Oh world, ill-judging world, deceived by show! Dost thou not blindly follow the opinion of the prince, be he severe, arbitrary, or just? Thy censure and thy praise equally originate in common report. In Magdeburg I lay, chained to the wall, ten years, sighing in wretchedness, every calamity of hunger, cold, nakedness, and contempt. And wherefore? Because the King, deceived by slanderers, pronounced me worthy of punishment. Because a wise King mistook me, and treated me with barbarity. Because a prudent King knew he had done wrong, yet would not have it so supposed. So was his heart turned to stone; nay, opposed by manly fortitude, was enraged to cruelty. Most men were convinced I was an innocent sufferer; “Yet did they all cry out the more, saying, let him be crucified!” My relations were ashamed to hear my name. My sister was barbarously treated because she assisted me in my misfortunes. No man durst avow himself my friend, durst own I merited compassion; or, much less, that the infallible King had erred. I was the most despised, forlorn man on earth; and when thus put on the rack, had I there expired, my epitaph would have been, “Here lies the traitor, Trenck.”
Frederic is dead, and the scene is changed; another monarch has ascended the throne, and the grub has changed to a beautiful butterfly! The witnesses to all I have asserted are still living, loudly now proclaim the truth, and embrace me with heart-felt affection.
Does the worth of a man depend upon his actions? his reward or punishment upon his virtue? In arbitrary states, certainly not. They depend on the breath of a king! Frederic was the most penetrating prince of his age, but the most obstinate also. A vice dreadful to those whom he selected as victims, who must be sacrificed to the promoting of his arbitrary views.
How many perished, the sin offerings of Frederic’s obstinate self-will, whose orphan children now cry to God for vengeance! The dead, alas! cannot plead. Trial began and ended with execution. The few words—It is the king’s command—were words of horror to the poor condemned wretch denied to plead his innocence! Yet what is the Ukase (Imperial order) in Russia, Tel est notre bon plaisir (Such is our pleasure) in France, or the Allergnadigste Hofresolution (The all-gracious sentence of the court), pronounced with the sweet tone of a Vienna matron? In what do these differ from the arbitrary order of a military despot?
Every prayer of man should be consecrated to man’s general good; for him to obtain freedom and universal justice! Together should we cry with one voice, and, if unable to shackle arbitrary power, still should we endeavour to show how dangerous it is! The priests of liberty should offer up their thanks to the monarch who declares “the word of power” a nullity, and “the sentence” of justice omnipotent.
Who can name the court in Europe where Louis, Peter, or Frederic, each and all surnamed The Great, have not been, and are not, imitated as models of perfection? Lettres-de-cachet, the knout, and cabinet-orders, superseding all right, are become law!
No reasoning, says the corporal to the poor grenadier, whom he canes!—No reasoning! exclaim judges; the court has decided.—No reasoning, rash and pertinacious Trenck, will the prudent reader echo. Throw thy pen in the fire, and expose not thyself to become the martyr of a state inquisition.
My fate is, and must remain, critical and undecided. I have six-and-thirty years been in the service of Austria, unrewarded, and beholding the repeated and generous efforts I made effectually to serve that state, unnoticed. The Emperor Joseph supposes me old, that the fruit is wasted, and that the husk only remains. It is also supposed I should not be satisfied with a little. To continue to oppress him who has once been oppressed, and who possess qualities that may make injustice manifest, is the policy of states. My journey to Berlin has given the slanderer further opportunity of painting me as a suspicious character: I smile at the ineffectual attempt.
I appeared in the Imperial uniform and belied such insinuations. To this purpose it was written to court, in November, when I went into Hungary, “The motions of Trenck ought to be observed in Hungary.” Ye poor malicious blood-suckers of the virtuous! Ye shall not be able to hurt a hair of my head. Ye cannot injure the man who has sixty years lived in honour. I will not, in my old age, bring upon myself the reproach of inconstancy, treachery, or desire of revenge. I will betray no political secrets: I wish not to injure those by whom I have been injured.—Such acts I will never commit. I never yet descended to the office of spy, nor will I die a rewarded villain.
Yes, I appeared in Berlin among the upright and the just. Instead of being its supposed enemy, I was declared an honour to my country. I appeared in the Imperial uniform and fulfilled the duties of my station: and now must the Prussian Trenck return to Austria, there to perform a father’s duty.