Chapter II: Part 2

_Troico._ Yes, my good fellow, do you see I am?

_Leno._ It would be better if I did not see it.

_Troico._ Why so, Leno?

_Leno._ Why, then you would not know a piece of ill-luck that has just happened.

_Troico._ What ill-luck?

_Leno._ What day is it to-day?

_Troico._ Thursday.

_Leno._ Thursday? How soon will Friday come, then?

_Troico._ Friday will come to-morrow.

_Leno._ Well, tha something;—but tell me, are there not other days of ill-luck as well as Fridays?

_Troico._ Why do you ask?

_Leno._ Because there may be unlucky pancakes, if there are unlucky Thursdays.

_Troico._ I suppose so.

_Leno._ Now, stop there;—suppose one of yours had been eaten of a Thursday, on whom would the ill-luck have fallen—on the pancake, or on you?

_Troico._ On me, of course.

_Leno._ Then, my good Troico, comfort yourself, and begin to suffer and be patient; for men, as the saying is, are born to misfortunes, and these are matters, in fine, that come from God; and in the order of time you must die yourself, and, as the saying is, your last hour will then be come and arrived. Take it, then, patiently, and remember that we are here to-morrow and gone to-day.

_Troico._ For heaven’s sake, Leno, is anybody in the family dead? Or else why do you console me so?

_Leno._ Would to heaven that were all, Troico!

_Troico._ Then what is it? Can’t you tell me without so many circumlocutions? What is all this preamble about?

_Leno._ When my poor mother died, he that brought me the news, before he told me of it, dragged me round through more turn-abouts than there are windings in the rivers Pisuerga and Zapardiel.

_Troico._ But I have got no mother, and never knew one. I don’t know what you mean.

_Leno._ Then smell this napkin.

_Troico._ Very well, I have smelt it.

_Leno._ What does it smell of?

_Troico._ Something like butter.

_Leno._ Then you may surely say, “Here Troy was.”

_Troico._ What do you mean, Leno?

_Leno._ For you it was given to me; for you Donna Timbria sent it, all stuck over with nuts;—but, as I have (and Heaven and everybody else knows it) a sort of natural relationship for whatever is good, my eyes watched and followed her just as a hawk follows chickens.

_Troico._ Followed whom, villain? Timbria?

_Leno._ Heaven forbid! But how nicely she sent it, all made up with butter and sugar!

_Troico._ And what was that?

_Leno._ The pancake, to be sure,—don’t you understand?

_Troico._ And who sent a pancake to me?

_Leno._ Why, Donna Timbria.

_Troico._ Then what became of it?

_Leno._ It was consumed.

_Troico._ How?

_Leno._ By looking at it?

_Troico._ Who looked at it?

_Leno._ I, by ill-luck.

_Troico._ In what fashion?

_Leno._ Why, I sat down by the wayside.

_Troico._ Well, what next?

_Leno._ I took it in my hand.

_Troico._ And then?

_Leno._ Then I tried how it tasted; and what between taking and leaving all around the edges of it, when I tried to think what had become of it, I found I had no sort of recollection.

_Troico._ The upshot is that you ate it?

_Leno._ It is not impossible.

_Troico._ I’ faith you are a trusty fellow!

_Leno._ Indeed! do you think so? Hereafter, if I bring two, I will eat them both, and so be better yet.

_Troico._ The business goes on well, truly!

_Leno._ And well advised, and at small cost, and to my content. But now, go to; suppose we have a little jest with Timbria.

_Troico._ Of what sort?

_Leno._ Suppose you make her believe you ate the pancake yourself, and, when she thinks it is true, you and I can laugh at the trick till you split your sides. Can you ask for anything funnier?

_Troico._ You counsel well, indeed.

_Leno._ Well, Heaven bless the men that listen to reason! But tell me, Troico, do you think you can carry out the jest with a grave face?

_Troico._ I? What have I to laugh about?

_Leno._ Why, don’t you think it is a laughing matter to make her believe you ate it, when all the time it was your own good Leno that did it?

_Troico._ Wisely said! But now hold your tongue, and go about your business!

_Lope de Rueda._ “_Timbria_” (_fl._ 1565). _Trans. Ticknor._

_THE FAIR CELIBATE._

They say, “’Tis time, go, marry! go!”
But I’ll no husband! not I! no!

For I would live all carelessly,
Amidst these hills, a maiden free,
And never ask, nor anxious be,
Of wedded weal or woe.
Yet still they say, “Go, marry! go!”
But I’ll no husband! not I! no!

So, mother, think not I shall wed,
And through a tiresome life be led,
Or use, in folly’s ways instead,
What grace the heaven’s bestow—
Yet still they say, “Go, marry! go!”
But I’ll no husband! not I! no!

The man has not been born, I ween,
Who as my husband shall be seen;
And since what frequent tricks have been
Undoubtingly I know,—
In vain they say, “Go, marry! go!”
For I’ll no husband! not I! no!

_Gil Vicente_ (_d._ 1557). _Trans. Ticknor._

“THE TABLE-BOOK AND TRAVELLERS’ JOY.”

