A maidservant came to the door, whom I knew; her name was Mary, and she had been born and brought up in my father’s house. She was terrified at seeing a sturdy fellow in a beggar’s dress; which perceiving, I asked, “Molly, do not you know me?” She answered, “No;” and I then discovered myself to her. I asked whether my brother-in-law was at home. Mary replied, “Yes; but he is sick in bed.” “Tell my sister, then,” said I, “that I am here.” She showed me into a room, and my sister presently came.

She was alarmed at seeing me, not knowing that I had escaped from Glatz, and ran to inform her husband, but did not return.

A quarter of an hour after the good Mary came weeping, and told us her master commanded us to quit the premises instantly, or he should be obliged to have us arrested, and delivered up as prisoners. My sister’s husband forcibly detained her, and I saw her no more.

What my feelings must be, at such a moment, let the reader imagine. I was too proud, too enraged, to ask money; I furiously left the house, uttering a thousand menaces against its inhabitants, while the kind-hearted Mary, still weeping, slipped three ducats into my hand, which I accepted.

And, now behold us once more in the wood, which was not above a hundred paces from the house, half dead with hunger and fatigue, not daring to enter any habitation, while in the states of Brandenburg, and dragging our weary steps all night through snow and rain, until our guide at length brought us back, at daybreak, once again to the town of Lettel.

She herself wept in pity at our fate, and I could only give her two ducats for the danger she had run; but I bade her hope more in future; and I afterwards sent for her to Vienna, in 1751, where I took great care of her. She was about fifty years of age, and died my servant in Hungary, some weeks before my unfortunate journey to Dantzic, where I fell into my enemies’ hands, and remained ten years a prisoner at Magdeburg.

We had scarcely reached the wood, before, in the anguish of my heart, I exclaimed to Schell, “Does not such a sister, my friend, deserve I should fire her house over her head?” The wisdom of moderation, and calm forbearance, was in Schell a virtue of the highest order; he was my continual mentor; my guide, whenever my choleric temperament was disposed to violence. I therefore honour his ashes; he deserved a better fate.

“Friend,” said he, on this occasion, “reflect that your sister may be innocent, may be withheld by her husband; besides, should the King discover we had entered her doors, and she had not delivered us again into his power, she might become as miserable as we were. Be more noble minded, and think that even should your sister be wrong, the time may come when her children may stand in need of your assistance, and you may have the indescribable pleasure of returning good for evil.”

I never shall forget this excellent advice, which in reality was a prophecy. My rich brother-in-law died, and, during the Russian war, his lands and houses were laid desolate and in ruins; and, nineteen years afterwards, when released from my imprisonment at Magdeburg, I had an opportunity of serving the children of my sister. Such are the turns of fate; and thus do improbabilities become facts.

My sister justified her conduct; Schell had conjectured the truth; for ten years after I was thus expelled her house, she showed, during my imprisonment, she was really a sister. She was shamefully betrayed by Weingarten, secretary to the Austrian ambassador at Berlin; lost a part of her property, and at length her life fell an innocent sacrifice to her brother.

This event, which is interwoven with my tragical history, will be related hereafter: my heart bleeds, my very soul shudders, when I recollect this dreadful scene.

I have not the means fully to recompense her children; and Weingarten, the just object of vengeance, is long since in the grave; for did he exist, the earth should not hide him from my sword.

I shall now continue my journal: deceived in the aid I expected, I was obliged to change my plan, and go to my mother, who lived in Prussia, nine miles beyond KÖnigsberg.

Feb. 28.—We continued, tired, anxious, and distressed, at Lettel.

March 1.—We went three miles to Pleese, and on the 2nd, a mile and a half farther to Meseritz.

March 3.—Through Wersebaum to Birnbaum, three miles.

March 4.—Through Zircke, Wruneck, Obestchow, to Stubnitz, seven miles, in one day, three of which we had the good fortune to ride.

