The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 10: under the LeadsCasanova, Giacomo
History
The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 10: under the Leads
Casanova, Giacomo
Casanova, Giacomo, 1725-1798; Europe -- History -- 18th century -- Biography
They searched my mattress, turned my bed inside out, felt the cushions of
my arm-chair, and found nothing.
"You won't tell me, then, where are the instruments with which you made
the hole. It's of no matter, as we shall find a way to make you speak."
"If it be true that I have made a hole at all, I shall say that you gave
me the tools, and that I have returned them to you."
At this threat, which made his followers smile with glee, probably
because he had been abusing them, he stamped his feet, tore his hair, and
went out like one possessed. The guards returned and brought me all my
properties, the whetstone and lamp excepted. After locking up my cell he
shut the two windows which gave me a little air. I thus found myself
confined in a narrow space without the possibility of receiving the least
breath of air from any quarter. Nevertheless, my situation did not
disturb me to any great extent, as I must confess I thought I had got off
cheaply. In spite of his training, Lawrence had not thought of turning
the armchair over; and thus, finding myself still possessor of the iron
bar, I thanked Providence, and thought myself still at liberty to regard
the bar as means by which, sooner or later, I should make my escape.
I passed a sleepless night, as much from the heat as the change in my
prospects. At day-break Lawrence came and brought some insufferable wine,
and some water I should not have cared to drink. All the rest was of a
piece; dry salad, putrid meat, and bread harder than English biscuit. He
cleaned nothing, and when I asked him to open the windows he seemed not
to hear me; but a guard armed with an iron bar began to sound all over my
room, against the wall, on the floor, and above all under my bed. I
looked on with an unmoved expression, but it did not escape my notice
that the guard did not sound the ceiling. "That way," said I to myself,
"will lead me out of this place of torments." But for any such project to
succeed I should have to depend purely on chance, for all my operations
would leave visible traces. The cell was quite new, and the least scratch
would have attracted the notice of my keepers.
I passed a terrible day, for the heat was like that of a furnace, and I
was quite unable to make any use of the food with which I had been
provided. The perspiration and the lack of nourishment made me so weak
that I could neither walk nor read. Next day my dinner was the same; the
horrible smell of the veal the rascal brought me made me draw back from
it instantly. "Have you received orders," said I, "to kill me with hunger
and heat?"
He locked the door, and went out without a word. On the third day I was
treated in the same manner. I asked for a pencil and paper to write to
the secretary. Still no answer.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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