_THE RUSTIC AND THE LACKEYS._

A rustic desirous to see the King, thinking he was more than man, put his wages in his pocket and took leave of his master. But the pennies soon melted away on the long journey to the capital. Having arrived and seen the King, whom he found to be a man like himself, he was so disgusted at having spent upon this all his money excepting half a real, that a tooth began to ache, and what with hunger tormenting him too he did not know what to do, for he said to himself, “If I have the tooth drawn, and give my half real for that, I shall die of hunger; while, if I eat the half real, my tooth will go on aching.” As he was thus debating he approached a pastrycook’s stall, and gazed with longing eyes at the tarts displayed. By chance two lackeys were passing by, who, seeing him so taken up with the pastry, cried out, to make sport—

“Hola, rustic, how many tarts would you venture to make a meal of?”

“By heavens! I could swallow fifty.”

“Go to the devil!” said they.

“Gentlemen,” he replied, “you are easily frightened.”

Upon which they offered to lay a wager.

“Done,” said the rustic; “if I don’t eat fifty, you can draw this tooth,” and he pointed to the one that ached.

All parties pleased, the countryman, very much to his taste, began whetting his teeth upon the tarts. When his hunger was satisfied he stopped, saying, “Gentlemen, I have lost.” The others, making very merry, indulged in much laughter, bade a barber draw the tooth—though at this our friend feigned great grief—and the more to jeer at him cried out to the bystanders—

“Did you ever see such a fool of a clown as to lose an ivory to satiate himself with tarts?”

“Yours is the greater folly,” retorted he; “you have satisfied my hunger and drawn a grinder which has been aching all the morning.”

The crowd burst out laughing at the trick the rustic had played upon the lackeys, who, paying the pastrycook and barber, turned their backs and went away.

_THE CONTRARY WIFE._

A tambourinist had so contrary a wife, he never could get her to do anything he asked. One day, on their way to a wedding, at which he was to play, she was riding an ass and carrying his tambourine, and he cried out, as they were fording a river, “Woman, don’t play the tambourine, for you’ll frighten the ass.” No sooner said than she began thrumming; the ass, shying, lost its footing, and threw our dame into the river; while the husband, however much he wished to help her, could do no good. Seeing she was drowned, he went up-stream in search of her body.

“My good fellow,” said a looker-on, “what are you seeking?”

“My wife,” replied he, “who is drowned.”

“And you are looking for her up-stream, friend?”

“Oh, yes, sir, she was always contrary.”

_AN AFFECTIONATE WIFE._

Matters came to such a pass between a husband and wife—who, having married against their will, lived a cat and dog life—that the husband one day gave his spouse a box on the ears, whereupon she, knowing he had a few days before killed a neighbour, began, without the least caring about the issue, to raise her voice, crying, “Seize the villain; he wants to kill me as he did So-and-so.” Somebody heard her, and the man was accused, and, in accordance with his own confession, condemned to be hanged. On his way to the gallows he begged to be allowed to speak with his wife. She came, and he stopped on the road; but the good woman, eager to see the last of his days, cried, “Husband, why stop still? Let us walk while we talk, and lose no time.”

_CHASTISE WITH GOOD WORDS._

An honest husband, so ill-starred as to have married a troublesome widow, beat her with a light stick, whereupon she went and complained to her kinsfolk. The latter reprehended her husband, bidding him not treat his wife thus, but chastise her with good words. This he said he would do, whereupon the skittish widow conducted herself much worse. The good fellow, not to break his promise, took a cudgel, into which he cut the _Pater Noster_ on one side, and the _Ave Maria_ on the other, and when she misbehaved herself beat her with that. The wife renewing her complaints, her relations came to tell him he had ill kept his word. “Not so, friends,” replied the young man; “I have done what you bade me, and only chastised her with good words; read what is written on the cudgel.”

_THE ACCOMMODATING FARMER._

A farmer who had on his land a fig-tree, on which several poor wretches had from time to time done away with themselves, determined to fell it as a thing of evil omen; but before so doing sent a cryer through the town: Should any one wish to hang himself on that fig-tree, he was to make up his mind within three days, for it was going to be cut down.

_THE ACCOMMODATING LORD._

As a great lord was dining, his servants at the sideboard turning their backs, there entered a thief, who took one of the best dishes on the table, and, seeing the master of the house looking at him, signed to him to keep quiet, and made off. When the dish was found missing, the lord said, “A thief took it, I saw him do so.”

“Then why didn’t your lordship cry out?”

“Oh, he bade me be quiet.”

_DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND._

A chaplain devouring a fine roast pigeon at an inn was asked by a fresh arrival to let him eat with him and he would pay his share. This was refused, and the pedestrian sat down and ate his dry bread, saying afterwards, “Know, reverend sir, you by tasting, and I by smelling, have both eaten the pigeon, although against your wish.”

“If that is so, you must pay your part of the pigeon,” replied the chaplain.

The chaplain insisting, the other refusing, they finally made the village sacristan judge between them. The sacristan, asking what the bird cost, was told half a real, and then made the pedestrian disburse a farthing, which he took and rang on the table, saying, “Reverend sir, inasmuch as he ate by the smell of the pigeon, consider yourself paid by the sound of the money.”

