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

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)