XII. THE NIGHT OF ESCAPE--Casanova's Escape From The Piombi
Patrician influence from without had procured Casanova's removal inAugust of that year, 1756, from the loathsome cell he had occupiedfor thirteen months in the Piombi--so called from the leaded roofimmediately above those prisons which are simply the garrets of theDoge's palace.
That cell had been no better than a kennel seldom reached by the lightof day, and so shallow that it was impossible for a man of his fineheight to stand upright in it. But his present prison was comparativelyspacious and it was airy and well-lighted by a barred window, whence hecould see the Lido.
Yet he was desperately chagrined at the change, for he had almostcompleted his arrangements to break out of his former cell. The only rayof hope in his present despair came from the fact that the implement towhich he trusted was still in his possession, safely concealed in theupholstery of the armchair that had been moved with him into his presentquarters. That implement he had fashioned for himself with infinitepains out of a door-bolt some twenty inches long, which he had founddiscarded in a rubbish-heap in a corner of the attic where he had beenallowed to take his brief daily exercise. Using as a whetstone a smallslab of black marble, similarly acquired, he had shaped that bolt into asharp octagonal-pointed chisel or spontoon.
It remained in his possession, but he saw no chance of using it now, forthe suspicions of Lorenzo, the gaoler, were aroused, and daily a coupleof archers came to sound the floors and walls. True they did not soundthe ceiling, which was low and within reach. But it was obviouslyimpossible to cut through the ceiling in such a manner as to leave theprogress of the work unseen.
Hence his despair of breaking out of a prison where he had spent over ayear without trial or prospect of a trial, and where he seemed likely tospend the remainder of his days. He did not even know precisely whyhe had been arrested. All that Giacomo Casanova knew was that hewas accounted a disturber of the public peace. He was notoriously alibertine, a gamester, and heavily in debt: also--and this was moreserious--he was accused of practising magic, as indeed he had done, as ameans of exploiting to his own profit the credulity of simpletons of alldegrees. He would have explained to the Inquisitors of State of the MostSerene Republic that the books of magic found by their apparitors inhis possession--"The Clavicula of Solomon," the "Zecor-ben," and otherkindred works--had been collected by him as curious instances of humanaberration. But the Inquisitors of State would not have believed him,for the Inquisitors were among those who took magic seriously. And,anyhow, they had never asked him to explain, but had left him as ifforgotten in that abominable verminous cell under the leads, until hispatrician friend had obtained him the mercy of this transfer to betterquarters.
This Casanova was a man of iron nerve and iron constitution. Tall andwell-made, he was boldly handsome, with fine dark eyes and dark brownhair. In age he was barely one and twenty; but he looked older, aswell he might, for in his adventurer's way he had already gathered moreexperience of life than most men gain in half a century.
The same influence that had obtained him his change of cell had alsogained him latterly the privilege--and he esteemed it beyond allelse--of procuring himself books. Desiring the works of Maffai, hebade his gaoler purchase them out of the allowance made him by theInquisitors in accordance with the Venetian custom. This allowance wasgraduated to the social status of each prisoner. But the books beingcostly and any monthly surplus from his monthly expenditure beingusually the gaoler's perquisite, Lorenzo was reluctant to indulge him.He mentioned that there was a prisoner above who was well equipped withbooks, and who, no doubt, would be glad to lend in exchange.
Yielding to the suggestion, Casanova handed Lorenzo a copy of Peteau's"Rationarium," and received next morning, in exchange, the first volumeof Wolf. Within he found a sheet bearing in six verses a paraphrase ofSeneca's epigram, "Calamitosus est animus futuri anxius." Immediatelyhe perceived he had stumbled upon a means of corresponding with one whomight be disposed to assist him to break prison.
In reply, being a scholarly rascal (he had been educated for thepriesthood), he wrote six verses himself. Having no pen, he cut the longnail of his little finger to a point, and, splitting it, suppliedthe want. For ink he used the juice of mulberries. In addition to theverses, he wrote a list of the books in his possession, which he placedat the disposal of his fellow-captive. He concealed the written sheet inthe spine of that vellum-bound volume; and on the title-page, in warningof this, he wrote the single Latin word "Latet." Next morning he handedthe book to Lorenzo, telling him that he had read it, and requesting thesecond volume.
