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as to leave the progress of the work unseen.
Hence his despair of breaking out of a prison where he had spent
over a year without trial or prospect of a trial, and where he seemed
likely to spend the remainder of his days. He did not even know
precisely why he had been arrested. All that Giacomo Casanova knew
was that he was accounted a disturber of the public peace. He was
notoriously a libertine, a gamester, and heavily in debt: also - and
this was more serious - he was accused of practising magic, as indeed
he had done, as a means of exploiting to his own profit the credulity
of simpletons of all degrees. He would have explained to the
Inquisitors of State of the Most Serene Republic that the books of
magic found by their apparitors in his possession - “The Clavicula
of Solomon,” the “Zecor-ben,” and other kindred works - had been
collected by him as curious instances of human aberration. 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 if forgotten in that
abominable verminous cell under the leads, until his patrician
friend had obtained him the mercy of this transfer to better quarters.
This Casanova was a man of iron nerve and iron constitution. Tall
and well-made, he was boldly handsome, with fine dark eyes and dark
brown hair. In age he was barely one and twenty; but he looked
older, as well he might, for in his adventurer’s way he had already
gathered more experience of life than most men gain in half a
century.
The same influence that had obtained him his change of cell had also
gained him latterly the privilege - and he esteemed it beyond all
else - of procuring himself books. Desiring the works of Maffai,
he bade his gaoler purchase them out of the allowance made him by
the Inquisitors in accordance with the Venetian custom. This
allowance was graduated to the social status of each prisoner. But
the books being costly and any monthly surplus from his monthly
expenditure being usually the gaoler’s perquisite, Lorenzo was
reluctant to indulge him. He mentioned that there was a prisoner
above who was well equipped with books, 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 volume of Wolf. Within he found a sheet bearing in six
verses a paraphrase of Seneca’s epigram, “Calamitosus est animus
futuri anxius.” Immediately he perceived he had stumbled upon a
means of corresponding with one who might be disposed to assist
him to break prison.
In reply, being a scholarly rascal (he had been educated for the
priesthood), he wrote six verses himself. Having no pen, he cut
the long nail of his little finger to a point, and, splitting it,
supplied the want. For ink he used the juice of mulberries. In
addition to the verses, he wrote a list of the books in his
possession, which he placed at the disposal of his fellow-captive.
He concealed the written sheet in the spine of that vellum-bound
volume; and on the title-page, in warning of this, he wrote the
single Latin word “Latet.” Next morning he handed the book to
Lorenzo, telling him that he had read it, and requesting the
second volume.
That second volume came on the next day, and in the spine of it
a long letter, some sheets of paper, pens, and a pencil. The
writer announced himself as one Marino Balbi, a patrician and a
monk, who had been four years in that prison, where he had since
been given a companion in misfortune, 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 able to form a shrewd estimate of Balbi’s character.
The monk’s letters revealed it as compounded of sensuality,
stupidity, ingratitude, and indiscretion.
“In the world,” says Casanova, “I should have had no commerce with
a fellow of his nature. But in the Piombi I was obliged to make
capital out of everything that came under my hands.”
The capital he desired to make in this instance was to ascertain
whether Balbi 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
to make their escape from that abominable prison, but his lack of
resource made him add that he was convinced that nothing was
possible.
“All that you have to do,” wrote Casanova in answer, “is to break
through the ceiling of my cell and get me out of this, then trust
to me to get you out of the Piombi. If you are disposed to make
the attempt, I will supply you with the means, and show you the
way.”
It was a characteristically bold reply, revealing to us the utter
gamester that he was in all things.
He knew that Balbi’s cell was situated immediately under the leads,
and he hoped that once in it he should be able readily to find a way
through the roof. That cell of Balbi’s communicated with a narrow
corridor, no more than a shaft for light and air, which was
immediately above Casanova’s prison. And no sooner had Balbi
written, consenting, than Casanova explained what was to do. Balbi
must break through the wall of his cell into the little corridor,
and there cut a round hole in the floor precisely as Casanova had
done in his former cell - until nothing but a shell of ceiling
remained - a shell that could be broken down by half a dozen blows
when the moment to escape should have arrived.
