Simplicissimus Read online

  Chapter 4

  How Simplicius’s home was captured, plundered and destroyed by the soldiers

  I would prefer, peace-loving reader, not to take you with these troopers into my Da’s house and farm, since things will be pretty bad there. However, my story demands that I set down for posterity the cruel atrocities that were committed from time to time in our German wars since, as my own example demonstrates, all such evils are visited upon us by the Almighty out of His great love towards us and for our own good. How else would I have learnt that there is a God in Heaven if the soldiers had not destroyed my Da’s house, thus forcing me out into the world where I met other people from whom I learnt so many things? Until that happened I did not know, nor could I even imagine, that there was anyone else in the world apart from my Da, my Ma, myself and the servants, since I had never seen another person, nor any human habitation apart from the scene of my daily comings and goings. But soon afterwards I learnt how men come into this world, and that there will be a time when each of us must leave it again. In form I was human and by name a Christian, but in all other respects I was a brute beast. However, the Almighty took pity on my innocence, and determined to bring me to knowledge of both myself and Himself. And although He had a thousand means of achieving this, it was doubtless deliberate that the one He chose also punished my Da and my Ma, as a warning to others for the ungodly way they had brought me up.

  The first thing the troopers did was to stable their horses. Then each went about his own particular task, though they all resulted in slaughter and destruction. Some set about a general butchering, boiling and roasting, so that it looked as if they were going to hold a banquet, while others went through the house from top to bottom like a devouring flame, as if the Golden Fleece were likely to be hidden there; even our secret room was not safe from them. Another group made huge bundles of sheets, clothes and other items, as if they intended to set up a flea market somewhere; anything they were not going to take with them they destroyed. Some stabbed at the hay and straw with their swords, as if they had not had enough sheep and pigs to slaughter already, some emptied the feathers out of the mattresses and eiderdowns and filled the cases with hams and other dried meat and provisions, as if that would make them more comfortable for sleeping on; some smashed the stove and windows, as if they were sure the summer would go on for ever. The plates, cups and jugs of copper and pewter they hammered flat and packed the crumpled pieces away, bedsteads, tables, chairs and benches they burnt, even though there was a good stack of dry wood in the yard, cups and bowls they broke, either because they preferred to eat roast meat straight from the spit, or because they had no intention of having another meal there.

  Shameful to report, they handed out such rough treatment to our maid in the stall that she was unable to come out. Our farmhand they gave a drink they called Swedish ale: they bound him and laid him on the ground with a stick holding open his mouth, into which they poured a milking pail full of slurry from the dung heap. By this means they forced him to lead a party to a place where they captured more men and beasts, which they brought back to our farm. Among them were my Da, my Ma and our Ursula.

  Then they took the flints out of their pistols, replacing them with the peasants’ thumbs, which they screwed up tight, as if they were extracting confessions from witches before burning them; they put one of the peasants into the oven and lit a fire under him even before he had confessed to any crime; they placed a rope round the neck of another and twisted it tight with a piece of wood so that the blood came spurting out of his mouth, nose and ears. In short, each one of them had his own particular method of torturing the country folk, and each of the country folk his own particular torment to suffer. It seemed to me at the time that my Da was the most fortunate of them, since he laughed out loud as he confessed, while the others cried out in pain. This honour was doubtless due to the fact that he was the householder. They put him down beside a fire, bound him hand and foot, and smeared the soles of his feet with damp salt which our old billy goat licked off, tickling him so that he almost burst his sides laughing. It looked so funny I found myself laughing too, though whether it was to keep him company or because I knew no better I could not say today. Laughing thus, he confessed his guilt and revealed to them the whereabouts of his hidden treasure, which was far richer in gold, pearls and jewels than one would have expected of a simple farmer. What they did to the women, maidservants and girls they had captured I cannot say, as the soldiers did not let me watch them. What I do know is that I heard constant pitiful cries coming from all corners of the farmhouse and I guess that my Ma and our Ursula fared no better than all the rest. While all this suffering was going on I turned the spit and in the afternoon helped water the horses, during which I came across our maid in the stable. She was so tousled and tumbled that I did not recognise her, but in a weak voice she said to me, ‘Run away, lad, or the troopers will take you with them. Make sure you get away, you can see how bad … ’ More she did not manage to say.

  Chapter 5

  How Simplicius ran off and was frightened by rotten tree-stumps

  Now my eyes were opened to my desperate situation, and I began to think of the best way to escape. But where could I go? That question was beyond my simple mind. However, towards evening I did at least succeed in getting away to the woods. But where should I head for now? The forest and its tracks were as little known to me as the route over the frozen Arctic seas from Novaya Zemlya to China. The pitch-dark night did give me some protection, but to my mind, full of dark thoughts as it was, it was still not dark enough, and I hid in a thick bush. There I could hear both the cries of the tortured peasants and the song of the nightingales. The birds ignored the peasants and continued their sweet singing, showing no compassion for them or their misfortunes, and therefore neither did I, but curled up in my bush and fell asleep as if I hadn’t a care in the world.

