To help the reader understand how things were done there, I will give an example from my own experience. Once, when I was busy at the powder mill I had had built beside the river outside Moscow, telling the men their tasks for that day and the next, the alarm was suddenly given because the Tartars were less than twenty miles away, 100,000 strong, still advancing and plundering as they went. My men and I had to go to the Kremlin immediately, where we were equipped and mounted from the czar’s armoury and stables. Instead of a cuirass, I was fitted out with a padded silk jerkin which would stop any arrow, but would not keep out a bullet. To that was added boots, spurs and a princely helmet with a heron plume together with a sabre sharp enough to split hairs, mounted in pure gold and studded with precious stones; from the czar’s stables I was put on a horse the like of which I have never before seen, never mind ridden. I, my saddle and bridle were all aglitter with gold, silver, precious stones and pearls, and at my side I had a steel mace that shone like a mirror and was so well made and balanced that anyone I hit with it was a dead man. The czar himself could not have been better accoutred than I was.
I was followed by a white flag with a double eagle and people poured out to join it from all quarters, so that in less than two hours we were forty thousand horse strong, sixty thousand after four hours, and with these we proceeded to advance against the Tartars. Every fifteen minutes I received new orders from the czar, all of which boiled down to the same thing: I had claimed to be a soldier and this was my chance to show His Majesty that I really was one. All the time our numbers were augmented by both individuals and small contingents and such was the confusion I could not tell who was supposed to command the whole horde or set them in battle order.
I will not say much about this encounter, which is not really central to my story. We suddenly came upon the Tartars, their horses tired and laden with booty, in a valley or deep dip in the ground, when they least expected it, and charged them from all sides with such fury that we scattered them straight away. As soon as we attacked I called out in Russian to those following me, ‘Off we go, and let everyone do as I do!’ They all shouted this to each other and I gave my horse free rein and charged the enemy, splitting the skull of the first I encountered, a young prince, so that my mace was spattered with his brains. The Russians followed my heroic example, so that the Tartars could not withstand the attack and turned in general flight. I fought like a man possessed, or like someone who is desperately seeking death and cannot find it, striking down everyone, Tartar or Russian, who came into my path. At the same time those Russians whom the czar had assigned to keep me under surveillance followed me so closely that my back was always covered. The air was full of arrows, as if a hive of bees had swarmed, and one struck me in the arm because I had rolled up my sleeves to deal out slaughter with my mace and sabre unhampered. Before I was wounded by the arrow I was revelling in the bloodshed, but when I saw my own blood flowing my laughter quickly turned to an insane fury.
Once this fierce enemy had been forced to flee, some boyars commanded me, in the name of the czar, to report to the Emperor and tell him how the Tartars had been defeated. I therefore turned back and, with about a hundred riders following me, rode through the city to the czar’s palace and was greeted by all the people with triumph and grateful rejoicing. However, as soon as I had reported the course of the battle (despite the fact that the czar had already been informed of all the details) I had to take off my princely costume, which was returned to the czar’s wardrobe, even though it and the harness were so smeared and spattered with blood they were almost ruined. I had assumed it and the horse at least would be presented to me in recognition of my gallant conduct during the encounter. From that incident I could deduce where the colonel’s magnificent Russian clothes came from: they were all borrowed goods which, like everything else in the whole of Russia, belonged to the czar alone.
Chapter 22
On the short and diverting road by which he came home to his Da
As long as my wound was healing, I was looked after right royally. Although my injury was neither life-threatening nor even dangerous, I went everywhere in a dressing gown of cloth of gold lined with sable and I have never in my whole life eaten so well. But that was all the reward I had for my labours, apart from the praise the czar lavished on me, which was spoilt for me by the envy of certain boyars.
When I was completely recovered, I was sent on a ship down the Volga to Astrakhan to set up a powder mill as it was impossible to keep the border fortresses there supplied with fresh powder because of the dangers of the long river journey. I was happy to do this because I had been promised that when it was done the czar would send me back to Holland with a sum of money commensurate with both my services and his imperial munificence. But alas, it is when we are most sure of our hopes and plans that a storm suddenly comes and in a twinkling blows all the foolish designs, on which we have been working for so long, to the four winds.
