With such thoughts I tormented myself daily; and just then there came into my hands certain writings of the Franciscan friar Quevara, of which I must here set down some; for they were of such power as fully to disgust me with the world.
XXIV
Why and in What Fashion Simplicissimus Left the World Again
The first part of the chapter is a fair translation, extending to many pages, of Quevara’s somewhat trite reflections on the vanity of a worldly life. It is taken from Albertini’s translation of a book called Of the Burden and Annoyance of a Courtier’s Life. 8vo Amberg, . The only part of the chapter which concerns the story is as follows.
All these words I pondered carefully and with continual thought, and they so pierced my heart that I left the world again and became a hermit. Fain would I have dwelt by my spring in the Muckenloch, but the peasants that dwelt near would not suffer it, though it had been for me a wilderness to my taste; for they feared I should reveal the spring and so move their lord to force them to make highways and byways thither, especially now that peace was secured. So I betook myself to another wilderness and began again my old life in the Spessart; but whether I shall, like my father of blessed memory, persevere therein to the end, I know not. God grant us all His grace that we may all alike obtain from Him what doth concern us most, namely, a happy End.
Appendix A
The success of Simplicissimus induced Grimmelshausen to publish a Continuatio or sequel, which certainly does not seem to have been contemplated when he wrote the last chapter of the original work. It, as well as three lesser “continuations” which were published later, is entirely unworthy of the author, though all four seem to be genuine products of his pen. It is a string of allegories, ghost stories, fables, and monotonous chronicles of adventure, not redeemed from dullness by occasional gross filth. For one reason only it deserves our attention; viz., the curious anticipation of the story of Robinson Crusoe which is contained in chapters XIX to XXII. A subjoined “relation” of Jean Cornelissen of Harlem gives an account of his finding Simplicissimus and leaving him on his island well provided with necessaries: but this narrative is so overloaded with childish stories of the castaway’s miraculous powers and performances that an abstract of it only is here given at the end.
From the middle of chapter XIX to the end of chapter XXIII is fully translated.
Continuation
XIX
How Simplicissimus and a Carpenter Escaped from a Shipwreck with Their Lives and Were Thereafter Provided with a Land of Their Own
So taking ship and coming from the Sinus Arabicus or Red Sea into the ocean, and having a fair wind, we held our course to pass by the Cape of Good Hope, and sailed for some weeks so happily that way that we could have desired no other weather: but when we deemed that we were now over against the isle of Madagascar there suddenly arose such a hurricane that we had scarce time to take in sail. And the storm increasing, we must needs cut down the mast and leave the ship to the mercy of the waves, which carried us up, as it were, to the clouds, and in a trice plunged us down again to the depths; all which lasted a full half-hour and taught us all to pray most piously. At length were we cast upon a sunken reef with such force that the ship with a terrible crack broke all in pieces, at which there arose a lamentable and piteous outcry. Then was the sea in a moment strown with chests, bales, and fragments of the ship, and then one could hear and see the unlucky folk, here and there, some on and some under the waves, clinging to anything that in such need came first within their grasp, and with dismal cries lamenting their ruin and commending of their souls to God. But I, with the ship’s carpenter, lay upon a great timber of the vessel which had certain crosspieces yet fast to it, to which we clung and spake to one another. And little by little the dreadful wind abated; the raging waves of the angry sea grew calmer and less; yet on the other hand there followed pitch-dark night with terrible rain, till it seemed as if we should be drowned from above in the midst of the sea. And this endured till midnight, by which time we had been in sore straits; but then was the sky clear again, so that we could see the stars, by which we perceived that the wind drove us more and more from the coast of Africa towards the open sea and the unknown land of Australia, which troubled us both greatly. Now towards daybreak it grew dark again, so that we could not see each other though we lay close at hand: and in this darkness and piteous plight we drove ever onward, till of a sudden we were aware that we were aground and stuck fast. So the carpenter, which had an axe hanging to his girdle, tried with it the depth of the water and found it on the one side of us not a foot deep, which heartily rejoiced us and gave us sure hope that God had in some way helped us to land, as we perceived by a sweet odour that we smelt as soon as we came to ourselves
