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Chap. xviii. :  HOW THE HUNTSMAN WENT A WOOING, AND MADE A TRADE OF IT

    My intent to learn artillery practice and fencing in these six months
was good, and that I knew: yet ‘twas not enough to protect me from
idleness, which is the root of many evils, and especially ill for me
because I had no one to command me.  ‘Tis true I sat industriously over
books of all sorts, from which I learned much good: but a few came into
my hands which were as good for me as grass for a sick dog.  “Arcadia,” 1
from which I sought to learn eloquence, was the first book that led me
aside from good stories to books of love and from true history to
romances2 of chivalry.  Such sort of books I collected whenever I could,
and when I found one I ceased not till I had read it through, though I
should sit day and night over it.  But these taught me, instead of
eloquence, to practise lechery.  Yet was such desire at no time so
violent and strong that one could, with Seneca3 , call it a divine frenzy
or, as it is described in Thomas Thomai’s “Forest Garden,” a serious
sickness.  For where I took a fancy there I had what I desired easily and
without great trouble: and so had I no cause to complain as other wooers
and lechers have had, which are chock full of fantastic thoughts,
troubles, desires, secret pangs, anger, jealousy, revenge, madness,
tears, bragging, threats and numberless other follies, and for sheer
impatience wish for death.  For I had money and was not too careful of
it, and besides I had a fine voice, which daily I exercised with all
manner of instruments.  Instead of shewing my bodily skill in the dance,
which I never did love, I did display it in fencing, engaging with my
furrier :  moreover, I had a fine smooth face, and did practise myself in
a certain gracious amiableness, so that the women, even those that I did
not greatly seek after, did of themselves run after me, and that more
that I desired.

About this time came Martinmas :  then with us Germans begins the eating
and the swilling, and that feast is full conscientiously observed till
Shrovetide :  so was I invited to different houses, both among the
officers and burghers, to help eat the Martinmas goose.  So ‘twas that on
such occasions I made acquaintance with the ladies.  For my lute and my
songs made all to look my way, and when they so looked, then was I ready
to add such charming looks and actions to my new love-songs (which I did
myself compose) that many a fair maid was befooled, and ere she knew it
was in love with me.  Yet lest I should be held for a curmudgeon I gave
likewise two banquets, one for the officers and one for the chief
citizens, by which means I gained me favour of both parties and an entry
to their houses; for I spared no expense in my entertainment.  But all
this was but for the sake of the sweet maids, and though I did not at
once find what I sought with each and every one (for some there were that
could deny me), yet I went often to these also, that so they might bring
them that did shew me more favour that becomes modest maidens into no
suspicion, but might believe that I visited these last also only for the
sake of conversation.  And so separately I persuaded each one to believe
this of the others, and to think she was the only one that enjoyed my
love.  Just six I had that loved me well and I them in return:  yet none
possessed my heart or me alone:  in one ‘twas but the black eyes that
pleased me; in another the golden hair; in a third a winning sweetness;
and in the others was also somewhat that the rest had not.  But if I,
besides these, also visited their acquaintance was new and strange to me,
and in any case I refused and despised nothing, as not purposing always
to remain in the same place.  My page, which was an archrogue, had enough
to do with carrying of love-letters back and forth, and knew how to keep
his mouth shut and my loose ways so secret from one and the other that
nought was discovered: in reward for which he had from the baggages many
presents, which yet cost me most, seeing that I spent a little fortune on
them, and could well say, “What is won with the drum is lost with the
fife.”  All the same, I kept my affairs so secret that not one man in a
hundred would have taken me for a rake, save only the priest, from whom I
borrowed not so many good books as formerly.

Chapt. xix. :  BY WHAT MEANS THE HUNTSMAN MADE FRIENDS, AND HOW HE WAS
MOVED BY A SERMON

    When Fortune will cast a man down, she raiseth him first to the
heights, and the good God doth faithfully warn every man before his fall.
 Such a warning had I, but would have none of it.  For I was stiffly
persuaded of this, that my fortune was so firmly founded that no mishap
could cast me down, because all, and specially the commandant himself
wished me well; those that he valued I won over by all manner of respect:
his trusted servants I brought over to my side by presents, and with the
perhaps more than with mine equals I did drink “Brotherhood” and swore to
them everlasting faith and friendship : so, too, the common citizens and
soldiers loved me because I had a friendly word for all.  “What a kindly
man,” said they often, “is the huntsman; He will talk with a child in the
street, and hath a quarrel with no man!”

