Part 2

A new edition appeared in 1596, also published by Abel Jeffes, who had then removed to the Blacke Fryers near Puddle Wharfe. There were twenty editions or reprints, and _Lazarillo_ was exceedingly popular with the Elizabethan reading public.

James Blakiston brought out a new edition in 1653 dedicated to Lord Chandos. It consists of the translation by David Rowlands, omitting the Prologue, and of a translation of the spurious second part by Juan de Luna. Another edition appeared in 1669, another in 1677. The title is _The Excellent History of Lazarillo de Tormes, the witty Spaniard_.

In 1726 there appeared _The Life and Adventures of Lazarillo de Tormes, with twenty curious copper cuts_. In 1727 the nineteenth edition was published. This version is a bad translation, omits the Prologue, and includes the spurious second parts.

The worst performance of all was the edition of 1789 in two volumes. The type is better, but it is a very careless reprint of a bad translation. It omits the execrable illustrations of the earlier editions. Spanish names are scarcely recognisable. Gelves is called “the battle of Geleas!” for Escalona we have “Evealona.”

All these translations are from late editions; none from the first edition.

NOTES ON THE CHARACTER OF LAZARO

The conception of the author, Don Diego Hurtado de Mendoza, was first to portray a boy, with everything against him, rising from the lowest rank of society to a prosperous condition, and to give a humorous account of his adventures; and secondly, to satirise certain types of men, the products of the age in which he wrote, through the medium of his boy hero.

The author himself was a boy at the time, or at least a very young man, a student at Salamanca. He had no model, and the conception was quite original. He makes Lazarillo de Tormes a boy of his own age. [Sidenote: The author made Lazaro’s age coincide with his own.] Don Diego was born in 1503. Assuming Lazarillo to have been born in 1503,[6] he was about 10 years old when he took service with the blind man, three years with his first three masters, and 14 years old when he took service with the seller of Indulgences. He carried on the business of water-carrier from the ages of 15 to 19, and was 20 when he married. That would bring him to 1523. The next year, when the Cortes met at Toledo, is made to be the year when Lazarillo de Tormes wrote the story of his life. Doubtless it was the year when Don Diego really completed his little romance, also aged 21.

[6] Lazarillo was about eight years old when his father went in the Gelves expedition in 1510.

In conceiving the character of Lazaro it is likely that the young student had in his mind what he himself might have been, if he had been born in the same obscurity. [Sidenote: The author’s conception of the two destinies.] “The two destinies”[7] were framed out of a noble and an ignoble birth, success in the latter case being far more meritorious than in the former. We find this reflection in the last sentence of the Prologue, where Don Diego points out how much more those have done who, not being favoured by noble birth, have, nevertheless, by cleverness and force of character, arrived at a good estate. If this idea of a boy such as the author, but without his noble birth and other advantages, was in Don Diego’s mind, we should expect to find Lazaro portrayed as a boy of a naturally good disposition and fine instincts, whose bad qualities were due to his lowly birth and vicious surroundings. It is just such a boy as this that Don Diego presents to us.

[7] See Sir Francis Doyle’s poem.

Nothing could be worse than poor Lazaro’s home. His mother was a widow who had intimacies with a groom of Moorish blood, had a child by him, and lived on the proceeds of his thieving, while Lazaro was employed to dispose of the stolen goods. [Sidenote: Lazaro’s baneful surroundings as a child. His mother not unfeeling.] When they were found out, the widow’s position became most precarious. Just then the wonderfully clever and plausible blind man appeared on the scene. He offered what, in comparison with the boy’s lot with his mother, seemed to be a decent provision. She is accused of unfeeling conduct in thus parting with her son. I do not think this is intended. The poor woman did what she thought was best for the child, and their parting was sorrowful and affectionate. Don Diego made her a thief and worse, but not a mother without feeling.

The account of the professional cleverness and knowledge of the blind man is very interesting, but, in spite of it all, the little boy seems to have held his own to some extent with the old rascal. [Sidenote: Capital stories most amusingly told.] The trick with the half blancas, the story of the wine, and of the bunch of grapes, are capitally told and very amusing. It is true that the old man was handicapped by his blindness, though his strength, cleverness, and experience made up for it. He treated Lazaro abominably, but it must be acknowledged that, great as the provocation was, the boy’s revenge was cruel and unfeeling. He was sorry afterwards, for he wrote that his understanding was blinded in that hour.

The boy’s ingenious ways of getting at the provisions of his second master, who was starving him, are capitally and most amusingly told. But the funniest and most witty story in the book is the boy’s terror at the coffin he believed to be coming to the house, and the reason he thought so.

With the first two masters it was an incessant fight against starvation. Lazaro’s resourceful ingenuity was conspicuous, and, under the circumstances, he had a perfect right to use all his wits against the wretches who ill-treated him. But there was no opportunity of bringing out his finer qualities.