That second volume came on the next day, and in the spine of it a longletter, some sheets of paper, pens, and a pencil. The writer announcedhimself as one Marino Balbi, a patrician and a monk, who had been fouryears in that prison, where he had since been given a companion inmisfortune, Count Andrea Asquino.
Thus began a regular and very full correspondence between the prisoners,and soon Casanova--who had not lived on his wits for nothing--was ableto form a shrewd estimate of Balbi's character. The monk's lettersrevealed it as compounded of sensuality, stupidity, ingratitude, andindiscretion.
"In the world," says Casanova, "I should have had no commerce with afellow of his nature. But in the Piombi I was obliged to make capitalout of everything that came under my hands."
The capital he desired to make in this instance was to ascertain whetherBalbi would be disposed to do for him what he could not do for himself.He wrote inquiring, and proposing flight.
Balbi replied that he and his companion would do anything possible tomake their escape from that abominable prison, but his lack of resourcemade him add that he was convinced that nothing was possible.
"All that you have to do," wrote Casanova in answer, "is to breakthrough the ceiling of my cell and get me out of this, then trust to meto get you out of the Piombi. If you are disposed to make the attempt, Iwill supply you with the means, and show you the way."
It was a characteristically bold reply, revealing to us the uttergamester that he was in all things.
He knew that Balbi's cell was situated immediately under the leads, andhe hoped that once in it he should be able readily to find a way throughthe roof. That cell of Balbi's communicated with a narrow corridor,no more than a shaft for light and air, which was immediately aboveCasanova's prison. And no sooner had Balbi written, consenting, thanCasanova explained what was to do. Balbi must break through the wallof his cell into the little corridor, and there cut a round hole in thefloor precisely as Casanova had done in his former cell--until nothingbut a shell of ceiling remained--a shell that could be broken down byhalf a dozen blows when the moment to escape should have arrived.
To begin with, he ordered Balbi to purchase himself two or three dozenpictures of saints, with which to paper his walls, using as many asmight be necessary for a screen to hide the hole he would be cutting.
When Balbi wrote that his walls were hung with pictures of saints, itbecame a question of conveying the spontoon to him. This was difficult,and the monk's fatuous suggestions merely served further to reveal hisstupidity. Finally Casanova's wits found the way. He bade Lorenzo buyhim an in-folio edition of the Bible which had just been published, andit was into the spine of this enormous tome that he packed the preciousspontoon, and thus conveyed it to Balbi, who immediately got to work.
This was at the commencement of October. On the 8th of that month Balbiwrote to Casanova that a whole night devoted to labour had resultedmerely in the displacing of a single brick, which so discouraged thefaint-hearted monk that he was for abandoning an attempt whoseonly result must be to increase in the future the rigour of theirconfinement.
Without hesitation, Casanova replied that he was assured ofsuccess--although he was far from having any grounds for any suchassurance. He enjoined the monk to believe him, and to persevere,confident that as he advanced he would find progress easier. Thisproved, indeed, to be the case, for soon Balbi found the brickworkyielding s
o rapidly to his efforts that one morning, a week later,Casanova heard three light taps above his head--the preconcerted signalby which they were to assure themselves that their notions of thetopography of the prison were correct.
All that day he heard Balbi at work immediately above him, and again onthe morrow, when Balbi wrote that as the floor was of the thickness ofonly two boards, he counted upon completing the job on the next day,without piercing the ceiling.
But it would seem as if Fortune were intent upon making a mock ofCasanova, luring him to heights of hope, merely to cast him down againinto the depths of despair. Just as upon the eve of breaking out of hisformer cell mischance had thwarted him, so now, when again he deemedhimself upon the very threshold of liberty, came mischance again tothwart him.
