Let this be a lesson to you country folk not to believe itinerant quacks. It’s not your health they’re interested in but your wealth.
I ran out of goods while I was passing through Lorraine and since I was keeping clear of garrison towns I had no opportunity to make any more. I therefore had to think of something else to sell until I could make up my antidote again. I bought two pints of schnapps, coloured it with saffron, decanted it into half-ounce glasses and sold it to people as expensive goldwater which was supposed to be good for fevers. In this way the schnapps brought in thirty guilders. I began to run short of the little bottles and hearing of a glassworks on the Fleckenstein estate in the Vosges, I set off for it to replenish my stock. Although I took byways, as luck would have it I was captured by a patrol from Philippsburg which was quartered in the castle at Wegelnburg, thus losing everything I had screwed out of the peasants during the journey. The peasant who had come with me to show me the way told them I was a doctor and so, like it or not, it was as a doctor that I was taken to Philippsburg.
I was interrogated there and told them straight out who I was, but they would not believe me. They were determined to make more of me than I was or could ever be and insisted I was a doctor. I had to swear I belonged to the imperial dragoons in Soest, declare under oath everything that had happened to me between then and now and tell them what I intended to do. ‘But’, they countered, ‘the Emperor needs soldiers in Philippsburg as much as in Soest’, and said they would give me quarters with them until I found an opportunity of rejoining my regiment. However, they added, if I did not like that suggestion, I was welcome to a room in the goal, where I would be regarded as a doctor until I was freed, since it was as a doctor that I had been captured.
So I changed from horse to donkey and had to become a musketeer against my will. I had a terrible time because they were niggardly with the food. The regimental loaves were so small I could have easily eaten mine at one go and yet it had to last me the whole day. To tell the truth, a musketeer’s life is a wretched one when he’s stuck in a garrison with nothing but dry bread – and not enough of that – to fill his belly. He’s no better than a prisoner eking out his miserable life on bread and water. In fact a prisoner is better off, since he doesn’t have to go on watch, do the rounds or stand on sentry duty, but can rest on his mattress and has more hope of eventually being released than a poor garrison soldier.
There were some who supplemented their pay in several ways, though none that I liked or thought honourable. Their situation was so wretched that they took wives (whores who’d escaped from the brothel if need be) simply in order to be fed on the proceeds from their work, be it sewing, washing, spinning, hawking goods or even stealing. There was an ensign among the woman who drew her pay like an NCO; one was a midwife and earned many a good meal for herself and her husband from that; others could wash and starch and laundered the shirts, stockings, nightwear and God knows what else of the unmarried officers and soldiers. There were some who sold tobacco and provided the men with pipes when they needed them; others who sold schnapps, and had the reputation of mixing it with spirits they had distilled themselves, which did not make it any the less strong. One earned her money as a seamstress and could make up different patterns using all kinds of stitching, and there was one who got all her food from the countryside around. In the winter she dug up snails, in the spring she picked salad, in the summer she collected bird’s eggs and in the autumn she got all sorts of delicious fruits. Some carried wood to sell, like donkeys, and others dealt in other things.
To feed myself in this way was not for me, since I already had a wife. Some earned their keep from gambling. They were better at it than professional card-sharps and took the money from their naive comrades with loaded dice and marked cards, but that profession disgusted me. Others worked like the devil building the ramparts, but I was too lazy for that. There were those who could practise some trade but, fool that I was, I had never learnt one. If a musician had been required I would have been well off, but that frugal place made do with fifes and drums. Some did sentry duty for others and were on watch day and night, but if I was going to let my body waste away, I would rather do it by starving. Some brought back booty from patrols, but I was not even trusted to go outside the gate. Some were better at catching mice than cats, but I hated such work like the plague. In a word, wherever I looked there was nothing I could do to fill my belly. What annoyed me most of all was that the men taunted me saying, ‘You’re supposed to be a doctor and all you can do is starve.’ Finally I was so hungry that I was forced to persuade some fine carp in the moat to leap up onto the wall beside me, but as soon as the colonel heard of it I was made to ride the wooden horse as punishment and forbidden to catch any more fish on pain of death.
Eventually others’ misfortune proved to be my good fortune. I cured some men who were suffering from jaundice and fever (they must have had great faith in me!) and was allowed to go out of the fortress on the excuse of gathering roots and herbs for my medicines. Instead of that I set snares for rabbits and was lucky enough to catch two the very first night. I took them to the colonel who gave me a thaler for them and permission to go out and catch rabbits whenever I wasn’t on guard duty. Since the countryside was pretty deserted and there was no one there to hunt them, they had multiplied considerably. I was back in business once more, especially since it looked as if it was raining rabbits, or I had a magic spell to charm them into my snares. When the officers saw from this that I was to be trusted, they let me go out on patrol with the others. It was the old life I had led in Soest again, except that I did not command the patrols or lead them, as I had done in Westphalia, since first of all it was essential to get to know the paths and tracks – and the river Rhine.
I will recount two more incidents before I tell you how I was released from my musket. One was a great physical danger, from which through God’s grace I escaped, the other a spiritual danger in which I obstinately persisted. As you can see, I intend to conceal my vices no more than my virtues, not only for the sake of completeness but so that the untravelled reader can learn what strange folk there are in the world.
