The Adventures of Simplicius Simplicissimus

by Hans Jakob Christoffel von Grimmelshausen

  Thirteen

  Odd whims and fancies entertained by Simplicius; also, how he kept his windfall safe

  Those who know what money is worth and consequently idolize it have every reason to do so, for if anyone in the world has experience of its power and almost sacred virtues, I have. I know what it feels like to sit on a goodly stash, and I’ve also (more than once, actually) known the feeling of having none at all. I’d go so far as to say: money has the same virtues and effects as precious stones – but to a much greater extent and with far greater potency. It will banish melancholy as diamonds do, create desire for and enjoyment of study like emeralds (which is why more youngsters from wealthy backgrounds than from poor go to university), and reduce fear and boost good humour the way rubies can. Money will keep you awake like garnets as well as promoting calm and bringing sleep as jacinth does. It fortifies the heart and makes people glad, good, spry and well-tempered as do sapphires and amethysts. Like cornelian, it drives off bad dreams, brings merriment, and sharpens the wits. Money makes sure you win if you take someone to court (particularly when used to grease the judge’s palm), and it relieves lustful and immodest thoughts – mainly by giving access to good-looking totty. In short, as I set out in an earlier publication, my Black and White, there’s no limit to what our friend money can achieve when put to good use and invested wisely.

  In my case, the fortune I amassed at that time, partly through robbery, partly by sheer luck, took on a curious quality of its own. In the first place, the pelf made me more arrogant than I’d been before – to the point where, deep down, I was sorry my name (mere ‘Simplicius’) was not grander. Secondly, it had the effect of keeping sleep at bay like amethyst; I lay awake nights, working out how to invest my fortune and pull in even more. It improved my arithmetic enormously, calculating the monetary value of my gold and silver, adding it to the coins I stashed in different places or kept in my bag, and coming up with a substantial total. And that was without the jewellery! It also, with its innate devilry and mischievous nature, set me on the path so clearly traced in the proverb: ‘The more you have, the more you wish you had.’ Money made me so greedy I saw most folk as hostile. I’ve no doubt it was the source of my crazy ideas, my odd whims – none of which I followed up, incidentally. I once had the idea of quitting the war, settling somewhere, eating well and looking out of the window without once wiping my lips, just watching the world go by. However, I soon changed my mind, mainly because it struck me how free I was and how I stood every chance of becoming a big cheese. My thinking then was, ‘Go for it, Simp, get yourself ennobled, stand the Emperor a company of dragoons out of your own purse. That will make you a proper toff who in time might climb high.’ But as soon as it occurred to me that a single unlucky bullet could bring me crashing down or an abrupt peace put an end to the fighting, the idea lost its attraction. Instead I began to imagine reaching full maturity and deciding for myself: ‘Now what you do is, you find a beautiful, young, wealthy wife, buy a noble seat somewhere, and lead a quiet life.’ I had in mind to go in for stock-breeding, earn a good income by honest means, and—However, I knew I was far too young to take such a step, so that was another dream I had to forget about. I had lots of ideas like that, but in the end I resolved to put my best things in the hands of a prosperous man in a solidly defended city and wait to see what fate had in store. I still had my Jupiter with me at the time – I couldn’t seem to get shot of the fellow. He talked very subtly sometimes. There were weeks when he even came out with good sense. Also, he was extremely fond of me because I was so kind to him. Seeing me sunk in thought the whole time, he said to me, ‘Son, give all your gold and silver, all your ill-gotten gains – give it all away.’ ‘Why, my dear Jupiter?’ ‘Why?’ he echoed. ‘To win friends, that’s why. To banish your futile brooding.’ I said I’d rather have more, much more. ‘Then be careful how you get more,’ he said. ‘But be warned: if you do take that course you’ll know neither peace nor joy your whole life long. Leave the penny-pinching to old skinflints. You’re a fine young man; behave like one! You want to be more concerned about having no friends than having no money.’ I thought the matter over. Jupiter was right, I knew. However, greed had taken such a hold on me by now that I didn’t for one minute consider parting with the whole lot. I did in the end present my commanding officer with two silver and gold-plated beakers and the captain with a couple of silver salt-cellars, but these were rare antiques; they only made the recipients long for more. Twelve reichsthaler went to my faithful friend Tearaway, who thanked me by suggesting I unload all my wealth before it brought me bad luck; officers hated common soldiers being richer than they were. Tearaway told me of a friend of his who’d secretly murdered another friend for his money. So far I’d managed to keep quiet about the plunder I hung onto; folk assumed I’d blown everything on new clothes, on my horses, on weapons. In future (Tearaway went on) I wouldn’t be able to get away with hiding stuff or claiming to be skint. Everyone said I had more stashed away than was actually the case, but the fact was, I wasn’t spending like I used to. He said he often couldn’t help overhearing mutters among the men: in his place, they’d leave the battlefield behind them, put down roots somewhere safe, and leave the rest to God. ‘Yes, but brother,’ I rejoined, ‘with such hopes of promotion, how can I just throw them away?’ ‘Yeah, yeah,’ said Tearaway. ‘But the day you get a commission, I’ll eat my hat. Others clinging to such hopes would sooner see you strung up a thousand times than have an ensignship fall vacant and be given to you. Don’t try and teach me what a carp looks like – my dad was a fisherman! No offence, brother, but I’ve been in the army longer than you. You’ve seen them yourself, though: those sergeants better qualified than most to head their own company but growing grey over their shorter weapons. Don’t you think they too once had hopes? And rightly so – you admit that yourself.’ There was nothing I could say. Tearaway’s words came straight from his honest German heart. And they were true; he wasn’t kidding. In secret, though, I fumed inside. I really did, at the time, have high hopes.

