Chapter VIII: Part 8

“I read in his detestable face the satisfaction he derived from this announcement, for it was easy to see he felt sure the angel would not come. I waited anxiously to hear the clock strike, for I felt certain that the ‘arrival of the angel’ would end in the overthrow of his miserable reason. As soon, therefore, as I heard the first stroke of the appointed hour, I threw myself on my knees and ordered him, in a voice of authority, to do the same. He obeyed me with a terrified air. As soon as I heard the monk approaching I cried out hastily, ‘The angel is coming!’ and throwing myself flat on my stomach I gave the terrified spy a vigorous blow with my fist, that forced him to assume the same posture. The monk’s operations made a great noise, and they lasted a sufficiently long time, for I had to remain for at least a quarter of an hour in my disagreeable position. In any other case I should have been ready to die with laughter at the sight of the miserable wretch lying motionless at my side. But I carefully refrained even from smiling, for I felt that too much was at stake to permit of such an indulgence. I presently got up and assumed a kneeling attitude, giving him to understand that he was to do the same; and he passed three hours and a half in this manner, telling his beads all the while. From time to time he fell asleep, from sheer weariness, and now and then he cast a furtive glance at the ceiling, his face all the while wearing an expression of the most complete stupor. At length I called out, in a tone half solemn, half devotional, ‘Prostrate yourself, for the angel is leaving!’ and just then Balbi went away to his own cell, and every sound was hushed. On rising, I perceived, by the wretch’s countenance, that his mind was full of anxiety and fright. I was delighted, for I saw in this an opportunity of imposing on him some penance adequate to his manifold misdeeds. ‘When Laurent comes in the morning,’ I said, ‘you will throw yourself on the bed, with your face to the wall, without making the slightest movement or uttering a word. If he _should_ speak you must reply, without looking at him, that you have not been able to sleep, and that you are in want of rest. Do you promise this without reserve?’

“‘I promise,’ he stammered out, ‘to do everything you have said.’

“‘Swear it,’ I said, ‘before this holy image! And now, most Holy Virgin,’ I continued, addressing the image, ‘I swear that if I hear Sorodaci utter a word, or make a single movement, I will strangle him like a dog.’ I reckoned that this threat would have at least as much effect upon him as the oath. I then gave him something to eat, and ordered him to go to bed; and as soon as he had fallen asleep I sat down and wrote for a couple of hours, informing Balbi that all was ready, and that he had nothing to do to reach me but to revisit the roof of my cell and break the planks of the ceiling. I added that we should leave on the 31st of October, and that there would be four of us, counting his companion and mine.

“It was the 28th. The next day the monk wrote to say that the passage between the two cells was quite ready, and that the breaking through the last plank would be an affair of but four or five minutes. Sorodaci, faithful to his sworn promise, pretended to be asleep, and Laurent did not speak to him. But I did not keep my eyes off him for a moment, and I really believe that if he had uttered a word I should have killed him on the spot. I devoted the rest of the day to the delivery of a series of sublime discourses on the recent remarkable visitation, and I was pleased to see that every word I spoke increased the fanatical terror with which he regarded me. I took care to ply him well with wine, as well as with mystifying influences of a religious nature, and I did not leave him to himself until I saw him fairly overpowered with drunkenness and sleep. For one moment, indeed, he had a feeble glimmering of common sense, for he observed that it ought not to take an angel three hours to break into a cell. ‘The ways of heaven,’ I replied, ‘are incomprehensible to mortals, and this heavenly messenger clearly is not working in his celestial capacity, or otherwise he could force a way through the ceiling with a single breath. He works in his human capacity, doubtless out of pity for us, who could not otherwise endure the sight of his glory.’

“On the next day Laurent asked after his health, and he replied without raising his head. It was the same on succeeding days, till at length we had our last interview with our gaoler on the 31st. I gave him the book as usual, containing a message for Balbi to come at half-past nine in the morning, and break through the ceiling. I had no apprehension that any accident would mar the execution of our plot, for I had heard from Laurent that the inquisitors and the secretary had already gone into the country. There was no danger of my again having a companion thrust upon me at the eleventh hour, and I had found out how to manage the wretch whose coming had once threatened to prove the downfall of all my hopes.

“When Laurent left I told Sorodaci that we might now expect the angel very shortly. ‘He will bring a pair of scissors with him,’ I added, ‘and it will be your office to clip his beard and mine.’

“‘Has the angel a beard then?’ inquired the simpleton.

“‘Yes, as you will see. When you have done this, we shall all leave the cell and break through the roof of the palace, whence we shall drop down into the great square of St. Mark.’

“He did not reply, but went on eating his breakfast. As for me, I could touch nothing at all, for my anxiety as to the success of my enterprise deprived me of all appetite, as it had made me quite insensible to fatigue.