_THE BEST HOUR TO DINE._

A great nobleman asked certain physicians what was the best time of the day to dine. One replied, at ten; another, at eleven; another, at noon. The oldest said, “My lord, the perfect hour for dining is for the rich man when he feels inclined, for the poor man when he has something to eat.”

_THE BEST WIFE IN THE WORLD._

A certain Valencian dame, a very good wife, had one fault: at times she wagged her tongue more than was needful. One evening at a ball she was seized with faintness, and they ran for her husband, telling him his wife had lost her speech. “Let her alone! Let her alone!” said he. “If this lasts, she’ll be the best wife in the world!”

_A PIOUS WISH._

A captain, when in Flanders, being robbed of some half-boots made to measure for his feet, which were maimed and crooked, exclaimed, upon discovering his loss, “Please God, they may fit the rogue who stole them!”

A country squire, who had killed a crane, bade his cook roast it. As his master was late to dinner, the cook ate one leg, and when the bird was sent up to table and the other leg asked for, he replied cranes only had one leg. Out shooting cranes another day with his master, he said, “See, sir, they only have one” (for the bird raises one when standing). “S-s-s-s-t!” cried the Squire, and the cranes flew up, each showing two legs. “Oh!” exclaimed the cook, “if you had said ‘S-s-s-s-t!’ to the one on the dish, he would also have brought out his other leg.”

* * * * *

An old man, jealous of his pretty young wife and a certain friend of his, a merchant and widower, fell ill of a mortal disease. Knowing his case was hopeless, he said to his wife, “You know, my dear, that I cannot escape this deadly sickness; what I beg of you is, if you care to please me, that you will not marry that friend of mine, who often comes to the house, and of whom I have been somewhat jealous.” “Dear husband,” replied she, “even if I wished, I could not, for I am already engaged to somebody else.”

* * * * *

An old bachelor, having married at seventy, was reproached by his friends for having committed a folly, and replied they said true: Man with years loses his prudence; when he was a young man, and had any, he never could be induced to marry.

* * * * *

An astrologer, whose wife was with child, cast the horoscope of the unborn infant and discovered two sons would be born to him, and that the first would be a cutpurse, the second a murderer. This so grieved him that he was unable to conceal his sorrow, which being perceived by his wife, was unburdened to her. “There is a cure for this case,” said she. “We will make the first a purse-maker, and he will cut purses; the second a butcher, and he can slay oxen.”

* * * * *

A village maiden, driving before her an ass, which, as it was returning to its foal, went quicker than the girl, met a courtier. “Where do you live, my pretty maiden?” “At Getafe,” replied she. “Tell me, do you know the daughter of the innkeeper in that village?” “Very well,” replied she. “Then be so kind as to take her a kiss from me!” “Give it to my donkey, sir; she’ll get there first.”

* * * * *

A father sending his son to study at Salamanca, bade him eat the cheapest food. The youth on his arrival asked the price of an ox, and was told ten ducats; then of a partridge, and was told a real. “Oh!” said he, “then I am bidden to eat partridges!”

* * * * *

Two friends, a weaver and a tailor, became in time enemies, so much so that the tailor spoke much evil of the weaver behind his back, though the weaver always spoke well of the tailor. Upon a lady asking the weaver why he always spoke so well of the tailor, who spoke so ill of him, he replied: “Madam, we are both liars.”

* * * * *

Two thieves were breaking into a door when the master of the house, hearing them, looked out of the window and said: “Friends, come a little later, we are not yet in bed.”

* * * * *

A man of evil life and fame having built a beautiful house, had inscribed on the lintel: “Let no evil cross this threshold.” A wit reading it, said, “Then wherever does the master of the house enter?”

* * * * *

A knight having received a dish of cherries early in the season, had them placed before him above the dais. His children, a bastard and a legitimate son, were seated at another table apart, and seeing they got no cherries, the bastard up with his hand and soundly boxed his brother’s ears. “How now, you villain,” said the father, “why did you do that?” “Because, sir, he kept on saying, ‘You won’t get any cherries, you won’t.’” Upon which the father, much amused, gave some to both.

* * * * *

A prince had a jester who kept a book of fools, in which he put everybody deserving that title. One day at table the prince asked the jester to bring him the book, and opening it saw his own name, and below, “His Highness, on such a day, gave fifty ducats to an alchemist with which to go to Italy and bring back materials for making gold and silver.” “And what if he returns?” said the Prince. “Oh, then she will scratch out your Highness and put him in.”

* * * * *

A collegian of the Archbishop of Seville’s college was one day at table overlooked by the prebendary who doles out everybody’s rations. Somewhat embarrassed as to how he should ask for his food, he suddenly observed a cat mewing in front of him, which he addressed in a loud voice so that the prebendary might hear, “Why the deuce are you mewing and licking your chops at me? I have not yet got my rations, and you must needs already begin bothering me for the bones.”

* * * * *

A Biscayan, just finished working on the belfry in a small town, where there chanced to be a man condemned to death, was told by the authorities that, as they had no executioner, they would give him a ducat and the condemned man’s clothes to do the job, with which our Biscayan was well content. A few months after, finding himself penniless, and remembering how much he had gained by so light a task, he climbed the belfry, and when the townsfolk hurried by upon the pealing of the bells, he looked down at them, saying: “Gentlemen, it is I have called your worships. You must know I have not a blessed farthing, and you remember you gave me a ducat the other day to hang a man. Now I have been thinking that, from the smallest to the biggest of your worships, I should like to hang the whole town at half a ducat each.”