As I reported at the end of the last chapter, I was allowed out on patrol, a privilege which in garrisons is not granted to any Tom, Dick or Harry, but only to responsible soldiers. One day, then, nineteen of us were scouting along the Rhine above Strasbourg, looking out for a boat from Basle which was supposed to be secretly carrying officers and goods belonging to the Weimar army. Upstream from Ottenheim we got a fishing dinghy to take us across to an island in the river which was well situated for forcing approaching ships to land. The fisherman took the first ten over, but when one of the soldiers, who did know how to handle a boat, was ferrying the other nine of us across, the dinghy capsized, tipping us into the Rhine. I didn’t bother about the others but just concentrated on saving myself. However, although I fought with all my strength and all the skill of a good swimmer, the river tossed me about like a ball, throwing me up to the surface, then down to the bottom again. I struggled so manfully that I often came up for breath, but if the water had been just a bit colder I would not have been able to keep going so long and come out of it alive. I kept trying to reach the bank, but the swirling current stopped me, sweeping me from one side to the other. I reached Goldscheuer very quickly, but it seemed such a long time to me that I began to despair of my life However, after I had passed the village and was already resigning myself to floating under the bridge at Strasbourg, dead or alive, I saw not far away a big tree with branches sticking up out of the water. The current was strong, but heading straight for it, so I summoned up all the strength I had left to get to it. Through my efforts and the force of the water I managed to reach the largest branch, which I had initially taken for the tree itself, and clamber up onto it. Unfortunately the waves and eddies pulled and tugged at it so much that it was constantly bobbing up and down, making my stomach churn so that I could have spewed up my lungs and liver. Everything was dancing before my eyes and I had difficulty holding on. I would almost have preferred to be back in the water except that I could not face even a hundredth part of what I had already been through. So I stayed where I was, in the uncertain hope God might send someone to rescue me, for that was the only way I could see that I would come out of it alive. But my conscience gave me little comfort, reminding me that I had thrown away the chance of His mercy through my dissolute life over the past few years. Yet I still hoped I might get better than I deserved and began to pray as fervently as if I had been brought up in a monastery. I determined to live a more God-fearing life in future and made several vows: I renounced the soldier’s life and forswore plundering for ever, throwing away my cartridge pouch and knapsack; I insisted I would become a hermit again, do penance for my sins and spend the rest of my days thanking God for the rescue I hoped He would send. I sat for two or three hours on that branch, wavering between fear and hope, when the very ship came down the Rhine that we had been sent to ambush. I set up a pathetic wailing, begging them in the name of God and all that was holy to come and help me. Their course took them close to me so that everyone on the ship could see the danger and wretched situation I was in. They were moved to pity and pulled in to the shore to discuss how to go about rescuing me.
This took quite some time. The branches and roots of the tree caused so much turbulence that it was too dangerous for anyone to swim out to me, or to come close in a boat, large or small. Finally they sent two men in a dinghy upstream from the tree who let out a rope which I managed, with great difficulty, to grasp and tie round my waist. They then pulled me into the dinghy, like a hooked fish, and took me to the boat.
Having thus escaped death, it would have been right and proper for me to fall on my knees on the bank and thank God in His goodness for saving me. I ought also to have made an immediate start on mending my ways, as I had vowed and promised in my hour of need. Like hell I did! When they asked me who I was and how I had come to be in that situation, I straight away started lying like anything. If, I thought to myself, you tell then you were a member of a platoon that was going to ambush them they’ll throw you straight back in the Rhine. So I pretended I was an out-of-work organist heading for Strasbourg to find work in a school or such on the other side of the Rhine. I claimed I had been captured by a patrol, robbed and thrown into the Rhine, which had carried me down to the tree. I backed up my lies with plausible detail and oaths so that they believed me and very kindly gave me food and drink to revive me, which I was certainly in need of.
Most people disembarked at the customs house in Strasbourg and I did the same. As I was thanking them warmly I noticed a young merchant among them whose face, gait and gestures seemed familiar. I was sure I had seen him before, but couldn’t remember where. When he spoke, however, I realised it was the cornet who had captured me on my way back from Cologne. I could not imagine how such a brave young soldier had become a merchant, especially as he was of gentle birth. Curious to ascertain whether my eyes and ears had deceived me or not, I went up to him and said, ‘It is you, Monsieur Schönstein, isn’t it?’ to which he replied, ‘I’m no von Schönstein, I’m a merchant.’
‘And I’m no Huntsman of Soest’, I said, ‘but an organist or, rather, a common vagrant.’
‘My brother!’ he replied. ‘What in the devil’s name are you doing wandering round like this?’
‘Brother’, I said, ‘as Heaven seems to have appointed you to save my life – it’s happened twice now – my destiny obviously requires me not to be too far away from you.’
At that we embraced, like two friends who had sworn to love one another until death. I went with him to his lodgings and told him everything that had happened to me since I had left Lippstadt to fetch my treasure from Cologne. I did not conceal the fact that I had been with a patrol that was lying in wait for their ship and what had happened to us, though I did keep quiet about my activities in Paris in case he let it out in Lippstadt and got me into trouble with my wife.
For his part he told me he had been sent by the Hessian generals to report to Duke Bernhard of Weimar on matters of great importance concerning the wars and to discuss plans for future campaigns with him. Having done this, he was now returning disguised as a merchant, as I could see. In addition, he told me that my darling had been expecting a child when he left, that both she and her parents and relatives were in good health, and that the colonel was still keeping the ensign’s post open for me. He also teased me, saying the smallpox had so ruined my looks that neither my wife nor the other women in Lippstadt would recognise me as the Huntsman. After that we agreed I should stay with him and take the opportunity to get back to Lippstadt, which was what I wanted. Since my clothes were in tatters, he advanced me some money to clothe myself like a merchant’s assistant.
But if something is not to be, then it is not to be. While we were going down the Rhine and the ship was searched at Rheinhausen, the soldiers from Philippsburg recognised me and took me back to Philippsburg where I had to become a musketeer again. The cornet was as dismayed as I was at our being separated once more, but could not do much to help me since he had to make sure he got through himself.