  However, I thought long and hard about what both Tearaway and my Jupiter said. They were right: I hadn’t a single dyed-in-the-wool friend who’d stand by me in my hour of need or avenge my death, whether it occurred in private or on the public stage. Nor did I have any trouble picturing my true situation. Yet neither my ambition nor my avarice grew any less – let alone my desire to achieve rank, leave war behind me and find peace. No, I stuck to my original plan. In fact, an opportunity soon presented itself in Cologne, when I and 100 dragoons were detailed to help escort to that city a number of merchants and cartfuls of merchandise from Münster. So I packed up the hoard I’d found, took it with me on the trip, and handed it over to one of the city’s most highly respected merchants against a handwritten receipt specifying that it comprised seventy-four marks’ worth of unmonetarized silver, fifteen marks’ worth of gold, eighty Joachimsthaler, and in a sealed casket various rings and small items of jewellery made of gold and precious stones weighing a total of eight and a half pounds, plus 893 antique gold coins, each weighing as much as one and a half gold florins. I also took my Jupiter along, (a) because he asked me to and (b) because he had posh relatives in Cologne to whom he spoke in glowing terms of the many kindnesses I had done him, causing them to show me great hospitality. Meanwhile he kept badgering me to invest my money better and use it to buy myself friends, who’d be worth more to me than ‘the gold in those boxes’.

  Fourteen

  How the Huntsman is captured by the opposition

  On the way back I thought a lot about how to win everyone’s favour in future. Tearaway had put an idea into my head and no mistake, persuading me that folk envied me, which was clearly true. I remembered something the famous soothsayer of Soest had said once as she told my fortune. It had bothered me ever since, and such reflection sharpened my wits even more. I realized that a person who lives without worries is like an animal, virtually. Asking myself why this or that individ
ual hated me, I worked out how to approach each one in a way that would regain his or her trust. At the same time I was astonished that anyone could be so phoney as to say only nice things to my face while not liking me one bit! So I resolved to do the same; I’d tell everyone I spoke to what he or she wanted to hear, even pretending to feel a respect that certainly wasn’t genuine. Obviously it was my arrogance that had earned me the most enemies, so I felt I must go back to shamming humility (although humble I was most definitely not!). I mixed with the scum of the regiment, and with officers I always doffed my hat. Also, until my situation improved I stopped dressing up quite as much. I’d arranged for the Cologne merchant to give me 100 thaler, the sum to be repaid with interest when he returned my treasure. Half of this I resolved to spend on the convoy going back. You see, I now knew that meanness makes no friends. I was determined to change my ways, starting right away. However, I hadn’t reckoned with events. As we were passing through the Duchy of Berg the convoy was ambushed by eighty guns and fifty cavalry. They’d been lying in wait for us in a very good position. I was one of a small party (commanded by a corporal) that had been sent ahead to spy out the route. The enemy held their fire as we rode by, knowing that if they moved against us they’d give the convoy advance warning before it reached their defile. They simply sent a cornet and eight horse after us to keep us in sight until the rest could attack the convoy proper. When that happened we turned back, of course, to help defend the wagons, and the cornet and his party promptly demanded that we surrender. For my part I was well mounted; I had my best steed under me. At the same time, hating the idea of trying to flee, I yanked the horse’s head round to see whether there was honour to be had here. At that moment the sound of the salvo that greeted our forces told me resistance was useless, and I took off. The enemy had anticipated this and our way was already barred. I tried to hack my way through, but the cornet, taking me for an officer, once again demanded: did I surrender? Better escape with your life than take a big risk, I thought, and after checking that he really was offering me quarter (‘like an honest soldier’, were my words), I handed him my rapier and gave myself up. The first thing he asked me was: who or what was I? He could see I was a nobleman, but was I an officer, too? When I told him I was known as ‘the Huntsman of Soest’, he replied, ‘Then it’s the Huntsman’s lucky day! If His Honour had fallen into our hands a month back I’d not have been able to spare his life. At that time we knew him as a downright sorcerer.’