With the third master it was very different. He was a penniless esquire, starving himself, and so excessively proud that he thought only of concealing his poverty. Lazaro had to resort to begging, and so he kept his poor master, as well as himself, alive. Here Lazaro comes out in an excellent light. [Sidenote: Lazaro’s higher qualities shown in his intercourse with the esquire.] He was not only kind-hearted and generous, but he showed tact and a wish to avoid hurting the poor proud creature’s feelings. Don Diego thus shows his hero in the light of one of nature’s gentlemen. The esquire’s account of himself, and his views of honour and its obligations are interesting, as showing a type of character which was common in Spain in those days. It was more elaborately portrayed by Cervantes.

Lazaro is made to tell the story of the seller of Indulgences, and a very amusing story it is, no doubt true to life. For it aroused the anger of the Inquisition, and was expurgated from future editions. But Lazaro merely appears as a narrator; and his character is not developed; though it is in the rapid sketch of his rise to prosperity. [Sidenote: Development of Lazaro’s character.] He was a lad who was liked. His girl-friends who were kind to him in adversity, as well as the archpriest and many others who were good friends when he rose to prosperity, showed that he was a favourite among those with whom he came in contact.

His marriage brought him great advantages. Critics have called it disgraceful, because we are told that evil tongues suggested that the girl had been the archpriest’s mistress. But there is nothing in the narrative to justify the belief that the evil tongues did not lie. On the contrary, the conclusion is the other way, and the story ends with a defence of his wife by Lazaro himself.

The work is the production of a genius. [Sidenote: Merits of the work.] Its originality, and the admirable way in which the stories in it are told make it deserving of a wider audience, though of course it is well known to students of the literature of Europe. Seldom has so much wit, fun, and wisdom been gathered into so small a compass.

PROLOGUE

I hold it to be good that such remarkable things as have happened to me, perhaps never before seen or heard of, should not be buried in the tomb of oblivion. [Sidenote: Reasons for relating all the circumstances of his life.] It may be that some one who reads may find something that pleases him. For those who do not go very deep into the matter there is a saying of Pliny “_that there is no book so bad that it does not contain something that is good_.”[8] Moreover, all tastes are not the same, and what one does not eat another will. Thus we see things that are thought much of by some, depreciated by others. Hence no circumstance ought to be omitted, how insignificant soever it may be, but all should be made known, especially as some fruit might be plucked from such a tree.

[8] Cervantes knew his _Lazarillo_ well. He copies this quotation and puts it into the mouth of the curate when he was examining the books of Don Quixote.

If this were not so, very few would write at all, for it cannot be done without hard work.

[Sidenote: Motives of authors not to gain money, but to win fame.]

Authors do not wish to be recompensed with money, but by seeing that their work is known and read, and, if it contains anything that is worthy, that it is praised. On this point Tully says: “Honour creates the arts.” Think you that the soldier who is first on the ladder cares less for his life than the others? Certainly not. It is the desire for fame that leads him to seek such danger. It is the same in the arts and in letters. We say: “The Doctor preaches very well and he is one who desires much the welfare of souls,” but ask him whether he is much offended when they say, “How wonderfully your reverence has done it!” So also in arms, men report how such an one has jousted wretchedly, and he has given his arms to a jester because he praised him for using his lances so well. What would he have given if he had been told the truth? Now that all things go in this manner, I confess that I am not more righteous than my neighbours. I write in this rough style, and all who may find any pleasure in it will be satisfied to know that there lives a man who has met with such fortunes, encountered such dangers, and suffered such adversities. I beseech your Honour that you will accept the poor service of one who would be richer if his power was equal to his desire. Well, your Honour! This author writes what he writes, and relates his story very fully.

It seemed to him that he should not begin in the middle, but quite at the beginning, [Sidenote: Success of the poor should be a lesson to the rich.] so that there might be a full notice of his personality, and also that those who inherit noble estates may consider how little fortune owes them, having been so very partial to them in its gifts; and how much more those have done who, not being so favoured, have, by force and management, arrived at a good estate.

I

LAZARO RELATES THE WAY OF HIS BIRTH AND TELLS WHOSE SON HE IS

Well! your Honour must know, before anything else, that they call me Lazarillo de Tormes, and that I am the son of Thomé Gonçales and Antonia Perez, natives of Tejares,[9] a village near Salamanca. My birth was in the river Tormes,[10] for which reason I have the river for a surname, and it was in this manner.

[9] Tejares is a small village on the left bank of the river Tormes, about two miles from Salamanca. It consists of a church dedicated to San Pedro, and about fifty houses on the skirts of a hill.