Early in the afternoon the sound of bolts being drawn outside froze hisvery blood and checked his breathing. Yet he had the presence of mind togive the double knock that was the agreed alarm signal, whereupon Balbiinstantly desisted from his labours overhead.
Came Lorenzo with two archers, leading an ugly, lean little man ofbetween forty and fifty years of age, shabbily dressed and wearing around black wig, whom the tribunal had ordered should share Casanova'sprison for the present. With apologies for leaving such a scoundrel inCasanova's company, Lorenzo departed, and the newcomer went down uponhis knees, drew forth a chaplet, and began to tell his beads.
Casanova surveyed this intruder at once with disgust and despair.Presently his disgust was increased when the fellow, whose name wasSoradici, frankly avowed himself a spy in the service of the Councilof Ten, a calling which he warmly defended from the contemptuniversally--but unjustly, according to himself--meted out to it. He hadbeen imprisoned for having failed in his duty on one occasion throughsuccumbing to a bribe.
Conceive Casanova's frame of mind--his uncertainty as to how long thismonster, as he calls him, might be left in his company, his curbedimpatience to regain his liberty, and his consciousness of the horriblerisk of discovery which delay entailed! He wrote to Balbi thatnight while the spy slept, and for the present their operations weresuspended. But not for very long. Soon Casanova's wits resolved how toturn to account the weakness which he discovered in Soradici.
The spy was devout to the point of bigoted, credulous superstition. Hespent long hours in prayer, and he talked freely of his special devotionto the Blessed Virgin, and his ardent faith in miracles.
Casanova--the arch-humbug who had worked magic to delude thecredulous--determined there and then to work a miracle for Soradici.Assuming an inspired air, he solemnly informed the spy one morning thatit had been revealed to him in a dream that Soradici's devotion tothe Rosary was about to be rewarded; that an angel was to be sent fromheaven to deliver him from prison, and that Casanova himself wouldaccompany him in his flight.
If Soradici doubted, conviction was soon to follow. For Casanovaforetold the very hour at which the angel would come to break into theprison, and at that hour precisely--Casanova having warned Balbi--thenoise made by the angel overhead flung Soradici into an ecstasy ofterror.
But when, at the end of four hours, the angel desisted from his labours,Soradici was beset by doubts. Casanova explained to him that sinceangels invariably put on the garb of human flesh when descending uponearth, they labour under human difficulties. He added the prophecy thatthe angel would return on the last day of the month, the eve of AllSaints'--two days later--and that he would then conduct them out ofcaptivity.
By this means Casanova ensured that no betrayal should be feared fromthe thoroughly duped Soradici, who now spent the time in praying,weeping, and talking of his sins and of the inexhaustibility of divinegrace. To make doubly sure, Casanova added the most terrible oath thatif, by a word to the gaoler, Soradici should presume to frustrate thedivine intentions, he would immediately strangle him with his own hands.
On October 31st Lorenzo paid his usual daily visit early in the morning.After his departure they waited some hours, Soradici in expectantterror, Casanova in sheer impatience to be at work. Promptly at noonfell heavy blows overhead, and then, in a cloud of plaster and brokenlaths, the heavenly messenger descended clumsily into Casanova's arms.
Soradici found this tall, gaunt, bearded figure, clad in a dirty shirtand a pair of leather breeches, of a singularly unangelic appearance;indeed, he looked far more like a devil.
When he produced a pair of scissors, so that the spy might cutCasanova's beard, which, like the angel's, had grown in captivity,Soradici ceased to have any illusions on the score of Balbi's celestialnature. Although still intrigued--since he could not guess at the secretcorrespondence that had passed between Casanova and Balbi--he perceivedquite clearly that he had been fooled.
Leaving Soradici in the monk's care, Casanova hoisted himself throughthe broken ceiling and gained Balbi's cell, where the sight of CountAsquino dismayed him. He found a middle-aged man of a corpulence whichmust render it impossible for him to face the athletic difficulties thatlay before them; of this the Count himself seemed already persuaded.
