with all the loose and knotted threads hanging from his clothes,
had more the appearance of an old goat than a man. His hat was
pulled down so far you couldn't see his face, his cheek was
resting on his hand, and one leg was lying on his sword, which
was in a half scabbard made of strips of cloth. He had his hat
cocked jauntily over one ear (there was no crown on it, so all
the hot air coming out of his head could evaporate). His jacket
was cut in the French style--so slashed there wasn't a piece big
enough to wrap a mustard seed in. His shirt was skin: you could
see it through the lattice work of his clothes. His pants were
the same material. As for his stockings, one was green and the
other red, and they barely covered his ankles. His shoes were
in the barefoot style: worn both up and down. By a feather sewn
in his hat, the way soldiers dressed, I suspected that he was, in
fact, a soldier.
With this thought in mind, I asked him where he was from and
where he was going. He raised his eyes to see who was asking,
and we both recognized each other: it was the squire I had served
under at Toledo. I was astonished to see him in that suit.
When the squire saw my look of amazement, he said: "I'm not
surprised to see how startled you are to see me this way, but you
won't be when I tell you what happened to me from that day I left
you in Toledo until today. As I was going back to the house with
the change from the doubloon to pay my creditors, I came across a
veiled woman who pulled at my cloak and, sighing and sobbing,
pleaded with me to help her out of the plight she was in. I
begged her to tell me her troubles, saying that it would take her
longer to tell them than for me to take care of them. Still
crying, and with a maidenly blush, she told me that the favor I
could do for her (and she prayed that I would do it) was to go
with her to Madrid where, according to what people had told her,
the man was staying who had not only dishonored her but had taken
all her jewelry without fulfilling his promise to marry her. She
said that if I would do this for her, she would do for me what a
grateful woman should. I consoled her as best I could, raising
her hopes by telling her that if her enemy were to be found
anywhere in this world, she would be avenged.
"Well, to make a long story short, we went straight to the
capital, and I paid her expenses all the way. The lady knew
exactly where she was going, and she led me to a regiment of
soldiers who gave her an enthusiastic welcome and took her to the
captain, and there she signed up as a 'nurse' for the men. Then
she turned to me, and with a brazen look said, 'All right,
fathead. Now push off!' When I saw that she had tricked me, I
flew into a rage, and I told her that if she were a man instead
of a woman I would tear her heart out by the roots. One of the
soldiers standing there came up and thumbed his nose at me, but
he didn't dare to strike me because if he had they would have had
to bury him on the spot.
'When I saw how badly that business was turning out, I left
without saying another word, but I walked out a little faster
than usual to see if any brawny soldier was going to follow me so
that I could kill him. Because if I had fought that first little
soldier boy and killed him (which I would have done, without any
doubt), what honor or glory would there have been in it for me?
But if the captain or some bully had come out, I would have
sliced more holes in them than there are grains of sand in the
sea. When I saw that none of them dared to follow me, I left,
very pleased with myself. I looked around for work, and since I
couldn't find any good enough for a man of my station, here I am
like this. It is true that I could have been a valet or an
escort to five or six seamstresses, but I would starve to death
before I'd take a job like that."
My good master finished by telling me that, since he hadn't been
able to find any merchants from his home town to lend him money,
he was penniless, and he didn't know where he was going to spend
the night. I caught his hint and offered to let him share my bed
and my supper. He called my hand. When we were ready to go to
sleep, I told him to take his clothes off the bed because it was
too small for so many varmints. The next morning, wanting to get
up without making any noise, I reached for my clothes--in vain.
The traitor had taken them and vanished. I lay in bed, thinking
I was going to die from pure misery. And it might have been
better if I had died because I could have avoided all those times
I was in agony later.