[10] The river Tormes rises in the Sierra de Gredos, a range of hills dividing Estremadura from Old Castille, on the confines of the province of Avila. Its chief sources are a large sheet of water called the “Laguna de Gredos,” and a perennial stream called “Tornella.” Receiving several streams from the Gredos hills, the Tormes flows north, passing by Alba de Tormes, where there is a stone bridge; and then turns north-west, passing Salamanca, where there is another fine stone bridge, and Ledesma. Finally, it falls into the Douro, on the Portuguese frontier. The Tormes turns many flour mills.

My father, whom God pardon, had charge of a flour mill which was on the banks of that river. He was the miller there for over fifteen years, and my mother, being one night taken with me in the mill, she gave birth to me there. So that I may say with truth that I was born in the river.

When I was a child of eight years old, they accused my father of certain misdeeds done to the sacks of those who came to have their corn ground. He was taken into custody, and confessed and denied not, suffering persecution for justice’s sake. So I trust in God that he is in glory, for the Evangelist tells us that such are blessed. At that time there was a certain expedition against the Moors[11] and among the adventurers was my father, who was banished for the affair already mentioned. He went in the position of attendant on a knight who also went, and, with his master, like a loyal servant, he ended his life.

[11] This expedition against the Moors started from Malaga under the command of Don Garcia de Toledo in 1510, when Lazarillo was seven years old. The fleet first touched at Sicily and then made for the island of Los Gelves, off the African coast, between Tunis and Tripoli, now called Zerbi. With Toledo were Diego de Vera and Count Pedro Navarro. Zerbi was a low sandy island covered with palm-trees, ruled by a Sheikh of its own. The army landed on the 8th of August 1510. But the Spaniards fell into an ambuscade and were defeated, Toledo being among the slain. Four thousand were killed or taken prisoners. The rest escaped to the ships and returned to Sicily. Toledo was a grandson of the first Duke of Alva.

[Sidenote: Death of Lazaro’s father, and his mother goes into service.]

My widowed mother, finding herself without husband or home, determined to betake herself to the good things so as to be among them; so she went to live in the city. She hired a small house, and was employed to prepare victuals for certain students. She also washed the clothes of the stable-boys who had charge of the horses of the Comendador de la Magdalena.[12] Thus she frequented the stables, she and a dark-coloured man, who was one of those who had the care of the horses. They came to know each other. [Sidenote: Flitting.] Sometimes he came to our house late, and went away in the morning. At other times he came to the door in the day-time, with the excuse that he wanted to buy eggs, and walked into the house. At first I did not like him, for I was afraid of his colour and his ugly face. But when I saw that his coming was the sign of better living, I began to like him, for he always brought pieces of meat, bread, and in the winter, fuel to warm us.

[12] Comendadores were knights of the Orders of Santiago, Calatrava, and Alcantara. Each had a title affixed to their knighthood. The Comendador of La Magdalena was a knight of the Order of Alcantara.

[Sidenote: A swarthy stepfather and a little brown brother.]

This intercourse went on until one day my mother gave me a pretty little brown brother, whom I played with and helped to keep warm. I remember once that when my stepfather was fondling the child, it noticed that my mother and I were white, and that he was not. It frightened the child, who ran to my mother, pointing with its finger and saying, “Mother, he is ugly!” To this he replied laughing; but I noticed the words of my little brother, and, though so young, I said to myself, “How many there are in the world who run from others because they do not see themselves in them.”

It was our fate that the intimacy of the Zayde, for so they called my stepfather, came to the ears of the steward. [Sidenote: The punishment for receiving and living on stolen goods.] On looking into the matter he found that half the corn he gave out for the horses was stolen, also that the fuel, aprons, pillions, horse-cloths, and blankets were missing, and that when nothing else was left, the horse-shoes were taken. With all this my mother was helped to bring up the child. We need not wonder at a priest or a friar, when one robs the poor, and the other his female devotees to help a friend such as himself, when the love of a poor stable-lad brings him to this.

All I have related was proved, because they cross-questioned me with threats, and being a child I answered and let out all I knew from fear, [Sidenote: Stolen horse-shoes.] down to certain horse-shoes which, by my mother’s order, I sold to a blacksmith. They flogged my unhappy stepfather, and put my mother on the accustomed penance as a punishment. An order was given that she was not to enter the stables of the Comendador, nor to receive the flogged Zayde in her house.

The poor woman complied with the sentence that she might not lose all; and to avoid danger and silence evil tongues she went away into service. [Sidenote: Lazaro helps at the inn. Takes service with a blind man.] She was employed in the open gallery of an inn, and so she contrived to rear the little brother, though suffering from many difficulties. She raised him until he could walk, and me until I was a fine little boy, who went for wine and lights for the guests, and for anything else they wanted.

