UNDER THE LEADS - Chapter XXVIII
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.
