The Life of Lazarillo de Tormes
I was wandering about from door to door, without any settled purpose,
when I came upon an esquire,[24] who was walking down the street,
fairly well dressed and groomed. He looked at me and I at him.
[Sidenote: The esquire.] He then said, “Boy! are you seeking for a
master?” I replied, “Yes, sir!” “Then come along behind me,” he said,
“for God has shown mercy to you by letting you meet with me.” So I
followed him, giving thanks to God. Judging from his dress and manner I
thought he was the sort of master of whom I stood in need.
[24] Escudero. The English equivalent is _esquire_; Latin,
_armiger_. Selden says that the original of this title was the
office or function of _armiger_ or _scutifer_. Our _esquire_ and
the French _escuyer_ are derived from Scutarius. In Froissart
we have knights and esquires, in Spain cavalleros (knights) and
escuderos (esquires).
[Sidenote: Lazaro enters the service of an esquire.]
It was in the morning when I met with my third master, and I followed
him over a great part of the city. He passed by the place where they
sell bread and other provisions, and I thought and desired that he
would employ me to carry what he bought, for it was the time for
marketing. But, with a slow step, he passed by all these things.
Perhaps, I thought, he is not satisfied with them and intends to make
his purchases in some other place. In this way we walked about until
eleven in the forenoon, when he entered the principal church, and I
at his heels. I saw him hear Mass and the other divine offices very
devoutly until the service was all finished, and the people had gone.
Then we left the church and began to walk down the street. I was the
happiest boy in the world to see that my master had not troubled
himself about marketing, for I deduced from that the belief that he
had everything at home, where I should find all that I desired. At last
we came to a house before which my master stopped, and I with him.
[Sidenote: The esquire takes Lazaro to his house.]
Throwing the end of his cloak over his left shoulder, he took a key out
of his sleeve and opened the door. We entered the house. It was so dark
and dismal that it might cause fear to any one coming in. Within there
was a small court and fair-sized rooms. He then took off his cloak and,
first asking whether I had clean hands, he shook it and folded it.
Then, after very carefully blowing the dust off a bench that was there,
he put the cloak on it. Having done this he sat upon it and began to
ask me questions, in great detail, as to where I came from and how I
reached the city. I had to give him a much longer account than I cared
for, as it seemed to me that it was a more convenient time for laying
the cloth and getting the meal ready than for answering what he asked.
Nevertheless, I satisfied his curiosity with the best lies I could
invent, relating all I had done well, and holding my tongue about the
rest, which did not appear to me to be appropriate. [Sidenote: Nothing
to eat in the esquire’s house.] This done, we remained in the same
place for a while. It was now nearly two o’clock in the afternoon, and
there was no more sign of anything to eat than there would be for the
dead.
After this my master closed the door and locked it, and neither above
nor below was there a sign of any other person in the house. All I
had seen was walls, without chairs or table, or even a chest, like
that of the rats and snake. It was like a house bewitched. At this
juncture he said to me, “You, my boy! have you eaten?” “No, sir,” said
I, “for it was not eight o’clock when I met your worship.” “Well,” he
said, “although I have breakfasted this morning, I shall be fasting
until night, so you must hold on, and afterwards we will have supper.”
[Sidenote: Lazaro sees trouble ahead about food, but he dissimulates.]
When I heard this I was very much depressed, not so much from hunger,
as from the knowledge that the luck was continuing to be against me.
For my hardships seemed to be coming back. I mourned over my troubles,
and remembered what I once thought, when I was meditating on leaving
the priest, that ill-fortune might bring me to something worse.
Finally, I began to weep over my miserable past life, and over my
approaching death. At the same time I dissimulated as well as I could.
“Sir,” I said, “I am a boy who does not trouble much about eating,
blessed be God! So that I am able to receive praise among all my
equals, as the one who has the most moderate appetite, and for this I
have even been praised, up to this time, by my former masters.” “This
is a virtue,” he replied, “and for this I like you better. Gluttony is
for pigs and to eat with moderation for respectable people.” “Well do
I understand you,” said I to myself, “and cursed be such medicine, and
such kindness as I have had from my masters, who give me nothing but
starvation.”
[Sidenote: The esquire and Lazaro sup on the boy’s three pieces of
bread.]
I then put myself in one corner of the doorway, and took some pieces
of bread out of my bosom, which remained from what had been given me.
When he saw it he said to me, “Come here, my boy, what is it you are
eating?” I came to him and showed him. He took for himself the largest
of the three pieces I had, and said to me, “By my life! this bread
seems good.” “And sir,” said I, “it is good.” “Yes, by my faith!” said
he, “where did you get it from--are you sure it was kneaded with clean
hands?” “I do not know that,” said I, “but the smell of it does not
turn my stomach.” “Please God!” said my poor master, and, putting it
to his mouth, he began to take as voracious mouthfuls as I did with
mine. “It is most delicious,” he said. I feared he would finish first,
and that he would want to help me with what was left of mine, so we
both came to an end at the same time. [Sidenote: A meagre supper and
a wretched bed.] My master then began to collect with his hand a few
crumbs which had remained on our breasts. Then he went into a small
room and brought out a jug without a spout, and not very new. After
he had had a drink he offered it to me. I said, “Sir! I do not drink
wine.” “It is water,” he replied, “and you can well drink it.” Then
I took the jug and drank, but not very much, as thirst was not my
complaint. So we remained until the night, talking about things he had
asked me, while I gave the best answers I could.