  When the morning star appeared in the east, I could see my Da’s house in flames and no one trying to put them out. I left my hiding place, hoping I might find some of my Da’s servants, but was immediately spotted by five troopers, who shouted to me, ‘Hey, lad, over here or we’ll blast you to smithereens.’ However, I just stood there, rooted to the spot and gaping at the troopers like a cat at a new barn door, because I had no idea what they were on about. They couldn’t get at me because of the marsh between us, which so annoyed them that one of them fired at me with his musket. I had never seen or heard anything like the flames which suddenly shot out and the unexpected bang, which was made even more frightening by the repeated echo. I was struck with terror and immediately fell to the ground. The troopers rode on, presumably thinking I was dead, but I was so petrified with fear that I stayed there, not daring to move, for the rest of the day.

  When I was once more shrouded in darkness, I got up and wandered through the forest until I saw a rotten tree-trunk glowing in the distance. This filled me with terror again, so that I turned round on the spot and set off in a different direction until I came across another rotten tree, from which I also ran away. Thus I spent the night running from one rotten tree to another until it was light and the trees lost their frightening look. But that didn’t solve my problems. My heart was still full of fear and dread, my legs full of tiredness, my empty stomach full of hunger, my throat full of thirst, my brain full of foolish fancies and my eyes full of sleep. Nevertheless, I carried on walking, even though I had no idea where I was going. All the while I was getting deeper into the forest and farther from human habitation. In the things I endured in that forest I sensed, though without realising it, the effects of a lack of understanding and knowledge. A brute beast, had it been in my place, would have known better what to do for survival. Yet when I was once again overtaken by darkness, I did at least have the wit to crawl into a hollow tree and spend the night there.

  Chapter 6

  Is short and so full of piety that Simplicius faints

  Hardly had I settled down to sleep than I heard a voice cryi
ng, ‘O wondrous love for us ungrateful mortals! O my sole consolation, my hope, my wealth, my God!’ and many other similar exclamations that I could neither understand nor remember.

  They were words which might well have comforted and gladdened the heart of any Christian in my situation but such was my simplicity and ignorance, it was all Greek to me. And not only could I not understand what was said, I found it so strange that I was at first filled with terror. But when I heard the speaker say that his hunger would be stilled and his thirst quenched, my empty stomach suggested I should invite myself to the table too. So I summoned up my courage and crept out of the hollow tree to see where the voice was coming from. I saw a tall man with long, grey, unkempt hair falling down round his shoulders and a tangled beard that was shaped almost like a Swiss cheese. His face was yellow and gaunt, but had a kindly look, and his long gown had been mended with more than a thousand different pieces of cloth, often one sewn onto the other. Around his neck and body he had wound a heavy iron chain, like St. William of Aquitaine, and to my eyes looked so fearsome and terrifying that I started to shake like a wet dog. The crucifix, almost six foot long, that he was clasping to his chest, only served to increase my fear, so that I thought this old man must surely be the wolf my Da had told me about not long before. Quaking with fear, I took out my bagpipes, which were the only treasure I had rescued from the troopers. I inflated the sack, tuned up and made a mighty noise to drive away this abominable beast. The hermit was not a little surprised to hear a sudden and unexpected outburst of music in such a wild place, and doubtless thought some fiendish spirit had come to torment him, like St. Anthony, and to disturb his devotions. But he quickly recovered from his shock and started to mock me, calling me the tempter in the hollow tree, where I had gone back to hide. Indeed, he had so far recovered his spirits that he started to scoff at me as the enemy of mankind, saying, ‘Ha, so you are come to tempt the saints without God’s leave’, and much more which I could not understand. His approach filled me with such terror that I fell to the ground in a faint.

  Chapter 7

  How Simplicius found poor lodgings where he was kindly treated

  I do not know what it was that brought me round; what I do know is that when I came to I found that the old man had placed my head on his lap and opened my jerkin. Seeing the hermit so close to me, I set up a hideous screaming, as if he were about to tear the heart out of my body. He said, ‘Be still, my son, I’m not going to hurt you, just be still’, but the more he caressed me and tried to comfort me, the louder I cried out, ‘Oh, you’re going to eat me up! You’re going to eat me up! You’re the wolf, you’re going to eat me up!’

  ‘Indeed I am not, my son’, he said. ‘Just be still, I’m not going to eat you up.’

