The Adventures of Simplicius Simplicissimus

by Hans Jakob Christoffel von Grimmelshausen

  There I noticed how the sun shone on one lake after another, throwing its beams right through them and down into these terrifying depths. They never lacked for light, those sylphs. Down in that abyss you saw them as clearly as up on the surface; you saw their shadows, even. The fact was, for the water sprites the lakes acted like daylight apertures or windows, letting in both life and warmth, and if that wasn’t always the case (some lakes were slightly wonky) the difference was made up for by reflection: nature had arranged for the odd dark corner to have its rock walls filled with crystals, diamonds and carbuncles, enhancing the brightness.

  Seventeen

  Return from the centre of the Earth, curious fancies, castles in the air, grandiose plans, and chickens counted before they’d hatched

  It was nearly time for me to go home. The king said: might he enquire, what could he do for me, did I think? I told him I could imagine no greater favour than him granting me a proper medicinal mineral spring on my own patch. ‘Is that all?’ the king responded. ‘I imagined you’d have picked up some of those fat emeralds from the American Ocean and asked if you could take them back to the surface with you. I see now that you Christians don’t have a greedy bone in your bodies.’ And, handing me an oddly colour-shifting gemstone, he said, ‘Here – take this. Wherever you lay it on the ground it’ll start to find its way back to the centro, passing through some of the most life-enhancing minerals, until it reaches us and we’re able to reciprocate with a fine mineral spring that will suit you to a T and that you, by sharing this truth with us, will have fully deserved to receive.’ At this, the Prince of Lake Mummel and I rejoined our escort and travelled back the same way to the identical place we’d come from – and so on and so forth.

  The trip back seemed to take much longer than the trip down, which I’d reckoned at a good 2,500 German-Swiss miles. However, I’m sure the reason why time dragged so was that I didn’t converse with my companions much – beyond learning that some of them were up to 300, 400 or 500 years old, having lived that long without falling ill once. Also, I considered myself so wealthy, now that I’d got my own mineral spring, that my entire mind was taken up by debating with myself where to put it and how best to take advantage of it. I could already picture the imposing pile I’d need to erect to give visitors the right accommodation and myself the relevant proceeds. I was pondering the kickbacks I could devise with a view to persuading the medical profession to rate my miracle spa higher than the competition (topping even Bad Schwalbach) and attract carriageloads of wealthy guests. In my mind I was moving mountains in order to make access and egress less laborious, employing cheeky waiters, cheese-paring kitchen staff, industrious chambermaids, sprightly stable boys, bathing attendants all sleek and clean, etc., etc. I was already mapping out a place up in the wilds near my farm for a nice flat pleasure garden, full of exotic blooms, where my gentlemen spa guests could stroll with their ladies, the sick find refreshment, and the healthy recreation, with all kinds of pleasurable games that they could enjoy or watch others enjoying. There my medics (for a fee, of course) could commit to paper a magnificent treatise describing my spa and outlining its excellent properties, which I might arrange to be published, with a fancy copperplate frontispiece showing my farmhouse in the background. Using said book, any patient who couldn’t make it up the hill might possibly read himself half healthy – or at any rate dream of said state. Talking of dreams, I’d have all my children sent from L. and taught what running a spa is all about. I’d not let them use the facilities, though; I’d made up my mind not only to cup my guests’ backs, drawing off impurities, but to bleed their purses as well – handsomely.

  Preoccupied with these extravagant musings, I found myself at the surface once more. The prince set me down on the shore of Lake Mummel (in clothes that were quite dry, incidentally), where we’d left from. Of course, I had to return the egg-sized jewel he’d given me at the beginning, when he first came to fetch me; otherwise I’d either have drowned in the air or had to duck back underwater very soon after we’d emerged. Once the jewel had been returned and was back in his pocket, we said our goodbyes like folk who knew they’d never clap eyes on each other again. He made a little bow, and he and his companions vanished into the depths. Clutching the other gemstone (the one the king had given me), I went on my way full of joy, almost as if I’d been bringing the Golden Fleece back from Colchis.