"If you think," was his greeting, as he shook Casanova's hand, "to breakthrough the roof and find a way down from the leads, I don't see how youare to succeed without wings. I have not the courage to accompany you,"he added, "I shall remain and pray for you."
Attempting no persuasions where they must have been idle, Casanovapassed out of the cell again, and approaching as nearly as possible tothe edge of the attic, he sat down where he could touch the roof asit sloped immediately above his head. With his spontoon he tested thetimbers, and found them so decayed that they almost crumbled at thetouch. Assured thereby that the cutting of a hole would be an easymatter, he at once returned to his cell, and there he spent the ensuingfour hours in preparing ropes. He cut up sheets, blankets, coverlets,and the very cover of his mattress, knotting the strips together withthe utmost care. In the end he found himself equipped with some twohundred yards of rope, which should be ample for any purpose.
Having made a bundle of the fine taffeta suit in which he had beenarrested, his gay cloak of floss silk, some stockings, shirts, andhandkerchiefs, he and Balbi passed up to the other cell, compellingSoradici to go with them. Leaving the monk to make a parcel of hisbelongings, Casanova went to tackle the roof. By dusk he had made a holetwice as large as was necessary, and had laid bare the lead sheetingwith which the roof was covered. Unable, single-handed, to raise one ofthe sheets, he called Balbi to his aid, and between them, assisted bythe spontoon, which Casanova inserted between the edge of the sheet andthe gutter, they at last succeeded in tearing away the rivets. Then byputting their shoulders to the lead they bent it upwards until there wasroom to emerge, and a view of the sky flooded by the vivid light of thecrescent moon.
Not daring in that light to venture upon the roof, where they would beseen, they must wait with what patience they could until midnight, whenthe moon would have set. So they returned to the cell where they hadleft Soradici with Count Asquino.
From Balbi, Casanova had learnt that Asquino, though well supplied withmoney, was of an avaricious nature. Nevertheless, since money would benecessary, Casanova asked the Count for the loan of thirty gold sequins.Asquino answered him gently that, in the first place, they would notneed money to escape; that, in the second, he had a numerous family;that, in the third, if Casanova perished the money would be lost; andthat, in the fourth, he had no money.
"My reply," writes Casanova, "lasted half an hour."
"Let me remind you," he said in concluding his exhortation, "of yourpromise to pray for us, and let me ask you what sense there can bein praying for the success of an enterprise to which you refuse tocontribute the most necessary means."
The old man was so far conquered by Casanova's eloquence that he offeredhim two sequins, which Casanova accepted, since he was not in case torefuse anything.
Thereafter, as they sat waiting for the moon to set, Casanova found hisearlier estimate of the monk's character confirmed. Balbi now broke intoabusive reproaches. He foun
d that Casanova had acted in bad faithby assuring him that he had formed a complete plan of escape. Had hesuspected that this was a mere gambler's throw on Casanova's part, hewould never have laboured to get him out of his cell. The Count addedhis advice that they should abandon an attempt foredoomed to failure,and, being concerned for the two sequins with which he had soreluctantly parted, he argued the case at great length. Stifling hisdisgust, Casanova assured them that, although it was impossible for himto afford them details of how he intended to proceed, he was perfectlyconfident of success.
At half-past ten he sent Soradici--who had remained silentthroughout--to report upon the night. The spy brought word that inanother hour or so the moon would have set, but that a thick mist wasrising, which must render the leads very dangerous.
"So long as the mist isn't made of oil, I am content," said Casanova."Come, make a bundle of your cloak. It is time we were moving."
But at this Soradici fell on his knees in the dark, seized Casanova'shands, and begged to be left behind to pray for their safety, since hewould be sure to meet his death if he attempted to go with them.
Casanova assented readily, delighted to be rid of the fellow. Then inthe dark he wrote as best he could a quite characteristic letter to theInquisitors of State, in which he took his leave of them, telling themthat since he had been fetched into the prison without his wishesbeing consulted, they could not complain that he should depart withoutconsulting theirs.