FIRST MASTER

HOW LAZARO TOOK SERVICE WITH A BLIND MAN

At that time a blind man came to lodge at the inn, who, seeing that I would do to lead him, asked for me from my mother. [Sidenote: Lazaro enters the service of a blind man.] She gave me to him, saying that I was the son of a good father, and boasting that he had been killed at the Island of Gelves.[13] She told the blind man that she trusted in God that I would not turn out a worse man than my father, and she begged him to treat me well and look after me, as I was an orphan. He answered that he would do so, and that he received me not as his servant but as his son. Thus it was that I began to serve and to lead my new master. We were in Salamanca for some days, but, as the earnings were not to my master’s liking, he determined to go somewhere else. [Sidenote: Lazaro’s farewell to his mother.] When we were about to depart, I went to see my mother, and, both weeping, she gave me her blessing and said, “I shall see you no more. Strive to be good, and may God direct your ways. You have been brought up, and are now put with a good master. Farewell!” And so I went away to my master who was waiting for me.

[13] See note, p. 5.

[Sidenote: A cruel trick of the wicked old blind man.]

We went out of Salamanca and came to the bridge. There is, at the entrance of it, an animal of stone[14] which almost has the shape of a bull. The blind man told me to go near this animal, and, being there, he said, “Lazaro, put your ear against this bull, and you will hear a great noise inside.” I did so, like a simpleton, believing it to be as he said. When he felt that my head was against the stone, he raised his hand and gave me a tremendous blow against the devil of a bull, so that I felt the pain for more than three days. [Sidenote: Lazaro and the blind man.] Then he said to me, “This will teach you that a blind man’s boy ought to be one point more knowing than the devil himself”; and he laughed heartily at his joke. It seemed to me that, in an instant, I awoke from my simplicity in which I had reposed from childhood. I said to myself, “This man says truly that it behoves me to keep my eyes open, for I am alone and have to think for myself.”

[14] There was a huge mass of granite rudely carved in the shape of an animal, which had been on the bridge from time immemorial; and which Lazarillo thought was like a bull. Its great weight was considered a danger, and it was removed about thirty years ago. It is now in the vestibule of the cloister of San Domingo at Salamanca, but without a head.

We set out on our road, and in a very few days I showed myself to be sprightly, which pleased the blind man, and he said, “I can give you neither gold nor silver, but I can teach you much in the ways of getting a livelihood.” [Sidenote: Wonderful sagacity and cleverness of the blind man.] It was so that, after a few days, he showed me many things, and being blind himself, he enlightened and guided me in the ways of life. I mention these trifles to your Honour to show how much knowledge men must have when they are down, and to keep from falling when they are exalted.

Speaking of the good there was in my blind man, your Honour must know that since God created the world He has not made a being more astute and sagacious. In his own line he was unequalled. He knew a hundred or more prayers of the choir, he recited in a low and very tuneful voice, he put on a devout and very humble countenance when he recited, without making faces or gestures as others usually do. Besides this he had a hundred other ways and means of getting money. He knew how to make prayers on different occasions, for women who were childless, for those who were about to bear children, and for those who had married unhappily, that their husbands might like them well. He foretold whether a woman would have a boy or a girl. In the matter of medicine he said that Galen did not possess half his knowledge for curing toothaches, fainting fits, or illnesses of mothers. Finally, no one mentioned what pain or illness he or she was suffering from, but he told them at once--do this, you should do that, gather such a herb, take such a root. In this way he went with all the world after him, especially the women. They believed whatever he said, and from them he drew great profits by the arts I have described, for he gained more in a month than a hundred other blind men would in a year. I also desire that your Honour should know that, in spite of all he acquired and had, I never met a man so avaricious and stingy, insomuch that he nearly killed me with hunger, depriving me of the necessaries of life.

[Sidenote: The blind man’s way of making money and his avarice.]

I tell the truth, that if, by way of subtlety and cunning, I had not found a remedy, I should many times have succumbed to starvation. With all his knowledge and experience, I managed so well that, oftener than not, I got the best of it. On account of these matters, there were infernal rows between us, of which I will relate some but not all.

He carried the bread, and all the rest of his things, in a linen knapsack, closing the mouth with an iron chain having a padlock and key. He put in and took out his things himself, using great vigilance, and he kept such a close account that there was not a man in all the world who could have taken so much as a crumb without his knowing it. [Sidenote: Lazaro finds his way into the blind man’s knapsack.] Well, I had to take the lazar’s allowance which he gave me. It was all despatched in less than two mouthfuls. After he had locked the bag and was not looking out, thinking that I was attending to other things, by a little unstitching I often opened one side of the bag and sewed it up again; bleeding the avaricious knapsack not only of bread but of good pieces of bacon and sausage. Thus I watched for convenient times to make up for the infernal wrong that the wicked blind man inflicted on me.

[Sidenote: Lazaro’s adroit contrivance with the half “blancas.”]