<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN>
<h1 title="THE LIFE OF LAZARILLO DE TORMES">THE LIFE OF<br/> LAZARILLO DE TORMES</h1>
<h3>PROLOGUE</h3>
<p class="ti0"><span class="smcap">I hold</span> 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.
<span class="sidenote">Reasons for<br/>relating all the<br
/>circumstances<br/>of his life.</span> 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 “<i>that there is
no book so bad that it does not contain something that is good</i>.”<SPAN id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</SPAN> 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.</p>
<p>If this were not so, very few would write<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[p. 2]</span> at all, for it cannot be done without hard
work.</p>
<p><span class="sidenote">Motives of authors<br/>not to gain
money,<br/>but to win fame.</span>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[p. 3]</span> 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.</p>
<p><span class="sidenote">Success<br/>of the poor<br/>should be a
lesson<br/>to the rich.</span>It seemed to him that he should not
begin in the middle, but quite at the beginning, 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.</p>
<hr class="chap0" />
<div class="chapter pt3" id="Ch_6">
<h2 class="nobreak">I</h2>
<p class="subh2">LAZARO RELATES THE WAY OF HIS BIRTH AND TELLS WHOSE SON HE IS</p>
</div>
<p class="ti0"><span class="smcap">Well!</span> 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,<SPAN id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</SPAN> a village
near Salamanca. My birth was in the river Tormes,<SPAN id="FNanchor_10"
href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</SPAN> for which reason I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[p. 5]</span> have the river for a surname,
and it was in this manner.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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<SPAN id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</SPAN> and
among the adventurers was my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[p.
6]</span> 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.</p>
<p><span class="sidenote">Death of Lazaro’s<br/>father, and his<br
/>mother goes<br/>into service.</span>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.<SPAN id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</SPAN> 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. <span class="sidenote">Flitting.</span>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[p.
7]</span> 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.</p>
<p><span class="sidenote">A swarthy<br/>stepfather and<br/>a little
brown<br/> brother.</span>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.”</p>
<p>It was our fate that the intimacy of the Zayde, for so they
called my stepfather, came to the ears of the steward. <span class="sidenote">The punishment<br/>for receiving<br/>and living
on<br/>stolen goods.</span>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[p. 8]</span> 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.</p>
<p>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, <span class="sidenote">Stolen<br/>horse-shoes.</span>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.</p>
<p>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. <span class="sidenote">Lazaro helps<br/>at the inn.Takes<br/>service
with<br/>a blind man.</span>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.</p>
<div class="figcenter mt3" id="p009">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[p. 9]</span></p>
<ANTIMG src="images/pb009.jpg" alt="Illustration" />
<p class="caption">
<span class="x_link"><SPAN href="images/pb009-g.jpg"><ANTIMG src="images/xpnd.jpg" alt="Enlarge" title="Enlarge" /></SPAN> </span>
<i>Lazarillo helps at the Inn.</i></p>
</div>
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