This man started to study me, to sketch in an outline, to lay a ground, to put his head on one side in order to compare his work with my figure: now he changed my eyes, now my hair, added a quick touch to my nostrils, in short corrected everything he had not got right at first, until he had a model as true to nature as Simplicius was. Only then was the barber allowed to set about me with his soap and lather. He washed my head and must have spent an hour and a half on my hair, finally trimming it after the current fashion, for I had more than enough. After that he put me in a bathtub and washed the three or four years of dirt off my starved, emaciated body. No sooner had he finished than they brought me a white shirt, shoes and stockings, together with a turn-down collar, hat and feather; the breeches were beautifully decorated and trimmed all over with gold lace. All that was missing was the jerkin, but the tailors were working on that at top speed. The cook appeared with a bowl of meaty broth, the maid with a drink. So there sat my lord Simplicius, like a young count, splendidly turned out. I tucked in heartily even though I had no idea what they intended to do with me. I had not yet heard the phrase, ‘the condemned man ate a hearty supper’, so that tasting this first meal seemed more sweet and pleasant to me than I can express. Indeed, I scarcely think I have ever in my life felt more intense pleasure than at that meal.
When the jerkin was ready I put it on, but in my new clothes I cut such a poor figure that it looked as if the tailors had dressed a fence post. They had been told to make the clothes too large, in the hope that I would quickly put on weight, which, with the good food, I did, visibly. My forest garments, together with the chains and other pieces, were put in the art collection with the rare objects and antiquities, and my life-size portrait placed beside them.
After supper his lordship was given a bed the like of which he had never before slept in, neither in his Da’s house nor in the hermit’s hut. But I could not sleep because my belly growled and grumbled the whole night through. The reason must have been either that it did not yet know what was good for it or that it was still astonished at the delightful new dishes it had been given. But it was cold, so I just lay there until the sun was shining once more, musing on the strange hardships I had been through during the last few days and on how faithfully the Lord God had come to my aid and brought me to such a good place.
That morning the governor’s steward ordered me to go to the above-mentioned pastor to hear what his lord had said to him about me. He gave me a bodyguard to take me there. The pastor led me into his study, made me sit down and said, ‘My dear Simplicius, the hermit with whom you lived in the forest is not only the brother-in-law of the governor, he also helped him gain promotion in the army and was his closest friend. The governor was kind enough to tell me about him. From his earliest youth he at all times showed both the courage of a heroic soldier and the devout godliness usually only found in a monk, two virtues which are rarely seen together. His piety coupled with unhappy experiences so conspired to make him discontented with the world that he repudiated his nobility and considerable estates in Scotland, where he was born, because all worldly affairs had come to seem vain, stale and corrupt to him. In a word, he hoped to exchange his present high rank for a better glory to come. His noble spirit felt disgust at all worldly splendour and all his hopes and all his endeavours were directed towards the wretched existence in which you found him in the forest and shared with him until his death.
In my opinion’, the pastor went on, ‘he was led astray by reading too many popish books about the lives of old hermits. However, I will not conceal from you how he came to the Spessart and fulfilled his desire for such a wretched hermit’s life, so that in future you can tell other people about it. The second night after the bloody battle of Höchst had been lost, he arrived at my parsonage, alone and unattended. It was towards morning and I and my wife and children had only just gone to sleep because the noise throughout the countryside made by both pursued and pursuers had kept us awake the whole previous night and half of this. He knocked on the door, at first gently, then furiously enough to wake myself and my sleepy servants. At his request, and after a short exchange of words, which was very cautious on both sides, I opened the door and saw the noble gentleman dismounting from his steed. His sumptuous clothing was bespattered with the enemy’s blood as much as it was adorned with gold and silver and since he was still holding his naked sword in his hand, I was filled with fear and dread. But once he had sheathed it and had nothing but civil words for me, I began to wonder why such a brave lord should be asking a poor village pastor for shelter in such friendly fashion. He was so handsome a figure and so magnificently attired that I addressed him as Count Mansfeld. He replied that he was the Count’s equal, if not his superior, in misfortune alone. There were three things he grieved over: the loss of his wife, who was close to her term; the loss of the battle; and the fact that he had not had the good fortune to die in it for the gospel, like other honest soldiers. I tried to comfort him, but soon saw that his noble heart needed no comfort. Then I set before him what food we had in the house and got the servants to make up a soldier’s bed of fresh straw, which he insisted upon, even though he was much in need of rest.
The first thing he did in the morning was to give me his horse and to distribute his money, of which he had no small amount on him, and several valuable rings among my wife, children and servants. I did not know what to make of this since soldiers are more in the habit of taking than giving. I had some qualms about accepting such generous presents and objected that I did not deserve them nor could I do anything to earn them. I added that if people were to see me and my family with such riches, especially the valuable horse, which I could not hide, everyone would conclude that I had helped to rob or even murder him. He told me I should not let that worry me, he would give me a note in his own handwriting to protect me from that danger; when he left my parsonage, he went on, he did not even want to take his own shirt with him, to say nothing of his other clothes. With that he revealed to me his resolve to become a hermit. I tried everything I could to dissuade him, especially since I felt such an intention smacked of popery, and reminded him that he could do more to help spread the gospel with his sword. However, my efforts were all in vain. He went on and on at me until I gave in and provided him with the books, pictures and utensils he had when you found him. The only thing he would take in return for everything he had given me was the woollen blanket he had slept under that night on the straw mattress which he had made into a coat. And he also insisted I exchange my waggon-chains for one of gold on which he kept the portrait of his love – those were the chains he always wore. He kept no money, nor anything of monetary value. My servant guided him to the most desolate spot in the forest and helped him build his hut there. The life he led and the way I occasionally helped him you know as well, if not better than I.
