We held on this ridiculous discourse till we came to Rejas, and went into an inn; but as we were alighting, he called out to me as loud as he could, to be sure first to form an obtuse angle with my legs, and then reducing them to parallel lines, to come perpendicularly to the ground. The landlord seeing me laugh, did so to, and asked me, “Whether that gentleman was an Indian, that he spoke in such a sort.” I thought I should have died with laughing between them; but he presently went up to the host, and said, “Pray, Sir, lend me a couple of spits to make two or three angles, and I will restore them immediately.” “Lord bless me, Sir,” answered the host, “give me the angles, and my wife will roast them in a trice, though they are a sort of birds I never heard the names of before.” “They are no birds,” replied the other; and turning to me, added, “Pray, Sir, do but observe the effects of ignorance. Let me have the spits, for I want them only to fence with, and perhaps you will see me do that to-day which may be worth more to you than all you have got in your life.” In fine, the spits were in use, and we were fain to take up with two long ladles. Never was anything so ridiculous seen in this world. He gave a skip, and said, “This sally gains me more ground, and puts by my adversary’s sword; now I make my advantage of the remiss motion to kill in the natural way; this should be a cut, and this a thrust.” He came not within a mile of me, but danced round with his ladle; now I standing still all the while, all his motions looked as if he were fencing with a pot that is boiling over the fire. Then he went on, saying, “In short, this is the true art, not like the drunken follies of fencing-masters, who understand nothing but drinking.” The words were scarce out of his mouth before a great he-mulatto stepped out of the next room, with a pair of whiskers like two brushes, a hat as big as an umbrella, a buff-doublet under a loose coat, bandy-legged, hook-nosed, and with two or three signs of the cross on his face, a dagger that might have served Goliath, and a hanging look, and said, “I am an approved master, and have my certificate about me, and by this light I’ll make an example of any man that dare presume to reflect upon so many brave fellows as profess the noble science.”[14] Seeing we were likely to be in a broil, I stept in, and said, “He had not spoken to him, and therefore he had no occasion to be affronted.” “Draw your sword, if you have ever a one,” added he, “and let us try who has most skill, without playing the fool with ladles.” My poor wretched companion opened his book, and cried aloud, “Here it is, as I say, in the book, and it is printed by authority; and I’ll maintain with the ladle that all it contains is true; or else without the ladle, either here, or upon any other ground; and if anybody does not believe it, let us measure it.” This said, he pulled out his compasses, and went on, “This is an obtuse angle.” The fencing-master drew his dagger, and replied, “I neither know who is angle, nor who is obtuse; nor did I ever hear such words before; but I’ll cut you in pieces with this dagger in my hand.” He ran at the poor devil, who fled from him amain, skipping about the house, and crying, “He cannot hurt me, for I have gained upon his sword.” The landlord and I parted them, with the help of other people that came in, though I was scarce able to stand for laughing. The honest madman was put into his chamber, and I with him. We supped, and all the house went to bed. About two of the clock he got up in his shirt, and began to ramble about the room, skipping and sputtering a deal of nonsense in mathematical terms. He waked me and not satisfied with this, went down to the landlord to give him a light, saying he had found a fixed object for the cross pass upon the bow. The landlord wished him at the devil for waking him; but still the other tormented him, till he called him a madman, and then he came up and told me, if I would rise I should see the curious fence he had found out against the Turks and their scimitars, and added, he would go show it to the king immediately, because it was very advantageous to Christendom. By this time it was day, we all got up and paid our shot. We reconciled the madman and the fencing-master, who went away, saying, “That what my companion alleged was good in itself, but it made more men mad than skilful at their weapon, because not one in a hundred understood the least part of it.”

CHAP. IX.

Of what Happened to me on the road to Madrid with a Poet.

