In a fold of a mountain range in Upper Silesia, through which the wild Niesse river forces its passage down to the Oder, stands the impregnable Prussian fortress of Glatz, a natural fortress, almost unequalled in the world, surrounded by mountain peaks like walls. The valley itself is shut out from the rest of the world, and anyone enclosed by the massive walls and gratings of the castle is as if buried alive.
Here lay the Count of Montague, formerly pampered but now hopelessly trapped. By treason and the attempted murder of Frederic William III of Prussia, he was condemned to solitary imprisonment for life. For a whole year he lay in his frightful, lonely cell, without one star of hope. They had left him only one book — a Bible — and this, for a long period, the skeptical Count would not read, or, if forced to take it up to kill time, it was only read with anger and bitterness against the God it reveals. But the more he read the Bible, the more he felt the pressure of the gentle hand of God on his heart.
On a stormy November night, when the winds howled around the fortress, the rain fell in torrents, and the swollen Niesse roared down the valley, the Count lay sleepless on his cot. The storm in his heart was as fearful as the one outside. His past troubled him; he was convicted of his shortcomings and sins. For the first time in his life, his heart was soft, and he genuinely repented. Rising from his cot, he opened his Bible, and his eye fell on, “Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify Me” (Psalm 50:1515And call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me. (Psalm 50:15)). This Word of God reached his soul and he cried to God for mercy. And that gracious and compassionate God heard the cry of this sufferer in the storm-beaten dungeon of Glatz.
That same night in his castle, at Berlin, King Frederic lay sleepless in bed. Severe pain tortured him, and in his utter exhaustion he begged God to give him one hour of refreshing sleep. The favor was granted, and when he woke again, he said to his wife, “God has looked upon me very graciously, and I may well be thankful to Him. Who in my kingdom has wronged me most? I will forgive him.”
“The Count of Montague,” replied Louise, “who is imprisoned in Glatz.”
“You are right,” said the sick king; “let him be pardoned.”
Before dawn in Berlin, a messenger was sent to Silesia, taking a full pardon to the prisoner in Glatz.
Find out more about the God who gives in The Urban Philosopher.