's wife sent me a
sufficient meal which only cost me thirty Venetian sous. After satisfying
my appetite, feeling that sleep was creeping on me, I set out again on
the tramp, well braced up. In four hours' time I stopped at a hamlet, and
found that I was twenty-four miles from Trevisa. I was done up, my ankles
were swollen, and my shoes were in holes. There was only another hour of
day-light before us. Stretching myself out beneath a grove of trees I
made Father Balbi sit by me, and discoursed to him in the manner
following:

"We must make for Borgo di Valsugano, it is the first town beyond the
borders of the Republic. We shall be as safe there as if we were in
London, and we can take our ease for awhile; but to get there we must go
carefully to work, and the first thing we must do is to separate. You
must go by Mantello Woods, and I by the mountains; you by the easiest and
shortest way, and I by the longest and most difficult; you with money and
I without a penny. I will make you a present of my cloak, which you must
exchange for a great coat and a hat, and everybody will take you for a
countryman, as you are luckily rather like one in the face. Take these
seventeen livres, which is all that remains to me of the two sequins
Count Asquin gave me. You will reach Borgo by the day after to-morrow,
and I shall be twenty-four hours later. Wait for me in the first inn on
the left-hand side of the street, and be sure I shall come in due season.
I require a good night's rest in a good bed; and Providence will get me
one somewhere, but I must sleep without fear of being disturbed, and in
your company that would be out of the question. I am certain that we are
being sought for on all sides, and that our descriptions have been so
correctly given that if we went into any inn together we should be
certain to be arrested. You see the state I am in, and my urgent
necessity for a ten hours' rest. Farewell, then, do you go that way and I
will take this, and I will find somewhere near here a rest for the sole
of my foot."

"I have been expecting you to say as much," said Father Balbi, "and for
answer I will remind you of the promise you gave me when I let myself be
persuaded to break into your cell. You promised me that we should always
keep company; and so don't flatter yourself that I shall leave you, your
fate and mine are linked together. We shall be able to get a good refuge
for our money, we won't go to the inns, and no one will arrest us."

"You are determined, are you, not to follow the good advice I have given
you?"

"I am."

"We shall see about that."

I rose to my feet, though with some difficulty, and taking the measure of
his height I marked it out upon the ground, then drawing my pike from my
pocket, I proceeded with the utmost coolness to excavate the earth,
taking no notice of the questions the monk asked me. After working: for a
quarter of an hour I set myself to gaze sadly upon him, and I told him
that I felt obliged as a Christian to warn him to commend his soul to
God, "since I am about to bury you here, alive or dead; and if you prove
the stronger, you will bury me. You can escape if you wish to, as I shall
not pursue you."

He made no reply, and I betook myself to my work again, but I confess
that I began to be afraid of being rushed to extremities by this brute,
of whom I was determined to rid myself.

At last, whether convinced by my arguments or afraid Of my pike, he came
towards me. Not guessing. What he was about, I presented the point of my
pike towards him, but I had nothing to fear.

"I will do what you want," said he.

I straightway gave him all the money I had, and promising to rejoin him
at Borgo I bade him farewell. Although I had not a penny in my pocket and
had two rivers to cross over, I congratulated myself on having got rid of
a man of his character, for by myself I felt confident of being able to
cross the bounds of the Republic.




CHAPTER XXXI

I Find a Lodging in the House of the Chief of the Sbirri--I Pass a Good
Night There and Recover My Strength--I Go to Mass--A Disagreeable Meeting
I Am Obliged to Take Six Sequins by Force--Out of Danger--Arrived at
Munich--Balbi I Set Out for Paris--My Arrival--Attempt on the Life of
Louis XV.

As soon as I saw Father Balbi far enough off I got up, and seeing at a
little distance a shepherd keeping his flock on the hill-side, I made my
way-towards him to obtain such information as I needed. "What is the name
of this village, my friend?" said I.

"Valde Piadene, signor," he answered, to my surprise, for I found I was
much farther on my way that I thought. I next asked him the owners of
five or six houses which I saw scattered around, and the persons he
mentioned chanced to be all known to me, but were not the kind of men I
should have cared to trouble with my presence. On my asking him the name
of a palace before me, he said it belonged to the Grimanis, the chief of
whom was a State Inquisitor, and then resident at the palace, so I had to
take care not to let him see me. Finally, an my enquiring the owner of a
red house in the distance, he told me, much to my surprise, that it
belonged to the chief of the sbirri. Bidding farewell to the kindly
shepherd I began to go down the hill mechanically, and I am still puzzled
to know what instinct directed my steps towards that house, which common
sense and fear also should have made me shun. I steered my course for it
in a straight line, and I can say with truth that I did so quite
unwittingly. If it be true that we have all of us an invisible
intelligence--a beneficent genius who guides our steps aright--as was the
case with Socrates, to that alone I should attribute the irresistible
attraction which drew me towards the house where I had most to dread.
However that may be, it was the boldest stroke I have played in my whole
life.