* * * * *

A blind man hid some money at the foot of a tree in a field belonging to a rich farmer. Visiting it one day he found it gone, and suspecting the farmer, went to him and said, “Sir, as you seem an honest man, I have come to ask your advice. I have a sum of money in a very safe place, and now I have just as much more, and do not know if I should hide it where the other is, or somewhere else.” The farmer replied, “Truly, if I were you, I would not change the place, it being as safe as you say.” “That’s just what I thought,” said the blind man, and took his leave. The farmer hurriedly put back the money, hoping to get it doubled, and the blind man in his turn dug it up, greatly rejoicing at recovering what he had lost.

_Juan de Timoneda_ (_fl._ 1590).

“THE BOOK OF JOKES.”

_TRAVELLERS’ TALES._

In Monzon de Campos a nobleman returned from India, as he was one day relating wonders of those regions to some neighbours, told them how he had seen a cabbage so immense that three hundred mounted men could rest under its shade. “I don’t think much of that,” cried a servant of the Marquess of Poza. “In Biscay I saw a cauldron so vast that two hundred men were hammering at it, and yet stood so far from each other that no man heard the noise of his neighbour’s hammer.” The Indian, much surprised, inquired the use of this cauldron. “Sir, to cook the cabbage you have just told us about.”

* * * * *

Don Rodrigo Pimentel, Count of Benavente, was a master much feared by his servants. One day at Benavente, as he was writing some important despatches, certain of his pages stood round about discussing their fear of him, and one said, “What will you give me if I go up, just as he is now, and give him a hard smack on the back of his neck?” The others eagerly laid a wager with him. Hereupon goes my good page as if to see if his lord wanted anything, and gives him a sound slap, crying “St. George!” “What’s that?” said the Count. “Sir, a large spider was crawling down your Excellenc neck.” The Count sprang up much disturbed, saying, “What became of it? Did you kill it?” “I knocked it down, sir, and it’s gone away.” And his delighted comrades willingly paid the wager he had so cleverly and boldly won.

_Luis de Pinedo_ (_Sixteenth Century_).

* * * * *

A great favourite of Cardinal Loaysa came one day to speak with him on a certain matter, arriving so early that the Cardinal was asleep. The nobleman’s importunity was so great that the servants awoke his Eminence, telling him who was there. The Cardinal finally ordered him to be shown in, and learning his business, said, “My friend, I knew long ago that you wasted your time; but that you got up so early to do so, that I did not know.”

* * * * *

A pupil at the grammar school of Alcalá once said to the vice-rector, who, for the sake of economy, always made boys eat very stale bread, “Domine, fac ut lapides isti panes fiant.”

* * * * *

Bachelor N., at Salamanca, gave bad wine to some pupils, one of whom, a bold fellow, tasting it, rose, and taking off his hat, said to him, “Domine, si potest fieri, transeat a me calix iste.”

* * * * *

In the madhouse of Toledo a madman cried out in a loud voice to some visitors shown round, “I am the angel Gabriel, who came with the tidings to Our Lady,” and said, “Ave Maria,” &c. Another madman near him upon this exclaimed, “He is lying; I am God the Father and I sent him on no such errand.”

TALES OF ROGUES.

_LAZARO DECLARETH WHOSE SON HE WAS._

“Your Worship shall understand, before all things, that my name is Lazaro de Tormes, son of Thomas Gonzalez and Antonia Pelez, native of Tejares, a village near Salamanca. I was born within the river called Tormes, whereof I took my surname. My father (whom God pardon) had the charge of a mill standing upon that river, wherein he supplied the room of a miller about fifteen years. It fortuned on a night, my mother being great with child was there brought to bed, and there was I born; therefore now I may truly report the river itself to be the place of my nativity; and after the time I came to the age of eight years, there was laid to my father’s charge that he had shamefully cut the seams of men’s sacks that came thither to grind; wherefore he was taken and imprisoned, and being tormented, he confessed the whole matter, denying nothing, wherefore he was persecuted. I trust in God he is now in Paradise, seeing the Gospel doth say that blessed are such as confess their faults.”

“_Lazarillo de Tormes_,” _Hurtado de Mendoza_, 1503-1575.
_Trans. David Rowland._

_HOW LAZARO SERVES A BLIND MAN._

I am sorry to say that I never met with so avaricious and so wicked an old curmudgeon; he allowed me almost to die daily of hunger, without troubling himself about my necessities; and, to say the truth, if I had not helped myself by means of a ready wit and nimble fingers, I should have closed my account from sheer starvation.