  So much for a joy I’d thought would last for ever! Talk about fleeting! Less than a minute after leaving the miracle lake, I’d taken a wrong turning in that vast forest, having failed to note how dad had approached our goal earlier. Now, absorbed in planning how best to site my precious spring in order to build up a thriving business, I walked on for some way before finding myself lost. And the father I went, the farther I strayed from where I wanted to be. Worse: by the time I’d become aware of my mistake the sun was sinking. What was I to do, out here in the wilds with neither grub nor gun, both of which, with night coming on, might well be needed? Still, the gem I’d brought up from the centre of the Earth consoled me. ‘Don’t panic!’ I told myself. ‘The stone will make up for any inconvenience. Good things take time, and things as good as this baby promises are worth any amount of waiting, any amount of trouble patiently borne. A classy mineral spring like the one you’re getting doesn’t come to just any fool without him breaking sweat.’

  Having given myself this pep talk, I drew strength from a fresh sense of purpose. Certainly it put a new briskness in my step, though that may have been the night air. The full moon gave plenty of light, though the shadows thrown by the tall trees reduced it to a fraction of what I’d enjoyed at the bottom of the lake. Still, I made good progress and around midnight spotted a fire, which I headed for immediately. As I drew closer, I saw a group of forest dwellers gathered around it, busy doing something with resin. It wasn’t the sort of company I’d trust much under normal conditions. However, ‘Beggars can’t be choosers!’, I thought as I decided to apply to them for help. Having crept up on them unnoticed, I sang out, ‘Good evening, gentlemen! Or should that be “good morning”? Tell me what time it is; then I can greet you properly!’ There were six of them (some standing, some sitting), and my sudden appearance gave them such a fright they couldn’t think of a reply. I’m a tall man, and because of my poor wife’s recent death I was wearing black. I was also carrying a fearsome-looking branch, which I’d stumbled across and was using as a staff. So I looked pretty terrifying – a proper wild man of the woods. ‘Is no one going to answer?’ I said. For a while they stood rooted. Then eventually, recovering, one spoke: ‘Wh-what is it sir wants?’ I could tell from his dialect that he was a Swabian of some kind, and folk tend (quite wrongly) to take them for simpletons. So I said I was an itinerant scholar. I came from Mons Veneris, where I’d picked up some fine skills. ‘Aha!’ the oldest of them retorted. ‘The war’s over at last, thank God; the travelling students are on the road again.’

  Eighteen

  Simplicius sites his spa in the wrong spot

  That broke the ice, as it were, and they kindly invited me to sit down by the fire, offering me a piece of black bread and a chunk of cheese, both of which I accepted. Eventually they relaxed to the point of asking me if, as a wandering scholar, I’d mind telling their fortunes. I had a smattering of physiognomy and knew a bit about chiromancy, so for each individual I spun a few yarns I thought he’d like to hear. I still wasn’t at all sure about these hairy forest bumpkins, you see, and I was keen to stay on the right side of them. They begged me to teach them all kinds of tricks, but putting them off gently (‘Some other time, eh?’), I asked them instead if I could get my head down. So after playing the gypsy with them for a while, I found a place to take forty winks – not so much because I badly needed some kip (which I did, incidentally); more to eavesdrop and hear what they made of me. The louder my pretend snoring, the livelier the talk became. Putting their heads together, they began to lay bets on what I might be up to. Was I a soldier, perhaps? No, bec
ause of my black clothing. And I couldn’t be a townie since I’d chosen an odd time of day to stray from where folk were into This Shithole (as the forest was called, apparently). They finally seemed to reach a decision: I was a college dropout, or maybe a journeyman who’d lost his way. Or possibly a wandering scholar, as I’d claimed, since I was so good at fortune-telling. ‘Yes,’ one said, ‘but he didn’t know everything, did he? Could be he’s a mercenary in disguise, spying out our animals and our secret trails through the forest. Huh, if we’d known that we could have put him so fast asleep he forgot to wake up – ever!’ Immediately another butted in. He thought otherwise, it seemed. Meanwhile I lay there with my ears burning, thinking that if it came to a scrap I’d want to account for a couple of them at least before giving up the ghost.