March 5.—Three miles to Rogosen, where we arrived without so much as a heller to pay our lodgings. The Jew innkeeper drove us out of his house; we were obliged to wander all night, and at break of day found we had strayed two miles out of the road.

We entered a peasant’s cottage, where an old woman was drawing bread hot out of the oven. We had no money to offer, and I felt, at this moment, the possibility even of committing murder, for a morsel of bread, to satisfy the intolerable cravings of hunger. Shuddering, with torment inexpressible, at the thought, I hastened out of the door, and we walked on two miles more to Wongrofze.

Here I sold my musket for a ducat, which had procured us many a meal: such was the extremity of our distress. We then satiated our appetites, after having been forty hours without food or sleep, and having travelled ten miles in sleet and snow.

March 6.—We rested, and came, on the 7th, through Genin, to a village in the forest, four miles.

Here we fell in with a gang of gipsies (or rather banditti) amounting to four hundred men, who dragged me to their camp. They were mostly French and Prussian deserters, and thinking me their equal, would force me to become one of their hand. But, venturing to tell my story to their leader, he presented me with a crown, gave us a small provision of bread and meat, and suffered us to depart in peace, after having been four and twenty hours in their company.

March 9.—We proceeded to Lapuschin, three miles and a half; and the 10th to Thorn, four miles.

A new incident here happened, which showed I was destined, by fortune, to a variety of adventures, and continually to struggle with new difficulties.

There was a fair held at Thorn on the day of our arrival. Suspicions might well arise, among the crowd, on seeing a strong tall young man, wretchedly clothed, with a large sabre by his side, and a pair of pistols in his girdle, accompanied by another as poorly apparelled as himself, with his hand and neck bound up, and armed likewise with pistols, so that altogether he more resembled a spectre than a man.

We went to an inn, but were refused entertainment: I then asked for the Jesuits’ college, where I inquired for the father rector. They supposed at first I was a thief, come to seek an asylum. After long waiting and much entreaty his jesuitical highness at length made his appearance, and received me as the Grand Mogul would his slave. My case certainly was pitiable: I related all the events of my life, and the purport of my journey; conjured him to save Schell, who was unable to proceed further, and whose wounds grew daily worse; and prayed him to entertain him at the convent till I should have been to my mother, have obtained money, and returned to Thorn, when I would certainly repay him whatever expense he might have been at, with thanks and gratitude.

Never shall I forget the haughty insolence of this priest. Scarcely would he listen to my humble request; thou’d and interrupted me continually, to tell me, “Be brief, I have more pressing affairs than thine.” In fine, I was turned away without obtaining the least aid; and here I was first taught jesuitical pride; God help the poor and honest man who shall need the assistance of Jesuits! They, like all other monks, are seared to every sentiment of human pity, and commiserate the distressed by taunts and irony.

Four times in my life I have sought assistance and advice from convents, and am convinced it is the duty of every honest man to aid in erasing them from the face of the earth.

They succour rascals and murderers, that their power may be idolised by the ignorant, and ostentatiously exert itself to impede the course of law and justice; but in vain do the poor and needy virtuous apply to them for help.

The reader will pardon my native hatred of hypocrisy and falsehood, especially when he hears I have to thank the Jesuits for the loss of all my great Hungarian estates. Father Kampmuller, the bosom friend of the Count Grashalkowitz, was confessor to the court of Vienna, and there was no possible kind of persecution I did not suffer from priestcraft. Far from being useful members of society, they take advantage of the prejudices of superstition, exist for themselves alone, and sacrifice every duty to the support of their own hierarchy, and found a power, on error and ignorance, which is destructive of all moral virtue.

Let us proceed. Mournful and angry, I left the college, and went to my lodging-house, where I found a Prussian recruiting-officer waiting for me, who used all his arts to engage me to enlist; offering me five hundred dollars, and to make me a corporal, if I could write. I pretended I was a Livonian, who had deserted from the Austrians, to return home, and claim an inheritance left me by my father. After much persuasion, he at length told me in confidence, it was very well known in the town that I was a robber; that I should soon be taken before a magistrate, but that if I would enlist he would ensure my safety.