I HELD on my journey to Madrid, and my mad companion went off to go another road; when he had gone a little way he turned back very hastily, and calling on me as loud as he could, though we were in the open where none could hear us, he whispered in my ear, “Pray, Sir, let me conjure you, as you hope to live, not to discover any of the mighty secrets I have acquainted you with, relating to the art of fencing, but keep them to yourself, since you are a man of sound judgment.” I promised so to do; he went his way again, and I fell a-laughing at the comical secret. I travelled about a league without meeting anybody, and was considering with myself how difficult a matter it was for me to tread the paths of virtue and honour, since it was requisite, in the first place, that I should hide the scandal of my parents, and then have so much worth myself as to conceal me from their shame. These thoughts seemed to me so honourable, that I congratulated myself on them, and said, “It will be much more honourable in me, who had none to learn virtue from, than in those who had it hereditary from their predecessors.” My head was full of these ideas, when I overtook a very old clergyman riding on a mule towards Madrid. We fell into discourse, and he asked me whence I came? I told him, from Alcalá. “God’s curse,” said he, “on those low people, since there was not one man of sense to be found among them.” I asked how could that be said of such a town, where there were so many learned men? He answered, in a great passion, “Learned! I’ll tell you how learned, Sir! I have for these fourteen years last past made all the songs and ballads and the verses for the bedels at Corpus Christi and Christmas, in the village of Majalahonda,[15] where I am reader; and those you call learned men, when I put up some of my works among the rest, at the public act, took no notice of mine. And that you may be sensible, good Sir, of the wrong they did me, I will read them to you;” and accordingly he began as follows:

Having read this admired piece, which was too long to remember any more of it, he proceeded: “Now, Sir, could the very inventor of doggerel himself have said any thing finer than this? Do but consider what a deal of mystery there is in that word Shepherds; it cost me about a month’s hard study.” I could no longer contain myself within bounds, for I was ready to burst, and so breaking out into a loud fit of laughter, I said, “It is most wonderful; but I observe you call great saint Corpus Christi, whereas Corpus Christi is not the name of a saint, but a festival instituted in honour of the blessed sacrament.” “That’s a pretty fancy,” replied he, scornfully, “I’ll show you him in the calendar, and he is canonized, and I’ll lay my head on it.” I could not contend any more with him for laughing at his unaccountable ignorance, but told him his verses deserved to be highly rewarded, for I had never seen anything more comical in my life. “No?” said he; “then pray hear a little of a small book I have written in honour of the eleven thousand virgins. I have composed fifty stanzas, of eight verses each, to every one of them; a most excellent piece.” For fear of being pestered with so many millions of his lines, I desired him to show me anything that was not godly; and then he began to recite a comedy, which had as many acts as there are days in a year. He told me he writ it in two days, and that was the rough draught, and might be about half a ream of paper. The name of it was Noah’s Ark; the whole represented by cocks and mice, asses, foxes, and wild boars, like Æsop’s fables. I extolled both the plot and the conduct; and he answered, “I ought not to commend it because it is my own, but the like was never made in the world, besides that it is altogether new; and if I can but get it acted, there will be nothing so fine. All the difficulty lies in that, for if it were not, could anything be so sublime and lofty? However, I have contrived to have it all acted by parrots, jackdaws, magpies, starlings, and all other sorts of birds as speak, and to bring in monkeys for the farce.” “That indeed will be very extraordinary,” answered I. “All this is nothing,” replied the old man, “to what I have done for the sake of a woman I love. Here are nine hundred and one sonnets, and twelve rondeaux”—as if he had been reckoning up pounds, shillings, and pence—“made in praise of my mistress’s legs.” I asked him whether he had ever seen them? He replied he had not, on his word as a priest, but that all his conceits were by way of prophecy. Though it was a diversion to hear his nonsense, I must confess I dreaded such a multitude of barbarous verses, and therefore endeavoured to turn off the discourse another way, telling him I saw hares. “Then,” cried he, “I’ll begin with one, in which I compare her legs to that creature.” Still to bring him off that subject, I went on, “Don’t you see that star, Sir, which appears by daylight?” “As soon as I have done with this,” replied he, “I will read you the thirtieth sonnet, where I call her a star, for you talk as if you were acquainted with my fancies.” It was such a vexation to me to find I could name nothing but what he had writ some nonsense upon, that I was all joy when I perceived we drew near Madrid, believing he would then give over for shame; but it proved quite contrary, for as soon as we came into the street, he began to raise his voice, to show what he was. I entreated him to forbear, lest if the boys should once get the scent of a poet, all the rotten oranges and cabbage stumps in the town should come after us, in regard the poets were declared madmen, in a proclamation set out against them, by one that had been of the profession, but recanted and took up in time. This put him in a great consternation, and he begged me to read it to him if I had it. I promised him so to do when we came to the lodging-house; and accordingly we went to one where he used to alight, and found at least a dozen blind ballad-singers at the door. Some knew him by the scent, and others by his voice, and all of them gave him a volley of welcomes. He embraced them all, and then some began to ask him for verses on the day of judgment in a lofty, bombastical style, that might provoke action; others would have commemorations for the departed; and so the rest, every one according to his fancy, giving him eight reals a-man earnest. He dismissed them, and said to me, “I shall make above three hundred reals of the blind men, and therefore, with your leave, Sir, I’ll withdraw for awhile now, to compose some lines, and after dinner we will hear the proclamation read, if you please.” Wretched life! for none are more miserable than those madmen that get their bread by such as are as mad as themselves.

