oned at Berlin, I asked, "Does it please your Majesty
that I should go and join my corps?" "Whence came you?" answered he.
"From Berlin." "And where were you before you went to Berlin?" "Under
arrest." "Then under arrest you must remain!"

I did not recover my liberty till three days before our departure for
Silesia, towards which we marched, with the utmost speed, in the
beginning of May, to commence our second campaign.

Here I must recount an event which happened that winter, which became the
source of all my misfortunes, and to which I must entreat my readers will
pay the utmost attention; since this error, if innocence can be error,
was the cause that the most faithful and the best of subjects became
bewildered in scenes of wretchedness, and was the victim of misery, from
his nineteenth to the sixtieth year of his age. I dare presume that this
true narrative, supported by testimonies the most authentic, will fully
vindicate my present honour and my future memory.

Francis, Baron of Trenck, was the son of my father's brother,
consequently my cousin german. I shall speak, hereafter, of the singular
events of his life. Being a commander of pandours in the Austrian
service, and grievously wounded at Bavaria, in the year 1743, he wrote to
my mother, informing her he intended me, her eldest son, for his
universal legatee. This letter, to which I returned no answer, was sent
to me at Potzdam. I was so satisfied with my situation, and had such
numerous reasons so to be, considering the kindness with which the King
treated me, that I would not have exchanged my good fortune for all the
treasures of the Great Mogul.

On the 12th of February, 1744, being at Berlin, I was in company with
Captain Jaschinsky, commander of the body guard, the captain of which
ranks as colonel in the army, together with Lieutenant Studnitz, and
Cornet Wagnitz. The latter was my field comrade, and is at present
commander-general of the cavalry of Hesse Cassel. The Austrian Trenck
became the subject of conversation, and Jaschinsky asked if I were his
kinsman. I answered, yes, and immediately mentioned his having made me
his universal heir. "And what answer have you returned?" said
Jaschinsky.--"None at all."

The whole company then observed that, in a case like the present, I was
much to blame not to answer; that the least I could do would be to thank
him for his good wishes, and entreat a continuance of them. Jaschinsky
further a