I started shouting, "Thief! Thief!" The people in the house
came up and found me naked as a jaybird, looking in every corner
of the room for something to cover myself with. They all laughed
like fools, while I was swearing like a mule driver. I damned to
hell that thieving bragger who had kept me up half the night
telling about all the splendor of himself and his ancestors. The
remedy that I took (since no one was giving me any) was to see if
I could use that hot-air merchant's clothes until God furnished
me with some others. But they were a labyrinth, with no
beginning or end to them. There was no difference between the
pants and the jacket. I put my legs in the sleeves and used the
pants as a coat, and I didn't forget the stockings: they looked
more like a court clerk's sleeves--loose enough to put his
bribes in. The shoes were like fetters around my ankles: they
didn't have any soles. I pulled the hat down over my head,
putting the bottom side up so it wouldn't be so grimy. I won't
say a word about the insects running all over me--either the
crawling infantry or the galloping cavalry.
In this shape I went to see my master, since he had sent for me.
He was astonished to see the scarecrow that walked in, and he
laughed so hard his rear tether let loose, and--royal flush. Out
of respect for him, I think we should pass over that in silence.
After a thousand unsuccessful attempts to talk, he asked me why I
was wearing a disguise. I told him, and the result was that
instead of pitying me, he swore at me and threw me out of his
house. He said that just as I had let that man come in and
sleep in my bed, one day I would let someone else in, and they
would rob him.
II. How Lazaro Embarked at Cartagena
By nature I didn't last very long with my masters. And it was
that way with this one, too, although I wasn't to blame. So
there I was, miserable, all alone, and in despair; and with the
clothes I was wearing everyone scoffed and made fun of me. Some
people said to me, "That's not a bad little hat you have, with
its back door. It looks like an old Dutch lady's bonnet."
Others said, "Your rags are certainly stylish. They look like a
pigsty: so many other fat little ones are in there with you that
you could kill and salt them and send them home to your wife."
One of the soldiers--a packhandler--said to me, "Mr. Lazarillo,
I'll swear to God your stockings really show off your legs.
And your sandals look like the kind the barefoot friars wear."
A constable replied, 'That's because this gentleman is going to
preach to the Moors."
They kept teasing and taunting me so much that I was nearly ready
to go back home. But I didn't because I thought it would be a poor
war if I couldn't get more than I would lose. What hurt me most was
that everyone avoided me like the plague. We embarked at Cartagena:
the ship was large and well stocked. They unfurled the sails,
and a wind caught them and sent the ship skimming along at a good
clip. The land disappeared from sight, and a cross wind lashed
the sea and sent waves hurling up to the clouds. As the storm
increased, we began losing hope; the captain and crew gave us up
for lost. Everyone was weeping and wailing so much I thought we
were at a sermon during Holy Week. With all the clamor no one
could hear any of the orders that were given. Some people were
running to one place, others to another: it was as noisy and
chaotic as a blacksmith's shop. Everyone was saying confession
to whoever they could. There was even one man who confessed to a
prostitute, and she absolved him so well you would have thought
she had been doing it for a hundred years.
Churning water makes good fishing, they say. So when I saw how
busy everyone was, I said to myself: If I die, let it be with my
belly full. I wandered down to the bottom of the ship, and there
I found huge quantities of bread, wine, meat pies, and
preserves, with no one paying any attention to them. I began to
eat everything and to fill my stomach so it would be stocked up
to last me till judgment day. A soldier came up and asked me to
give him confession. He was astonished to see how cheerful I was
and what a good appetite I had, and he asked how I could eat when
death was so near. I told him I was doing it so that all the sea
water I would drink when I drowned wouldn't make me sick. My
simplicity made him shake with laughter from head to foot. I
confessed a number of people who didn't utter a word with the
agony they were in, and I didn't listen to them because I was too
busy eating.
The officers and people of high rank escaped safely in a skiff,
along with two priests who were on board. But my clothes were so
bad that I couldn't fit inside. When I had my fill of eating, I
went over to a cask full of good wine and transferred as much as
I could hold into my stomach. I forgot all about the storm,
myself, and everything. The ship started to sink and the water
came pouring in as though it had found its home. A corporal
grabbed my hands and as he was dying he asked me to listen to a
sin he wanted to confess. He said he hadn't carried out a
penance he had been given, which was to make a pilgrimage to Our
Lady of Loreto, even though he had had many opportunities to do
it. And now that he wanted to, he couldn't. I told him that
with the authority vested in me, I would commute his penance, and
that instead of going to Our Lady of Loreto, he could go to
Santiago.