CHAP. X.

Of what I did at Madrid, and what Happened to me on my way to Cerecedilla, where I passed the Night.

In regard that this sort of vermin, called poets, are our neighbours and Christians, though wicked ones, and considering they spend all their days in worshipping of eyes, mouths, noses, and old ribbons and slippers, besides many other abominable sins they are guilty of, we think fit to direct and ordain, that all common halfpenny poets be confined together against Easter, as lewd women are wont to be, and that care be taken to convince them of their evil practices, and to convert them; and to this purpose we do appoint monasteries of penitent poets.

Here the old poetaster was quite out of patience, and starting up in a fume, cried, “They had even as good rob us of all we have. Pray, Sir, let us have no more of it, for I design to reverse that judgment, and remove the cause, not to chancery, for that would be a wrong to my coat and dignity, but to the spiritual court, where I will spend all I am worth. It would be very pleasant that I, who am a churchman, should put up with that wrong. I will make it appear that an ecclesiastical poet’s verses are not liable to that proclamation, and to lose no time, I will go and prove it in open court immediately.” I could have laughed heartily at him, but for the more expedition, because it grew late, I said to him, “Sir, this proclamation is made only for diversion, and is of no force, nor binding, as having no lawful authority.” “A vengeance on it,” replied the old man, in a great heat, “you should have told me so much before, Sir, and might have saved me all this trouble. Do you consider what a thing it is for a man to have a stock of eight hundred thousand songs and ballads by him, and to hear such a decree? Proceed, Sir, and God forgive you for putting me into such a fright.” Then I went on thus:

Our poet was very well pleased with this decree, for he wore a cassock that was grey with age, and so ragged, that it was a wonder he could go about without dropping in pieces. His gown and other accoutrements were only fit to manure the ground, which made me smile. And I told him: It is further ordained, That all women, who fell in love with mere poets, should be reputed as desperate persons, who hang or drown themselves, and as such never be buried in hallowed ground. And considering the mighty crop of roundelays, sonnets, songs and ballads, these over-rank years have produced, we do ordain, that all parcels of them, which have escaped the grocers and tobacconists as unworthy those employments, be sent to the necessary houses, without any appeal allowed them.

All that heard the proclamation read were highly pleased, and begged copies of it; only the old man began to swear by his Bible, that it was a satire upon him, because of what it contained concerning the blind men, and that he knew what he did better than any man, and went on, saying, “Do not mistake me, I once lay in the same house with Liñan, and dined several times with Espinel, and was in Madrid as near Lope de Vega as to any man in the room, and have seen Don Alonso de Ercilla a thousand times, and have a picture at home of the divine Figueroa, and I bought the old breeches Padilla left off when he became a friar, which I still wear, though bad enough.” These were all old Spanish famous poets, with whom he pretended to be thus acquainted, as if the knowledge of them would have made his nonsense the more tolerable. At the same time he showed us the breeches, which set all the company into such a fit of laughing, that none of them cared to leave the lodging. But it was now two of the clock, and having to travel further, we left Madrid. I took my leave of him, though unwillingly enough, and travelled on towards the pass on the mountains.