“The appointed hour struck, and the angel was heard. Sorodaci was about to prostrate himself, but I told him that was no longer necessary. In less than three minutes the ceiling was broken through, and Balbi rolled down into my arms. ‘And now,’ said I, ‘your work is done, and mine begins.’ We embraced, and he gave me back

my crowbar and placed the scissors in my hands. I told Sorodaci to cut our beards; but I could not help laughing at the sight of the wretch, with his mouth wide open, staring at the angel, who bore so much resemblance to a supernatural being of another kind. But astonished and terrified as he was, he did his office with the greatest ease.

“Anxious to reconnoitre our position, I told Balbi to stay with the spy (for I dared not leave Sorodaci alone) while I visited the cell where the count was confined. I found it without difficulty, and embraced a noble looking old man who, however, seemed scarcely strong enough to support the fatigues of our meditated flight. He asked me what my plan was, and observed that he feared I was going to work rather recklessly. ‘I must go on,’ I replied, ‘until I find either liberty or death.’ ‘If you think,’ said he, ‘to break through the roof and then to drop into the courtyard, I don’t see how you can possibly succeed, as you are without wings; and I, at least, dare not venture to accompany you; but I will stay here and pray to Heaven on your behalf.’

“I left him to look at the palace roof, drawing as near as I could to the walls of the granary. In tapping the woodwork of the roof with my crowbar, I discovered to my great satisfaction that it was quite rotten. The planks crumbled to dust the moment they were touched. Judging that I could easily make an opening large enough for my requirements in about an hour, I returned to my cell, and spent four hours in cutting up my bedclothes and every piece of drapery I could find there, and making a rope of the shreds. I took care to make the knots very strong, and to test each one as I went on. When the rope was finished I made a bundle of my coat, my cloak, and a few other things, and went with the monk and Sorodaci to the count’s cell. Sorodaci’s air of utter bewilderment would have made the dullest fellow smile. I had long since thrown off the inconvenient mask of the visionary which I had at first assumed, and I could see that he felt he had been tricked, though it must still have been a matter of wonder to him how I could have contrived to ensure the visits of my ‘angel’ at the appointed hours. He listened with great attention to the count’s arguments against our plan of escape, and he seemed to be meditating an excuse for staying behind. Meanwhile, I told the monk to get his bundle ready while I went to make the hole in the roof.

“At about seven o’clock I had finished this part of the work. I pierced a hole through the wood without the least difficulty, but the leaden coating of the planks did not yield so easily, and I was obliged to obtain the assistance of the monk before I could wrench it off. I then put my head through the opening, and felt for a few moments, with a delight that I can hardly express, that I was breathing the air of liberty. But unfortunately the moon was at the full, and I saw myself doomed to wait for many weary hours before I could venture to move. The night was a superb one; all the best society in Venice was taking the air in the square of St. Mark, but I dared not stand on the roof, for my shadow would have betrayed me to the people below, I therefore told my companions firmly that we could not leave before ten o’clock at the earliest, and as the sun did not rise before half-past six, this would give us some eight hours and a half of perfect darkness,--more by far than we were likely to require.

“I accordingly suggested to Balbi that we might while away part of the time in conversation with the count, and I sent him at once--before leaving the roof myself--to borrow thirty sequins of the old man, for I knew that money would now be as indispensable to the success of our plan as the crowbar had formerly been. Balbi went away, but soon returned with the message that the count would like to see me alone. The poor old nobleman began to tell me, with his usual mildness, that money would not help me to escape, that in fact he had no money, that his family was a large one, and that if I perished, anything he might give me would be lost. He ended by giving me two sequins on condition that I should return them if I finally decided on abandoning my perilous design. His last words showed how little he knew me, for I was fully prepared to die rather than remain where I was.

“I called my companions together, and when we had placed our bundles near the hole, we passed some hours in talking of the difficulties we had already surmounted, and of those that still lay before us. The first proof that Balbi gave me of the nobleness of his character was to repeat at least half a dozen times that I had deceived him in saying my plan was complete, and that if he had foreseen the real state of my preparations, he would never have helped me to leave my cell.

“The count too employed all his eloquence to dissuade me from the attempt. ‘The roof, covered as it is with lead,’ said he, ‘is so steep that you cannot hope to keep your footing on it.’ (This was totally false, for the slope is unusually gentle.) ‘And on which side do you propose to drop? Surely not on that looking towards the piazzetta, for you would be seen at once. You cannot take the side nearest the church, for that looks into a high walled court; and to drop on the side nearest the arsenal, would be to fall right into the hands of the guards, who are constantly making their rounds.’

