The Life of Lazarillo de Tormes
my mouth together. O Lord! who would not rather have been buried than
go through that misery? The rage of the perverse old man was such that
if people had not been drawn there by the noise, he would not have left
me alive. They took me from him, leaving his few hairs in my hands,
and his face and throat all scratched, which he deserved for his cruel
treatment of me.
The blind man related all my misfortunes over and over again, including
the story of the jug and of the bunch of grapes. The laughter was so
loud that all the passers-by came in to see the fun; for the old wretch
told the stories of my misfortunes so well that even I, ill-treated as
I was, could not help half joining in the laughter. [Sidenote: Lazaro
recovers from the effects of the sausage.] Remembering my troubles
there came a weakness upon me. But my stomach recovered, and the
landlady of the inn, with others who were present, washed my face and
throat with the wine that had been brought to drink. This enraged the
wicked blind man, who declared that I would cost him more wine with my
washings in one year, than he could drink in two.
“Lazaro,” he said, “you owe more to the wine than to your father. He
got you once, but the wine has brought you to life several times.”
Then he counted how many times he had torn and bruised my face and
afterwards cured it with wine. “If there is a man in the world who
ought to be lucky with wine,” he added, “it is you.”
Those who were washing me laughed a good deal at what the old man said,
though I dissented. However, the prognostications of the blind rascal
did not turn out false, and afterwards I often thought of that man, who
certainly had the spirit of prophecy.[19] The evil things he did to me
made me sad, though I paid him back, as your Honour will presently hear.
[19] See p. 98.
[Sidenote: Lazaro determined to leave the blind man.]
Seeing all this, and how the blind man made me a laughing-stock, I
determined that at all hazards I would leave him. This resolution
was always in my mind, and the last game he played confirmed it. On
another day we left the town to seek alms. It had rained a great deal
in the previous night. It continued to rain in the day-time, and we got
under some arcades in that town, so as to keep out of the wet. Night
was coming on and the rain did not cease. The blind man said to me,
“Lazaro! this rain is very persistent, and as the night closes in it
will not cease, so we will make for the inn in good time. To go there
we have to cross a stream which will have become swollen by the heavy
rain.” I replied, “Uncle! the stream is now very broad, but if you
like I can take you to a place where we can get across without being
wet, for it becomes much narrower, and by jumping we can clear it.”
This seemed good advice, so he said, “You are discreet and you shall
take me to that place where the stream becomes so narrow, for it is
winter time, and a bad thing to get our feet wet.” [Sidenote: Lazaro
prepares to revenge himself on the blind man.] Seeing that things were
going as I wished, I took him out of the arcade, and placed him just in
front of a stone pillar that stood in the square. Then I said to him,
“Uncle, this is the narrowest part of the stream.”
[Sidenote: Lazaro’s cruel vengeance on the blind man.]
As the rain continued and he was getting wet, we were in a hurry to
get shelter from the water that was falling upon us. The principal
thing was (seeing that God blinded my understanding in that hour) to
be avenged. The old man believed in me and said, “Put me in the right
place while you jump over the stream.” So I put him just in front of
the pillar, and placed myself behind it. I then said, “Jump with all
your might so as to clear the stream.” I had hardly finished speaking,
when the poor old man, balancing himself like a goat, gave one step
backwards, and then sprang with all his force. His head came with
such a noise against the pillar that it sounded like a great calabash.
He fell down half dead. “How was it you could smell the sausage and
not the post? Oh! Oh!” I shouted. [Sidenote: Lazaro leaves his first
master.] I left him among several people who ran to help him, while I
made for the gate of the town at a sharp trot, so that before nightfall
I might be in Torrijos, not knowing nor caring what afterwards happened
to my blind man.[20]
[20] The “pillar” was a stone cross which still stands in the
_plaza_ of Escalona.
SECOND MASTER
HOW LAZARO TOOK SERVICE WITH A CLERGYMAN, AND OF THE THINGS THAT
HAPPENED TO HIM.
[Sidenote: The clergyman’s chest.]
Next day, as I did not feel that I should be quite safe at
Torrijos,[21] I stopped at a place called Maqueda,[22] where for my
sins I took service with a clergyman. Going to him to ask for alms, he
inquired whether I knew how to assist at Mass. I said yes, which was
true, for though the blind man ill-treated me, he taught me many useful
things, and one of them was this. Finally the clergyman took me as his
servant. [Sidenote: Out of the frying-pan into the fire.] I had escaped
from the thunder to fall under the lightning. For compared with this
priest, the blind man was an Alexander the Great. I will say no more
than that all the avarice in the world was combined in this man, but I
know not whether it was naturally born in him or whether it was put on
with the priestly habit. He had an old chest closed with a key which
he carried with him, fastened to the belt of his gown. When he brought
the “bodigos”[23] from the church, they were quickly locked up in the
chest, and there was nothing to eat in the house such as is to be seen
in other houses, a piece of bacon, some bits of cheese on a shelf or in
a cupboard, or a few pieces of bread that may have remained over from
the table. It seemed to me that the sight of such things, even if I
could not have them, would have been a consolation.