Notwithstanding all my master’s astuteness and cunning, I contrived so to outwit him that generally the best half came to my share. But to accomplish this I was obliged to tax my powers of invention to the uttermost. The old man was accustomed to carry his bread, meat, and other things, in a sort of linen knapsack, which was closed at the mouth with an iron ring, and secured also by a padlock; but in adding to his store, or taking from it, he used such vigilance that it was almost an impossibility to cheat him of a single morsel. However, when he had given me my pittance, which I found no difficulty in dispatching at about two mouthfuls, and closed his budget, thinking himself perfectly secure from depredation, I began my tactics, and by means of a small rent, which I slyly effected in one of the seams of the bag, I used to help myself to the choicest pieces of meat, bacon, and sausage, taking care to close the seam according as opportunity occurred. But in addition to this, all that I could collect together, either by fraud or otherwise, I carried about me in half farthings; so that when the old man was sent for to pray, and they gave him farthings (all which passed through my hands, he being blind), I contrived to slip them into my mouth, by which process so quick an alteration was effected that when they reached his hands they were invariably reduced to half the original value.

The cunning old fellow, however, suspected me, for he used to say, “How the deuce is this? ever since you have been with me they give me nothing but half-farthings, whereas before it was not an unusual thing to be paid with halfpence, but never less than farthings. I must be sharp with _you_, I find.” Whenever we ate, the old man took care to keep a small jar of wine near him, which was reserved for his own especial service, but I very soon adopted the practice of bestowing on this favourite jar sundry loving though stolen embraces. Such pleasures were but short-lived, for the fervency of my attachment was soon discovered in the deficiency of the wine; and the old man afterwards, to secure his draught, never let the jar go without tying it to him by the handle. But I was a match for him even there; for I procured a long straw, and, dipping it into the mouth of the jar, renewed my intimacy with such effect that but a small share was his who came after me. The old traitor was not long in finding me out; I think he must have heard me drink, for he quickly changed his plan, and placed the jar between his knees, keeping the mouth closed with his hand, and in this manner considered himself secure from my depredations.

_Hurtado de Mendoza._ _Trans. Roscoe._

_LAZARO IS SERVANT TO A PRIEST._

It was during this trying and afflicting time, when, seeing things going from bad to worse, without any one to advise with, I was praying with all Christian humility that I might be released from such misery, that one day, when my wretched, miserable, covetous thief of a master had gone out, an angel, in the likeness of a tinker, knocked at the door—for I verily believe he was directed by Providence to assume that habit and employment—and inquired whether I had anything to mend? Suddenly a light flashed upon me, as though imparted by an invisible and unknown power. “Uncle,” said I, “I have unfortunately lost the key of this great chest, and sadly afraid my master will beat me; for God’s sake, try if you can fit it, and I will reward you.” The angelic tinker drew forth a large bunch of keys, and began to try them, while I assisted his endeavours with my feeble prayers; when lo, and behold! when least I thought it, the lid of the chest arose, and I almost fancied I beheld the divine essence therein in the shape of loaves of bread. “I have no money,” said I to my preserver, “but give me the key and help yourself.” He took some of the whitest and best bread he could find, and went away well pleased, though not half so well as myself. I refrained from taking any for the present, lest the deficiency might be noticed, and contented myself with the hope that, on seeing so much in my power, hunger would hardly dare to approach me.

My wretched master returned, and it pleased God that the offering my angel had been pleased to accept remained undiscovered by him. The next day, when he went out, I went to my farinaceous paradise, and, taking a loaf between my hands and teeth, in a twinkling it became invisible; then, not forgetting to lock the treasure, I capered about the house for joy to think that my miserable life was about to change, and for some days following I was as happy as a king. But it was not predestined for me that such good luck should continue long; on the third day symptoms of my old complaint began to show themselves, for I beheld my murderer in the act of examining our chest, turning and counting the loaves over and over again. Of course I dissimulated my terror, but it was not for want of my prayers and invocations that he was not struck stone-blind like my old master, but he retained his eyesight.

After he had been some time considering and counting, he said, “If I were not well assured of the security of this chest, I should say that somebody had stolen my bread; but, however, to remove all suspicion, from this day I shall count the loaves; there remain now exactly nine and a piece.”

“May nine curses light upon you, you miserable beggar,” said I to myself, for his words went like an arrow to my heart, and hunger already began to attack me, seeing a return to my former scanty fare now inevitable.

No sooner did the priest go out than I opened the chest to console myself even with the sight of food, and as I gazed on the nice white loaves a sort of adoration arose within me, which the sight of such tempting morsels could alone inspire. I counted them carefully to see if, perchance, the curmudgeon had mistaken the number; but, alas! I found he was a much better reckoner than I could have desired. The utmost I dared do was to bestow on these objects of my affection a thousand kisses, and, in the most delicate manner possible, to nibble here and there a morsel of the crust. With this I passed the day, and not quite so jovially as the former, you may suppose.

But as hunger increased, and more so in proportion as I had fared better the few days previously, I was reduced to the last extremity. Yet all I could do was to open and shut the chest and contemplate the divine image within. Providence, however, who does not neglect mortals in such an extreme crisis, suggested to me a slight palliation of my present distress. After some consideration, I said within myself, “This chest is very large and old, and in some parts, though very slightly, is broken. It is not impossible to suppose that rats may have made an entrance and gnawed the bread. To take a whole loaf would not be wise, seeing that it would be missed by my most liberal master, but the other plan he shall certainly have the benefit of.” Then I began to pick the loaves on some tablecloths which were there, not of the most costly sort, taking one loaf and leaving another, so that in the end I made up a tolerable supply of crumbs, which I ate like so many sugar-plums; and with that I in some measure consoled myself and contrived to live.

