Al Mein Gelt
Verspilt
After Grimmelshausen's
Melchior Sternfels von Fuchshaim
You son of a
whore;
you
goddamned arrogant bastard,
all your
money pissed away,
again and
again,
vagrant and
on the move
your
locomotion never stops,
travel never
gets old
and
vagabondage becomes
a rhombus;
Paris to
Vienna
to the
Schwarzwald,
to Moscow,
to mermen,
ending on an
island paradise;
idylls of an
out and out
scoundrel,
a picturesque
rogue,
leaving his
life,
his
skirmishes
on the road
and
of his own
free will,
coming to
peace at last.
What a life!
Melchior
comes juggling
along life's
distorted turnpike,
his cloak, a
crust of wool,
disappears
around a corner,
but like an
architrave,
supporting
and adorning,
Melchior,
our low water,
our ebb
tide,
our luck,
reappeareth!
Along this
road
his
breastplate creaks and
squeaks,
debased from
too much
hard use;
a skillful
soldier,
a better
captain, but
bad
decisions among
gentle folk
folded him up;
a bungled
passage,
a few hasty
words and
departure
was final.
Skipping out
in the night,
the moon is
reticent
and behind
closed doors
what goes on
is
nobody's
business and
no help to
this wanderer;
no
charitable souls
in God's
light or livery
live here.
Melchior
strides on like
the dragoon
he never was,
tramps
comically and
catching
some
dumb country
lass,
retires at
last with a sphinx
who stinks
of more than knowledge;
in the
morning her lovely
stone arms
hold no more than
the billow
of Melchior's bedclothes.
He left
hours ago,
marching
across the inhospitable heath;
his intent
lasted to a satisfying root,
a roll in
the hay and
no goodbyes;
doesn't have
the time.
These
adventures come in flocks,
and what in
all the world,
what in all
the world
is as real
as the red herrings
thrown
across his meandering trail,
in the
windings of his ways,
and windy,
too, from too
many open
windows,
too many
getaways;
no time for
introspection
in the heat
of the moment.
Melchior
whispering in the
grey ears of
Death, it's not time
yet, it's
not, but Melchior's fears
assume
oracular importance;
on his
snorting horse
he rides
hard, rides on and on;
any delay
may pitch him down.
The poetry
of the moment given
to the most
Fabian of his
lights of
love,
the best of
all his rare birds and
clear-toned
canaries;
let her do
with it
what she
wants,
speak
clear-toned vowels
never before
heard
in any of
the lands he saw,
the cities
and villages he visited;
like a
Bengal tiger raging and
shifting his
line of march,
like a
beggar, too,
when
occasion demanded.
This is the
end.
An island of
peace,
a romance of
fate and abdication.
Before we
resume our
various
hyperborean tasks,
let us pay
some respect
to this
scoundrel, this devourer,
this waster,
this wanderer;
let us be
warm and friendly
all the
livelong day
to his
memory,
to a man
not afraid
to go his own way,
large bold
unpredictable,
who
performed tawdry wonders,
who had his
luck,
good and
bad,
and laughed
at it.
Let a last
percussion of
prima-donnas
shout loud
the glad
verbiage of
approbation
and love;
glory,
glory, glory,
in excelsis,
Melchior,
cog and
wheel,
type and
terminal of
the armies
of disorganized chance.
Melchior,
props we are
and we know
it,
not
necessary for your support,
but in your
unwritten reports
signal us
sometimes,
put us in
your island scrapbook,
for we, too,
trace your footsteps
and this,
too, Melchior, remember
delusion we
do and deceit,
when the
harpoon of doomsday
pierces our
gloomy backs.
Landsknecht, an eine Mauer gelehnt, sich ein Essen bereitend -- Friedrich Kaiser
“Al Mein Gelt Verspilt” (Everything is Temporary) was the Landsknecht motto. In 1487 emperor Maximilian I formed the Landsknechte (servants of the Lowlands). He exempted them from his sumptary laws and gave them the right to wear whatever colors and types of clothing they wished, so they generally wore garish costumes with multiple colors, spoils of battle, and huge feathered hats. Their "Puff and Slash" style was so named because the outer fabric or garment was slashed, torn, and sewn with holes through which another, contrasting, fabric was pulled through to form puffs. Landsknechte became the best-trained and highest-paid mercenary troops of the time and fought in almost every 16th-century military campaign, sometimes on both sides of the engagement. When Hans Jakob Christoffel von Grimmelshausen was 10 he was kidnapped by Hessian soldiery and impressed into military service. With the end of the 30 Years' War (which resulted in 8 million fatalities) ended in 1648 he entered the service of the bishop of Strassburg. In 1668 he wrote “Der abenteuerliche Simplicissimus Teutsch, d.h. die Beschreibung des Lebens eines seltsamen Vaganten, genannt Melchior Sternfels von Fuchsheim” (The Account of the Life of an Odd Vagrant Named Melchior Sternfels von Fuchshaim: namely where and in what manner he came into this world, what he saw, learned, experienced, and endured therein; also why he again left it of his own free will), the most popular 17th-century novel, and the 1st German adventure novel. The protagonist was separated from his home by foraging dragoons and adopted by a hermit, who named him Simplicius because he was so simple that he did not know what his own name was. When his mentor died Simplicius was conscripted and embarked on a lifetime as a soldier, male prostitute, outlaw, jester, castaway, and hermit as well as a traveler to Schwarzwald (the Black Forest), Russia, France, Korea, japan, Madagascar, and the country of mermen at the Earth’s core. In one episode he dressed like a girl to escape capture and became the maid to a rich merchant family, and the merchant, his wife, and his servant all tried to seduce him. Throughout the novel Simplicius denounced the corruption, debauchery, and violence he found, while wholeheartedly indulging in it. “Fabian” is an adjective derived from Quintus Fabius Maximus Verrucosus, or Cunctator (“Delayer), a 3rd-century BCE Roman dictator who adopted guerrilla tactics against Hannibal.
ReplyDeleteSt. Hilarius of Pictavium (bishop Hilary of Poitiers) translated “Gloria in excelsis Deo" (Glory to God in the highest) into Latin. It was a hymn based on the words that the angels said when the birth of Jesus was announced to shepherds in The Gospel of Luke (2:14), decades before the Vulgate translation of the Bible in 382. He had acquired it in Konstantinopolis, where it was one of the popular “psalmi idiotici” (private psalms written in imitation of the Biblical Psalms) written in the 2nd or 3rd century. In the Eastern Orthodox and Eastern Catholic churches it is known as the Doxology and is read on weekday afternoon and evening services and sung on Sundays and feast days , and in the Roman Catholic church is sung or recited in the Mass on most Sundays and feast days. The Anglicans sang it just before the concluding blessing, but in modern usage it may be sung in its original Catholic position instead. It has been sung to hundreds of melodies, including 2 by Antonio Vivaldi.