The governor of Astrakhan treated me as if I were the czar himself and I very quickly had everything running smoothly. The powder he had in store was rotten and mildewed and no good at all, so I reprocessed it, like a tinker using the tin from an old spoon to cast a new one. This had never been seen in Russia before and because of it, and other skills I had, some thought I was a sorcerer, others some new saint or prophet and yet others a second Empedocles or Gorgias of Leontini.
However, one night when I was hard at work in one of the powder mills outside the fortress, I was was captured along with some others by a band of Tartars and carried off so deep into their territory that I not only saw borametz, the legendary sheep-shaped melon, growing, I ate it. My captors exchanged me for some Chinese goods with the Niu-chi Tartars and they presented me as a special gift to the King of Korea, with whom they had just made a truce. There I was held in respect because there was no one could match me with the cutlass and because I taught the king how to hit the bull’s-eye with his musket over his shoulder and his back to the target. Consequently he granted my humble request to give me my freedom and sent me via Japan to the Portuguese in Macao. They ignored me, and I wandered round their city like a sheep that has lost its herd until, as if by a miracle, I was captured by some Turkish pirates and sold by them, after they had carted me round with them for what must have been a whole year among various strange peoples that live in the East Indies, to some merchants of Alexandria in Egypt. They took me with their wares to Constantinople, and as the Turkish emperor happened to be fitting out several galleys to fight the Venetians and there was a shortage of rowers, many Turkish merchants had to hand over their Christian slaves, though they were paid for them. Being young and strong, I was one of them and had to learn to row, but that hard labour lasted no more than two months, for our galley was taken by the Venetians in the Levant and I and my companions were freed from Turkish bondage. When our galley reached Venice, with rich booty and some noble Turkish prisoners, I was released, since I wanted to make a pilgrimage to Rome and Loreto in order to see those places and thank God for my deliverance. I had no problems getting a passport and a number of decent people, notably some Germans, helped me with money, so that I set off on my journey in a long pilgrim’s coat.
I took the shortest road to Rome, which city agreed with me very well because everybody, both great and small, was generous with alms. I spent about six weeks in that city before making my way to Loreto with other pilgrims, including some Germans and, in particular, some Swiss who were heading for home. From there I crossed the St. Gotthard, then headed back through Switzerland to the Black Forest and my Da, who had looked after my farm, bringing nothing special home with me apart from a beard which I had grown in foreign parts.
I had been away for three years and several months. During that time I had crossed various seas and seen all manner of peoples, who in general had done me more harm than good, to write about which would fill a large book. While I had been away peace had been concluded in Germany so that I could live safely and undisturbed with
my Da. I left him to look after the house and farm and took up my books again, which were both my work and my delight.
Chapter 23
Is a nice short chapter and concerns Simplicius alone
I read once what the oracle at Delphi told the Roman envoys when they asked what they must do so that their subjects would accept their rule peacefully: nosce teipsum, meaning each man should know himself. This, given that I had plenty of leisure, made me think back and draw up a balance sheet of my life. I told myself, ‘Your life has not been a life, but a death. Your days have been a dark shadow, your years a dark dream, your pleasures dark sins, your youth an illusion and your well-being an alchemist’s treasure which will fly away up the chimney before you know it. You followed the wars through many dangers and met with great fortune and misfortune: now up, now down; now great, now small; now rich, now poor; now happy, now sad; now loved, now hated; now honoured, now despised. But, my poor soul, what have you got from the whole journey? This: I am poor in worldly goods, my heart is weighed down with cares, I am too lazy, slothful and corrupted to do good and, what is worst of all, my conscience is timid and heavy laden while you, my soul, are covered in sins and hideously defiled! My body is weary, my mind confused, my innocence gone, the best days of my youth spent, precious time wasted, nothing gives me pleasure and, to crown it all, I loathe myself.