This language was new to me; my passion rose instantaneously; I remembered my name was Trenck, I struck him, and drew my sword; but, instead of defending himself, he sprang out of the chamber, charging the host not to let me quit the house. I knew the town of Thorn had agreed with the King of Prussia, secretly, to deliver up deserters, and began to fear the consequences. Looking through the window, I presently saw two under Prussian officers enter the house. Schell and I instantly flew to our arms, and met the Prussians at the chamber door. “Make way,” cried I, presenting my pistols. The Prussian soldiers drew their swords, but retired with fear. Going out of the house, I saw a Prussian lieutenant, in the street, with the town-guard. These I overawed, likewise, by the same means, and no one durst oppose me, though every one cried, “Stop thief!” I came safely, however, to the Jesuits’ convent; but poor Schell was taken, and dragged to prison like a malefactor.

Half mad at not being able to rescue him, I imagined he must soon be delivered up to the Prussians. My reception was much better at the convent than it had been before, for they no longer doubted but I was really a thief, who sought an asylum. I addressed myself to one of the fathers, who appeared to be a good kind of a man, relating briefly what had happened, and entreated he would endeavour to discover why they sought to molest us.

He went out, and returning in an hour after, told me, “Nobody knows you: a considerable theft was yesterday committed at the fair: all suspicious persons are seized; you entered the town accoutred like banditti. The man where you put up is employed as a Prussian enlister, and has announced you as suspicious people. The Prussian lieutenant therefore laid complaint against you, and it was thought necessary to secure your persons.”

My joy, at hearing this, was great. Our Moravian passport, and the journal of our route, which I had in my pocket, were full proofs of our innocence. I requested they would send and inquire at the town where we lay the night before. I soon convinced the Jesuit I spoke truth; he went, and presently returned with one of the syndics, to whom I gave a more full account of myself. The syndic examined Schell, and found his story and mine agreed; besides which, our papers that they had seized, declared who we were. I passed the night in the convent without closing my eyes, revolving in my mind all the rigours of my fate. I was still more disturbed for Schell, who knew not where I was, but remained firmly persuaded we should be conducted to Berlin; and, if so, determined to put a period to his life.

My doubts were all ended at ten in the morning when my good Jesuit arrived, and was followed by my friend Schell. The judges, he said, had found us innocent, and declared us free to go where we pleased; adding, however, that he advised us to be upon our guard, we being watched by the Prussian enlisters; that the lieutenant had hoped, by having us committed as thieves, to oblige me to enter, and that he would account for all that had happened.

I gave Schell a most affectionate welcome, who had been very ill-used when led to prison, because he endeavoured to defend himself with his left hand, and follow me. The people had thrown mud at him, and called him a rascal that would soon be hanged. Schell was little able to travel farther. The father-rector sent us a ducat, but did not see us; and the chief magistrate gave each of us a crown, by way of indemnification for false imprisonment. Thus sent away, we returned to our lodging, took our bundles, and immediately prepared to leave Thorn.

As we went, I reflected that, on the road to Elbing, we must pass through several Prussian villages, and inquired for a shop where we might purchase a map. We were directed to an old woman who sat at the door across the way, and were told she had a good assortment, for that her son was a scholar. I addressed myself to her, and my question pleased her, I having added we were unfortunate travellers, who wished to find, by the map, the road to Russia. She showed us into a chamber, laid an atlas on the table, and placed herself opposite me, while I examined the map, and endeavoured to hide a bit of a ragged ruffle that had made its appearance. After steadfastly looking at me, she at length exclaimed, with a sad and mournful tone—“Good God! who knows what is now become of my poor son! I can see, sir, you too are of a good family. My son would go and seek his fortune, and for these eight years have I had no tidings of him. He must now be in the Austrian cavalry.” I asked in what regiment. “The regiment of Hohenhem; you are his very picture.” “Is he not of my height?” “Yes, nearly.” “Has he not light hair?” “Yes, like yours, sir.” “What is his name?” “His name is William.” “No, my dear mother,” cried I, “William is not dead; he was my best friend when I was with the regiment.” Here the poor woman could not contain her joy. She threw herself round my neck, called me her good angel who brought her happy tidings: asked me a thousand questions which I easily contrived to make her answer herself, and thus, forced by imperious necessity, bereft of all other means, did I act the deceiver.