The bundle containing Balbi's clothes, and another made up of half therope, he slung from the monk's neck, thereafter doing the same in hisown case. Then, in their shirt-sleeves, their hats on their heads, thepair of them started on their perilous journey, leaving Count Asquinoand Soradici to pray for them.
Casanova went first, on all fours, and thrusting the point of hisspontoon between the joints of the lead sheeting so as to obtain a hold,he crawled slowly upwards. To follow, Balbi took a grip of Casanova'sbelt with his right hand, so that, in addition to making his own way,Casanova was compelled to drag the weight of his companion after him,and this up the sharp gradient of a roof rendered slippery by the mist.
Midway in that laborious ascent, the monk called to him to stop. He haddropped the bundle containing the clothes, and he hoped that it had notrolled beyond the gutter, though he did not mention which of them shouldretrieve it. After the unreasonableness already endured from this man,Casanova's exasperation was such in that moment that, he confesses, hewas tempted to kick him after this bundle. Controlling himself, however,he answered patiently that the matter could not now be helped, and keptsteadily amain.
At last the apex of the roof was reached, and they got astride of itto breathe and to take a survey of their surroundings. They faced theseveral cupolas of the Church of Saint Mark, which is connected withthe ducal palace, being, in fact, no more than the private chapel of theDoge.
They set down their bundles, and, of course, in the act of doing sothe wretched Balbi must lose his hat, and send it rolling down the roofafter the bundle he had already lost. He cried out that it was an evilomen.
"On the contrary," Casanova assured him patiently, "it is a sign ofdivine protection; for if your bundle or your hat had happened toroll to the left instead of the right it would have fallen into thecourtyard, where it would be seen by the guards, who must conclude thatsome one is moving on the roof, and so, no doubt, would have discoveredus. As it is your hat has followed your bundle into the canal, where itcan do no harm."
Thereupon, bidding the monk await his return, Casanova set off alone ona voyage of discovery, keeping for the present astride of the roof inhis progress. He spent a full hour wandering along the vast roof, goingto right and to left in his quest, but failing completely to make anyhelpful discovery, or to find anything to which he could attach a rope.In the end it began to look as if, after all, he must choose betweenreturning to prison and flinging himself from the roof into the canal.He was almost in despair, when in his wanderings his attention wascaught by a dormer window on the canal side, about two-thirds of the waydown the slope of the roof. With infinite precaution he lowered himselfdown the steep, slippery incline until he was astride of the littledormer roof. Leaning well forward, he discovered that a slender gratingbarred the leaded panes of the window itself, and for a moment thisgrating gave him pause.
Midnight boomed just then from the Church of Saint Mark, like a reminderthat but seven hours remained in which to conquer this and furtherdifficulties that might confront him, and in which to win clear ofthat place, or else submit to a resumption of his imprisonment underconditions, no doubt, a hundredfold more rigorous.
Lying flat on his stomach, and hanging far over, so as to see what hewas doing, he worked one point of his spontoon into the sash of thegrating, and, levering outwards, he strained until at last it came awaycompletely in his hands. After that it was an easy matter to shatter thelittle latticed window.
Having accomplished so much, he turned, and, using his spontoon asbefore, he crawled back to the summit of the roof, and made his wayrapidly along this to the spot where he had left Balbi. The monk,reduced by now to a state of blending despair, terror, and rage, greetedCasanova in terms of the grossest abuse for having left him there solong.
"I was waiting only for daylight," he concluded, "to return to prison."
"What did you think had become of me?" asked Casanova.
"I imagined that you had tumbled off the roof."
"And is this abuse the expression of your joy at finding yourselfmistaken?"
"Where have you been all this time?" the monk counter-questionedsullenly.
"Come with me and you shall see."
And taking up his bundle again, Casanova led his companion forward untilthey were in line with the dormer. There Casanova showed him what hehad done, and consulted him as to the means to be adopted to enter theattic. It would be too risky for them to allow themselves to drop fromthe sill, since the height of the window from the floor was unknown tothem, and might be considerable. It would be easy for one of them tolower the other by means of the rope. But it was not apparent how,hereafter, the other was to follow. Thus reasoned Casanova.