When I went out into the world after my father’s death I was simple and pure, upright and honest, truthful, humble, unassuming, moderate, chaste, bashful, pious and God-fearing, but I quickly became malicious, false, deceitful, arrogant, restless and, above all, completely ungodly, and all without needing anyone to teach me. I was careful of my honour not for its own sake, but in order to rise in the world. I observed the hour, not to employ it for my soul’s salvation but for my body’s satisfaction. I have often put my life in danger, but have never made an effort to amend it so that I could die in peace and sure of heaven. I always had an eye to the present and my immediate advantage, never thinking of the future, much less that a time will come when I will see God face to face and have to account for myself.’ I was tormenting myself daily with thoughts like these when I came across the writings of Antonio de Guevara which I found so powerful in turning me away from the world that I must set down an extract from them here:
Chapter 24
Is the final chapter and shows how and in what manner Simplicius left the world again
‘Farewell, world, there is no trust nor hope in you. In your abode the past has already disappeared, the present is slipping away from us and the future will never be; what is most steadfast will fall, what is strongest will break, what is most lasting will come to an end, for you are more dead than the dead and in a hundred years do not let us live for one single hour.
Farewell, world, for you take us prisoner and do not set us free again, you bind us and do not unshackle us; you sadden and do not make glad, you take away and do not give back, you accuse us without due cause, you condemn us without hearing our plea, consequently you kill us without a verdict and bury us without our dying. None of your joys is without sorrow, no peace without discord, no love without suspicion, no rest without fear, no abundance without want, no honour without blemish, no property without a bad conscience, no rank without complaint, no friendship without malice.
Farewell, world, for in your palace promises are made without the willingness to give, service goes unpaid, caresses are used to kill, people are raised up to be cast down, help is a means of harming, honour a way of bringing disgrace, borrowing is without intention to return, punishment is without forgiveness.
God be with you, world, for in your abode the great and their minions are toppled, the unworthy preferred, traitors regarded with favour, the faithful overlooked, the evil left in freedom and the innocent condemned. The wise and experienced are dismissed, the inept well rewarded, the devious are believed, the upright and honest doubted, everyone does what they want, no one what they ought.
Farewell, world, for in you no one is called by his true name: the reckless are called bold, the timid cautious, the impatient enterprising, the lethargic peaceable; a wastrel is called liberal, a miser careful, a malicious gossip eloquent, a quiet person a fool or a dreamer; an adulterer and seducer of young girls is called a beau, a mud-slinger a courtier, a vengeful person eager, a meek one a dreamer. All in all, you present the useless as useful and the useful as useless.
Farewell, world, for you seduce everyone. You promise the ambitious honours, the restless change, the arrogant their prince’s favour, the lazy a post, the miser much wealth, the greedy and lascivious joy and pleasure, enemies revenge, thieves secrecy, the young a long life and minions favour from their rulers.
Farewell, world, for in your palace there is room for neither truth nor loyalty. Anyone who talks to you is put to shame, anyone who trusts you is betrayed, anyone who follows you is led astray, those who fear you are treated worst of all, those who love you are ill rewarded, those who rely on you most are most disappointed. It is no use giving you presents, doing you favours, singing your praises, keeping faith with you, offering you friendship, still you deceive, ruin, disgrace, besmirch, threaten, consume and forget everyone. In consequence everyone weeps, sighs, moans, complains and declines, and everyone passes away. With you people see and learn nothing but hatred which turns into murder, speech which turns into lying, love which turns into despair, deeds which turn into theft, requests which turn into deception, sin which leads to death.
God be with you, world, for while we are with you, time is consumed in oblivion: our youth with running, rushing, leaping from pillar to post, along highways and byways, up hill and down dale, through wood and wilderness, over land and sea, in rain and snow, in heat and cold, in wind and weather; our manhood is consumed with mining and smelting ore, quarrying and cutting stone, sawing and chopping, digging and planting, with imagining and aspiring, with devising, ordering, worrying and bemoaning, with buying and selling, squabbling, wrangling, fighting, deceiving and being deceived; our old age is consumed in anguish and misery, our minds begin to go, our breath turns sour, our faces wrinkled, our bodies crooked, our eyes weak, our limbs tremble, our noses run, our heads go bald, our ears grow deaf, we can smell nothing, taste nothing, we sigh and groan, are weak and feeble and have, in short, nothing but toil and trouble until we die.