  He was a brave young horseman, that cornet, and not more than two years older than myself. Hugely pleased and honoured to have taken the famous Huntsman prisoner, he stood most honourably by his promise of pardon, likewise observing the Dutch custom of taking nothing from the belts of (in their case, Spanish) captives. He didn’t even have me searched. I, on the other hand, when it came to divvying up the loot, voluntarily took the money out of my pockets and handed it over. I also whispered to the cornet that he should make sure my mount, saddle and tack fell to him. Inside the saddle, I told him, he’d find thirty ducats; as for the horse, he’d probably never see its like again. That certainly won the cornet’s friendship. I might have been his very own brother. He promptly mounted my horse, let me climb on his, and we returned to his unit. Nothing remained of the convoy but six dead and thirteen prisoners, including eight wounded. The rest had scarpered, not even trying to engage the enemy on open ground and win back what they lost – as they might well have done; they were all mounted.

  The spoils and prisoners having been divided, the Swedes and Hessians (who came from different garrisons, you see) parted that same evening. Myself and the corporal, together with another three dragoons, stayed with the cornet; he’d taken us prisoner, after all. We were taken to a citadel a short distance from our own garrison. This was somewhere I’d done over many times in the past, so my name was common knowledge there and its owner more feared than loved. When we came within sight of the place the cornet sent a rider on ahead to announce our arrival to the commandant and report on what had happened, who the prisoners were, etc. The latter information produced an indescribable commotion. Everyone wanted to set eyes on the Huntsman. One person said this about me while another said that. You’d have thought a major potentate had hit town.

  We prisoners were taken straight to the commandant, who showed great surprise at my youth and wanted to know whether I’d ever served on the Swedish side and where I was from originally. When I answered truthfully, he asked: what did I think of going back to fighting for them? I said I didn’t much care, but seeing as I’d sworn an oath to the Holy Roman Emperor I’d better stick with him. He then referred us to a higher authority but gave the cornet permission to put us up in his billet meanwhile, the reason being that I’d once treated my own prisoners (his brother among them) in the same fashion. Evening was coming on, and various officers, including both soldiers of fortune and traditional cavaliers, gathered in the cornet’s quarters, to which that officer also had me and the corporal led. If I’m honest, I was treated very well there – not at all like someone who’s just lost everything. I really let my hair down. I was open, I was trusting; I might have been taken not by hostiles but by my own best mates. Moreover, I laid on the (false) modesty with a trowel, confident that my behaviour would get back to the commandant. Which it did, I learnt later.