“This kind of talking made my blood boil, though I forced myself to listen to it with patience. The monk’s reproaches in particular, incensed me greatly, but I felt that my position was a delicate one. I was dealing with a coward who might at any time discover that he was not desperate enough to set death at defiance, and without him I knew it would be impossible to proceed. I, therefore, did violence to my feelings, and mildly assured both my fellow-prisoners, that I felt sure of success though I could not give them all the details of my plan. While thus engaged I from time to time put forth my hand to ascertain if Sorodaci was still near me, and I laughed inwardly at what I guessed would be his secret meditations now that he knew I had deceived him. At ten o’clock I told him to go and find out in what quarter the moon lay. He obeyed, and in a short time came back to say that in a quarter of an hour it would be quite dark, and that a thick fog was falling, which threatened to add a new danger to our attempted flight. ‘Never mind that,’ I replied, ‘but take your bundle and be ready to follow me.’ At these words, what was my surprise to find Sorodaci at my feet, seizing my hands, and imploring me, in a voice broken by sobs, not to lead him to certain death. ‘I shall be sure to fall into the canal,’ he whimpered, ‘and I cannot be of the least use in the world to you. Alas, leave me here, and I will pass the night in praying to St. Francis for your success. You may kill me if you like, but I will never follow you.’ The fool did not know how exactly he anticipated my wishes. ‘You are right,’ I replied, ‘and you may remain, but only on condition that you pray incessantly to St. Francis, and that you carry all the books I have left behind to the count’s room.’ He ran away without replying, and doubtless with a heart overflowing with joy. My books were worth about a hundred crowns, and the count told me that he would give me the money for them _on my return_. ‘You will never see me here again,’ I replied, ‘on that you may safely rely; but the value of the books may be taken as a set off against your loan of the sequins. As for this scoundrel I am delighted to think he has not the courage to follow me, for I should not know what to do with him; and besides he is altogether unworthy to share the honour of such an escape as this with Balbi and myself.’ ‘Very good,’ replied the count; ‘only take care that to-morrow he has not occasion to congratulate himself on his cowardice.’

“It was now time to go, for the moon had disappeared, and it was quite dark. I tied half our bundle of cords round Balbi’s shoulders, together with his own bundle of clothes; and having equipped myself in the same way, we made for the opening in the roof.

“I went out first, and Balbi followed. I had the crowbar in my right hand, and, using this as a kind of prop, I contrived, by crawling on all fours, to reach the summit of the roof. The monk clung to my waistband, and I dragged him up, so that I was like a beast of burden groaning under a double load; and all this on a sloping roof, rendered quite slippery by a dewy fog.

“When we were about half way up, the monk implored me to stop, as he had lost one of his packets, and hoped to be able to find it in the gutter. My first impulse was to give him a sound kick and to send him after his packet. But, happily, I was enabled to restrain myself, for to have lost his co-operation would have been to forfeit my only

chance of escape. I asked him if it was the packet of cords, and he informed me, to my great joy, that it was the other one, containing a valuable manuscript, which he had discovered in the prison, and which he hoped would be the means of making his fortune. I told him that we could not possibly return for it, for that a single retrograde step would be the ruin of us. The poor fellow breathed a deep sigh, and we went on climbing as before.

“At length, as I have said, we reached the summit of the roof. I comfortably got astride, and Father Balbi followed my example. Behind us was the little island of St. George the Greater, and a couple of hundred paces in front were the numerous cupolas of the church of St. Mark. My first act was to rid myself of my burden, and I invited my companion to do the same. He placed his bundle of cords under his thighs, as well as he could; but, wishing to take off his hat, which hurt him, and being awkward, it rolled from tile to tile, and at last joined the packet of clothes in the canal. My poor companion was in despair. ‘Bad omen!’ he exclaimed. ‘Here I am, at the beginning of our enterprise, without shirt or hat, without even my precious manuscript.’

“‘My dear fellow,’ I said, ‘these two accidents, which are far from discouraging me, prove to you that God protects us; for if your hat, instead of falling to the right, had fallen to the left, we should have been lost: it would have fallen into the court-yard of the palace, where the guards would have found it, and we should, before long, have been retaken.’

“After passing some minutes looking right and left, I told the monk not to stir from there till I returned; and I advanced, carrying only my crowbar in my hand, along the summit of the roof without any difficulty. I spent nearly an hour on the roof, going from side to side, observing; but in vain, for I could nowhere find a point to which to fasten the end of the rope. I was in the greatest perplexity. The canal and the palace court-yard were both out of the question, and on the top of the church I could see only precipices which led to no opening. To go beyond the church I should have had to climb ascents so steep that I saw it was impossible.