Farewell, world, there is no piety in you, every day murderers are executed, traitors quartered, thieves, robbers and bandits hung, killers beheaded, sorcerers burnt, perjurers punished and rebels exiled.
God be with you, world, for those who serve you have no other pastime, be it work or play, than idling, annoying and maligning others, courting young girls, running after beautiful women and flirting with them, gambling with dice and cards, dealing with pimps, feuding with the neighbours, recounting gossip, thinking up new lies, lending at exorbitant interest, devising new fashions, working out new ruses and introducing new vices.
Farewell, world, for no one is content or satisfied with you: if they are poor, they want to get money, if they are rich, they want to be looked up to, if they are despised they want to rise in the world, if they have been insulted, they want to avenge themselves, if they are in favour, they want to have power, if they are given to vice, they just want to enjoy themselves.
Farewell, world, for in you nothing lasts: tall towers are struck by lightning, mills swept away by flood, wood is eaten up by worms, corn by mice, fruit by caterpillars, clothes by moths, cattle suffer from old age, humans from illness: one has the mange, another cancer, the third lupus, the fourth the pox, the fifth gout, the sixth rheumatism, the seventh dropsy, the eighth gallstones, the ninth kidney stones, the tenth consumption, the eleventh fever, the twelfth leprosy, the thirteenth epilepsy and the fourteenth folly! And no one does what the other does: if one is crying, then the other is laughing, if one is sighing, the other is happy; one fasts while the other feasts, one gorges while the other starves, one rides while the other walks, one talk
s while the other is silent, one plays while the other works, and whenever one is born, another dies. Likewise no one lives in the same way as the other: one rules, the other serves, one governs people, the other herds swine, one follows the court, the other the plough, one journeys across the sea, the other travels round the country to the fairs and markets, one works at the soil the other at the fire, one catches fish in the water, the other birds in the air, one works hard, the other robs and steals.
God be with you, world, for in your abode men neither lead a saintly life nor die the same death: the one dies in the cradle, the other in childhood, the third by the noose, the fourth by the sword, the fifth on the wheel, the sixth at the stake, the seventh drowns in water, the eighth in wine, the ninth dies from gluttony, the tenth from poison, the eleventh dies suddenly, the twelfth in battle, the thirteenth through a magic spell and the fourteenth drowns his poor soul in the inkwell.
God be with you, world, I abhor your conversation: the life you give us is a miserable pilgrimage, an inconstant, uncertain, hard, rough, transient and impure voyage full of poverty and error, more rightly to be called a death than a life, in which we die every moment through all the ills of inconstancy and the many and various ways of death. Not content with the bitterness, with which you are surrounded and seasoned, you also deceive most with your flattery, encouragement and false promises; the wine from the golden chalice in your hand is bitter and false, making men blind, deaf, mad, drunk and senseless. Oh, how happy are they who avoid your company, despise your brief, fleeting, momentary pleasures, reject your society and do not perish with such a sly, false-hearted deceiver. For you turn us into a dark abyss, a wretched clod of earth, a child of anger, a stinking corpse, a filthy vessel on the dung-heap, a vessel of putrefaction full of stench and vileness; after you have toyed with us, dragging us hither and thither and tormenting us with flattery, caresses, threats, blows, trials and tribulations, anguish and torture, you consign our wasted bodies to the grave, leaving the soul to an uncertain fate. For although nothing is more certain than death, we do not know how, when and where we will die, nor (and this is the pity of it) where our soul will go and what will happen to it. But woe to the poor soul that has served you, o world, that has obeyed you and sought out your lustful and lascivious pleasures, for once such a sinful and unregenerate soul has, in a sudden moment of terror, departed from the body it is no longer surrounded, like the body in life, with servants and friends, but is led by a host of its most fearful enemies before the Judgment Seat of the Lord. Therefore farewell, o world, for I know there will come a time when you will abandon me, not only when my poor soul appears before the implacable judge, but also when the dreadful judgment Go, o damned souls, to the eternal flames is spoken.
Simplicissimus Page 43