  The argument rattled on, and my fears mounted. Also, a feeling started to come over me – as if a person was lying in bed beside me, and that person was peeing. Suddenly I was soaking wet. ‘Great heavens!’ I thought. ‘Troy has fallen, and my plans are in ruins!’ I could tell from the smell, you see, that my mineral spring had sprung. Realizing this put me in such a rage that I came close to braining all six of the peasants. I leapt to my feet, brandishing my terrifying cudgel. ‘You heathen dolts!’ I exclaimed. ‘Look at this mineral spring welling up where I was lying! That ought to have given you some notion of my importance. You’re lucky I didn’t set about you all so fiercely that the devil himself would’ve come to pick up the corpses. That’ll teach you not to harbour evil suspicions!’ And I accompanied my words with hideously threatening grimaces that made them all shrink in terror. However, I quickly came to my senses, realizing what a stupid mistake I was making. ‘Calm down,’ I told myself. ‘Better one spa fewer than a life wasted – as yours might well be if you picked a fight with this lot.’ So I changed my tone before they’d time to recover. ‘Roll up,’ I said encouragingly, ‘roll up! Try the healing waters. Try the fine facility that, thanks to me, has been given to all resin-makers and all woodsmen who work in this wild place to take advantage of until the end of time.’ They stared at one another stupidly, bewildered by my patter, until they saw me take the first drink, calmly using my hat. Then, one by one, they stood up wonderingly from their seats around the fire and came over for a taste. However, far from thanking me, they began complaining. They’d have been happier, they said, if I and my spring had fetched up somewhere else. Once the high-ups got wind of it, under the forced-labour system they’d have the whole Dornstetten district out building a road to reach the place, however much that inconvenienced the road-builders. ‘On the other hand,’ I pointed out, ‘your produce (hens, eggs, butter, cattle, etc.) will earn you more cash.’ ‘Don’t you believe it,’ they replied. ‘The toffs will put in a manager. He’ll be the only one who grows fat; we’ll be the suckers, maintaining all the roads and paths for him. And we’ll get no thanks for it, either!’ In the end they took sides: two of them favoured keeping the spring; the rest said to get rid of it. If it had been down to me, I’d have done the latter anyway, never mind what they said.

  Day was beginning to dawn, and I had no further business there. In fact, I worried that it wouldn’t be long before we were getting seriously in one another’s hair. Consequently I told them: if they didn’t want every cow in the entire Baiersbronn valley giving red milk until the mineral spring dried up, they should immediately show me how to reach Seebach. This they were happy to do, appointing two escorts for the purpose, no doubt because one on his own would have been scared of me.

  So I quit the place, and although the whole region was barren (bearing no fruit but the fir cone) I’d gladly have placed a curse on it and made it even more so for having scattered all my hopes. With teeth clenched, I followed my two guides. Up on the ridge, where I was beginning to recognize familiar landmarks, I told the two men, ‘Listen, you can turn your mineral spring to immense advantage if you go back and show the authorities where it comes out of the ground. There’s bound to be something in it for you, because the prince himself will develop it for the betterment of the whole country. In fact, to boost his own income he’ll make sure the entire world knows about it.’ ‘Look,’ they objected, ‘we’d be daft to make a rod for our own backs like that. Devil take you and your healing spring! We want nothing to do with it, OK?’ ‘Why, you wicked scoundrels!’ I replied. ‘Or should I say brainless scum, straying so far from your ancestors’ pious ways. They were loyal to their prince, they were – so loyal that he’d have been proud to lay his head in the lap of such faithful subjects and sleep the sleep of the just. Whereas you pinheads are so bothered about a minor inconvenience work-wise that you’d keep quiet about this revelation. You’d be well rewarded for your inconvenience in the long run, and your successors would draw enormous advantage, both to the glory of your illustrious prince and to the massive benefit of the health and well-being of countless sufferers. But no – you’d reject it all because of a couple of days’ compulsory labour!’ ‘What do you mean? We’re not afraid of work. We’d work ourselves to the bone sooner than have word get out about your wretched spring!’ ‘Oh, you numbskulls!’ I said. ‘It would take more than two of you to convince me of that!’ A curse and a swing of my staff sent them packing. I set off downhill and after a mammoth hike and much trouble reached home towards evening. Dad shrugged: ‘What did I say? It’ll get you nowhere, your pilgrimage. Weary legs and a wasted trip are all you’ll come back with.’ He’d been right.