“Yet it was necessary to do something--either to get out or to return to the dungeon, never, perhaps, to come out again, or to throw myself into the canal. My eye was caught by a garret window on the side next the canal, and about two-thirds of the way down the slope of the roof. It was far enough from the place whence I had come out to enable me to judge that the garret it gave light to did not belong to the inclosure of the prison I had broken out from. It must be a loft over some apartment of the palace, the doors of which I should naturally find open at daybreak. Under this impression I thought it right to have a look at the garret window; and, sliding down gently, I was soon astride of the little roof. Leaning on my hands, and stretching forward, I was able to see and touch a little grating, behind which was a window with small panes of glass set in lead. The window was nothing, but the grating seemed an invincible obstacle, for without a file I did not see how I could remove it. I was confounded, when a very simple and natural thing revived my spirits. The clock of St. Martin’s striking midnight was the phenomenon which produced this effect. The clock reminded me that All Saints’ Day was setting in, and being the feast of my patron saint, the prediction of my Jesuit confessor recurred to me: ‘_Know that you will not get out of this till the feast of the patron saint whose name you bear._’ But I own that what especially roused my courage and added to my strength was the profound oracle I had received from my beloved Ariosto: ‘_Fra il fin d’ottobre, e il capo di novembre._’

“The stroke of the clock was like a speaking talisman calling on me to act, and promising victory. Extended at full length, with my head over the grating, I pushed the lock into the framework for it, and determined to tear it off bodily. In a quarter of an hour I had succeeded. I placed the grating aside, and I had no difficulty in breaking the glass out, despite my bleeding hands. Retracing my steps, I got back to where I had left my companion. He was furious. He heaped the grossest abuse on me for leaving him there so long. He assured me he was only waiting for it to strike one, to return to his prison.

“‘What did you think about me then?’

“‘I thought you had fallen down some precipice.’

“‘And you express your joy at seeing me by loading me with abuse?’

“‘What were you doing so long then?’

“‘Follow me, and you shall see.’

“Having picked up my packets, I made my way back to the garret window. When we reached it, I gave Balbi an exact account of what I had done, and consulted him as to how we should get into the garret. The thing was easy, I told him, for one of us, for by means of the rope he could be let down by the other; but I did not see how the second was to get down, having no means of fastening the rope. If I were to get in and let myself slip down, I might break my arms or legs, for I did not know the distance of the floor. To this reasoning in the most friendly tone, the brute replied, ‘Let me down, and when I am below you will have time enough to think of how to follow me.’

“I own that in my indignation I was tempted to bury my crowbar in his breast. My good genius restrained me, however. I did not utter a word of reproach for his base selfishness, but undoing my bundle of ropes, I tied them firmly under his arms, and getting him to be down flat, feet foremost, I lowered him on to the roof of the garret window. When he was there I bid him creep into the window as far as the hips, and to balance himself in that position. When that was done, I slid along the roof as before, and holding the rope firmly, told him to let go, and not be afraid. Having reached the floor, he untied the rope, and I found that the height was more than fifty feet.[B] The leap would be too dangerous. The monk cried out to me to throw him the ropes and he would take care. I was very careful not to follow his advice.

“Not knowing what to do, and waiting for an inspiration, I crept upon the summit of the roof, and my eye rested upon a spot near a cupola which I had not visited. I made my way to it. I found a scaffolding covered with plates of lead, near a large garret window, closed with two shutters. On it was a barrel of mortar, a trowel, and at one side a ladder which appeared long enough to assist me to descend to the loft where I had left my companion. Passing my rope through the first round, I dragged the ladder through the window. The point then was to get in this heavy mass which was twelve of my cubits long,[C] and the difficulty of the task made me repent having deprived myself of the monk’s assistance. I had pushed the ladder until one of the ends touched the window while the other reached a full third beyond the gutter. I got on to the top of the window, and dragging the ladder after me, I tied the rope to the eighth round, then I let it run until it was parallel with the window. I tried to pass it through the window, but found it impossible to get it past the fifth rung, for the end was stopped inside by the top of the window. I might have put the ladder across, tied the rope to it, and then slid down without danger, but the ladder would then have remained to point to where we were hiding.

“I did not wish to risk losing by imprudence the fruit of so much fatigue and danger, and to leave no trace the entire ladder must be got in. Being without help, I resolved to mount to the gutter, raise it, and shove it in. I did so, but with so much danger that it was a marvel I was not killed. I could let the ladder run with the rope without any fear of its falling into the canal, because it was in a manner hooked on to the spout by the third round. I lay on my stomach with my feet against the marble spout. I then raised the ladder half a foot, pushed it forward, and to my delight saw it enter about a foot. This diminished its weight. I had still to get it two feet farther by raising it as much, then by getting atop of the window by means of the rope I could get it in. I got on my knees to raise it, but the force I had to use made me shoot as far as the chest over the roof.