    If I had shot a hare or a few partridges I would send them to the
kitchen of those whose friendship I sought, and also invited myself as a
guest; at which time I would always have a sup of wine (which was in that
place very dear) brought thither also: yea, I would so contrive it that
the whole cost would fall upon me.  And when at such banquets I fell in
converse with any, I had praise for all save myself, and managed so to
feign humility as I had never known pride.  So because I thus gained
favour of all, and all thought much of me, I never conceived that any
misfortune could encounter me, especially since my purse was still pretty
well filled.  Often I went to the oldest priest of the town, who lent me
many books from his library: and when I brought one back then would he
discourse of all manner of matters with me, for we became so familiar
together that one could easily bear with the other.  So when not only the
Martinmas goose and the feast of puddingbroth were gone and over, but
also the Christmas holidays, I presented to him for the New Year a bottle
of Strassburg Branntwein, the which he, after Westphalian use, liked to
sip with sugar-candy, and thereafter came to visit him, even as he was
a-reading my “Joseph the Chaste,” which my host without my knowledge had
lent him.  I did blush that my work should fall into the hands of so
learned a man, especially because men hold that one is best known by what
he writes.  But he would have me to sit by him and praised my invention,
yet blamed me that I had lingered so long over the love-story of Zuleika
(which was Potiphar’s wife).  “Out of the abundance of the heart the
mouth speaketh,” sad he moreover, “and if my friend had not known how it
fares with a wooer’s heart he could never so well have treated of this
woman’s passion or in so lively fashion pictured it.”

    I answered that what I had written was not mine own invention but
extracted from other books to give me some practice in writing.  “Yes,
yes,” says he, “of course I am pleased to believe it: yet may you be sure
I know more of your honour than he conceives.”  At these words I was
dismayed and thought, “Hath a little bird told thee?”  But he, seeing how
I changed colour, went on to say, “Ye are lively and young, idle and
handsome.  Ye do live a careless life, and as I hear in all luxury:
therefore do I beseech you in the Lord and exhort you to consider in what
an evil case you stand: beware of the beast with the long hair, if you
have any care for your happiness and health.  Ye may perhaps say, ‘How
concerneth it the priest what I do or not?’  (‘Rightly guessed,’ said I
to myself)  or, ‘What right hath he to command me?’  ‘Tis true I have but
the care of souls: but, sir, be assured that your temporal good, as that
of my benefactor, is for mere Christian love as precious as if ye were
mine own son.  ‘Tis ever a pity, and never can ye answer such a charge
before your heavenly Father if ye do bury the talent He hat entrusted to
you and leave to go to ruin that noble understanding which I do perceive
in this your writing.  My faithful and fatherly advice would be, ye
should employ your youth and your means, which ye now do waste in such
purposeless wise, to study, that some day ye may be helpful to God and
man and yourself; and let war alone, in which, as I do hear, ye have so
great a delight; and before ye get a shrewd knock and find the truth of
that saying, ‘Young soldiers make old beggars.’”  This prediction I
listened to with great impatience, for I was not used to hear the like:
yet I shewed not how I felt, lest I should forfeit my reputation for the
politeness, but thanked him much for his straightforwardness and promised
him to reflect upon his advice: yet thought I within myself, what did it
concern the priest how I ordered my life; for just then I was at the
height of my good fortune, and I could not do without those pleasures of
dalliance I had once enjoyed.  So is it ever with such warnings, when
youth is unaccustomed to bit and brindle, and gallops hard away to meet
destruction.

Chap. xx. :  HOW HE GAVE THE FAITHFUL PRIEST OTHER FISH TO FRY, TO CAUSE
HIM TO FORGET HIS OWN HOGGISH LIFE

    Yet was I not so drowned in lust nor so dull as not to take care to
keep all men’s affection so long as I was minded to sojourn in that
fortress, that is, till winter was over.  And I knew well what trouble it
might breed for a man if he should earn the ill will of the clergy, they
being folk that in all nations, no matter of what religion they be, enjoy
great credit; so I put on my considering cap, and the very next day I
betook myself hot-foot to the said pastor, and told him in fine words
such a heap of lies, how I had resolved to follow his advice, that he, as
I could see from his carriage, was heartily rejoiced thereat.