"You had better lower me, anyhow," said Balbi, without hesitation; forno doubt he was very tired of that slippery roof, on which a singlefalse step might have sent him to his account. "Once I am inside you canconsider ways of following me."
That cold-blooded expression of the fellow's egoism put Casanova ina rage for the second time since they had left their prison. But, asbefore, he conquered it, and without uttering a word he proceeded tounfasten the coil of rope. Making one end of it secure under Balbi'sarms, he bade the monk lie prone upon the roof, his feet pointingdownwards, and then, paying out rope, he lowered him to the dormer. Hethen bade him get through the window as far as the level of his waist,and wait thus, hanging over and supporting himself upon the sill. Whenhe had obeyed, Casanova followed, sliding carefully down to the roof ofthe dormer. Planting himself firmly, and taking the rope once more, hebade Balbi to let himself go without fear, and so lowered him to thefloor--a height from the window, as it proved, of some fifty feet. Thisextinguished all Casanova's hopes of being able to follow by allowinghimself to drop from the sill. He was dismayed. But the monk, happy tofind himself at last off that accursed roof, and out of all danger ofbreaking his neck, called foolishly to Casanova to throw him the rope sothat he might take care of it.
"As may be imagined," says Casanova, "I was careful not to take thisidiotic advice."
Not knowing now what was to become of him unless he could discover someother means than those at his command, he climbed back again to thesummit of the roof, and started off desperately upon another voyage ofdiscovery. This time he succeeded better than before. He found about acupola a terrace which he had not earlier noticed, and on this terracea hod of plaster, a trowel, and a ladder some seventy feet long. Hesaw his difficulties solved. He passed an end of rope about one of therungs, laid the ladder flat along the slope of the roof, and t
hen, stillastride of the apex, he worked his way back, dragging the ladder withhim, until he was once more on a level with the dormer.
But now the difficulty was how to get the ladder through the window,and he had cause to repent having so hastily deprived himself of hiscompanion's assistance. He had got the ladder into position, and loweredit until one of its ends rested upon the dormer, whilst the otherprojected some twenty feet beyond the edge of the roof. He slid downto the dormer, and placing the ladder beside him, drew it up so that hecould reach the eighth rung. To this rung he made fast his rope, thenlowered the ladder again until the upper end of it was in line withthe window through which he sought to introduce it. But he found itimpossible to do so beyond the fifth rung, for at this point the end ofthe ladder came in contact with the roof inside, and could be pushed nofarther until it was inclined downward. Now, the only possible way toaccomplish this was by raising the other end.
It occurred to him that he might, by so attaching the rope as to bringthe ladder across the window frame, lower himself hand over hand to thefloor of the attic. But in so doing he must have left the ladder thereto show their pursuers in the morning, not merely the way they had gone,but for all he knew at this stage, the place where they might then bestill in hiding. Having come so far, at so much risk and labour, he wasdetermined to leave nothing to chance. To accomplish his object then, hemade his way down to the very edge of the roof, sliding carefully onhis stomach until his feet found support against the marble gutter, theladder meanwhile remaining hooked by one of its rungs to the sill of thedormer.
In that perilous position he lifted his end of the ladder a few inches,and so contrived to thrust it another foot or so through the window,whereby its weight was considerably diminished. If he could but get itanother couple of feet farther in he was sure that by returning to thedormer he would have been able to complete the job. In his anxiety to dothis and to obtain the necessary elevation, he raised himself upon hisknees.
But in the very act of making the thrust he slipped, and, clutchingwildly as he went, he shot over the edge of the roof. He found himselfhanging there, suspended above that terrific abyss by his hands and hiselbows, which had convulsively hooked themselves on to the edge of thegutter, so that he had it on a level with his breast.
It was a moment of dread the like of which he was never likely toendure again in a life that was to know many perils and many hairbreadthescapes. He could not write of it nearly half a century later withoutshuddering and growing sick with horror.