“It was a horrible moment: even now I tremble at it. The natural instinct of self-preservation made me almost unconsciously use all my strength to turn on my side and stop myself, and miraculously I succeeded. Happily I had nothing to fear for the ladder, for in the unlucky effort which was near costing me so dear, I had sent it more than three feet in, which fixed it immovable. In trying to clamber back to my former position I was seized with a cramp which deprived me of the use of my limbs. Retaining my self-possession, I lay still till the cramp passed. The moment was terrible, but in two minutes more I had the happiness to succeed in getting my knees back in the gutter. Lifting the ladder as soon as I had recovered breath, till it was parallel with the window, I then mounted on the top of the window, and easily got the whole of the ladder in, my companion catching one end of it, and then throwing in ropes, clothes, and the débris of the window, I descended myself into the garret.

“Arm in arm we inspected the dark place we found ourselves in. It was about thirty paces long by twenty wide. At one end was a folding door barred with iron. It looked badly, but it opened at a touch. In the next enclosure we knocked up against a large table surrounded by seats and armchairs. Opening one of the windows we saw by the starlight only precipices between the cupolas. Shutting the window we returned to where we had left our packages, and as I was utterly exhausted, body and mind, I put one of them under my head and fell fast asleep. Had death stared me in the face I could not have kept awake, and well I remember the delightful pleasure of that sleep.

“I slept for three hours and a half, and was at last wakened by the shaking and cries of the monk. He told me five o’clock had struck, and that my sleeping was inconceivable. It was, however, not surprising. For two whole days excitement had prevented me from eating or sleeping; and, besides, the exertions I had just made would have exhausted any man. This sleep completely refreshed me, and there was now sufficient light to know what one was doing.

“When I cast my eyes about I cried out, ‘This is not a prison; there must be an exit easy to find.’ In a corner opposite the iron door I spied out another door; running my hand over it I found the key-hole. Putting in my crowbar I opened it, and we found ourselves in a little chamber, where a key lay on the table. With this key I opened another door opposite, sent the monk back for our clothes, replaced the key, and we entered a gallery, the niches of which were full of papers. It was the archives. We descended a stone staircase, and then another, and at the bottom found a glass door, which we opened, and were in a hall I knew--the ducal chancellery. I opened a window. I could easily have got out, but I should have found myself in the labyrinth of little streets surrounding the church of St. Mark. God protect me from such folly!

“I tried the lock of the door; but finding it impossible to force it, I decided on making a hole in one of the panels. The monk aided me, trembling at the noise my crowbar made each time I tried to drive it through the plank; such a noise was sure to be heard at a distance. I felt the danger, but it was necessary to brave it.

“In half an hour the hole was large enough. Had it not been, I could not have enlarged it without a saw. The sides of this hole bristled with points, liable to tear the clothes and lacerate the flesh. It was five feet from the ground. Placing two chairs together under it we mounted on them, and I pushed the monk through. Then I handed him our bundles, and placing another chair on these two, I scrambled through the hole, the monk dragging me, tearing my side and legs till the blood flowed in streams. Going down two staircases, I opened a door at the bottom and entered the passage, where the great gate of the royal staircase is situate, and beside the door of the cabinet of the Savio alla Scrittura. The great gate was fastened, and I saw at a glance I could not force it.

“Calm, resigned, and perfectly tranquil, I seated myself, telling the monk to do the same. ‘My work is finished.’ said I; ‘the rest is now in the hands of God and fortune.’

“‘Abbia chi regge il ciel cura del resto,
O la fortuna se non tocca a lui.’

“‘I don’t know whether the palace sweepers will come here either to-day, All Saints’ Day, or to-morrow, All Souls Day. Should any one come I shall save myself as soon as the door is opened, and do you follow me. But if no one comes, here I remain, were I to die of hunger.’

“At this the poor man became furious: he called me mad, desperado, a seducer, traitor, liar. Six o’clock struck. It was only an hour since I awoke in the garret.

“What chiefly occupied my thoughts was, how to get a change of clothes. Father Balbi was dressed as a peasant, and his clothes were intact; while I could inspire only horror and pity, for I was covered with blood, and my dress was in rags. Tearing up my handkerchief, I staunched my wounds. I gathered my hair into my purse, drew on white stockings, a lace shirt, and put on my fine coat. I then resembled a man who had been at a ball and passed the night at a tavern and got disordered there.

“Thus decked out, my fine hat, with Spanish lace and black plume on my head, I opened a window. Some idlers in the court, not understanding how one so dressed could be in such a place so early, ran to inform those who were in charge. The doorkeeper immediately came and opened the door, supposing he had locked somebody in the previous evening. Hearing him coming, I told the monk to be silent, and placed close by the door.