I entered with an easy and unconstrained air, and asked a child who was
playing at top in the court-yard where his father was. Instead of
replying, the child went to call his mother, and directly afterwards
appeared a pretty woman in the family way, who politely asked me my
business with her husband, apologizing for his absence.

"I am sorry," I said, "to hear that my gossip is not in, though at the
same time I am delighted to make the acquaintance of his charming wife."

"Your gossip? You will be M. Vetturi, then? My husband told me that you
had kindly promised to be the god-father of our next child. I am
delighted to know you, but my husband will be very vexed to have been
away:

"I hope he will soon return, as I wanted to ask him for a night's
lodging. I dare not go anywhere in the state you see me."

"You shall have the best bed in the house, and I will get you a good
supper. My husband when he comes back will thank your excellence for
doing us so much honour. He went away with all his people an hour ago,
and I don't expect him back for three or four days."

"Why is he away for such a long time, my dear madam?"

"You have not heard, then, that two prisoners have escaped from The
Leads? One is a noble and the other a private individual named Casanova.
My husband has received a letter from Messer-Grande ordering him to make
a search for them; if he find them he will take them back to Venice, and
if not he will return here, but he will be on the look-out for three days
at least."

"I am sorry for this accident, my dear madam, but I should not like to
put you out, and indeed I should be glad to lie down immediately."

"You shall do so, and my mother shall attend to your wants. But what is
the matter with your knees?"

"I fell down whilst hunting on the mountains, and gave myself some severe
wounds, and am much weakened by loss of blood."

"Oh! my poor gentleman, my poor gentleman! But my mother will cure you."

She called her mother, and having told her of my necessities she went
out. This pretty sbirress had not the wit of her profession, for the
story I had told her sounded like a fairy-tale. On horseback with white
silk stockings! Hunting in sarcenet, without cloak and without a man! Her
husband would make fine game of her when he came back; but God bless her
for her kind heart and benevolent stupidity. Her mother tended me with
all the politeness I should have met with in the best families. The
worthy woman treated me like a mother, and called me "son" as she
attended to my wounds. The name sounded pleasantly in my ears, and did no
little towards my cure by the sentiments it awoke in my breast. If I had
been less taken up with the position I was in I should have repaid her
care with some evident marks of the gratitude I felt, but the place I was
in and the part I was playing made the situation too serious a one for me
to think of anything else.

This kindly woman, after looking at my knees and my thighs, told me that
I must make my mind to suffer a little pain, but I might be sure of being
cured by the morning. All I had to do was to bear the application of
medicated linen to my wounds, and not to stir till the next day. I
promised to bear the pain patiently, and to do exactly as she told me.

I was given an excellent supper, and I ate and drank with good appetite.
I then gave myself up to treatment, and fell asleep whilst my nurse was
attending to me. I suppose she undressed me as she would a child, but I
remembered nothing about it when I woke up--I was, in fact, totally
unconscious. Though I had made a good supper I had only done so to
satisfy my craving for food and to regain my strength, and sleep came to
me with an irresistible force, as my physical exhaustion did not leave me
the power of arguing myself out of it. I took my supper at six o'clock in
the evening, and I heard six striking as I awoke. I seemed to have been
enchanted. Rousing myself up and gathering my wits together, I first took
off the linen bandages, and I was astonished to find my wounds healed and
quite free from pain. I did my hair, dressed myself in less than five
minutes, and finding the door of my room open I went downstairs, crossed
the court, and left the house behind me, without appearing to notice two
individuals who were standing outside, and must have been sbirri. I made
haste to lengthen the distance between me and the place where I had found
the kindliest hospitality, the utmost politeness, the most tender care,
and best of all, new health and strength, and as I walked I could not
help feeling terrified at the danger I had been in. I shuddered
involuntarily; and at the present moment, after so many years, I still
shudder when I think of the peril to which I had so heedlessly exposed
myself. I wondered how I managed to go in, and still more how I came out;
it seemed absurd that I should not be followed. For five hours I tramped
on, keeping to the woods and mountains, not meeting a soul besides a few
countryfolk, and turning neither to the right nor left.

It was not yet noon, when, as I went along my way, I stopped short at the
sound of a bell. I was on high ground, and looking in the direction from
which the sound came I saw, a little church in the valley, and many,
people going towards it to hear mass. My heart desired to express
thankfulness for the protection of Providence, and, though all nature was
a temple worthy of its Creator, custom drew me to the church. When men
are in trouble, every passing thought seems an inspiration. It was All
Souls' Day. I went down the hill, and came into the church, and saw, to
my astonishment, M. Marc Antoine Grimani, the nephew of the State
Inquisitor, with Madame Marie Visani, his wife. I made my bow; which was
returned, and after I had heard mass I left the church. M. Grimani
followed me by himself, and when he had got near me, called me by name,
saying, "What are you doing here, Casanova, and what has become of your
friend?"