After the battle of Nördlingen was lost and I, as you are aware, was stripped of all my belongings and badly beaten, I fled here to safety because I had my best things in storage here. And when my cash was about to run out, I took three rings I had from the hermit, including his signet ring, together with the aforementioned gold chain and portrait, to a Jew, to turn them into money. But such was their value and fine workmanship that he offered them for sale to the governor, who immediately recognised the coat of arms and the portrait. He sent for me and asked where I had obtained such jewels? I told him the truth, showed him the hermit’s deed of gift, in his own handwriting, and explained all that had happened, how he had lived in the forest and eventually died. The governor refused to believe me and put me under arrest until he had learnt the truth. He was about to send out a mounted patrol to visit the hut and bring you here when I saw you being led to the tower. The governor now has no reason to doubt my story. I have the evidence of the place where the hermit lived and the testimony of you and other witnesses, in particular of the sexton, who often let you into the church before daylight. In your prayer book he also found the hermit’s letter, which bears witness not only to the truth, but also to the hermit’s piety. So now, for the sake of his late brother-in-law, the governor would like to do something for both you and me. You can decide what you would like him to do for you. If you would like to study, he will pay your expenses; if you desire to learn some trade, he will find you an apprenticeship; if, however, you want to stay with him, he will treat you like his own child, for he said that even if a dog came to him from his late brother-in-law, he would take it in.’ I answered that I did not care what the governor did with me.
The pastor kept me in his apartment until ten o’clock before he went with me to the governor to tell him of my decision, because that meant he could lunch with the governor, who kept open table. Hanau was blockaded then, and things were so expensive for ordinary people, especially those who had fled to the safety of the fortress, that there were some who, formerly proud, were now not ashamed to pick up off the streets the frozen turnip peelings thrown out from the houses of the rich. The pastor was so successful that he even managed to sit beside the governor at the head of the table, while I waited on them with a plate in my hand, under the instruction of the steward. I was as proficient at this as a donkey at playing chess, but the pastor’s ready tongue made up for all my clumsiness. He said I had been brought up in the wilderness and had never lived among people so that I should be excused because I had no way of knowing how to behave. The loyalty I had shown towards the hermit and the harsh life I had endured with him were, in his opinion, to be admired and not only excused my clumsiness but made me preferable to the most polished young nobleman. He went on to tell them how I was the hermit’s chief joy because, as the latter frequently used to say, my features were so much like those of his beloved. The hermit, he added, had often marvelled both at my steadfastness and unchanging determination to stay with him, and at many other virtues which he had praised in me. To sum up, he could not emphasize enough the fervent earnestness with which the hermit had recommended me to him shortly before his death, confessing that he loved me as much as if I had been his own son.
This tickled my ears and the pleasure more than made up for all the hard times I had been through with the hermit. The governor asked whether his brother-in-law had not known that he was commandant of Hanau. ‘Certainly’, answered the pastor, ‘for I told him myself. And although he had a cheerful expression and a half smile on his face, yet he received the news as coolly as if he had never heard the name of Ramsay. The more I think about it, the more I have to marvel at this man’s steadfastness of purpose in the way he could bring himself not only to renounce the world but also to put his best friend so completely out of his mind, even though he knew he was nearby.’
The governor was no soft-hearted woman but a brave soldier, yet there were tears in his eyes as he said, ‘If I had known he was still alive and where I could find him, I would have had him brought to me, even against his will, so that I could repay all the kindnesses he had done me. Since, however, that is denied me, I will take care of his Simplicius in his place. Ah!’ he went on, ‘I think the honest gentleman had good reason to mourn the fate of his pregnant wife. In the pursuit she was captured by an imperial mounted patrol. That was in the Spessart, too. When I heard that, and thinking my brother-in-law had died in the battle for Höchst, I immediately sent a trumpeter to the enemy to ask after my sister and ransom her. However, all I achieved was to learn that the patrol had been scattered by some peasants and my sister lost in the skirmish. To this day I do not know what has become of her.’
This was what was said at table between the pastor and the governor about the hermit and his beloved. The couple were all the more pitied because they had only had one year together. But I became the governor’s page, and such a fine fellow that the people, especially peasants, whom I had to announce to my master were already calling me Young Master.
At that time my only worthwhile qualities were my clear conscience and devout mind, accompanied by the purest innocence and simplicity. All I knew of vices was that I had heard their names or read about them. If I saw someone actually indulging in one I found it strange and horrifying because I had been brought up always to bear the presence of God in mind and to try as hard as I could to live according to His holy will. And since I knew God’s will, I used to measure people’s actions and character against it, and when I did that it seemed to me I could see nothing but iniquity all around me. God! how astonished I was at first when, ever conscious of His law and the gospel and Christ’s warnings, I saw what was done by those who claimed to be his disciples and followers. Instead of the plain dealing one should expect from every honest Christian, I found nothing but hypocrisy among the inhabitants of the world and such countless follies that I was unsure whether I was among Christians or not. It was clear that many were well aware of God’s will, but few showed any serious intention of carrying it out.
So I had a thousand strange thoughts and fancies in my mind and was sorely tempted to break Christ’s command, when He said to us, ‘Judge not, that ye be not judged.’ On the other hand, I remembered the words Saint Paul wrote in the fifth chapter of the Epistle to the Galatians, ‘Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are these: adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings and such like; of the which I tell you before, as I have also told you in time past, that they which do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God.’ Everyone, I thought, does these things openly, so why should I not openly conclude from the words of the Apostle that not everyone will be saved?