It pleased God, to divert me from evil thoughts, that I met with a soldier; we fell into discourse. He asked me whether I came from the Court? I told him I only passed through the town. “It is fit for nothing else,” answered the soldier, “it is full of base people; by the Lord, I had rather lie at a siege up to the waist in snow, expecting a kind bullet, and half starved, than endure the insolencies they offer a man of honour.” I replied, he should consider that at Court there were people of all sorts, and that they made great account of any person of worth. He cut me off short, saying in a great passion, “Why, I have been this half year at Court, suing for a pair of colours, after twenty campaigns, and having shed my blood in the king’s service, as appears by these wounds.” And at the same time he showed me a scar half a quarter long on his groin, which was as plain a tumour as the light of the sun; and two seams on his heels, saying, they had been shots; but I concluded, by some I have of the same sort, that they had been chilblains broken. He pulled off his hat to show me his face, where appeared a long gash from ear to ear, and quite across his nose, besides other smaller cuts, that made it look like a mathematical draught, all of lines. “These,” said he, “I received at Paris, serving my God and my king, for whom I have had my countenance carved out and disfigured; and in return, I have received nothing but fair words, which are equivalent at present to foul actions. Let me entreat you, learned Sir, to read these papers; for, by heavens, a more remarkable man, I vow to God, never went into the field”; and he spoke truth, for he had marks enough to be known by. With this, he began to pull out tin-cases, and to show me a multitude of papers, which I believed belonged to another, whose name he had borrowed. I read them, and said a thousand things in his praise, pretending that neither the Cid nor Bernardo could compare with him. He laid hold of what I said in a passion, and cried, “To compare with me; by this light! no more can Garcia de Paredes, Julian Romero, nor others as great as they! Damn all they did, there was no cannon in their days. The devil take me, Bernardo would be a mere chicken now. Pray, Sir, do you but inquire in the Low Countries about the exploit performed by the person that wanted a tooth in front, and you will hear what they say of it.” “Are you the person, Sir?” said I. And he replied, “Why, who do you think it was? Do you not see here is a breach in my teeth? But let us talk no more of it, for it does not become a man to praise himself.” This discourse held us along till we overtook a hermit riding on an ass, with a long beard like a brush, lean, and clad in sackcloth. We saluted him as usual with the words Deo Gratias; and he began to extol the corn on the ground, and in it the mercies of God. The soldier immediately flew out, and said, “Father, I have seen pikes charged against me thicker than that corn; and I vow to God, I did all that man could do at the sacking of Antwerp, that I did by the Lord!” The hermit reproved him for swearing so much, and he answered, “It is a sign you were never a soldier, Father, since you reprove me for exercising my calling.” It made me laugh to hear what he made soldiery to consist in, and perceived he was some scoundrel, who knew little of that noble profession, but that infamous part most used by the scum of those that follow it.

We came at length to the pass in the mountains, the hermit praying all the way on a pair of beads so big, it was a load; and every bead he dropped sounded like a stroke with a mallet. The soldier compared the rocks to the forts he pretended to have seen, observed what place was strong, and where the cannon might be planted for battery. I had my eyes fixed on them both, and was as much afraid of the hermit’s monstrous beads as of the soldier’s extravagant lies. “How easily,” said he, “would I blow up a great part of this pass with gunpowder, and do all travellers good service.” Thus we came to Cerecedilla, and went into an inn all three of us, after night-fall; we ordered supper, though it was Friday, and in the meanwhile the hermit said, “Let us divert ourselves awhile, for idleness is the source of all vice. Let us play for Ave Marias;” and so saying, he dropped a pack of cards out of his sleeve. I could not but laugh at that pleasant sight, considering the great beads; but the soldier cried, “Let us have a friendly game as far as an hundred reals will go I have about me.” Being covetous, I said I would venture the like sum, and the hermit, rather than disoblige, consented, telling us he had about two hundred reals to buy oil for the lamp. I must confess I thought to have sucked up all his oil, but may the Turk always succeed as I did. We played at lanskenet, and the best of it was he pretended that he did not understand the game, and made us teach it him. He let us win for two deals, but then turned so sharp upon us, that he left us bare, and became our heir before we were dead. The dog palmed upon us so slily, it was a shame to see him; he would now and then let us draw a single stake, and then double it upon us. The soldier, every card he lost, let fly half a score oaths, and twice as many curses, wrapped up in blasphemies. For my part, I was eating my nails, whilst the hermit drew my money to him. He called upon all the saints in heaven, and in short left us penniless. We would have played on upon some little pledges, but when he had won my six hundred reals and the soldier’s hundred, he said that was only for pastime, and we were all brethren, and therefore he would not meddle any farther. “Do not swear,” said he, “for you see I have had good luck, because I prayed to God.” We believed him, as not knowing the sleight he had at packing the cards; the soldier swore he would never play again, and so did I. “A curse on it,” cried the poor ensign, for he then told me he was so; “I have been among Turks and infidels, but was never so stripped.” The good hermit laughed at all we said, and pulled out his beads again. Having never a stiver left, I desired him to treat me at supper, and pay for our lodgings till we came to Segovia, since he had cleared our pockets. He promised so to do, devoured threescore eggs, the like I never beheld, and said he would go take his rest. We all lay in a great hall among other people, all the rooms being taken up before. I lay down very melancholy. The soldier called the landlord, and gave him charge of his papers in the tin cases, and a bundle of tattered shirts, and so we went to sleep. The hermit made the sign of the cross, and we blessed ourselves from him.