The story I made was nearly as follows:—I told her I was a soldier in the regiment of Hohenhem, that I had a furlough to go and see my father, and that I should return in a month, would then take her letters, and undertake that, if she wished it, her son should purchase his discharge, and once more come and live with his mother. I added that I should be for ever and infinitely obliged to her, if she would suffer my comrade, meantime, to live at her house, he being wounded by the Prussian recruiters, and unable to pursue his journey; that I would send him money to come to me, or would myself come back and fetch him, thankfully paying every expense. She joyfully consented, told me her second husband, father-in-law to her dear William, had driven him from home, that he might give what substance they had to the younger son; and that the eldest had gone to Magdeburg. She determined Schell should live at the house of a friend, that her husband might know nothing of the matter; and, not satisfied with this kindness, she made me eat with her, gave me a new shirt, stockings, sufficient provisions for three days, and six Lunenburg florins. I left Thorn, and my faithful Schell, the same night, with the consolation that he was well taken care of; and having parted from him with regret, went on the 13th two miles further to Burglow.

I cannot describe what my sensations were, or the despondence of my mind, when I thus saw myself wandering alone, and leaving, forsaking, as it were, the dearest of friends. These may certainly be numbered among the bitterest moments of my life. Often was I ready to return, and drag him along with me, though at last reason conquered sensibility. I drew near the end of my journey, and was impelled forward by hope.

March 14.—I went to Schwetz, and

March 15.—To Neuburg and Mowe. In these two days I travelled thirteen miles. I lay at Mowe, on some straw, among a number of carters, and, when I awoke, perceived they had taken my pistols, and what little money I had left, even to my last penny. The gentlemen, however, were all gone.

What could I do? The innkeeper perhaps was privy to the theft. My reckoning amounted to eighteen Polish grosch. The surly landlord pretended to believe I had no money when I entered his house, and I was obliged to give him the only spare shirt I had, with a silk handkerchief, which the good woman of Thorn had made me a present of, and to depart without a single holler.

March 16.—I set off for Marienburg, but it was impossible I should reach this place, and not fall into the hands of the Prussians, if I did not cross the Vistula, and, unfortunately, I had no money to pay the ferry, which would cost two Polish schellings.

Full of anxiety, not knowing how to act, I saw two fishermen in a boat, went to them, drew my sabre, and obliged them to land me on the other side; when there, I took the oars from these timid people, jumped out of the boat, pushed it off the shore, and left it to drive with the stream.

To what dangers does not poverty expose man! These two Polish schellings were not worth more than half a kreutzer, or some halfpenny, yet was I driven by necessity to commit violence on two poor men, who, had they been as desperate in their defence as I was obliged to be in my attack, blood must have been spilled and lives lost; hence it is evident that the degrees of guilt ought to be strictly and minutely inquired into, and the degree of punishment proportioned. Had I hewn them down with my sabre, I should surely have been a murderer; but I should likewise surely have been one of the most innocent of murderers. Thus we see the value of money is not to be estimated by any specific sum, small or great, but according to its necessity and use. How little did I imagine when at Berlin, and money was treated by me with luxurious neglect, I may say, with contempt, I should be driven to the hard necessity, for a sum so apparently despicable, of committing a violence which might have had consequences so dreadful, and have led to the commission of an act so atrocious!

I found Saxon and Prussian recruiters at Marion-burgh, with whom, having no money, I ate, drank, listened to their proposals, gave them hopes for the morrow, and departed by daybreak.