A moment he hung there gasping, then almost mechanically, guided bythe sheer instinct of self-preservation, he not merely attempted, butactually succeeded in raising himself so as to bring his side againstthe gutter. Then continuing gradually to raise himself until his waistwas on a level with the edge, he threw the weight of his trunk forwardupon the roof, and slowly brought his right leg up until he had obtainedwith his knee a further grip of the gutter. The rest was easy, andyou may conceive him as he lay there on the roof's edge, panting andshuddering for a moment to regain his breath and nerve.
Meanwhile, the ladder, driven forward by the thrust that had so nearlycost him his life, had penetrated another three feet through the window,and hung there immovable. Recovered, he took up his spontoon, which hehad placed in the gutter, and, assisted by it, he climbed back tothe dormer. Almost without further difficulty, he succeeded now inintroducing the ladder until, of its own weight, it swung down intoposition.
A moment later he had joined Balbi in the attic, and together theygroped about in the dark, until finding presently a door, they passedinto another chamber, where they discovered furniture by hurtlingagainst it. Guided by a faint glimmer of light, Casanova made his way toone of the windows and opened it. He looked out upon a black abyss, and,having no knowledge of the locality, and no inclination to adventurehimself into unknown regions, he immediately abandoned all idea ofattempting to climb down. He closed the window again, and going back tothe other room, he lay down on the floor, with the bundle of ropes for apillow, to wait for dawn.
And so exhausted was he, not only by the efforts of the past hours, andthe terrible experience in which they had culminated, but also becausein the last two days he had scarcely eaten or slept, that straightway,and greatly to Balbi's indignation and disgust, he fell into a profoundsleep.
He was aroused three and a half hours later by the clamours and shakingsof the exasperated monk. Protesting that such a sleep at such a time wasa thing inconceivable, Balbi informed him that it had just struck five.
It was still dark, but already there was a dim grey glimmer of dawnby which objects could be faintly discerned. Searching, Casanovafound another door opposite that of the chamber which they had enteredearlier. It was locked, but the lock was a poor one that yielded to halfa dozen blows of the spontoon, and they passed into a little roombeyond which by an open door they came into a long gallery lined withpigeon-holes stuffed with parchments, which they conceived to be thearchives. At the end of this gallery they found a short flight ofstairs, and below that yet another, which brought them to a glass door.Opening this, they entered a room which Casanova immediately identifiedas the ducal chancellery. Descent from one of its windows would havebeen easy, but they would have found themselves in the labyrinth ofcourts and alleys behind Saint Mark's, which would not have suited themat all.
On a table Casanova found a stout bodkin with a long wooden handle, theimplement used by the secretaries for piercing parchments that were tobe joined by a cord bearing the leaden seals of the Republic. He openeda desk, and rummaging in it, found a letter addressed to the Proveditorof Corfu, advising a remittance of three thousand sequins for therepair of the fortress. He rummaged further, seeking the three thousandsequins, which he would have appropriated without the least scruple.Unfortunately they were not there.
Quitting the desk, he crossed to the door, not merely to find it locked,but to discover that it was not the kind of lock that would yield toblows. There was no way out but by battering away one of the panels, andto this he addressed himself without hesitation, assisted by Balbi, whohad armed himself with the bodkin, but who trembled fearfully at thenoise of Casanova's blows. There was danger in this, but the danger mustbe braved, for time was slipping away. In half an hour they had brokendown all the panel it was possible to remove without the help of a saw.The opening they had made was at a height of five feet from the ground,and the splintered woodwork armed it with a fearful array of jaggedteeth.
They dragged a couple of stools to the door, and getting on to these,Casanova bade Balbi go first. The long, lean monk folded his arms, andthrust head and shoulders through the hole; then Casanova lifted him,first by the waist, then by the legs, and so helped him through into theroom beyond. Casanova threw their bundles after him, and then placing athird stool on top of the other two, climbed on to it, and, being almoston a level with the opening, was able to get through as far as hiswaist, when Balbi took him in his arms and proceeded to drag him out.But it was done at the cost of torn breeches and lacerated legs, andwhen he stood up in the room beyond he was bleeding freely from thewounds which the jagged edges of the wood had dealt him.