He slept, and I watched, contriving how to get his money from him. The soldier talked in his sleep about his hundred reals, as if they had not been past retrieving. When it was time to rise, he called hastily for a light, which was brought, and the landlord gave the soldier his bundle, but forgot his papers. The poor ensign made the house ring, calling for his services. The landlord was amazed, and everybody pressing that he should give them, he ran out and brought three close-stools, saying, “There is one for each of you, would you have any more?” (For in Spanish, services is a polite word for a close-stool.) This had like to have spoiled all, for the soldier got up in his shirt, with his sword in his hand, and ran after the landlord, swearing he would murder him; because he made a jest of him, who had been at the battles of Lepanto, St. Quintin, and several others, and brought him close-stools instead of the papers he had given him. We all ran after to hold him, and could not, whilst the landlord cried, “Sir, you asked me for services; I was not bound to know, that in the language of soldiers, they gave that name to the certificates of their exploits.” At length we appeased them, and returned to our room. The hermit, fearing the worst, lay abed, pretending the fright had done him harm; however, he paid our reckoning, and we set out towards the mountain, very much disturbed at his behaviour towards us, and much more for that we had not been able to get his money from him.

We came up with a Genoese, I mean one of those bankers who help to drain Spain of all its money. He was going up the mountain, with a servant behind him, and an umbrella over his head, much like a rich usurer. We fell into discourse with him, and still he turned it to talk of money, for they are a people that seem born for nothing but the purse. He presently fell upon Besançon, and to argue whether it were convenient or no to put out money at Besançon. At last the soldier and I asked him what gentleman that was he talked of? He answered, smiling, “It is a town in Italy, where all the great money-dealers meet to settle the exchange and value of coin.” By which we understood that Besançon was the great exchange of usurers. He entertained us on the way, telling he was undone because a bank was broke in which he had above sixty thousand ducats; and swore by his conscience to all he said, though I am of opinion that conscience among traders is like a virtue among whores, which they sell though they have none. Scarce any trader has any conscience, for being informed that it has a sting, they leave it behind them with the navel-string when they come into the world. We held on our conversation till we spied the walls of Segovia, which was a great satisfaction to me, though the thoughts of what I had endured under the wicked Cabra, at the starving boarding-school, would have given a check to my joy. When I came to the town, I spied my father waiting upon the road, which brought tears to my eyes; but I went on, being much altered since I left the place, for I began to have a beard and was well clad. I parted from my company, and considering who was most likely to know my uncle besides the gallows, I could not imagine whom to apply myself to. I went up and asked several people for Alonso Ramplon, and nobody could give me any tidings of him, everyone said he did not know him: I was very glad to find so many honest men in my town. As I stood there, I heard the common crier set up his note, and after him my good uncle playing his part. There came a file of bareheaded fellows, naked to the waist, before my uncle, and he played a tune upon all their backs, going from the one to the other. I stood gazing at this sight, with a man I had been inquiring of, and told him I was a person of high birth; when I saw my uncle draw near, and he espying me, ran to embrace me, calling me nephew. I thought I should have died for shame; I never looked back to take leave of the man I was with, but went along with my uncle, who said to me, “You may follow till I have done with these people, for we are now upon our return, and you shall dine with me to-day.” I, being mounted on my mule, and thinking in that gang I should be but one degree less exposed than those that were whipped, told him I would wait there, and stepped a little aside, so very much out of countenance that had not the recovery of my inheritance depended on him, I would never more have spoken to him, or been seen in that place. He concluded his exercise, came back, and carried me to his house, where I alighted, and we dined.

