Simplicissimus by Johann Grimmelshausen Read Free Book Online Page A

wall, water, fire or rampart, not father or mother, brother or sister, not danger to their own body, soul or conscience, nor the loss of Heaven or of anything else for which there are words. They went about their business until, one by one, they expired, perished, died, croaked their last in battles, sieges, attacks, campaigns, and even in their quarters (the soldiers’ earthly paradise if they should chance upon a fat farmer). Only a few survived who, if they had shown no skill at robbery and extortion, in their old age provided us with our best beggars and vagabonds.
    Immediately above these wretches sat old poultry thieves who had spent some years in peril of their lives on the lowest branches, but had managed to struggle through and have the good fortune to escape death so far. These looked more earnest and respectable than those on the lowest branches because they had risen to the next rank. But above them were even higher ones, who also had a higher opinion of themselves since they had command over the lower orders. These were called jerkin-beaters because of their habit of dusting the jackets – and the heads – of the pikemen with their sticks and halberds and giving the musketeers a dose of birch-oil to grease their muskets with.
    Above these the tree-trunk had an interval or gap, a smooth section without branches and greased with all the lotions and soaps that malice could devise, so that no man, however good he was at climbing, could scale it, neither by courage, skill or knowledge, unless he came from the nobility. It was more smoothly polished than a marble column or a steel mirror.
    Above this part sat those with the banners, some of them young, some quite well on in years. The young ones had been hauled up by their cousins, but the older ones had climbed up under their own steam, either by a silver ladder known as the Bribery Backstairs, or by some other bridge that Fortune had made for them, no one else being available. Above them were even higher ones, who had better seats but still had toil, worries and opposition. However, they enjoyed the advantage that they could lard their purses with slices of the fat which they cut – with a knife called War Levy – out of the root. Their greatest skills they showed when a commissary came with a tub full of money and poured it over the tree to refresh them. Then they caught the best of what was raining down on them and let through as good as nothing to the lowest branches. That was why more of the lower ones died of hunger than by the hand of the enemy, a danger to which those above seemed immune. Thus there was a continual scrabbling and climbing on the tree because everyone wanted to sit in the highest, happiest places.
    There were some lazy good-for-nothings, however, not worth the army bread they were given. These made no effort at all to reach a higher position and just did what their duty required. The lower ones who were ambitious hoped the higher ones would fall so they could take their place. But when one out of ten thousand succeeded, their success only came at that disgruntled age when they would be better employed sitting in the ingle-nook roasting apples than facing the enemy in the field. And if there was a man who was in a good position and did his duty honestly, he was envied by the others, or lost both his rank and his life through some unforeseen, unlucky bullet. Nowhere was it harder than at that smooth part of the trunk I mentioned before, for any officer who had a good sergeant was unwilling to lose him, which would be the case if he were made an ensign. So instead of the experienced soldiers it was scribblers, footmen, overgrown pages, poor nobles, vagabonds and parasites, or someone’s cousin, who became ensigns and thus stole the bread out of the mouths of those who deserved it.

Chapter 17
     

Although, as is right and proper, the nobles are preferred to common men in war, many from the despised classes still achieve high