After that they went down two staircases, and came out at last in thegallery leading to the great doors at the head of that magnificentflight of steps known as the Giant's Staircase. But these doors--themain entrance of the palace--were locked, and, at a glance, Casanova sawthat nothing short of a hatchet would serve to open them. There was nomore to be done.
With a resignation that seemed to Balbi entirely cynical, Casanova satdown on the floor.
"My task is ended," he announced. "It is now for Heaven or Chance to dothe rest. I don't know whether the palace cleaners will come here to-dayas it is All Saints', or to-morrow, which will be All Souls'. Should anyone come, I shall run for it the moment the door is opened, and you hadbest follow me. If no one comes, I shall not move from here, and if Idie of hunger, so much the worse."
It was a speech that flung the mo
nk into a passion. In burning terms hereviled Casanova, calling him a madman, a seducer, a deceiver, a liar.Casanova let him rave. It was just striking six. Precisely an hour hadelapsed since they had left the attic.
Balbi, in his red flannel waistcoat and his puce-coloured leatherbreeches, might have passed for a peasant; but Casanova, in torngarments that were soaked in blood, presented an appearance that wasterrifying and suspicious. This he proceeded to repair. Tearing ahandkerchief, he made shift to bandage his wounds, and then from hisbundle he took his fine taffeta summer suit, which on a winter's daymust render him ridiculous.
He dressed his thick, dark brown hair as best he could, drew on a pairof white stockings, and donned three lace shirts one over another. Hisfine cloak of floss silk he gave to Balbi, who looked for all the worldas if he had stolen it.
Thus dressed, his fine hat laced with point of Spain on his head,Casanova opened a window and looked out. At once he was seen by someidlers in the courtyard, who, amazed at his appearance there, andconceiving that he must have been locked in by mistake on the previousday, went off at once to advise the porter. Meanwhile, Casanova, vexedat having shown himself where he had not expected any one, and littleguessing how excellently this was to serve his ends, left the windowand went to sit beside the angry friar, who greeted him with freshrevilings.
A sound of steps and a rattle of keys stemmed Balbi's reproaches in fullflow. The lock groaned.
"Not a word," said Casanova to the monk, "but follow me."
Holding his spontoon ready, but concealed under his coat, he stepped tothe side of the door. It opened, and the porter, who had come aloneand bareheaded, stared in stupefaction at the strange apparition ofCasanova.
Casanova took advantage of that paralyzing amazement. Without uttering aword, he stepped quickly across the threshold, and with Balbi close uponhis heels, he went down the Giant's Staircase in a flash, crossed thelittle square, reached the canal, bundled Balbi into the first gondolahe found there, and jumped in after him.
"I want to go to Fusine, and quickly," he announced. "Call anotheroarsman."
All was ready, and in a moment the gondola was skimming the canal.Dressed in his unseasonable suit, and accompanied by the still moreridiculous figure of Balbi in his gaudy cloak and without a hat, heimagined he would be taken for a charlatan or an astrologer.
The gondola slipped past the custom-house, and took the canal of theGiudecca. Halfway down this, Casanova put his head out of the littlecabin to address the gondolier in the poop.
"Do you think we shall reach Mestre in an hour?"
"Mestre?" quoth the gondolier. "But you said Fusine."
"No, no, I said Mestre--at least, I intended to say Mestre."
And so the gondola was headed for Mestre by a gondolier who professedhimself ready to convey his excellency to England if he desired it.
The sun was rising, and the water assumed an opalescent hue. It was adelicious morning, Casanova tells us, and I suspect that never had anymorning seemed to that audacious, amiable rascal as delicious as thisupon which he regained his liberty, which no man ever valued morehighly.
In spirit he was already safely over the frontiers of the Most SereneRepublic, impatient to transfer his body thither, as he shortly did,through vicissitudes that are a narrative in themselves, and no part ofthis story of his escape from the Piombi and the Venetian Inquisitors ofState.
The Historical Nights' Entertainment: First Series Page 14
