The Adventures of Simplicius Simplicissimus
Page 47
‘Farewell, world – base, evil world! Farewell, you putrid, stinking flesh! It’s because of you and the fact that folk have followed you, served you and done your bidding that the godless, still uncontrite, are condemned to eternal damnation. Consequently, they’ve nothing in prospect till the end of time but, in place of past joys, suffering without let-up; in place of boozing, permanent thirst; in place of scoffing, unassuaged hunger; in place of pomp and splendour, everlasting dark; in place of pleasure, unrelieved pain. Instead of triumph and domination they have nothing but wailing, weeping and perpetual lamentation – heat with no cooling, fires that never burn out, unimaginable cold, a wretchedness that goes on and on.
‘God be with you, world, for your promise of joys and pleasures will be subverted. Evil spirits will seize every unrepentant damned soul and drag it down to the depths of hell, where it will see nothing and hear nothing but countless terrifying figures of devils and other damned souls, innumerable shades and vapours, fire burning without brightness, ear-piercing screams and howls, the chattering of teeth and the sound of curses. All hope of a merciful easing is gone, any respecting of persons a thing of the past. The greater the climb and the weightier the burden of sin, the deeper the plunge and the more piercing the agony suffered. Of those to whom much has been given, enormous demands will be made. World, you are evil, despicable through and through. The higher we strut our stuff on your stage, the starker the punishment and the harsher the pain, for that is what God’s laws demand.
‘God be with you, world, for though the body may lie in your earth for a while and decay, come the Day of Judgement it will rise again. And when the last verdict has been handed down, it and its soul will be for ever consigned to hellfire. Then the poor soul will say, “Damn you, world, for at your urging, forgetful of God and myself, I followed your paths of luxury, wickedness, sin and shame all the days of my life. Cursed be the hour in which God created me. A curse on the day of my birth into this evil, wicked world. May its mountains, crags and hills roll down upon me and shield me from the wrath of the Lamb and from the face of him who sits upon the Throne. Oh woe is me, oh woe is me, for ever and a day.”
‘Oh world, you unclean world, I beg of you: hear my prayer, have nothing more to do with me. And to myself: set no more store by this world. Know that I have resolved: posui finem curis, spes & fortuna valete.’
I considered the Spanish ascetic’s words carefully and thought about them all the time – with the result that I convinced myself to quit the world entirely and go back to living as a hermit. I’d have liked to settle beside my mineral spring in Mückenloch; it was suitably wild there. However, the locals wouldn’t let me. They were afraid I’d draw attention to the place and cause the authorities, now that peace had come, to force them to build all kinds of roads to reach it. So I chose another spot, a different piece of wilderness in which to resume my old Spessart existence. But whether, like my late father, I’ll see my days out there remains an open question. May God in his mercy grant us all what we ask for – namely, a blessed
END
THE BEGINNING
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This edition first published in Penguin Classics 2018
Translation © J. A Underwood, 2018
Editorial material © Kevin Cramer, 2018
All rights reserved
The moral rights of the translator and the author of the Introduction have been asserted
Cover photograph © Allegory of Death (1663), after B. A. Bolswert, fresco painting in the crypt of the Prague Loreto. Photo © Petr Bašta
ISBN: 978-0-141-98212-0