ainst me by my poem of "The Macedonian Hero;" and in 1772 I published a
newspaper at Aix-la-Chapelle, and another work entitled, "The Friend of
Men," in which I unmasked hypocrisy. A major 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
dou