    “Yea,” said I, “up till this time, yea and in Soest also, there was
wanting for me nothing but such an angelic counsellor as I have found in
your reverence.  Were but the winter over, or at least the weather
better, so that I could travel hence!”  And thereafter I begged him to
assist me with his advice as to which University I should attend.  To
that he answered, himself had studied in Leyden, but he would counsel me
to go to Geneva4 , for by my speech I must be from High Germany.  “Jesus
Maria!” said I, “Geneva is farther from my home than Leyden.”  “Can I
believe my ears?” says he, “’tis plain your honour is a Papist!  Great
Heavens, how I am deceived!”  “How so, Pastor?” said I, “must I be a
Papist because I will not go to Geneva?”  “Nay,” says he, “but ye do call
upon the name of Mary!”  “How,” said I, “is’t not well for a Christian to
name the mother of his Redeemer?”  “True,” says he, “yet would I counsel
your honour and beg of him as earnestly as I can to give honour to God
only and further to tell me plainly to what religion he belongs, for I
doubt much if he be Evangelical (though I have seen him every Sunday in
my church), inasmuch as at this last Christmastide he came not to the
table of the Lord neither here nor in the Lutheran church.”  “Nay,” said
I, “but your reverence knows well that I am a Christian:  were I not, I
had not been so oft at the preaching:  but for the rest, I must confess
that I follow neither Peter nor Paul, but do believe simply all that the
twelve articles of the Christian faith do contain:  nor will I bind
myself to either party till one or the other shall bring me by sufficient
proofs to believe that he, rather than the other, doth possess the one
true religion of salvation.”  Thereupon, “Now,” says he, “do I truly, and
that for the first time, understand that ye have a true soldier’s spirit,
to risk your life here, there and everywhere, since ye can so live from
day to day without religion or worship and can so risk your hope of
eternal salvation!  Great heaven,” says he, “how can mortal man, that
must hereafter be damned or saved, so defy all?  Your honour,” says he,
“was brought up in Hanau:  hath he learned there no better Christianity
that this?  Tell me, why do ye not follow in the footsteps of your
parents in the pure religion of Christ, or why will ye not betake
yourself to this our belief, of which the foundations be so plain both in
Holy Writ and nature that neither Papist nor Lutheran * can ever upset
them.”

    “Your reverence,” I answered, “so say all of their own religion:  yet
which am I to believe?  Think ye ‘tis so light a matter for me to entrust
my soul’s salvation to any one party that doth revile the other two and
accuse them of false doctrine?  I pray you to consider, with impartial
eyes, what Conrad Vetter and Johannes Nas have written against Luther,
and also Luther against the Pope, but most of all what Spangenberg hath
written against Francis of Assisi5 , which for hundreds of years hath
been held for a holy and God-like man, and all this in print.  To which
party shall I betake myself when each says of the other that ‘tis
unclean, unclean?  Doth your reverence think I am wrong if I stay awhile
till I have got me more understanding and know black from white?  Would
any man counsel me to plunge in like a fly into hot soup?  Nay, nay, your
reverence cannot upon his conscience do that!  Without question one
religion must be right and the other two wrong:  and if I should betake
myself to one without ripe reflection I might choose the wrong as easily
as the right, and so repent of my choice for all eternity.  I will sooner
keel of the roads altogether that take the wrong one:  besides, there be
yet other religions besides these here in Europe, as those of the
Armenians, the Abyssians, the Greeks, the Georgians, and so forth, and
whichsoever I do choose, then must I with my fellow believers deny the
rest.  But if your reverence will but play the part of Ananias for me and
open mine eyes, I will with thankfulness follow him and take up that
religion to which he belongs.”

    Thereupon, “Your honour,” says he, “is in a great error:  but I pray
God to enlighten him and help him forth of the slough; to which end I
will hereafter so prove to him the truth of our Confession that the gates
of hell shall not prevail against it.”  I answered I would await such
with great anxiety:  yet in my heart I thought, “If thou trouble me no
more anent my lecheries, I will be content with thy belief.”