He took me into the chamber out of which he had brought the jug of
water, and said, “Boy, stay here, and see how we make this bed, that
you may know how to make it henceforward.” He put me at one end and
himself at the other, and he made the miserable bed. There was not
much to make. He had a sort of hurdle on trestles. Over this he spread
clothes. They did not look very like a mattress, but served as one,
with much less blanket than was necessary. What there was we spread
out, but it was impossible to soften the bed. It was too hard.
When the bed was made, and the night being come, he said to me:
“Lazaro, it is now too late, it is a long way to the market-place, and
in this city there are many thieves who prowl about at night. We must
do the best we can, and to-morrow, when it is light, God will have
mercy. Being alone I am not provided, for I have been in the habit of
having my meals outside, but now we will arrange things in another
way.” [Sidenote: The esquire’s apology for no supper. His philosophical
view of starvation.] “Sir,” I replied, “do not trouble about me, for I
can pass a night like this.” “You will become more and more healthy,”
he then told me, “for there is nothing in the world that lives long but
it eats little.” “If that is so,” I said to myself, “I shall never die,
for I have always been obliged to observe that rule by force, and even,
if my ill-luck continues, it may be so all my life.”
He lay down on the bed, using his hose and doublet for a pillow, and
ordered me to put myself at his feet. I did so, but not to go to sleep,
for the canes of the hurdle and my protruding bones struggled with each
other without ceasing. What with my hardships, misery, and starvation
I do not think there was a pound’s weight of flesh on my body.
[Sidenote: A very bad night.] As I had scarcely eaten anything all day
I was wild with hunger, which is not a friend of sleep. I cursed my
fate and my ill-luck a thousand times, may God pardon me! I was like
that most of the night, not daring to turn for fear of awakening my
master; and I prayed to God many times for death.
[Sidenote: The esquire attends to his outward appearance.]
When morning came we got up and began to shake and brush the doublet
and hose, the coat and cloak. My master dressed himself very carefully,
combed his hair, washed his hands, and put his sword on. As he did so
he said to me: “Ah, my boy, if you only knew what a weapon this sword
is. There is not a mark of gold in the whole world for which I would
give it. Moreover, there is not a sword among all that Antonio ever
made that has the steel so tempered as this one.” Then he drew it out
and tried it with his finger, saying, “Look here, I am obliged to use
a ball of wool for it.” I said to myself, “And I need a piece of bread
for my teeth, though they are not made of steel.” He put his sword
back, and with a stately pace, his body erect, his head turned gently
from side to side, throwing the end of his cloak over his shoulder,
and putting his right hand on his side, he said, “Lazaro, take care of
the house, make the bed, fetch water from the river for the jug, as it
is getting low. I am going to hear Mass. Lock the door that nothing may
be stolen, placing the key on the hook by the hinge, that I may be able
to come in when I return.”
[Sidenote: Stately appearance of the esquire when he walked abroad.]
He then marched down the street with such a contained and noble air
that any one who did not know the contrary would have thought that he
was a very near relation to the Count of Arcos,[25] or at least his
chamberlain who had been clothed by him. “A blessing on you, my lord,”
I was left saying, “who gives the disease and provides the remedy.” Who
would meet my master, and, judging from his satisfied look, not suppose
that he had supped well and slept in a comfortable bed, and that in the
morning he had had a good breakfast? [Sidenote: Lazaro’s reflections on
the secrets hidden under the esquire’s cloak.] Great secrets, sir, are
those which you keep and of which the world is ignorant. Who would not
be deceived by that fair presence and decent cloak? And who would think
that the same gentleman passed all that day without eating anything
but the bit of bread which his servant Lazaro had carried all day in
his bosom, where it was not likely to find much cleanliness? To-day,
washing his hands and face, he had to wipe them with the end of his
cloak for want of a towel. Certainly no one would have suspected it. O
Lord! how many such as him must be scattered over the world, who suffer
for the jade they call honour that which they would not suffer for a
friend.
[25] The Duke of Arcos was a very grand nobleman. The title
belonged to the family of Ponce de Leon, but before this was
written the head of the family had become Duke of Cadiz, a title
which was afterwards changed to that of Duke of Arcos. The second
Duke was flourishing at this time, and died in 1590. Count, in
the text, is a mistake. It should be Duke.
[Sidenote: Lazaro’s reflections. He goes for water and finds his master
flirting on the river bank.]
I was standing at the door, looking out and thinking of these and many
other things until my master disappeared down the long and narrow