CHAP. XI.

The kind Entertainment I had at my Uncle’s, the Visits I received; how I recovered my Inheritance and returned to Madrid.

MY worthy uncle was lodged near the slaughterhouse, at a water-seller’s house. We went in, and he said to me, “My lodging is not a palace, but I assure you, nephew, it stands conveniently for my business.” We went up such a pair of stairs that I longed to be at the top, to know whether there was any difference betwixt it and the ladder at the gallows. There we came into such a low room that we walked about as if we had been all full of courtesy, bowing to one another. He hung up the cat-of-nine-tails on a nail, about which there were others with halters, broad knives, axes, hooks, and other tools belonging to the trade. He asked me why I did not take off my cloak and sit down? I answered, “I did not use to do so.” I cannot express how much I was out of countenance at my uncle’s infamous profession, who told me it was lucky that I came at such a time, for I should have a good dinner, because he had invited some friends. As we were talking, in came one of those that beg money at the church-doors for the release of souls, in a purple gown down to his heels, and rattling his questing box, said, “I have got as much to-day by my souls as you have done by the rogues you flogged.” They made grimaces at one another; the wicked soul-broker tucked up his long robe, discovering a pair of bandy legs and canvas breeches, and began to shift about, asking whether Clement was come? My uncle told him he was not, when at the same time in came an acorn thresher—I mean a swineherd, wrapped up in a clout, with a pair of wooden shoes on. I knew him by his horn he had in his hand, which had been more fashionable had it been upon his head. He saluted us after his manner, and next to him

in came a left-handed squinting mulatto, with a hat that had brims like an umbrella and a crown like a sugar-loaf; his sword with more guards about it than at the king’s hunting; a buff-doublet; and a face as full of scars as if it had been made of patches stitched together. He sat down, saluting all the company, and said to my uncle, “By my troth, Alonso, Flat Nose and the Nailer have been well mauled to-day.” Up started he of the souls, and cried “I gave Flechilla, the hangman of Ocana, four ducats, to put on the ass apace and play with a slender cat-of-nine-tails, when I was fly-flapp’d there.” “By the Lord,” quoth the mulatto, “I was too kind to the dog Lobrezno at Murcia, for the ass went a snail’s gallop all the way, and the rogue laid them on so, that my back was all weals.” “My back is virgin still,” said the swineherd. “To every hog comes his Martinmas,” answered the beggar.[16] “I must say that for myself,” quoth my good uncle, “that of all whipsters I am the man, who am true and trusty to these that bespeak me; these to-day gave me five crowns, and they had a parcel of friendly lashes with the single cat-of-nine-tails.” I was so much out of countenance to see what good company my uncle kept, that my blushes betrayed me, and the mulatto perceiving it, said, “Is this reverend gentleman the person that suffered the other day, and had a certain number of stripes given him?” I answered, “I was none of those that suffered as they had done.” With this my uncle started up, and said, “This is my nephew, a graduate at Alcalá, and a great scholar.” They begged my pardon, and made tenders of great friendship.