To begin with, he ordered Balbi to purchase himself two or three
dozen pictures of saints, with which to paper his walls, using as
many as might 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,
it became a question of conveying the spontoon to him. This was
difficult, and the monk’s fatuous suggestions merely served further
to reveal his stupidity. Finally Casanova’s wits found the way.
He bade Lorenzo buy him an in-folio edition of the Bible which had
just been published, and it was into the spine of this enormous tome
that he packed the precious spontoon, and thus conveyed it to Balbi,
who immediately got to work.
This was at the commencement of October. On the 8th of that month
Balbi wrote to Casanova that a whole night devoted to labour had
resulted merely in the displacing of a single brick, which so
discouraged the faint-hearted monk that he was for abandoning an
attempt whose only result must be to increase in the future the
rigour of their confinement.
Without hesitation, Casanova replied that he was assured of success
- although he was far from having any grounds for any such
assurance. He enjoined the monk to believe him, and to persevere,
confident that as he advanced he would find progress easier. This
proved, indeed, to be the case, for soon Balbi found the brickwork
yielding so rapidly to his efforts that one morning, a week later,
Casanova heard three light taps above his head - the preconcerted
signal by which they were to assure themselves that their notions
of the topography of the prison were correct.
All that day he heard Balbi at work immediately above him, and again
on the morrow, when Balbi wrote that as the floor was of the
thickness of only 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 of
Casanova, luring him to heights of hope, merely to cast him down
again into the depths of despair. Just as upon the eve of breaking
out of his former cell mischance had thwarted him, so now, when
again he deemed himself upon the very threshold of liberty, came
mischance again to thwart him.
Early in the afternoon the sound of bolts being drawn outside froze
his very blood and checked his breathing. Yet he had the presence
of mind to give the double knock that was the agreed alarm signal,
whereupon Balbi instantly desisted from his labours overhead.
Came Lorenzo with two archers, leading an ugly, lean little man of
between forty and fifty years of age, shabbily dressed and wearing
a round black wig, whom the tribunal had ordered should share
Casanova’s prison for the present. With apologies for leaving
such a scoundrel in Casanova’s company, Lorenzo departed, and the
newcomer went down upon his 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
was Soradici, frankly avowed himself a spy in the service of the
Council of Ten, a calling which he warmly defended from the contempt
universally - but unjustly, according to himself - meted out to it.
He had been imprisoned for having failed in his duty on one occasion
through succumbing to a bribe.
Conceive Casanova’s frame of mind - his uncertainty as to how long
this monster, as he calls him, might be left in his company, his
curbed impatience to regain his liberty, and his consciousness of
the horrible risk of discovery which delay entailed! He wrote
to Balbi that night while the spy slept, and for the present their
operations were suspended. But not for very long. Soon Casanova’s
wits resolved how to turn to account the weakness which he
discovered in Soradici.
The spy was devout to the point of bigoted, credulous superstition.
He spent long hours in prayer, and he talked freely of his special
devotion to the Blessed Virgin, and his ardent faith in miracles.
Casanova - the arch-humbug who had worked magic to delude the
credulous - determined there and then to work a miracle for Soradici.
Assuming an inspired air, he solemnly informed the spy one morning
that it had been revealed to him in a dream that Soradici’s devotion
to the Rosary was about to be rewarded; that an angel was to be sent
from heaven to deliver him from prison, and that Casanova himself
would accompany him in his flight.
If Soradici doubted, conviction was soon to follow. For Casanova
foretold the very hour at which the angel would come to break into
the prison, and at that hour precisely - Casanova having warned
Balbi - the noise made by the angel overhead flung Soradici into
an ecstasy of terror.
But when, at the end of four hours, the angel desisted from his
labours, Soradici was beset by doubts. Casanova explained to him
that since angels invariably put on the garb of human flesh when
descending upon earth, they labour under human difficulties. He
added the prophecy that the angel would return on the last day of
the month, the eve of All Saints’- two days later - and that he
would then conduct them out of captivity.
By this means Casanova ensured that no betrayal should be feared
from the thoroughly duped Soradici, who now spent the time in
praying, weeping, and talking of his sins and of the
inexhaustibility of divine grace. To make doubly sure, Casanova
added the most terrible oath that if, by a
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