The second letter of Christian Langedul, in which he relates how cruelly he was tortured, and the misery of his body after the torture, as also, his sure hope and firm confidence in the Lord.
Know, my beloved wife, that yesterday about three o’clock I had written you a letter, which I now send you. I could not send it then, for soon afterwards the Margrave came here to torture us; hence I was not able to send the letter, for then all four of us were one after another severely tortured, so that we have now but little inclination to write; however, we cannot forbear, we must write to you.
Cornelis the shoemaker was the first; then came Hans Symons, with whom also the captain went down into the torture chamber. Then thought I: We shall have a hard time of it, to satisfy him. My turn came next—you may think how I felt. When I came to the rack, where were the lords, the order was: “Strip yourself, or tell where you live.” I looked distressed, as may be imagined. I then said: “Will you ask me nothing further then?” They were silent.
Then thought I: I see well enough what it means, it would not exempt me from the torture; hence I undressed, and fully resigned myself to the Lord, to die. Then they racked me dreadfully, twisting off two cords, I believe, on my thighs and shins; they stretched me out, and poured much water into my body and my nose, and also on my heart. Then they released me, and asked: “Will you not yet tell it?” They entreated me, and again they spoke harshly to me; but I did not open my mouth, so firmly had God closed it.
Then they said: “Go at him again, and this with a vengeance.” This they also did, and cried: “Go on, go on, stretch him another foot.” Then thought I: “You can only kill me.” And thus stretched out, with cords twisted around my head, chin, thighs, and shins, they left me lie, and said: “Tell, tell.”
They then talked with one another of my account which J. T. had written, of the linen, which amounted to six hundred and fifty-five pounds; and that it was so much cash and rebate. Then the Margrave said: “He understands the French well;” and I lay there in pain. Again I was asked: “Will you not tell it?” I did not open my mouth. Then they said: “Tell us where you live; your wife and children, at all events, are all gone away.” In short, I said not a word. “What a dreadful thing,” they said. Thus the Lord kept my lips, so that I did not open them; and they released me, when they had long tried to make me speak.
Thereupon two of them, the executioner and his assistant, bore me from the rack. Think how they dealt with us, and how we felt, and still feel. Then they half carried, half dragged me from the torture-chamber up into the jailer’s room, where was a good fire of oak wood. There they, once or twice, gave me some Rhenish wine to drink, which revived me in a measure. And when I had warmed myself somewhat, they again half dragged me up over the porter’s room. There they had such commiseration for me; they gave me wine again; they gave me spices, and of everything you had sent me, all of which rendered me very good service. They had wine brought and helped me to bed. But the sheets were very coarse, and greatly hurt my shins and thighs; however, soon afterwards the sheets and pillow you sent me arrived, and there were also two or three pocket-handkerchiefs. They then covered me with the sheets, which came very convenient to me, as did also the spices. Had the sheets not come, I know not how I should have passed the night; but so I slept tolerably well. But I am hardly able to stand yet, and the lower part of my legs is as though they were dead from racking; however, it is all well, as I trust by the grace of the Lord.
We have such a God, so mighty, that he did not suffer me to be tempted above that I was able to bear, and I hope he will also not in the future, so firmly I trust in him; for I know assuredly that there will never be found another way or another truth. Hence be instant, whether in season or out of season. 2 Tim. 4:2.
I received your letter, and thank you much, that you remember me so kindly, as you have always done. I wrote you in my first letter, before I received yours, the right answer to the letter you sent me. I have still much to write to you, but am not well able to do so now, for it is too soon.
After me Mattheus was tortured; he named his house and the street in which we live, and said it was in a gate; however, I am of the opinion that there are no longer any gates in that street. Hence move away altogether, if you have not done so yet; for I think the lord will find his way there. Let therefore no one who stands in any danger go into the house. He also named R. T.’s house, and the street where F. V. St. lives. Do herein immediately the best you can. He is very sorry for it.