_The Goatherd's narrative._
"Three leagues from this valley there is a town, which, though small,
is one of the richest in these parts; and among its inhabitants was a
farmer of such an excellent character, that, though riches generally
gain esteem, he was more respected for his good qualities than for his
wealth; and his happiness was completed in possessing a daughter of
extraordinary beauty, discretion, and virtue. When a child she was
lovely, but at the age of sixteen she was perfectly beautiful, and her
fame extended over all the neighbouring villages,--nay, even spread
itself to the remotest cities, and into the palaces of kings! People
came from every part to see her, as some relic, or wonder-working
image. Her father guarded her, and she guarded herself; for no
padlocks, bolts, or bars, secure a maiden so well as her own reserve.
The wealth of the father, and the beauty of the daughter, induced many
to seek her hand, insomuch that he whose right it was to dispose of so
precious a jewel was perplexed, and knew not whom to select among her
importunate suitors. I was one of the number, and had indulged fond
hopes of success, being known to her father, born in the same village,
irreproachable in descent, in the bloom of youth, rich, and of no mean
understanding. Another of our village, of equal pretensions with
myself, solicited her also; and her father, being equally satisfied
with both of us, was perplexed which to prefer, and therefore
determined to leave the choice to Leandra herself--for so the maiden
is called: an example worthy the imitation of all parents. I do not
say they should give them their choice of what is improper; but they
should propose to them what is good, and leave them to select thence,
according to their taste. I know not which of us Leandra preferred;
this only I know, that her father put us both off by pleading the
tender age of his daughter, and with such general expressions as
neither bound himself nor disobliged us. My rival's name is Anselmo,
mine Eugenio; for you ought to know the names of the persons concerned
in this tragedy, the catastrophe of which, though still suspended,
will surely be disastrous.
"About that time there came to our village one Vincent de la Rosa, son
of a poor farmer in the same place. This Vincent had returned from
Italy and other countries, where he had served in the wars, having
been carried away from our town at twelve years of age by a captain
who happened to march that way with his company; and now, at the end
of twelve years more, he came back in a soldier's garb, bedizened with
a variety of colours, and covered with a thousand trinkets and
glittering chains. To-day he put on one piece of finery, to-morrow
another: but all slight and counterfeit, of little or no value. The
country-folks (who are naturally envious, and, if they chance to have
leisure, malicious too) observed, and reckoned up, all his trappings
and gew-gaws, and found that he had three suits of apparel, of
different colours, with hose and garters to them; but those he
disguised in so many different ways, and with so much contrivance,
that had they not been counted, one would have sworn that he had above
ten suits, and twenty plumes of feathers. Do not look upon this
description of his dress as impertinent or superfluous, for it is an
important part of the story. He used to seat himself on a stone-bench,
under a great poplar-tree in our market-place, and there he would hold
us all gaping and listening to the history of his exploits. There was
no country on the whole globe that he had not seen, nor battle in
which he had not been engaged. He had slain more Moors than are in
Morocco and Tunis; and fought more single combats, according to his
own account, than Gante, Luna, Diego Garcia de Paredes, and a thousand
others, from which he always came off victorious, and without losing a
drop of blood; at the same time he would shew us marks of wounds,
which, though they were not to be discerned, he assured us were so
many musket-shots, received in different actions. With the utmost
arrogance, he would 'thee' and 'thou' his equals and acquaintance, and
boast that his arm was his father, his deeds his pedigree, and that
under the title of soldier he owed the king himself nothing. In
addition to this boasting, he pretended to be somewhat of a musician,
and scratched a little upon the guitar, which some people admired. But
his accomplishments did not end here; for he was likewise something of
a poet, and would compose a ballad a league and a half in length on
every trifling incident that happened in the village.
"Now this soldier whom I have described, this Vincent de la Rosa, this
hero, this gallant, this musician, this poet, was often seen and
admired by Leandra from a window of her house, which faced the
market-place. She was struck with the tinsel of his gaudy apparel; his
ballads enchanted her; the exploits he related of himself reached her
ears--in short, as ill-luck would have it, she fell downright in love
with him before he had entertained the presumption of courting her;
and, as in affairs of love none are so easily accomplished as those
which are favoured by the inclination of the lady, Leandra and Vincent
soon came to a mutual understanding; and before any of her numerous
suitors had the least suspicion of her design, she had already
accomplished it, and left the house of her affectionate father, and
quitted the town with the soldier, who came off in this enterprise
more triumphantly than in any of those of which he had so arrogantly
boasted. This event excited general astonishment. Anselmo and I were
utterly confounded, her father grieved, her kindred ashamed, justice
alarmed, and the troopers of the holy brotherhood in full activity.
They beset the highways, and searched the woods, leaving no place
unexplored; and at the end of three days they found the poor giddy
Leandra in the cave of a mountain, stripped of all her clothes and the
money and jewels which she had carried away from home. They brought
her back to her disconsolate father; and being questioned, she freely
confessed that Vincent de la Rosa had deceived her, and upon promise
of marriage had persuaded her to leave her father's house, telling her
he would carry her to Naples, the richest and most delicious city in
the whole world. The imprudent and credulous girl said that, having
believed him, she had robbed her father, and given the whole to him on
the night of her elopement; and that he had carried her among the
mountains, and left her shut up in that cave.
"The same day that Leandra returned, she disappeared again from our
eyes, as her father placed her in the monastery of a neighbouring
town, in hopes that time might efface the remembrance of this untoward
event. Her tender years were some excuse for her fault, especially
with those who were indifferent as to whether she was good or bad; but
those who know how much sense and understanding she possessed, could
only ascribe her fault to levity, and the foibles natural to
womankind. When Leandra was gone, Anselmo and myself were blind to
every thing--at least no object could give us pleasure. We cursed the
soldier's finery, and reprobated her father's want of vigilance; nor
had time any effect in diminishing our regret. At length we agreed to
quit the town and retire to this valley, where we pass our lives
tending our flocks, and indulging our passion by praises,
lamentations, or reproaches, and sometimes in solitary sighs and
groans. Our example has been followed by many other admirers of
Leandra, who have joined us in the same employment; indeed we are so
numerous, that this place seems converted into the pastoral Arcadia;
nor is there a part of it where the name of our beautiful mistress is
not heard. One utters execrations against her, calling her fond,
fickle, and immodest; another condemns her forwardness and levity;
some excuse and pardon her; others arraign and condemn her; one
praises her beauty, another rails at her disposition: in truth, all
blame and all adore her--nay, such is the general frenzy, that some
complain of her disdain who never had spoken to her, and some there
are who bemoan themselves and affect to feel the raging disease of
jealousy, though, as I have said before, her fault was known before
her inclinations were suspected. There is no hollow of a rock, nor
margin of a rivulet, nor shade of a tree, that is not occupied by some
shepherd, lamenting to the winds. He who shews the least, though he
has the most, sense among us madmen, is my rival Anselmo, for he
complains only of absence; and to the sound of a rebec, which he
touches to admiration, pours forth his complaint in verses of
wonderful ingenuity. I follow another course; which is, to inveigh
against the levity of women, their inconstancy, and double-dealing,
their vain promises and broken faith, their absurd and misplaced
affections.
"This, gentlemen, gave rise to the expressions I used to the goat;
for, being a female, I despise her, though she is the best of all my
flock. I have now finished my story, which I fear you have thought
tedious; but I shall be glad to make you amends by regaling you at my
cottage, which is near, and where you will find new milk, good cheese,
and abundance of fruit."