rth, with a weight of fetters insupportable to nature, thanking
Thee that these cruel men had not discovered my knife, by which my
miseries might yet find an end. Death is a last certain refuge that can
indeed bid defiance to the rage of tyranny. What shall I say? How shall
I make the reader feel as I then felt? How describe my despondency, and
yet account for that latent impulse that withheld my hand on this fatal,
this miserable night?

This misery I foresaw was not of short duration; I had heard of the wars
that were lately broken out between Austria and Prussia. Patiently to
wait their termination, amid sufferings and wretchedness such as mine,
appeared impossible, and freedom even then was doubtful. Sad experience
had I had of Vienna, and well I knew that those who had despoiled me of
my property most anxiously would endeavour to prevent my return. Such
were my meditations! such my night thoughts! Day at length returned; but
where was its splendour? Fled! I beheld it not; yet was its glimmering
obscurity sufficient to show me what was my dungeon.

In breadth it was about eight feet; in length, ten. Near me once more
stood a night-table; in a corner was a seat, four bricks broad, on which
I might sit, and recline against the wall. Opposite the ring to which I
was fastened, the light was admitted through a semi-circular aperture,
one foot high, and two in diameter. This aperture ascended to the centre
of the wall, which was six feet thick, and at this central part was a
close iron grating, from which, outward, the aperture descended, and its
two extremities were again secured by strong iron bars. My dungeon was
built in the ditch of the fortification, and the aperture by which the
light entered was so covered by the wall of the rampart that, instead of
finding immediate passage, the light only gained admission by reflection.
This, considering the smallness of the aperture, and the impediments of
grating and iron bars, must needs make the obscurity great; yet my eyes,
in time, became so accustomed to this glimmering that I could see a mouse
run. In winter, however, when the sun did not shine into the ditch, it
was eternal night with me. Between the bars and the grating was a glass
window, most curiously formed, with a small central casement, which might
be opened to admit the air. My night-table was daily removed, and beside
me stood a jug of water. The name of TRENCK was built in the wall, in
red br