    And so can the reader judge what a godless, wicked rogue I then was: 
for I did but give the good pastor fruitless trouble, that he might leave
me undisturbed in my vicious life, and thinks I, “Before thou art ready
with thy proofs I shall belike be where the pepper* grows.”

Chap. xxi. : HOW SIMPLICISSIMUS ALL UNAWARES WAS MADE A MARRIED MAN

    Now over against my lodging there dwelt a lieutenant-colonel on
half-pay, and the same had a very fair daughter of noble carriage, whose
acquaintance I had long desired to make.  And though at the first she
seemed not such an one as I could love and no other and cleave to her for
ever, yet I took many a walk for her sake, and wasted many a loving look;
who yet was so carefully guarded against me that never once could I come
to speak with her as I would have wished, neither might boldly accost
her: for I had no acquaintance with her parents, and indeed they seemed
far too high placed for a lad of such low descent as I deemed myself to
be.  At the most I could approach her in the going in and out of church,
and then I would take opportunity to draw near and with great passion
would heave out a couple of sighs, wherein I was a master, though all
from a feigned heart.  All which she, on the other hand, received so
coldly that I must well believe she was not to be fooled like any small
burgher’s daughter: and the more I thought how hard ‘twould be for me to
compass her love, the hotter grew my desire for her.

    But the lucky star which first brought me to her was even that one
which the scholars wear at a certain season, in everlasting remembrance
of how the three wise men were by such a star led to Bethlehem, and I
took it for a good omen that such a star led me to her dwelling also. 
For her father sending for me, “Monsieur,” says he, “that position of
neutrality which you do hold between citizens and soldiers is the cause
why I have invited you higher: for I have need of an impartial witness in
a matter which I have to settle between two parties.”  With that I
thought he had some wondrous great undertaking in hand, for papers and
pens lay on the table: so I tendered him my services for all honourable
ends, adding thereto that I should hold it for a great honour indeed if I
were fortunate enough to do him service to his liking.  Yet was the
business nothing more than this (as is the usage in many places), to set
up a kingdom, being as ‘twas the Eve of the Three Kings: and my part was
to see that all was well and truly performed and the offices distributed
by lot without respect of persons.  And for this weighty concern (at
which his secretary also was present) my colonel must have wine and
confectionery served, for he was a doughty drinker and ‘twas already past
the time for supper.  So then must the secretary write, and I read out
the names, and the young lady draw the lots while her parents looked on:
and how it all happened I know not, but so I made my first acquaintance
in that house: and they complaining greatly how tedious were the winter
nights, gave me to understand I should, to make them pass more easily,
often visit them of evenings, for otherwise they hog no great pastime:
which was indeed the very thing I had of long time desired.

    So from that time forward (though for a while I must be on my good
behaviour with the damsel) I began to play a new part, dancing on the
limed twig and nibbling at the fool’s bait till both the maid and her
parents must needs believe I had swallowed the hook, though as yet I had
not (by a long score) any serious intent.  I spent all my day in arraying
myself for the night (as witches use to do): and the morrow in poring
over books of love, composing from them amorous letters to my mistress,
as if I dwelt a hundred leagues off or saw her bu once in many years: so
at last I was become familiar of the house, and my suit not frowned upon
by her parents: nay, ‘twas even proposed I should teach the daughter to
play the lute.  So there I had free entrance, not only by night but by
day also, so that I could now alter my tune and no longer sing

    “On the bat’s back do I fly after sunset merrily,”

but did write a pretty enough ditty, in the which I lauded my good
fortune which had granted me, after so many happy evenings, so many
joyous days also wherein I could feast mine eyes on the charms of my
beloved and be refreshed thereby: yet in the same song did bemoan my hard
fate that made my nights so miserable and granted me not that I should
spend the night, like the day, in sweet enjoyment: which, though it
seemed somewhat bold, I sang to my love with adoring sighs and an
enchanting melody, wherein the lute also bore its part and with me
besought the maid that she would lend her aid to make my nights as happy
as my days.  To all which I had but a cold response: for ‘twas a prudent
maid and could at will give me a fitting answer to all my feigned
transports, though I might devise them never so wisely.  Yet was I shy of
saying aught of matrimony: and if such were touched on in conversation,
then would I make my speech brief and comprest.  Of that my damsel’s
married sister took note, and therefore barred all access for me to my
mistress, so that we might not be so often together as before: for she
perceived her sister was deep in love with me, and that the business
would not in such fashion end well.