March 17.—To Elbing, four miles.

Here I met with my former worthy tutor, Brodowsky, who was become a captain and auditor in the Polish regiment of Golz. He met me just as I entered the town. I followed triumphantly to his quarters; and here at length ended the painful, long, and adventurous journey I had been obliged to perform.

This good and kind gentleman, after providing me with immediate necessaries, wrote so affectionately to my mother, that she came to Elbing in a week, and gave me every aid of which I stood in need.

The pleasure I had in meeting once more this tender mother, whose qualities of heart and mind were equally excellent, was inexpressible. She found a certain mode of conveying a letter to my dear mistress at Berlin, who a short time after sent me a bill of exchange for four hundred ducats upon Dantzic. To this my mother added a thousand rix-dollars, and a diamond cross worth nearly half as much, remained a fortnight with me, and persisted, in spite of all remonstrance, in advising me to go to Vienna. My determination had been fixed for Petersburg; all my fears and apprehensions being awakened at the thought of Vienna, and which indeed afterwards became the source of all my cruel sufferings and sorrows. She would not yield in opinion, and promised her future assistance only in case of my obedience; it was my duty not to continue obstinate. Here she left me, and I have never seen her since. She died in 1751, and I have ever held her memory in veneration. It was a happiness for this affectionate mother that she did not hive to be a witness of my afflictions in the year 1754.

An adventure, resembling that of Joseph in Egypt, happened to me in Elbing. The wife of the worthy Brodowsky, a woman of infinite personal attraction, grew partial to me; but I durst not act ungratefully by my benefactor. Never to see me more was too painful to her, and she even proposed to follow me, secretly, to Vienna. I felt the danger of my situation, and doubted whether Potiphar’s wife offered temptations so strong as Madame Brodowsky. I owned I had an affection for this lady, but my passions were overawed. She preferred me to her husband, who was in years, and very ordinary in person. Had I yielded to the slightest degree of guilt, that of the present enjoyment, a few days of pleasure must have been followed by years of bitter repentance.

Having once more assumed my proper name and character, and made presents of acknowledgment to the worthy tutor of my youth, I became eager to return to Thorn.

How great was my joy at again meeting my honest Schell! The kind old woman had treated him like a mother. She was surprised, and half terrified, at seeing me enter in an officer’s uniform, and accompanied by two servants. I gratefully and rapturously kissed her hand, repaid, with thankfulness, every expense (for Schell had been nurtured with truly maternal kindness), told her who I was, acknowledged the deceit I had put upon her concerning her son, but faithfully promised to give a true, and not fictitious account of him, immediately on my arrival at Vienna. Schell was ready in three days, and we left Thorn, came to Warsaw, and passed thence, through Crakow, to Vienna.

I inquired for Captain Capi, at Bilitz, who had before given me so kind a reception, and refused me satisfaction; but he was gone, and I did not meet with him till some years after, when the cunning Italian made me the most humble apologies for his conduct. So goes the world.

My journey from Dantzic to Vienna would not furnish me with an interesting page, though my travels on foot thither would have afforded thrice as much as I have written, had I not been fearful of trifling with the reader’s patience.

In poverty one misfortune follows another. The foot-passenger sees the world, becomes acquainted with it, converses with men of every class. The lord luxuriously lolls and slumbers in his carriage, while his servants pay innkeepers and postillions, and passes rapidly over a kingdom, in which he sees some dozen houses, called inns; and this he calls travelling. I met with more adventures in this my journey of 169 miles, than afterwards in almost as many thousand, when travelling at ease, in a carriage.

Here, then, ends my journal, in which, from the hardships therein related, and numerous others omitted, I seem a kind of second Robinson Crusoe, and to have been prepared, by a gradual increase and repetition of sufferings, to endure the load of affliction which I was afterwards destined to bear.

Arrived at Vienna in the month of April, 1747.

And now another act of the tragedy is going to begin.