"Oh, sir," he said. "I would like to carry out that penance, but
the water is starting to come into my mouth, and I can't."
"If that's the way it is," I said, "the penance I give you is to
drink all the water in the sea."
But he didn't carry that out either because there were many men
there who drank as much as he did. When it came up to my mouth I
said to it: Try some other door, this one is not opening. And
even if it had opened, the water couldn't have gotten in, because
my body was so full of wine it looked like a stuffed pig. As the
ship broke apart a huge swarm of fish came in. It was as though
they were being given aid from the bodies on board. They ate the
flesh of those miserable people who had been overcome by a drop
in the ocean, as if they were grazing in the county pasture.
They wanted to try me out, but I drew my trustworthy sword and
without stopping to chat with such a low-class mob, I laid into
them like a donkey in a new field of rye.
They hissed at me: "We're not trying to hurt you. We only want
to see if you taste good."
I worked so hard that in less than half-a-quarter of an hour I
killed more than five hundred tuna, and they were the ones that
wanted to make a feast out of the flesh of this sinner. The live
fish began to feed on the dead ones, and they left Lazaro's
company when they saw it wasn't a very profitable place to be. I
found myself lord of the sea, with no one to oppose me. I ran
around from one place to another, and I saw things that were
unbelievable: huge piles of skeletons and bodies. And I found a
large number of trunks full of jewels and gold, great heaps of
weapons, silks, linens, and spices. I was longing for it all and
sighing because it wasn't back at home, safe, so that, as the
buffoon says, I could eat my bread dipped in sardines.
I did what I could, but that was nothing. I opened a huge chest
and filled it full of coins and precious jewels. I took some
ropes from the piles of them there and tied up the chest, and
then I knotted other ropes together until I had one I thought was
long enough to reach to the surface of the water. If I can get
all this treasure out of here, I thought to myself, there won't
be a tavernkeeper in the world better off than I'll be. I'll
build up my estate, live off my investments, and buy a summer
house in Toledo. They'll call my wife "Madam," and me they'll
call "Sir." I'll marry my daughter to the richest pastrycook in
town. Everyone will come to congratulate me, and I'll tell them
that I worked hard for it, and that I didn't take it out of the
bowels of the earth but from the heart of the sea. That I didn't
get damp with sweat but drenched as a dried herring. I have
never been as happy in my life as I was then, and I wasn't even
thinking about the fact that if I opened my mouth I would stay
down there with my treasure, buried till hell froze over.
III. How Lazaro Escaped from the Sea
I saw how near I was to death, and I was horrified; how near I
was to being rich, and I was overjoyed. Death frightened me, and
the treasure delighted me. I wanted to run away from the first
and enjoy the second. I tore off the rags that my master, the
squire, had left me for the services I had done him. Then I tied
the rope to my foot and began to swim (I didn't know how to do
that very well, but necessity put wings on my feet and oars on my
hands). The fish there gathered around to nip at me, and their
prodding was like spurs that goaded me on. So with them nipping
and me galloping, we came up to the surface of the water, where
something happened that was the cause of all my troubles. The
fish and I were caught up in some nets that some fishermen had
thrown out, and when they felt the fish in the nets they pulled
so mightily, and water began to flow into me just as mightily, so
that I couldn't hold out, and I started to drown. And I would
have drowned if the sailors had not pulled the booty on board
with their usual speed. What a God-awful taste! I have never
drunk anything that bad in my entire life. It tasted like the
archpriest's piss my wife made me drink once, telling me it was
good Ocana wine.
With the fish on board and myself as well, the fishermen began to
pull on the line and discovered the spool (as the saying goes).
They found me tangled up in the rope and were astonished, and
they said, "What sort of fish is this? Its face looks like a
man's. Is it the devil or a ghost? Let's pull on that rope and
see what he has fastened to his foot."
The fishermen pulled so hard that their ship started to sink.
