The Life and Adventures of Baron Trenck, by Baron Trenck

Transcribed from the 1886 Cassell & Co. edition by David Price, email [email protected], proofed by Kenyon, Uzma G., Marie Gilham, L. F. Smith and David.

the
LIFE AND ADVENTURES
of
BARON TRENCK

translated by
THOMAS HOLCROFT.

Vol. II.

CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited:
london, paris, new york & melbourne.
1886.

INTRODUCTION.

Thomas Holcroft, the translator of these Memoirs of Baron Trenck, was the author of about thirty plays, among which one, The Road to Ruin, produced in 1792, has kept its place upon the stage.  He was born in December, 1745, the son of a shoemaker who did also a little business in horse-dealing.  After early struggles, during which he contrived to learn French, German, and Italian, Holcroft contributed to a newspaper, turned actor, and wrote plays, which appeared between the years 1791 and 1806.  He produced also four novels, the first in 1780, the last in 1807.  He was three times married, and lost his first wife in 1790.  In 1794, his sympathy with ideals of the French revolutionists caused him to be involved with Hardy, Horne Tooke, and Thelwall, in a charge of high treason; but when these were acquitted, Holcroft and eight others were discharged without trial.

Holcroft earned also by translation.  He translated, besides these Memoirs of Baron Trenck, Mirabeau’s Secret History of the Court of Berlin, Les Veillées du Château of Madame de Genlis, and the posthumous works of Frederick II., King of Prussia, in thirteen volumes.

The Memoirs of Baron Trenck were first published at Berlin as his Merkwürdige Lebensbeschreibung, in three volumes octavo, in 1786 and 1787.  They were first translated into French by Baron Bock (Metz, 1787); more fully by Letourneur (Paris, 1788); and again by himself (Strasbourg, 1788), with considerable additions.  Holcroft translated from the French versions.

H.M.

CHAPTER I.

Blessed shade of a beloved sister!  The sacrifice of my adverse and dreadful fate!  Thee could I never avenge!  Thee could the blood of Weingarten never appease!  No asylum, however sacred, should have secured him, had he not sought that last of asylums for human wickedness and human woes—the grave!  To thee do I dedicate these few pages, a tribute of thankfulness; and, if future rewards there are, may the brightest of these rewards be thine.  For us, and not for ours, may rewards be expected from monarchs who, in apathy, have beheld our mortal sufferings.  Rest, noble soul, murdered though thou wert by the enemies of thy brother.  Again my blood boils, again my tears roll down my cheeks, when I remember thee, thy sufferings in my cause, and thy untimely end!  I knew it not; I sought to thank thee; I found thee in the grave; I would have made retribution to thy children, but unjust, iron-hearted princes had deprived me of the power.  Can the virtuous heart conceive affliction more cruel?  My own ills I would have endured with magnanimity; but thine are wrongs I have neither the power to forget nor heal.

Enough of this.—

The worthy Emperor, Francis I., shed tears when I afterwards had the honour of relating to him in person my past miseries; I beheld them flow, and gratitude threw me at his feet.  His emotion was so great that he tore himself away.  I left the palace with all the enthusiasm of soul which such a scene must inspire.

He probably would have done more than pitied me, but his death soon followed.  I relate this incident to convince posterity that Francis I. possessed a heart worthy an emperor, worthy a man.  In the knowledge I have had of monarchs he stands alone.  Frederic and Theresa both died without doing me justice; I am now too old, too proud, have too much apathy, to expect it from their successors.  Petition I will not, knowing my rights; and justice from courts of law, however evident my claims, were in these courts vain indeed to expect.  Lawyers and advocates I know but too well, and an army to support my rights I have not.

What heart that can feel but will pardon me these digressions!  At the exact and simple recital of facts like these, the whole man must be roused, and the philosopher himself shudder.

Once more:—I heard nothing of what had happened for some days; at length, however, it was the honest Gelfhardt’s turn to mount guard; but the ports being doubled, and two additional grenadiers placed before my door, explanation was exceedingly difficult.  He, however, in spite of precaution, found means to inform me of what had happened to his two unfortunate comrades.

The King came to a review at Magdeburg, when he visited Star-Fort, and commanded a new cell to be immediately made, prescribing himself the kind of irons by which I was to be secured.  The honest Gelfhardt heard the officer say this cell was meant for me, and gave me notice of it, but assured me it could not be ready in less than a month.  I therefore determined, as soon as possible, to complete my breach in the wall, and escape without the aid of any one.  The thing was possible; for I had twisted the hair of my mattress into a rope, which I meant to tie to a cannon, and descend the rampart, after which I might endeavour to swim across the Elbe, gain the Saxon frontiers, and thus safely escape.

On the 26th of May I had determined to break into the next casemate; but when I came to work at the bricks, I found them so hard and strongly cemented that I was obliged to defer the labour till the following day.  I left off, weary and spent, at daybreak, and should any one enter my dungeon, they must infallibly discover the breach.  How dreadful is the destiny by which, through life, I have been persecuted, and which has continually plunged me headlong into calamity, when I imagined happiness was at hand!

The 27th of May was a cruel day in the history of my life.  My cell in the Star-Fort had been finished sooner than Gelfhardt had supposed; and at night, when I was preparing to fly, I heard a carriage stop before my prison.  O God! what was my terror, what were the horrors of this moment of despair!  The locks and bolts resounded, the doors flew open, and the last of my poor remaining resources was to conceal my knife.  The town-major, the major of the day, and a captain entered; I saw them by the light of their two lanterns.  The only words they spoke were, “Dress yourself,” which was immediately done.  I still wore the uniform of the regiment of Cordova.  Irons were given me, which I was obliged myself to fasten on my wrists and ankles; the town-major tied a bandage over my eyes, and, taking me under the arm, they thus conducted me to the carriage.  It was necessary to pass through the city to arrive at the Star-Fort; all was silent, except the noise of the escort; but when we entered Magdeburg I heard the people running, who were crowding together to obtain a sight of me.  Their curiosity was raised by the report that I was going to be beheaded.  That I was executed on this occasion in the Star-Fort, after having been conducted blindfold through the city, has since been both affirmed and written; and the officers had then orders to propagate this error that the world might remain in utter ignorance concerning me.  I, indeed, knew otherwise, though I affected not to have this knowledge; and, as I was not gagged, I behaved as if I expected death, reproached my conductors in language that