  It was a long time before I had sufficiently calmed down to accept his invitation to go into his hut with him. The wolf did not live in the hut, but the old man obviously had difficulty keeping it from the door since the cupboard was almost always bare. However, a frugal meal of vegetables and a drink of water filled my belly, and the old man’s friendly manner soothed my distraught mind, so that I was soon myself again. Now I could no longer hide the fact that I was desperately in need of sleep, and the old man left me alone in the hut, since there was only room for one person to stretch out there. Around midnight I was wakened by the following hymn, which I later learnt myself:

  Come, voice of night, o nightingale

  And let your song, o’er hill and vale,

  Its soothing solace bring.

  Now other birds have gone to sleep,

  Come, come, your tuneful vigil keep,

  Your Maker’s praises sing.

  And let your voice out loud rejoice.

  Of all below

  You best can raise a hymn of praise

  To Him from whom all blessings flow.

  For though the light of day has flown

  And we in deepest night are thrown,

  Our voices still we raise

  To sing of God’s great love and might.

  No dark can hinder us, no night,

  In our Creator’s praise.

  So let your voice out loud rejoice.

  Of all below

  You best can raise a hymn of praise

  To Him from whom all blessings flow.

  Now Echo’s answering voice is stirred,

  Her sweet reverberant notes are heard

  Combining in your song.

  She banishes our weariness

  And bids us wake that we profess

  God’s goodness all night long.

  So let your voice out loud rejoice.

  Of all below

  You best can raise a hymn of praise

  To Him from whom all blessings flow.

  The stars shine from the sky above,

  Proclaiming our Creator’s love

  In streams of light outpoured.

  The owl, although she cannot sing,

  Yet with her screech shows she would bring

  Her tribute to the Lord.

  So let your voice out loud rejoice.

  Of all below

  You best can raise a hymn of praise

  To Him from whom all blessings flow.

  Come, nightingale, we would not be

  Idle amid such minstrelsy

  Nor sleep the night away.

  Come, let the desert woods around

  With joyous hymns of praise resound

  Until the break of day.

  So let your voice out loud rejoice.

  Of all below

  You best can raise a hymn of praise

  To Him from whom all blessings flow.

  All the time the hermit was singing this song, I felt as if the nightingale were joining in, as well as the owl and Echo. So sweetly melodious did it seem, that if I had ever heard the morning star and had been able to play its tune on my bagpipes, I would have slipped out of the hut to add my notes to the hermit’s. As it was, I fell asleep and did not wake until the day was well advanced when I saw him standing before me, saying, ‘Up you get, my child. I’ll give you something to eat, then show you the way through the woods so you can get back to where people live and reach the nearest village before dark.’

  I asked him, ‘What kind of things are they, ‘people’ and ‘village’?’

  He said, ‘What, have you never been to a village, do you not know what people are?’

  ‘No’, I said, ‘this is the only place I have been. But tell me, what are people, what is a village?’

  ‘Lord save us!’ said the hermit, ‘you must be simple-minded or crafty,’

  ‘No’, I said, ‘I’m not Simple Minded, nor Crafty, I’m my Ma and Da’s little lad.’

  The hermit was amazed at this. With much sighing and crossing of himself he said, ‘Well, my dear child, I have a mind, God willing, to teach you better.’

  He proceeded by question and answer, as is set out in the following chapter.

  Chapter 8

  How Simplicius demonstrated his excellent qualities through noble discourse

  Hermit: What are you called?

  Simplicius: I’m called ‘lad’.

  Hermit: I can see you’re not a girl, but what did your mother and father call you?

  Simplicius: I haven’t got a mother or father,

  Hermit: Who gave you that shirt?

  Simplicius: My Ma, of course.

  Hermit: What does your Ma call you, then?

  Simplicius: She called me ‘lad’ – also ‘rascal’, ‘numskull’ and ‘gallows-bird’.

  Hermit: And who was your mother’s husband?

  Simplicius: No one.

  Hermit: Well, who did she sleep with at night?

  Simplicius: With my Da.

  Hermit: What did your Da call you?

  Simplicius: He also called me ‘lad’.

  Hermit: What is your Da called?

  Simplicius: He’s called ‘Da’.

  Hermit: What did your
mother call him, then?

  Simplicius: ‘Da’. Sometimes also ‘Master’.

  Hermit: Did she never call him by any other name?

  Simplicius: Yes, she did.

  Hermit: Well, what was it?

  Simplicius: ‘Lout’, ‘foul peasant’, ‘drunken sot’ and other things when she was scolding him.

  Hermit: You’re an ignorant creature, not knowing your parent’s name, nor even your own!