    There is no need to recount all the follies of my courtship, seeing
that the books of love are full of such.  It shall suffice for the gentle
reader to know that at last I was bold to kiss my mistress, and
thereafter to engage in other dalliance: which much desired advances I
pursued with all manner of incitements, till at length I was admitted by
her at night and laid myself by her side as naturally as if I were her
own.  And here, as every man knoweth what on such a merry tide is wont to
happen, the reader may well suppose that I dealt dishonourably with the
maiden.  But no; for all my purpose was defeated, and I found such
resistance as I had never thought to find in any woman: for her intent
was only for honourable marriage, and though I promised all that and with
the most solemn oaths, yet would she grant me nothing before wedlock but
only this, to lie by her: and there at length, quite worn out with
disgust, I fell asleep.  But presently thereafter was I rudely awoke: for
at four o’clock of the morning there stood my colonel before my bed, a
pistol in one hand and a torch in the other, and “Croat,” he cries to his
servant, that stood by him also with a drawn sword, “Croat, go fetch the
parson as quick as may be!”  But I awaking and seeing in what danger I
lay, “Alas,” thought I, “make thy peace with God before this man make an
end of thee!”  And ‘twas all green and yellow before mine eyes, and I
know not whether I should open them or not.

    “Thou lewd fellow!” says he to me, “must I find thee thus shaming of
mine house?  Should I do thee wrong if I break the neck of thee and of
this baggage that hath been thine whore?  Ah, thou beast, how can I
refrain myself that I tear not thy heart from thy body and hew it in
pieces and cast it for the dogs to eat?”  And with that he gnashed with
his teeth and rolled his eyes like a wild beast, I knowing not what to
say and my bedfellow able to do naught but weep: yet at last I came to
myself somewhat, and would have pleaded our innocence; but he bid me hold
my peace, and now began upon fresh matter, to wit, how he had trusted me
as a very different man and how I had repaid his trust with the worst
treachery in the world: and thereafter came in his lady wife and began
another brand-new sermon, till I would sooner have lain in a hedge of
thorns: nay, I believe she had not stayed her speech for two hours or
more had not the Croat returned with the parson.

    Now before he came I tried once or twice to arise: but the colonel,
with a fierce aspect, bade me lie still: and so I was taught how little
courage a fellow hath that is caught on an ill errand, and how it fares
with the heart of a thief that hath broken a house and is captured yet
having stolen nothing.  For I remember the good old days when, if such a
colonel and two such Croats had fallen foul of me, I had made shift to
put all three to flight: but now there I lay like any malingerer and had
not the heart to use my tongue, le alone my fists.

    “See, master parson,” quoth my colonel, “the fair sight to which I
must perforce invite you, to be a witness of my shame”—and hardly had he
said the word in his accustomed tone when he began again to yell hundred
devils and thousand curses, till I could understand nothing of what he
said save of breaking of necks and washing of hands in blood; for he
foamed at the mouth like a wild boar and demeaned himself as if in truth
he would take leave of his senses: I thinking every moment, “Now will he
send a ball through thy head.”  Yet the good parson did his best to
hinder him from any rash deed whereof he might repent his afterwards: for
“How now; Master Colonel,” says he, “how now!  Give your own sound reason
room to act, and bethink you of the old saying that to what is done and
cannot be undone it behoves to give the handsomest name: for this fine
young couple (which can hardly be matched in the land) be not the first,
nor will be the last, to be overcome by the invincible power of love. 
The fault which they have committed (for a fault we must needs call it)
may by themselves be easily repaired.  I cannot indeed approve this way
of matching: yet have these young folks deserved neither gallows nor
wheel, nor hath the Herr Colonel any shame to expect if he will but keep
secret and forgive this fault, which otherwise no man hath knowledge of,
and so give his consent to their marriage and allow such carriage to be
confirmed by public ceremony in church.”