When they saw the trouble they were in, they cut the rope, and at
the same time they cut off Lazaro's hopes of ever becoming one of
the landed gentry. They turned me upside down so I would empty
out the water I had drunk and the wine, too. They saw that I
wasn't dead (which was by no means the worst that could have
happened to me), so they gave me a little wine, and I came back
to life like a lamp with kerosene poured in. They asked me all
kinds of questions, but I didn't answer a word until they gave me
something to eat. When I got my breath back, the first thing I
asked them about was the shackles that were tied to my foot.
They told me that they had cut them to get out of the danger they
had been in. Troy was lost and so were all of Lazaro's great
desires: and right then his troubles, cares, and hardships began.
There is nothing in the world worse than to have fancied yourself
rich, on top of the world, and then to suddenly find yourself
poor and at the bottom of the ladder.
I had built my castles on the water, and it had sunk them all. I
told the fishermen what both of us lost when they had cut off my
shackles. They were so angry that one of them nearly went mad.
The shrewdest one said they should throw me back into the sea and
wait for me there until I came up again. They all agreed with
him, and even though I objected strongly, their minds were made
up: they said that since I knew the way, it would be easy for me
(as if I would be going to the pastry shop or the tavern!).
They were so blinded by their greed that they would have thrown
me out if my fortune (or misfortune) had not arranged for a ship
to come up to us to help carry back the fish. They all kept
quiet so that the others wouldn't find out about the treasure
they had discovered. But they had to leave off their evil plan
for the moment. They brought their boats to shore, and they
threw me back with the fish to hide me, intending to hunt for me
again when they could. Later, two of them picked me up and
carried me to a little hut nearby. One man who didn't know the
secret asked them what I was. They said I was a monster that had
been caught with the tuna. When they had me inside that
miserable pigsty, I begged them to give me some rags to cover my
naked body so I could be presentable.
You can do that," they said, "after you've settled your account
with the hostess."
At the time I didn't understand their gibberish. The fame of the
monster spread through the countryside, and many people came to
the hut to see me. But the fishermen didn't want to show me;
they said they were waiting for permission from the bishops and
the Inquisition and that, until then, it was entirely out of the
question. I was stupified. I didn't know what they were
planning, and so I didn't know what to say or do. The same thing
happened to me that happens to the cuckold: he is the last to
find out. Those devils cooked up a scheme that Satan himself
wouldn't have thought of. But that requires a new chapter and a
new look.
IV. How They Took Lazaro through Spain
Opportunity makes the thief. And when the fishermen realized
they had such a good opportunity, they grabbed it lock, stock,
and barrel. When they saw that so many people were gathering
around the new fish, they decided to win back what they had lost
when they cut the rope from my foot. So they sent word to the
ministers of the Inquisition, asking permission to show a fish
with a man's face through all of Spain. And when they offered
those gentlemen a present of the best fish they had caught, they
were given that permission immediately. Meanwhile, our friend
Lazaro was thanking God for having taken him out of the belly of
the whale. (And that was a great miracle since my ability and
knowledge were not very good, and I swam like a lead brick.)
Four of the fishermen grabbed hold of me, and they seemed more
like executioners--the kind that crucified Christ--than men.
They tied up my hands, and then they put a mossy wig and beard
on me, and they didn't forget the mustache: I looked like a
garden statue. They wrapped my feet in seaweed, and I saw that
they had dressed me up like a stuffed and trussed trout.
Then I began to groan and moan over my troubles, complaining
to fate or fortune: Why are you always pursuing me? I have
never seen or touched you, but if a man can tell the cause
by the effects, I know from my experience with you that
there is no siren, basilisk, viper, or lioness with her young
more cruel than you are. By flattery and caresses you lift
men up to the height of your riches and pleasures and then
hurtle them into the abyss of all their misery and calamities,
and their depths are as low as your favors were high.
One of those cutthroats heard my soliloquy, and with a rasping
voice he said to me, "If you say another word, Mr. Tunafish,
we'll salt you along with your friends, or we'll burn you as a
monster. The Inquisition," he continued, "has told us to take
you through the village and towns in Spain and to show you off to
everyone as a wonder and monster of nature."