"I have given him what little money I had for him to escape by another
road, whilst I, without a penny in my pocket, am endeavouring to reach a
place of safety by this way. If your excellence would kindly give me some
help, it would speed my journey for me."

"I can't give you anything, but you will find recluses on your way who
won't let you die of hunger. But tell me how you contrived to pierce the
roof of The Leads."

"The story is an interesting one, but it would take up too much time, and
in the meanwhile the recluses might eat up the food which is to keep me
from dying of hunger."

With this sarcasm I made him a profound bow, and went upon my way. In
spite of my great want, his refusal pleased me, as it made me think
myself a better gentleman than the "excellence" who had referred me to
the charity of recluses. I heard at Paris afterwards that when his wife
heard of it she reproached him for his hard-hearted behaviour. There can
be no doubt that kindly and generous feelings are more often to be found
in the hearts of women than of men.

I continued my journey till sunset. Weary and faint with hunger I stopped
at a good-looking house, which stood by itself. I asked to speak to the
master, and the porter told me that he was not in as he had gone to a
wedding on the other side of the river, and would be away for two days,
but that he had bidden him to welcome all his friends while he was away.
Providence! luck! chance! whichever you like.

I went in and was treated to a good supper and a good bed. I found by the
addresses of some letters which were lying about that I was being
entertained in the house of M. Rombenchi--a consul, of what nation I know
not. I wrote a letter to him and sealed it to await his return. After
making an excellent supper and having had a good sleep, I rose, and
dressing myself carefully set out again without being able to leave the
porter any mark of my gratitude, and shortly afterwards crossed the
river, promising to pay when I came back. After walking for five hours I
dined in a monastery of Capuchins, who are very useful to people in my
position. I then set out again, feeling fresh and strong, and walked
along at a good pace till three o'clock. I halted at a house which I
found from a countryman belonged to a friend of mine. I walked in, asked
if the master was at home, and was shewn into a room where he was writing
by himself. I stepped forward to greet him, but as soon as he saw me he
seemed horrified and bid me be gone forthwith, giving me idle and
insulting reasons for his behaviour. I explained to him how I was
situated, and asked him to let me have sixty sequins on my note of hand,
drawn on M. de Bragadin. He replied that he could not so much as give me
a glass of water, since he dreaded the wrath of the Tribunal for my very
presence in his house. He was a stockbroker, about sixty years old, and
was under great obligations to me. His inhuman refusal produced quite a
different effect on me than that of M. Grimani. Whether from rage,
indignation, or nature, I took him by the collar, I shewed him my pike,
and raising my voice threatened to kill him. Trembling all over, he took
a key from his pocket and shewing me a bureau told me he kept money
there, and I had only to open it and take what I wanted; I told him to
open it himself. He did so, and on his opening a drawer containing gold,
I told him to count me out six sequins.

"You asked me for sixty."

"Yes, that was when I was asking a loan of you as a friend; but since I
owe the money to force, I require six only, and I will give you no note
of hand. You shall be repaid at Venice, where I shall write of the pass
to which you forced me, you cowardly wretch!"

"I beg your pardon! take the sixty sequins, I entreat you."

"No, no more. I am going on my way, and I advise you not to hinder me,
lest in my despair I come back and burn your house about your ears."

I went out and walked for two hours, until the approach of night and
weariness made me stop short at the house of a farmer, where I had a bad
supper and a bed of straw. In the morning, I bought an old overcoat, and
hired an ass to journey on, and near Feltre I bought a pair of boots. In
this guise I passed the hut called the Scala. There was a guard there
who, much to my delight, as the reader will guess, did not even honour me
by asking my name. I then took a two-horse carriage and got to Borgo de
Valsugano in good time, and found Father Balbi at the inn I had told him
of. If he had not greeted me first I should not have known him. A great
overcoat, a low hat over a thick cotton cap, disguised him to admiration.
He told me that a farmer had given him these articles in exchange for my
cloak, that he had arrived without difficulty, and was faring well. He
was kind enough to tell me that he did not expect to see me, as he did
not believe my promise to rejoin him was made in good faith. Possibly I
should have been wise not to undeceive him on this account.

I passed the following day in the inn, where, without getting out of my
bed, I wrote more than twenty letters to Venice, in many of which I
explained what I had been obliged to do to get the six sequins.

The monk wrote impudent letters to his superior, Father Barbarigo, and to
his brother nobles, and love-letters to the servant girls who had been
his ruin. I took the lace off my dress, and sold my hat, and thus got rid
of a gay appearance unsuitable to my position, as it made me too much an
object of notice.