    “What?” says the colonel, “am I, instead of punishing them, to come
to the cap in hand and make them my compliments?  Sooner would I when the
day comes have them trussed up together and drowned in the Lippe; nay, ye
shall wed them here and that at once, for to this end I had ye fetcht:
else will wring the necks of both like hens.”

    But as to me, my thought was, “What wilt thou do?  Wilt thou eat thy
leek or die?  At least ‘tis such a maid as thou needest not to be shamed
of: and when thou thinkest of thine own lowly descent, say, art thou
worthy to sit where she puts off her shoes?”  Yet loud and long I swore
and asseverated we had wrought no dishonour with one another, but got
only for answer, we should have so behaved that none could suspect evil
of us, whereas by our way of dealing we could quiet no man’s doubts.  So
were we married by the said clergyman, sitting up in bed, and the
ceremony over, were forced to rise and to leave the house.  But I, who
had now recovered myself and felt a sword by my side, must crack my joke:
and “Papa-in-law,” says I, “I know not why ye should carry yourself thus
scurvily: when other young folk be wedded their next of kin do bring them
to their bed-chamber, but your worship after my wedding doth cast me
forth, not only from my bed but from the house: and in place of such
congratulation as he should give me on my marriage, doth grudge me even
the sight of my good brother-in-law’s face and my service to him.  Verily
if this fashion hold, there will be few friendships bred by weddings in
this world.”

Transcribed by Andrew Statum


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1)“mountainous region of the central Peloponnesus of ancient Greece.  The
pastoral character of Arcadian life together with its isolation partially
explains why it was represented as a paradise in Greek and Roman bucolic
poetry;” From:
    Encyclopedia Britannica, fifteenth edition, Volume 1. Chicago:
Encyclopedia Britannica, Inc. 1997.

2)A “romance” is “ A take in verse, embodying the adventures of some hero
of chivalry, esp. of those of the great cycles of mediaeval legend, and
belonging both in matter and form to the ages of knighthood,” or “A
fictitious narrative in prose of which the scene and incidents are very
remote from those of ordinary life; esp. one of the class prevalent in
the 16th and 17th centuries, in which the story often overlaid with long
disquisitions and digressions.”  From:
    The Compact Oxford English Dictionary, Second Edition. New York:
Oxford University Press, 1991.

3)Seneca “the elder” or Seneca “the younger;” more than likely
Grimmelshausen is referring to Seneca “the younger,” a.k.a., Lucius
Annaeus Seneca, Roman tragedian.  His plays include Hercules Furens,
Medea, Troades, Phaedra, Agamemnon, Oedipus, Hercules Oetaeus,
Phoenissae, and Thyestes.  He also wrote several works of philosophy and
was tutor to the infamous Roman emperor, Nero.  From:
    “Seneca,” The Columbia Electronic Encyclopedia , Sixth Edition.
Columbia University Press, 2000.
            Found at http://www.encyclopedia.com/articles/42267.html

4)Known for its tradition of independence and neutrality, Geneva, first
named so by Julius Caesar in 58 B.C.E., Geneva is located in modern-day
Switzerland “at the southwestern corner of Lake Geneva in the Rhone
valley.”  From:
    Miller, Phyllis R., “Geneva, Switzerland,” International Dictionary
of Historic Places, Volume 2: Northern Europe. Edited by Trudy Ring.
Chicago:
            Fitzroy Dearborn Publishers, 1995.

*The pastor was ‘Reformed’ (i.e. Calvinist). (Goodrick’s note)

5)Born Giovanni Bernardone, commonly known as Francesco, in Assisi, Italy
in 1182, Saint Francis of Assisi, on a trip to Rome, claimed to have had
“a vision in which he heard a voice calling upon him to restore the
Church of God which had fallen into decay.” Francis founded the Order of
Franciscans, an organization of mendicants who were “pledged to strictest
poverty” and embraced the notion of “self-denying labor in the cause of
Christ.”  From:
    Zockler, O., “Saint Francis of Assisi,” The New Schaff-Herzog
Encyclopedia of Religious Knowledge, Volume IV. Edited by Samuel Macauly
Jackson.
            New York: Funk and Wagnalls Company, 1909.

*I.e., at the Antipodes: “at the other end of the world.” (Goodrick’s
note)
 
