It soon was propagated through the country that I had raised a fog to render myself invisible, and that the truth of this could be justified by two hundred witnesses. All the monks of Aix-la-Chapelle, Juliers, and Cologne, preached concerning me, reviled me, and warned the people to beware of the arch-magician and Lutheran, Trenck.
On a future occasion, this belief I turned to merriment. I went to hunt the wolf in the forests of Montjoie, and invited the townsmen to the chase. Towards evening I, and some forty of my followers, retired to rest in the charcoal huts, provided with wine and brandy.
"My lads," said I, "it is necessary you should discharge your pieces, and load them anew; that to-morrow no wolf may escape, and that none of you excuse yourselves on your pieces missing fire."The guns were reloaded, and placed in a separate chamber. While they were merry-making, my huntsman drew the balls, and charged the pieces with powder, several of which he loaded with double charges.
Some of their notched balls I put into my pocket.
In the morning away went I and my fellows to the chase. Their conversation turned on my necromancy, and the manner in which Icould envelope myself in a cloud, or make myself bullet-proof.
"What is that you are talking about?" said I.--"Some of these unbelieving folks," answered my huntsman, "affirm your honour is unable to ward off balls."--"Well, then," said I, "fire away, and try." My huntsman fired. I pretended to parry with my hand, and called, "Let any man that is so inclined fire, but only one at a time." Accordingly they began, and, pretending to twist and turn about, I suffered them all to discharge their pieces. My people had carefully noticed that no man had reloaded his gun. Some of them received such blows from the guns that were doubly charged that they fell, terrified at the powers of magic. I advanced, holding in my hand some of the marked balls. "Let every one choose his own,"called I. All stood motionless, and many of them slunk home with their guns on their shoulders; some remained, and our sport was excellent.
On Sunday the monks of Aix-la-Chapelle again began to preach. My black art became the theme of the whole country, and to this day many of the people make oath that they fired upon me, and that, after catching them, I returned the balls.
My invulnerable qualities were published throughout Juliers, Aix-la-Chapelle, Maestricht, and Cologne, and perhaps this belief saved my life; the priests having propagated it from their pulpits, in a country which swarms with highway robbers, and where, for a single ducat, any man may hire an assassin.
It is no small surprise that I should have preserved my life, in a town where there are twenty-three monasteries and churches, and where the monks are adored as deities. The Catholic clergy had been enraged against me by my poem of "The Macedonian Hero;" and in 1772I published a newspaper at Aix-la-Chapelle, and another work entitled, "The Friend of Men," in which I unmasked hypocrisy. Amajor of the apostolic Maria Theresa, writing thus in a town swarming with friars, and in a tone so undaunted, was unexampled.
At present, now that freedom of opinion is encouraged by the Emperor, many essayists encounter bigotry and deceit with ridicule;or, wanting invention themselves, publish extracts from writings of the age of Luther. But I have the honour of having attacked the pillars of the Romish hierarchy in days more dangerous. I may boast of being the first German who raised a fermentation on the Upper Rhine and in Austria, so advantageous to truth, the progress of the understanding, and the happiness of futurity.
My writings contain nothing inimical to the morality taught by Christ. I attacked the sale of indulgences, the avarice of Rome, the laziness, deceit, gluttony, robbery, and blood-sucking of the monks of Aix-la-Chapelle. The arch-priest, and nine of his coadjutors, declared every Sunday that I was a freethinker, a wizard, one whom every man, wishing well to God and the Church, ought to assassinate. Father Zunder declared me an outlaw, and a day was appointed on which my writings were to be burnt before my house, and its inhabitants massacred. My wife received letters warning her to fly for safety, which warning she obeyed. I and two of my huntsmen remained, provided with eighty-four loaded muskets.
These I displayed before the window, that all might be convinced that I would make a defence. The appointed day came, and Father Zunder, with my writings in his hand, appeared ready for the attack;the other monks had incited the townspeople to a storm. Thus passed the day and night in suspense.
In the morning a fire broke out in the town. I hastened, with my two huntsmen, well armed, to give assistance; we dashed the water from our buckets, and all obeyed my directions. Father Zunder and his students were there likewise. I struck his anointed ear with my leathern bucket, which no man thought proper to notice. I passed undaunted through the crowd; the people smiled, pulled off their hats, and wished me a good-morning. The people of Aix-la-Chapelle were bigots, but too cowardly to murder a man who was prepared for his own defence.
As I was riding to Maestricht, a ball whistled by my ears, which, no doubt, was a messenger sent after me by these persecuting priests.
When hunting near the convent of Schwartzenbruck, three Dominicans lay in ambush behind a hedge. One of their colleagues pointed out the place. I was on my guard with my gun, drew near, and called out, "Shoot, scoundrels! but do not kill me, for the devil stands ready for you at your elbow." One fired, and all ran: The ball hit my hat. I fired and wounded one desperately, whom the others carried off.