The priest, when he came home to dinner and opened the chest, beheld with dismay the havoc made in his store; but he immediately supposed it to have been occasioned by rats, so well had I imitated the style of those depredators. He examined the chest narrowly, and discovered the little holes through which the rats might have entered, and calling me, he said, “Lazaro, look what havoc has been made in our bread during the night.” I seemed very much astonished, and asked “what it could possibly be?” “What has done it?” quoth he; “why, rats; confound ‘em, there is no keeping anything from them.” I fared well at dinner, and had no reason to repent of the trick I played, for he pared off all the places which he supposed the rats had nibbled at, and, giving them to me, he said, “There, eat that; rats are very clean animals.” In this manner, adding what I thus gained to that acquired by the labour of my hands, or rather my nails, I managed tolerably well, though I little expected it. I was destined to receive another shock when I beheld my miserable tormentor carefully stopping up all the holes in the chest with small pieces of wood, which he nailed over them, and which bade defiance to further depredations. “Oh, Lord!” I cried involuntarily, “to what distress and misfortunes are we unhappy mortals reduced, and how short-lived are the pleasures of this our transitory existence. No sooner did I draw some little relief from the measure which kind fortune suggested, than it is snatched away; and this last act is like closing the door of consolation against me, and opening that of my misfortunes.”

It was thus I gave vent to my distress, while the careful workman, with abundance of wood and nails, was finishing his cruel job, saying with great glee. “Now, you rascals of rats, we will change sides, if you please, for your future reception in this house will be right little welcome.”

The moment he left the house I went to examine his work, and found he had not left a single hole unstopped by which even a mosquito could enter. I opened the chest, though without deriving the smallest benefit from its contents; my key was now utterly useless; but as I gazed with longing eyes on the two or three loaves which my master believed to be bitten by the rats, I could not resist the temptation of nibbling a morsel more, though touching them in the lightest possible manner, like an experienced swordsman in a friendly assault.

Necessity is a great master, and being in this strait, I passed night and day in devising means to get out of it. All the rascally plans that could enter the mind of man did hunger suggest to me, for it is a saying, and a true one, as I can testify, that hunger makes rogues, and abundance fools. One night, when my master slept, of which disposition he always gave sonorous testimony, as I was revolving in my mind the best mode of renewing my intimacy with the contents of the chest, a thought struck me, which I forthwith put in execution. I arose very quietly, and, taking an old knife which, having some little glimmering of the same idea the day previous, I had left for an occasion of this nature, I repaired to the chest, and at the part which I considered least guarded I began to bore a hole. The antiquity of the chest seconded my endeavours, for the wood had become rotten from age, and easily yielded to the knife, so that in a short time I managed to display a hole of very respectable dimensions. I then opened the chest very gently, and, taking out the bread, I treated it much in the same manner as heretofore, and then returned safe to my mattress.

The next day my worthy master soon spied my handiwork, as well as the deficiency in his bread, and began by wishing the rats at the devil. “What can it mean?” said he; “during all the time I have been here there have never been rats in the house before.” And he might say so with truth; if ever a house in the kingdom deserved to be free from rats, it was his, as they are seldom known to visit where there is nothing to eat. He began again with nails and wood, but when night came, and he slept, I resumed my operations, and rendered nugatory all his ingenuity.

In this manner we went on; the moment he shut one door, I opened another; like the web of Penelope, what he spun by day I unravelled by night, and in the course of a few nights the old chest was so maltreated that little remained of the original that was not covered with pieces and nailing. When the unhappy priest found his mechanical ability of no avail, he said, “Really, this chest is in such a state, and the wood is so old and rotten, that the rats make nothing of it. The best plan I can think of, since what we have done is of no use, is to arm ourselves within against these cursed rats.” He then borrowed a rat-trap, and baiting it with bits of cheese which he begged from the neighbours, set it under the chest. This was a piece of singular good fortune for me, for although my hunger needed no sauce, yet I did not nibble the bread at night with less relish because I added thereto the bait from the rat-trap. When in the morning he found not only the bread gone as usual, but the bait likewise vanished, and the trap without a tenant, he grew almost beside himself. He ran to the neighbours and asked of them what animal it could possibly be that could positively eat the very cheese out of the trap, and yet escape untouched. The neighbours agreed that it could be no rat that could thus eat the bait, and not remain within the trap, and one more cunning than the rest observed, “I remember once seeing a snake about your premises, and depend on it that is the animal which has done you this mischief, for it could easily pick the bait from the trap without entering entirely, and thus too it might easily escape.” The rest all agreed that such must be the fact, which alarmed my master a good deal.