“When the man opened it he was stupefied at my appearance. Profiting by his confusion I passed out without saying a word. Without appearing to fly, I took the magnificent staircase called the ‘Giants’, and passed on without heeding the monk, who kept calling to enter the church. He knew as well as I did that churches were no longer sanctuaries in Venice, but in his terror he forgot the fact.

“I made my way at once for the frontier. I hastened straight to the royal gate of the ducal palace, traversed the piazetta, and stepped with the monk, who had followed me, into the first gondola I met, telling the gondolier I wished to go to Fusine, and to call another rower.

“When we had passed the custom-house, I asked the gondolier if we could reach Mestre before eight.

“‘But, sir,’ said he, ‘you told me to go to Fusine.’

“I told him he was mistaken. The other gondolier insisted he was not, and the stupid monk joined them. I could have knocked his head off. But I laughed, said probably I was wrong, but that I wished to go to Mestre, and for Mestre we started.

“Arrived at Mestre I hired a carriage. I mounted; and as we were starting I turned to make a remark to Father Balbi: he was not at my side. I sent a stable-boy for him, but he was not to be found. I looked into a tavern, and found him taking a cup of chocolate. Repressing my indignation, I got him out, and we were getting into the carriage again, when a man came up who knew me, and who had the reputation of being a familiar of the inquisition of the republic. He saluted me, said he was happy to see me, and asked how I had escaped.

“‘I have not escaped, sir; I have been discharged.’

“‘Impossible, sir; for only yesterday I was at Signor Grimani’s, and I should have heard it there.’

“Descending from the carriage, I asked him to step aside with me behind the house. There I seized him, and raised my crowbar to strike; but he broke from me and ran away. When he had got at a safe distance he kissed hands, in token that he wished me a happy voyage, and I thanked God I had not taken his life.

“Arrived at Trevisa, I ordered a post carriage for ten o’clock; but I had no intention of using it, for I had not the means to pay for it; and I feared, hungry as I was, I did not even dare to break my fast.

“Passing out of the gate of the city I took to the fields, determined not to get on the road again while in the territories of the republic. For safety sake, to avoid any ambuscades that might lie in wait for me on the shortest route, I everywhere took the longest way. After three hours’ walking I threw myself on the ground exhausted, and sent the monk to a neighbouring farmer’s house for food, and a good dinner was soon sent me by a girl. After walking for four hours more we sat down, and I told the monk we must separate to pass the frontiers, but that we should meet again at Borgo di Val Sugana, and I directed him how to go, making him a present of my cloak. Giving him all the money that remained to me, I appointed finally a place for meeting in two days. He refused to leave me, reminding me of the promise I had made when inducing him to help my escape--that I would never separate from him. I rose with much effort, took his measure, and began to dig a hole, without answering his questions. After a quarter of an hour’s work I told him to prepare his soul, for I was going to bury him, if he drove me to it by his obstinacy. He still refused to go; but at length, either from fear or reflection, he consented, and we embraced one another. When he had gone, I approached a shepherd, asked the name of the village and the owners of several houses, and decided to apply for a night’s lodging at the house of the chief of the sbirri, inquiring from a child playing in the yard where her father was.”

The child called its mother, who mistook Cassanova for Signor Vitturi, who had promised to become godfather to her child. She told him her husband had been summoned to search for two prisoners who had escaped from the leads, and that she did not expect him back for two or three days. He explained that he had received his hurts in a fall from his horse, and the mother of his hostess eagerly dressed them. He was served an excellent supper, and after twelve hours’ refreshing sleep, set out again at five in the morning. After five hours’ travelling he heard a bell, and remembering it was All Souls’ Day, he entered the church, and met there one he had thought his friend. This friend was very eager to hear the story of his escape, but refused him any assistance. At an isolated farmhouse, however, he was well entertained, and again at a Capuchin convent. At the house of another friend he was refused even a drink of water; but,

crowbar in hand, he extorted six sequins. He passed the night at a farmhouse. In the morning he bought some old clothes and an ass, and on its back he passed the frontier, without being even asked his name. He arrived early at Borgo, where he found the monk, who told him, by way of welcome, that he had not expected him.

_LATUDE._

1750-1784.

Masers de Latude was born in 1725, at the castle of Craiseih, near Montagnac, in Languedoc. His father, the Marquis de Latude, was an officer in high rank, and the young Latude was destined for the military profession. While, however, he was studying at Paris, in 1749, he unfortunately conceived the idea of having recourse to subterfuge, in order to attract the notice of Madame de Pompadour, and to obtain her protection. He accordingly placed a small cardboard box in the post containing a harmless powder, and addressed to the marchioness, and then went straight to Versailles with the information that two individuals wished to poison the royal favourite, and that he had discovered their secret. The marchioness at first thanked him in the warmest terms; but he had scarcely left her presence when she began to suspect that she had been the victim of a shameful fraud. She obtained a few lines in his own handwriting from her pretended preserver; and comparing them with the address on the box, had her suspicions confirmed. Some few days after that, Latude found himself in the Bastille.