I swore to them that I was no tuna, monster, or anything out of
the ordinary. I said that I was a man just like everyone else,
and that if I had come out of the ocean it was because I had
fallen into it along with the men who drowned while going to make
war on Algiers. But they were deaf men, and even worse, because
they didn't want to hear. When I saw that my begging was as
useless as the soap they use to wash an ass's head, I became
patient and waited for time--which cures everything--to cure my
trouble, knowing it all came from suffering through that damned
metamorphosis.
They put me in a barrel cut in half, made to look like a
brigantine. Then they filled it with water that came up to my
lips as I sat in it. I couldn't stand up because they had my
feet tied with a rope, and one end of it came out between the
mesh of that hairy mess of mine so that if I made so much as a
peep, they would make me hop and sink like a frog and drink more
water than a person with dropsy. I would keep my mouth closed
until I felt whoever was pulling on the rope let it go slack.
Then I would stick my head out like a turtle, and I learned by
what happened to my own.
They showed me like this to everyone, and so many people came to
see me (each one paying twenty coppers) that they made two
hundred pieces of silver in one day. The more money they made
the more they wanted, and they began to be very concerned about
my health so they could prolong it. They held a summit
conference and discussed whether or not they should take me out
of the water at night: they were afraid that with all the wet and
cold it might cut my life short, and they loved mine more than
their own (because of all the profit they were getting from
mine). They decided to keep me in the water all the time because
they thought the force of habit would change my nature. So poor
Lazaro was like a string of wet rice or the binding on a raft.
I leave to the dear reader's imagination what I went through in
this situation: here I was, a captive in this free land, in
chains because of the wickedness of those greedy puppeteers. The
worst part about it, and what tormented me most, was that I had
to pretend to be mute when I really wasn't. I wasn't even able
to open my mouth because the instant I did my guard was so alert
that without anyone being able to see him, he would fill me up
with water, afraid that I would talk.
My meals were dunked bread that the people who came to see me
threw in so they could watch me eat. So for the six months I
spent in that cooler I didn't get another damned thing to eat: I
was dying of hunger. I drank tub water, and since it wasn't
very clean it was all the more nourishing--especially because its
coldness gave me attacks of diarrhea that lasted me as long as
that watery purgatory did.
V. How They Took Lazaro to the Capital
Those torturers took me from city to town, from town to village,
from village to farm, happier than a lark with their earnings.
They made fun of poor Lazaro, and they would sing: "Hooray,
hooray for the fish. He earns our keep while we loaf."
My "coffin" was placed on a cart, and three men went along with
me: the mule driver, the man who pulled on the rope whenever I
tried to say anything, and the one who told all about me. This
last one would make a speech about the strange way they caught
me, telling more lies than a tailor at Eastertime. When we were
traveling and no one else was around, they let me talk, and that
was the only courtesy they showed me. I asked them who the devil
had put it in their heads to take me around like that, in a fish
bowl. They answered that if they didn't do it I would die on the
spot because, since I was a fish, I couldn't live out of water.
When I saw how their minds were set on the idea, I decided to be
a fish, and I finally convinced myself that I was one: after all,
everyone else thought that's what I was, and that the seawater
had changed me into one, and they say that the voice of the
people is the voice of God. So from then on I was as silent as a
man at mass. They took me to the capital, and there they really
made a lot of money. Because the people there, being idlers,
liked novelties.
Among all the people who came to see me there were two students.
They studied the features of my face very carefully, and then, in
a low tone, they said that they would swear on the Bible I was a
man and not a fish. And they said if they were the authorities
they would get at the naked truth by taking a leather strap to
our naked shoulders. I was praying to God with all my heart and
soul that they would do it, as long as they could get me out of
there. I tried to help them by shouting, 'You scholars are
right." But I hardly had my mouth open when my guard pulled me
under the water. Everyone's shouting when I ducked (or, rather,
when they dunked me) stopped those good scholars from going on
with their talk.