第65章 CHAPTER I.(6)

Here ended the capitulation, and my wretched citadel was taken. The condition I was in was viewed with pity; my wounds were examined, a surgeon sent to dress them, another shirt was given me, and the bricks, clotted with blood, removed. I, meantime, lay half dead on my mattress; my thirst was excessive. The surgeon ordered me some wine. Two sentinels were stationed in the front cell, and I was thus left four days in peace, unironed. Broth also was given me daily, and how delicious this was to taste, how much it revived and strengthened me, is wholly impossible to describe. Two days I lay in a slumbering kind of trance, forced by unquenchable thirst to drink whenever I awoke. My feet and hands were swelled; the pains in my back and limbs were excessive.

On the fifth day the doors were ready; the inner was entirely plated with iron, and I was fettered as before: perhaps they found further cruelty unnecessary. The principal chain, however, which fastened me to the wall, like that I had before broken, was thicker than the first. Except this, the capitulation was strictly kept. They deeply regretted that, without the King's express commands, they could not lighten my afflictions, wished me fortitude and patience, and barred up my doors.

It is necessary I should here describe my dress. My hands being fixed and kept asunder by an iron bar, and my feet chained to the wall, I could neither put on shirt nor stockings in the usual mode;the shirt was therefore tied, and changed once a fortnight; the coarse ammunition stockings were buttoned on the sides; a blue garment, of soldier's cloth, was likewise tied round me, and I had a pair of slippers for my feet. The shirt was of the army linen; and when I contemplated myself in this dress of a malefactor, chained thus to the wall in such a dungeon, vainly imploring mercy or justice, my conscience void of reproach, my heart of guilt--when Ireflected on my former splendour in Berlin and Moscow, and compared it with this sad, this dreadful reverse of destiny, I was sunk in grief, or roused to indignation, that might have hurried the greatest hero or philosopher to madness or despair. I felt what can only be imagined by him who has suffered like me, after having like me flourished, if such can be found.

Pride, the justness of my cause, the unbounded confidence I had in my own resolution, and the labours of an inventive head and iron body--these only could have preserved my life. These bodily labours, these continued inventions, and projected plans to obtain my freedom, preserved my health. Who would suppose that a man fettered as I was could find means of exercising himself? By swinging my arms, acting with the upper part of my body, and leaping upwards, I frequently put myself in a strong perspiration. After thus wearying myself I slept soundly, and often thought how many generals, obliged to support the inclemencies of weather, and all the dangers of the field--how many of those who had plunged me into this den of misery, would have been most glad could they, like me, have slept with a quiet conscience. Often did I reflect how much happier I was than those tortured on the bed of sickness by gout, stone, and other terrible diseases. How much happier was I in innocence than the malefactor doomed to suffer the pangs of death, the ignominy of men, and the horrors of internal guilt!