When he had remained there four months, he was taken to the castle of Vincennes, and he had every reason to fear that his imprisonment was to last for life, for the enraged woman proved inexorable to every appeal in his favour.

“I kept up my courage,” he says in his “Memoirs,” “with the hope that I should one day obtain my liberty, and that I should owe it to my own exertions alone, not to the favour of my gaolers. I was constantly forming plans. Among my fellow-prisoners I noticed an aged ecclesiastic, who appeared at a particular time every day in the garden of the chateau. He had been deprived of his liberty a long while on account of Jansenism. He was frequently visited by the abbé of St. Sauveur, and he devoted a great deal of his leisure to teaching the children of the officers to read and write. He was allowed to go almost wherever he pleased when in the company of his little pupils. He usually took his walk at about the time when I was led into a small garden adjoining the one I have spoken of--an indulgence granted me through the kindness of M. Berryer, the lieutenant of police. Two turnkeys used to accompany me on my leaving the cell, and on my return; but sometimes the elder of the two would wait for me in the garden, while the younger came up alone to let me out. I gradually accustomed the latter to see me run down the stairs in advance of him, and join his comrade in the garden, so that he always moved in the most leisurely manner when he came to fetch me.

“On a certain day I had resolved, at any price, to make an effort for liberty. As soon, therefore, as he came into my cell I ran downstairs with inconceivable swiftness, and hastily bolting the door on the outside, left him a prisoner within. There were then four sentinels to deal with. The first was on the other side of a door which led from the donjon, and which was always closed. I knocked; the door was opened. ‘Where is the abbé of St. Sauveur?’ I asked, hurriedly. ‘Our priest has been waiting for him in the garden over two hours, and I have been looking for him everywhere.’ I ran forward, as I spoke, till I came to a second sentinel, to whom I put the same question, and who allowed me to pass in the same way; and to a third, posted on the other side of the drawbridge, with whom I was equally fortunate. The fourth sentinel did not for a moment suspect I was a prisoner, seeing I had passed the others. I crossed the threshold of the outermost gate; I ran forward and was lost to view: I was free.

“I made my way across the fields, avoiding the high road as much as possible, and at length I came to Paris, where I took furnished lodgings, and tasted to the full the joys of liberty, with an appetite sharpened by fourteen months of captivity.”

Having had the imprudence to write to the king to excuse his fault, and to urge that he had already made sufficient expiation for it, Latude was again arrested and taken to the Bastille, where he was confined in a very strong cell. After remaining there eighteen months, however, he was removed, by M. Berryer’s orders, to a tolerably comfortable room, which he occupied jointly with a young man of his own age, named Alègre, whose crime was also that of having given offence to Madame de Pompadour.

“Under such circumstances, young men could come to but one resolution--to escape, or perish in the attempt. But every one able to form the slightest idea of the Bastille will conceive that this project had in it a touch of the wildness of delirium. In adopting it, however, I knew what I was about, and I hope I shall be credited with a soul a little above the common for having invented, formed, and carried it out.

“It was now no longer of any use to think of escaping from the Bastille by the gates. Every physical impossibility tended to render that idea impracticable. The ground being thus denied me, there was but one other way--to mount into the air. There was in our room a chimney running to the top of the tower; but, like every other in the place, it was so fortified with bars of iron as scarcely to leave a free passage to the smoke; and any one making his way to the top of the tower would find himself cut off from all communication with surrounding buildings, and with a ditch, commanded by a high wall some two hundred feet beneath him. Yet all these obstacles, all these dangers, could not daunt me. I communicated my ideas to my companion, but his timorous soul at first shrunk from the possible sufferings they involved. He chose to regard me as a madman, and for a time I thought and worked alone.

“There were many things to provide for, and to do: to climb to the top of the chimney, in spite of the iron bars; to make a ladder long enough to reach to the foot of the tower, and a second one (of wood) for mounting the ditch on the other side. In order to do all this I should have to procure tools and materials, and to use them in secret, yet, as it were, under the gaoler’s eyes.

“My first care was to find out a place in which I could hide my implements and the other things as soon as I should obtain them. Through thinking earnestly about it, I at length hit on a happy idea. I had been in several rooms in the Bastille, and I had always been able to ascertain whether the one below or above me happened to be occupied, by the noise the prisoner made. On this occasion I heard sounds from above, but none from below, and yet I knew that some one was in the room beneath me. This led me to believe that there was a double thickness of boards between us; and I took the following means to test the correctness of my conclusion:--

“There was a chapel in the Bastille, where mass was said once a day during the week, and three times on Sunday. Permission to be present on these occasions was a favour very rarely granted, and obtained with no little difficulty. Both myself and my companion, however, with the prisoner in the room beneath us, were allowed to attend the service.