He now slept not near so soundly as before, and at every little noise, thinking it was the snake biting the chest, he would get up, and taking a cudgel which he kept at his bed’s head for the purpose, began to belabour the poor chest with all his might, so that the noise might frighten the reptile from his unthrifty proceedings. He even awoke the neighbours with such prodigious clamour, and I could not get a single minute’s rest. He turned me out of bed, and looked amongst the straw, and about the blanket, to see if the creature was concealed anywhere; for, as he observed, at night they seek warm places, and not unfrequently injure people by biting them in bed. When he came I always pretended to be very heavy with sleep, and he would say to me in the morning, “Did you hear nothing last night, boy? The snake was about, and I think I heard him at your bed, for they are very cold creatures, and love warmth.” “I hope to God he will not bite me,” returned I, “for I am very much afraid.” He was so watchful at night that, by my faith, the snake could not continue his operations as usual, but in the morning, when the priest was at church, he resumed them pretty steadily as usual.

Looking with dismay at the damage done to his store, and the little redress he was likely to have for it, the poor priest became quite uneasy from fretting, and wandered about all night like a hobgoblin. I began very much to fear that, during one of these fits of watchfulness, he might discover my key, which I placed for security under the straw of my bed. I therefore, with a caution peculiar to my nature, determined in future to keep this treasure by night safe in my mouth; and this was an ancient custom of mine, for during the time I lived with the blind man my mouth was my purse, in which I could retain ten or twelve maravedies in farthings, without the slightest inconvenience in any way. Indeed, had I not possessed this faculty, I should never have had a single farthing of my own, for I had neither pocket nor bag that the old man did not continually search. Every night I slept with the key in my mouth without fear of discovery; but, alas! when misfortune is our lot, ingenuity can be of little avail.

It was decreed, by my evil destiny, or rather, I ought to say, as a punishment for my evil doings, that one night, when I was fast asleep, my mouth being somewhat open, the key became placed in such a position therein that my breath came in contact with the hollow of the key, and caused—the worst luck for me!—a loud whistling noise. On this my watchful master pricked up his ears, and thought it must be the hissing of the snake which had done him all the damage, and certainly he was not altogether wrong in his conjectures. He arose very quietly, with his club in his hand, and stealing towards the place whence the hissing sound proceeded, thinking at once to put an end to his enemy, he lifted his club, and with all his force discharged such a blow on my unfortunate head that it needed not another to deprive me of all sense and motion. The moment the blow was delivered he felt it was no snake that had received it, and, guessing what he had done, called out to me in a loud voice, endeavouring to recall me to my senses. Then, touching me with his hands, he felt the blood, which was by this time in great profusion about my face, and ran quickly to procure a light. On his return he found me moaning, yet still holding the key in my mouth, and partly visible, being in the same situation which caused the whistling noise he had mistaken for the snake. Without thinking much of me, the attention of the slayer of snakes was attracted by the appearance of the key, and drawing it from my mouth, he soon discovered what it was, for of course the wards were precisely similar to his own. He ran to prove it, and with that at once found out the extent of my ingenuity.

“Thank God,” exclaimed this cruel snake hunter, “that the rats and the snakes which have so long made war upon me, and devoured my substance, are both at last discovered.”

Of what passed for three days afterwards I can give no account, but that which I have related I heard my master recount to those who came there to see me. At the end, however, of the third day I began to have some consciousness of what was passing around me, and found myself extended on my straw, my head bound up and covered with ointment and plaisters.

“What is the meaning of all this?” I cried in extreme alarm. The heartless priest replied, “I have only been hunting the rats and the snakes, which have almost ruined me.” Seeing the condition in which I was, I then guessed what had happened to me. At this time an old nurse entered, with some of the neighbours, who dressed the wounds on my head, which had assumed a favourable appearance; and as they found my senses were restored to me, they anticipated but little danger, and began to amuse themselves with my exploits, while I, unhappy sinner, could only deplore their effects.

With all this, however, they gave me something to eat, for I was almost dying with hunger, and at the end of fourteen or fifteen days I was able to rise from my bed without danger, though not even then without hunger, and only half cured. The day after I got up my worthy and truly respectable master took my hand, and, opening the door, put me into the street, saying, “Lazaro, from this day look out for yourself; seek another master, and fare you well. No one will ever doubt that you have served a blind man, but for me, I do not require so diligent nor so clever a servant.” Then shaking me off, as though I was in league with the Evil One, he went back into his house and shut the door.

_Hurtado de Mendoza._ _Trans. Roscoe._

_A TAILOR WOULD FAIN LEARN OF GUZMAN TO WRITE HIS NAME, OR TO MAKE
FIRMA, OR MARK, AND THE REASON WHY._

It was my hap one day to bear in my basket, which I brought from the Shambles, a quarter of Mutton, for a certain Hosier, or Gentleman Tailor. I had by chance at that time about me, certain old Coplas, or Ballads, which in a kind of broken tune still, as I read this or t’other line, I fell a-singing, as I went along. My good Master having (as it should seem) listened unto me, looked back on the sudden, and smiling, said—

“How now, my tattered Rascal, a pox take you for a ragga-muffin. Can you read, you Rogue?”

“Yes, marry, can I, Sir,” quoth I. “I thank God I can read reasonable well, but my writing is better than my reading.”

“Sayst thou so, Boy?”

And with that he entreated me, that I would teach him to write his name, or to make some mark that might serve for a subscription, or undersigning. He cared not which, for either would serve his turn.