[21] Torrijos is sixteen miles north-west of Toledo, and eight
miles from the Tagus, in a valley on the road from Maqueda to
Toledo. It was walled, and still has two old gateways. Madoz
gives it 480 houses, and in the plaza is the palace of the Count
of Altamira, built of stone. The church is dedicated to San Gil.
Here Beatriz, the daughter of King Pedro by Maria de Padilla,
was born in 1353. The country round yields abundant oil, and the
place is sometimes called Torrijos de los Olivares.
[22] Maqueda is six leagues north-west of Toledo, built on a
hill, on the margin of a stream of the same name which falls
into the Alberche, a tributary of the Tagus. It has 112 houses,
scattered along badly paved dirty streets. There is an old
castle, and two churches, San Juan Bautista and San Domingo.
Water is abundant. Maqueda was taken from the Moors by Alfonso
VI. in 1083, and in 1177 it was granted to the knights of
Calatrava. Ferdinand and Isabella made Diego de Cardenas Duke of
Maqueda.
[23] Small loaves made of the finest flour, offered to the
Church. The Dictionary of the Spanish Academy quotes Lazarillo de
Tormes as the authority for the meaning of this word.
[Sidenote: Nothing in the clergyman’s house but an old chest, and a
string of onions.]
There was only a string of onions, and these were under lock and key
in an upper chamber, one being allowed for every four days. If I asked
for the key, to fetch the allowance, and any one else was present, he
put his hand in his pocket, and gave it to me with great ceremony,
telling me to take it and return at once without taking anything else;
as if all the conserves of Valencia were there. Yet there was not a
thing in the room but the onions hanging from a nail, and he kept such
a strict account of them, that if I ever took more than my allowance it
cost me dear. At last I was near dead with hunger.
If he showed little charity to me, he treated himself as badly. Small
bits of meat formed his usual food for dinner and supper. It is true
that he shared the gravy with me, but nothing more except a small piece
of bread. On Saturdays they eat sheep’s head in those parts, and my
master sent me for one that was to cost three maravedis. He cooked it
and ate all the eyes, tongue, brains, and the meat off the cheeks,
giving me the well-picked bone on a plate, and saying, “Take! Eat!
Triumph! for you is the world, and you live better than the Pope.”
[Sidenote: Lazaro was sinking into the silent tomb from hunger.] At
the end of three weeks I became so weak that I could scarcely stand on
my feet for hunger. I saw myself sinking down into the silent tomb.
If God and my own intelligence had not enabled me to avail myself of
ingenious tricks, there would have been no remedy for me.
[Sidenote: Extraordinary stinginess of the clergyman.]
When we were at the offertory not a single blanca was dropped into
the shell without being registered by him. He kept one eye on the
congregation and the other on my hands, moving his eyes about as if
they were quicksilver. He knew exactly how many blancas had been given,
and as soon as the offertory was over, he took the shell from me and
put it on the altar. During all the time I lived, or rather was dying
in his service, I never was master of a single blanca. I never brought
a blanca worth of wine from a tavern, but it was put into his chest
to last for a week. To conceal his extreme stinginess he said to me,
“Look here, boy! Priests have to be very frugal in eating and drinking,
and for this reason I do not feed like other people.” But he lied
shamefully. For at meetings and funerals where we had to say prayers
and responses, and where he could get food at the expense of others, he
ate like a wolf and drank more than a proposer of toasts.
[Sidenote: Lazaro prayed for the deaths of sick people, for the sake of
the funeral feasts.]
And why do I speak of funerals? God forgive me! for I never was an
enemy to the human race except on those occasions. Then we could eat
well, and I wished, and even prayed to God that He would kill some one
every day. When we gave the Sacraments to the sick, especially extreme
unction, the priest was called upon to say prayers for those who were
present. I was certainly not the last in prayer, for with all my heart
I besought the Lord that He would take the sick man to Himself. If any
one recovered I devoted him to the devil a thousand times. He who died
received many benedictions from me, yet the number of persons who died
during the whole time I was there, which was over six months, only
amounted to twenty. I verily believed that I killed them, or rather
that they died in answer to my prayers, the Lord seeing how near death
I was, and that their deaths gave me life.
But there was no remedy, for if on the days of the funerals I lived, on
the days when no one died I was starving, and I felt it all the more.
So that there seemed to be no rest for me but in death; and I often
desired it for myself, as well as for others.
I frequently thought of leaving my penurious master, but two things
detained me. The first was that I feared my legs would not carry me, so
reduced was I by starvation. The other was the consideration that I had
had two masters. The first starved me, the second brought me to death’s
door, and a third might finish me. It appeared that any change might be
for the worse.
[Sidenote: Lazaro is saved from starvation by an angel of a locksmith.]
One day when my wretched master was out, a locksmith came to the door
by chance. I thought that he was an angel sent to me by the hand of
God, in the dress of a workman. He asked me whether I had any work for
him to do. Inspired by the Holy Spirit I replied: “Uncle! I have lost
a key, and I fear that my master will whip me. Kindly see if there