“I resolved to seek the opportunity of our leaving the chapel together, to obtain a hasty glimpse of this prisoner’s room, and I told Alègre how he could help me. He was to let his knife case fall down stairs, as though by accident, in drawing out his pocket-handkerchief, so that one of the turnkeys would be obliged to run back to pick it up. All this was managed to perfection. The turnkey went down to find the case; and I, in the meantime, hurried away to our fellow-prisoner’s room. The ceiling was a very low one, and measuring it and the height of the entire storey with my eye, I judged that there was an unoccupied space of about five feet between the two chambers. ‘My friend,’ said I to Alègre on my return, ‘we are saved; we have hiding-place enough for a whole workshop full of things.’ ‘But how are we to get them?’ he asked impatiently. ‘Well, as for materials, this trunk of mine will supply us with more rope than we are likely to want.’ ‘Trunk! rope! why, the thing does not contain a single yard of rope!’ ‘What! have I not a quantity of linen--several dozens of shirts, and a number of napkins, stockings, and other things? We have only to tear them up into strips to make a ladder of any length we please.’

“There was a folding table in our room with a good deal of iron work about it; and, by cutting away part of this iron work with our pocket knives, we soon obtained a kind of rough chisel for loosening the bars of the chimney. As soon as our guards had left us for the night, we prized up a portion of the flooring with this implement, and we then began to pick a hole in the brickwork beneath. After we had worked in this way for some six hours, I found that my hasty calculation had not deceived me. There was a clear space of four feet between our floor and the ceiling below. This was work enough for one day; so we carefully swept all the rubbish into the hole, and replaced the piece of flooring that had been torn up.

“Our next operation was to unstitch two of my shirts--carefully preserving the thread--and by cutting them in pieces, and tying or stitching them together, we made a ladder some twenty feet long, which enabled us to move from place to place in the chimney while we were removing the bars. This part of the undertaking was of the most painful and trying character, and its execution cost us six months of an agony which even now I shudder to think of. We were obliged to work in the most uncomfortable and torturing positions, and we had scarcely struck a dozen strokes before our hands were covered with blood. The bars were fixed in an extremely hard cement, on which we could make no impression with our tools till we had moistened it with water, and the water had to be carried up in our mouths. Our progress was so slow that we were well satisfied when we removed a single square inch of the cement in the course of a night. As soon as we had loosened one bar we left it in its place, not daring to remove it until the very last moment, for fear the chimney should be examined in the meantime.

“When this odious labour was at length completed, we set to work upon the wooden ladder, by means of which we were to make our way into the governor’s garden that lay beyond the ditch. It had to be from twenty to twenty-five feet in length; and to make it, we set aside the pieces of wood sent up as firing, using part of an old chandelier, notched with our pocket knives for a saw. With this and another rude tool, made from the ironwork of the table, we cut our logs of wood into smaller pieces, which we fastened together with small bits of metal and bolts of wood, that served as hinges and screws. Through the single pole thus made we placed the rounds of the ladder, which projected some six inches on either side. The whole thing could be taken to pieces easily, and therefore we had no difficulty in hiding it beneath the flooring of our room.

“Our little subterranean workshop (as I may call it) was now quite nicely furnished, and its contents were known to none but ourselves. We had contrived to avoid detection in a most wonderful manner, but there was one danger which still gave us particular uneasiness. It was the custom with the officers of the Bastille, not only to make irregular and unexpected visits to the cells, but even to set spies upon the prisoners’ most secret hours. We had to take care therefore to do all our work by night, and not to leave the faintest trace of it behind us. But guards have ears as well as eyes. We were, of course, talking over our projects incessantly; and since we could not avoid the necessity for doing this, we had to invent a language intelligible only to ourselves. This was easily done; the saw was called _faun_; a hook, _Tubal Cain_; the hole in the floor, _Polyphemus_; the wooden ladder, _Jacob_; and the rounds, _sprigs_; the ropes, _doves_ (from their whiteness); the pocket knife, _puppy_, and so forth. We were constantly on our guard, however, in using even this gibberish, and we succeeded perfectly in keeping our guards in the dark.

“When the operations already spoken of were completed, we began to think about our great ladder. We calculated that it would have to be at least one hundred and eighty feet in length; and to find material for it we had to sacrifice shirts, napkins, stockings, flannels--in short, nearly the whole of our underclothing. As soon as we had made a hank, or twist, out of the shreds, we hid it away in ‘Polyphemus.’ When we had a sufficient number of these, we spent the whole night in binding them together; and I would defy any ropemaker to produce a stouter cable (of its size) than the one we then possessed.