“I pray, Sir,” said I, “what good can this do you? What can you benefit yourself, by having learnt to make a bare mark and no more? Methinks you should have no great use for that alone, unless you could write too.”

“Yes, marry, have I, Sir,” quoth he, “for I have much work goes through these hands, of such and such great men, I make all the clothes their children wear” (and there, by the way, he reckons me up a beadroll of these and these Lords) “and therefore I would very fain, if I knew how, learn to write my Name, or to make my Mark, that if occasion were offered I might not be taken for an Ass, and say like a fool as I am when I am called to subscribe, ‘Indeed, Sir, you must pardon me, I cannot write.’”

And so this business broke off as abruptly, as it began. And I making a large soliloquium, and meditation to myself, went on.

“_Guzman d’Alfarache_,” _Mateo Aleman_ (_fl. 1609_).
_Trans. Mabbe._

_EPISODE OF THE OFFICIOUS PHYSICIAN._

(In Spain your physician’s fee is ordinarily two shillings; the better sort give four shillings; and the best seldom above a crown.)

Now methought I saw Heaven opened, and my honest Carrier appearing unto me in the shape of an Angel. His face was as joyful unto me, as that of the desired Physician is to him that is afflicted with sickness. I say, desired; because (as perhaps you may have heard) a Physician hath three faces: Of a man, when we see him, and have no need of him: of an angel when we are sick, and cannot be without him: and of a Devil, when at one and the self-same time our sickness, and our purse ends together, and yet for his private interest and to gain a fee, he follows us with daily visits. As it happened to a Gentleman in Madrid, who having sent for a physician, for a certain infirmity, wherewithal he was troubled, every visit that he made, gave him a crown. The humour ceased; but his physician was not in the humour to cease from coming unto him.

Now the Gentleman, when he saw that he was thorough well, and that his Physician did still continue his visits, he got him up one morning very early and went to Church.

Now, when the Physician came to visit him, and found him not at home, he asked his servant whither he was gone. He (like a fool as he was), for there are Servants still enow for their masters’ hurt, but few for their profit, told him, that he was gone forth to Mass to such a Church. My nimble Doctor, putting spurs to his Mule for to make the more haste, went with all speed to the said Church, and, searching for him, at last he found him; and then said unto him—

“What in God’s name, Sir, do you mean to commit so great an excess, as to go abroad without my leave?”

The Gentleman, who knew well enough what he came for, and seeing that now he had no more need of him, put his hand in his pocket, took out his purse, drew forth a crown, and putting it in his hand, told him, “Here, take it, master Doctor; for by the faith of a Gentleman, I now perceive even this sacred place cannot privilege me from you.”

_Mateo Aleman._ _Trans. Mabbe._

_OF THE PLEASANT LIFE GUZMAN LED AMONG HIS BRETHREN, AND AN ACCOUNT OF
HIS VISIT TO GAETA._

In the evenings we used to assemble, some ten or twelve of us, and amused ourselves with discussing the different kind of new exclamations we had hit upon, to rouse public sympathy in our behalf. Such was the skill of a few, that they had invented forms of benediction from which they derived considerable profit by the sale of them to other less ingenious heads than their own; so great was their novelty and efficacy with all classes.

On every festival we went early in the morning to church, where plenary indulgence was always granted us. We placed ourselves in the most convenient stations; we continued there the whole morning; and towards evening we issued forth into the neighbouring villages, calling at the country seats and farmhouses on our road. From these we usually brought away some slices of bacon, bread and cheese, eggs, and sometimes old clothes and other articles; so successfully did we work upon the charity of the good people. Did a person above the common rank happen to make his appearance, we instantly united in setting up a loud lamentation, even at a distance, giving him time to put his hand into his pocket, and vociferating louder and louder the nearer he came, so as to compel him in a manner to be charitable.

If we met a number of good citizens together, and had leisure to prepare to accost them in due form, each played his own part—one the _blind_, another the _halt_, a third the _dumb_, a fourth the _paralytic_, a fifth the _idiotic_, and some with crutches, making altogether a complication of human misery and distortion, which, with the most able at our head, was sure to penetrate into the pockets even of the callous. Could you but have heard the concord of sweet sounds we made at the crisis that decided the balance in our favour! We beseeched the Lord to bless them with lovely children—to return their bounty a hundred fold—and long to preserve their precious health. Not a party of pleasure could be got up, not a single festival pass, but we had some share in it; so that however much others expended we gained by them; and so acute was our scent that we could smell the preparation for them at an enormous distance.

In the same way the mansions of the cardinals, the bishops, and ambassadors, with all kind of open houses, were successfully besieged and occupied by us. Thus we might truly be said to possess all, levying as we did a tax upon all, though really having nothing. I know not how my comrades felt inclined on receiving charity from the hands of a pretty lady; but for my part, miserable sinner, when I accosted a young creature, enchanting both in face and figure, I looked her steadily in the face while I asked with my eyes fixed upon hers. If she gave me anything, I caught her hand, pressed it affectionately, and imprinted upon it a kiss in the fervour of my gratitude, before she had time to withdraw it. Yet so respectfully, or rather, hypocritically, was this done, that the lady, not being previously alarmed, took the whole in good part, as a transport of grateful joy.