  Nineteen

  A brief diversion concerning Hungary’s Anabaptists and the way they live

  Back home, I kept myself to myself. My favourite occupation was burying my head in a book. I collected huge quantities, covering a wide range of topics, notably books that really made me think. What grammarians and schoolmasters have to study soon wearied me, which meant that arithmetic, for instance, quickly went back on the shelf. As for music, before long I hated the subject like the plague, going so far as to smash my lute to smithereens in consequence. Maths and geometry I still enjoyed a bit, but as soon as they strayed into astronomy I gave them up as well, preferring astrology. For a while astrology was my delight. Yet eventually it too began to sound false, imprecise, and simply not worth bothering with any longer. I tried Ramon Llull’s magnum opus instead. However, finding it all guff and little substance and in any case a monotonous rant, I dropped that too and immersed myself in the Jewish kabbalah tradition and Egyptian hieroglyphics. In the end, all my reading led me to one conclusion and one alone: when it came to subjects there was no beating theology – but theologia that led to the love and service of God. Taking that as my guiding principle, I worked out a lifestyle capable of raising mankind to the level of the angels. It involved folk coming together to form a community of marrieds and singletons (i.e. both men and women) who, like the Anabaptists, strive to meet every physical need with the work of their hands alone, operating under a knowledgeable superior, and who spend their entire lives praising and serving God and pursuing the salvation of their souls. I had already (in Hungary, on Anabaptist farms) seen examples. Which is why, provided that such well-meaning folk neither held nor were committed to other wrongful and (in the eyes of most Christian Churches) heretical and hence repellent views, I had decided of my own free will to follow their example or at least look upon their way of life as the most blessed in the world. Their everyday conduct put me in mind of how Josephus and others described the Jewish Essenes. In the first place they had plenty of treasure and more than enough to eat. However, they wasted none of it, nor did a single curse or murmur of displeasure leave their lips. I never heard a superfluous word uttered among them. I saw only craftspeople working away as if earning their livelihoods. In schools, teachers instructed not classes of youngsters but so many adorable children – quite as if they had been their own. Nowhere did I see menfolk and womenfolk bundled in together. The sexes occupied separate premises, each separately performing their appointed tasks. I found rooms set aside for perinatals, who were looked after
not by their husbands but by other members of their sex. They themselves and their newborns received all necessary care unstintingly lavished upon them. Other rooms contained only large numbers of rocking cots, whose tiny occupants had their nappies changed and other attentions provided by dedicated female nurses. The mothers were required only to come along at set hours three times daily with breasts swollen with milk to feed their respective sprogs. All the looking-after of both perinatals and infants was performed by widows. Elsewhere I saw females doing nothing but spin, in rooms that might contain up to a hundred wheels. Or one might do the laundry, another make beds, a third see to the animals, a fourth wash the dishes, a fifth wait at table, a sixth be in charge of table linen. Of the others, too, each knew what to do. And just as the various jobs were neatly distributed among the womenfolk, each man and boy had his particular function. If one person (male or female) fell ill, he or she was assigned a personal medical attendant as well as a general doctor and apothecary of the appropriate sex. In fact, though, so good was their diet and so excellently ordered their existence that they seldom did fall ill. I saw many a fine figure hopping about in the best of health at a ripe old age, which was something not often seen elsewhere. Each had specific mealtimes and a specific bedtime – but no time at all for playing or going for walks, except for the young, who after each meal would be taken by their teacher for an hour’s healthful stroll. However, prayers and spiritual singing were compulsory. Of anger there was no sign, nor was there of agitation, animosity, jealousy, hostility, care for secular interests, arrogance or any regret. In sum, all was loving harmony, everyone’s sole concern (apparently) that of increasing the human race and extending the kingdom of God in all modesty and respectability. No man saw his wife except when, at a set time, they together withdrew to his bedroom, which contained his made bed and nothing else except a chamber pot and ablutionary equipment (a washbasin, jug of water, and white hand towel) for him to wash his hands prior to retiring for the night and after rising in the morning to go to work. For the rest, they all addressed one another as ‘sister’ or ‘brother’, not that such wholly decent familiarity prompted the least impropriety. The religious life as practised by those Anabaptist heretics was one I should gladly have lived myself; to my mind, it topped that lived by monks and nuns. How many times did I tell myself, ‘If you could achieve such noble Christian conduct under the aegis of your own authorities, you’d be a second St Dominic or St Francis. Ah, and if you could persuade the Anabaptists to teach their way of life to their fellow believers here, what a saint you would be! Or if you could make your own comrades in the faith lead so evidently Christian and virtuous a life as those Anabaptists do, what might you not have achieved?’ I replied, of course, also speaking to myself, ‘Fool! What business is it of yours how other folk live? Become a Capuchin – you’ve had it with women anyway!’ I wondered, though: ‘But tomorrow’s another day. Who knows what you’ll need to follow Christ’s way correctly? Today you feel like keeping your trousers buttoned; come morning you could be on fire.’