  In the morning we prisoners were taken before the regimental auditor and interrogated one by one, the corporal first, me next. As soon as I entered the room I could see the man was surprised to find me such a stripling. He asked, ‘And what has Sweden ever done to you, child, to make you wage war on it?’ That miffed me, mainly because I’d seen soldiers of my age in their ranks too, so I replied, ‘The Swedish army came and stole my marbles. I wanted to get them back.’ The officers sitting with him were all embarrassed to hear me snub him like that, and one of them advised him in Latin to stick to serious matters: I wasn’t a child – surely he could see that? I’d heard the officer address him as ‘Eusebius’, so when he’d asked me what my name was, and I’d told him, and he’d said, ‘There’s no devil in hell called “Simplicissimus”,’ I replied, ‘There’s probably none called “Eusebius”, either.’ I paid him back in his own coin, d’you see, as I’d done to our muster clerk Cyriacus. However, the officers didn’t take kindly to that either, reminding me that I was their prisoner and hadn’t been hauled before them to crack jokes. The reproach didn’t faze me, nor did it make me apologize. I simply responded: since they were holding me as a soldier instead of letting me go, as they should a child, I wasn’t going to be fobbed off as a child; I’d answered as I’d been asked, and I hoped I’d done nothing wrong. At that, they wanted to know where I came from, what was my background, and principally: had I ever served in the Swedish army? Other questions were: what was the situation in Soest? How strong was the garrison there? That sort of thing. My answers were all swift, concise and to the point. Regarding Soest and its garrison, I went as far as duty permitted, but I thought I could probably keep quiet about the fact that I’d worked as a fool there; I was embarrassed to admit that.

  Fifteen

  The conditions under which the Huntsman is released

  Meanwhile, back at Soest, they’d heard what had happened to the convoy and that I and the corporal had been taken prisoner, along with several others. They’d also heard where we were now. So the very next day a drummer was sent out to fetch us, and the corporal and the three others were released into his custody together with the following letter, which the commandant sent over for me to read:

  Monsieur, etc.,

  My thanks to the gentleman for His missive, brought to me by His drummer. Wherefore I return herewith, accompanying said drummer, the corporal and a further three prisoners, they having been duly ransomed. However, as regards Simplicius the Huntsman, I am unable to release him, he having previously served the Swedish Crown. Nevertheless, should there be anything else I can do for the gentleman, within the limits of my duty, I beg the gentleman to rest assur
ed that I remain

  His faithful servant,

  N. de S. A.

  I didn’t exactly like the tone of the letter, but I still had to thank the writer for letting me see it. However, when I asked to speak with the commandant, I was told he would be sending for me himself, once he’d sent the drummer on his way. That would be in the morning; I must be patient until then.

  So I waited. At the appointed time the commandant sent for me. He happened to be at table, and for the first time I had the honour to sit with him while he ate. He spent the whole meal toasting me and said nothing at all about what fate he had in mind for me. Nor did I feel it right to broach the matter myself. However, when the meal was over, and I was slightly the worse for wear, he said, ‘Huntsman, you’ll know from my letter what I said about keeping you here. I mean no harm; I’d not dream of doing anything unreasonable or of flouting the conventions of war. But since you’ve stated both to me and to the regimental auditor that you formerly fought for us, serving in our main army, you must resign yourself to serving under my command. In the long run, and if you behave, I’ll see that you receive better treatment than you could have hoped for in the Imperial ranks. If I don’t, you won’t mind my returning you to the same lieutenant colonel as my dragoons seized you from.’ ‘Esteemed colonel,’ I replied (this was before it became customary to address soldiers of fortune as ‘Your Grace’, even if they were colonels), ‘never having sworn an oath of loyalty to the Swedish Crown or to its allies, let alone to the lieutenant colonel (I was only a stable lad, after all), I am under no obligation to serve under Swedish arms. That would mean breaking my oath to the Holy Roman Emperor. So it is with the greatest humility that I beg my esteemed colonel to withdraw this impossible demand.’ ‘What?’ the colonel said. ‘You refuse to bear Swedish arms? You’re my prisoner, don’t forget. You’ll not see me returning you to Soest to fight for the opposition. I’d sooner bring charges, so I would – or see you rot in gaol!’ No doubt he thought: that’ll make the fellow think again! Well, his words did alarm me, I’ll admit. But I wasn’t giving up yet. Invoking God’s protection against such animosity and against being driven to commit perjury, I said I still hoped the colonel would exercise the discretion for which he was famed and treat me as a soldier deserved. ‘Oh, I know all about how I could treat you if it was a question of maintaining strict discipline! No – my advice to you is this: think it over. Don’t force me to make an example of you.’ And back I went to gaol.