I was quite mad to eat my dinner, receive what was due, and get as far as I could from my uncle. The cloth was laid, and the meat drawn up in an old hat, as they draw up the alms that is given in prisons. It was dished up in broken platters, and pieces of old crocks and pans, being dressed in a stinking cellar, which was still more plague and confusion to me. They sat down, the beggar at the upper end, and the rest as it fell out. I will not tell what we ate, but only that they were all dainties to encourage drinking. The mulatto, in a trice, poured down three pints of pure red. The swineherd seeing the cup stand at me, still whipt it off, pledging more healths than we spoke words; no man called for water, or so much as thought of it. Five good meat pasties were served up; they raised the crusts, and taking a holy-water sprinkler, said a short prayer for the soul to whom the flesh belonged. Then said my uncle, “You remember, nephew, what I wrote to you about your father; it now comes afresh into my mind.” They all ate, but I took up only with the bottoms, and ever since then I have retained the custom of saying a prayer for the soul departed when I eat meat pies. The pots went round without ceasing, and the mulatto and the beggar plied it so hard, that a dish of scurvy sausages, looking like fingers of blacks cut off, being set upon the table, one of them asked what they meant by serving up dressed charcoal? My uncle by this time was in such a condition, up to the throat in wine, with one eye almost out and the other half drowned, that laying hold of one of the sausages, in a hoarse and broken voice, he said, “By this bread, which is God’s creature, made to his own image and likeness, I never ate better black meat, nephew.” It made me laugh with one side of my mouth, and fret with the other, to see the mulatto, stretching out his hand, lay hold of the salt-dish, and cry, “This pottage is hot;” and at the same time the swineherd took a whole handful of salt, and clapping it into his mouth, said, “This is a pretty provocative for drinking.” After all this medley there came some soup, so orderly was our entertainment. The beggar laying hold of a porringer with both hands, cried, “God’s blessing on cleanliness;” and instead of clapping of it to his mouth, laid it to his cheek, where he poured it down, scalding his face and washing himself in grease from head to foot, in a most shameful manner. Being in this miserable plight, he tried to get up, but his head being too heavy, he was fain to rest with both his hands upon the table, which was only a board set upon two tressels, so that it overturned and begrimed all the rest; and then he cried that the swineherd had pushed him. The swineherd seeing the other fall upon him, scrambled up, and laying hold of his horn trumpet, beat it about his ears. They grappled and clung so close together that the beggar set his teeth in the swineherd’s cheek, and both of them rolling on the ground, made such a wambling in the swineherd’s belly, that he cast up all he had ate and drunk in the beggar’s face. My uncle, who was the soberest of all the company, asked who had brought so many clergy into the house? Perceiving that they all looked through multiplying glasses, I parted the two combatants, made them friends, and helped up the mulatto, who lay on the ground maudlin drunk, and weeping bitterly. I laid my uncle on his bed, who made a low bow to a tall wooden candlestick he had, thinking it had been one of his guests. Next I took away the swineherd’s horn, but there was no silencing him after all the rest were asleep; he was still calling for his horn, and said, “No man ever could play more tunes on it, and he would now imitate the organ.”

In short, I never left them till they were all fast asleep; then I went abroad, and spent the afternoon in seeing the town; I passed by Cabra’s house, and heard he was dead, but never asked of what distemper, knowing he could die of none as long as it was possible to starve. At night I returned home, full four hours after I had gone out, and found one of the company awake, crawling about the room on all-four to find the door, and complaining he had lost the house. I raised him up, and let the rest sleep till eleven at night, when they awaked of themselves, stretching and yawning. One of them asked, “What a clock it was?” The swineherd, who had not laid half his fumes, answered, “It was still afternoon, and the weather piping hot.” The beggar, as well as he could speak, asked for his cloak, saying, “The distressed families had been long neglected, the whole care of their souls lying upon his hands;” and thinking to go to the door, he went to the window, where seeing the stars, he cried out to the others, telling them, “That the sky was hill of stars at noonday, and there was a mighty eclipse.” They all blessed themselves, and kissed the ground. Having observed the villainy of the beggar, I was much scandalized, and resolved to take heed of that sort of men. The sight of all these abominable practices made me the more impatient to be among gentlemen and persons of worth. I got them all away one by one, the best I could, and put my uncle to bed, who, though not foxed, was drunk enough, and made the best shift I could myself, with my own clothes, and some of the poor departed souls’ that lay about the room. Thus we passed the night, and in the morning I discoursed my uncle about seeing my inheritance and taking possession of it, telling him I was quite tired, and knew not with what. He stretched one leg out of bed, and got up; we had much talk concerning my affairs, and I had enough to do with him, he was so tipsy and dull. At length I prevailed with him to tell me of part or my inheritance, though not all; and so he told me of three hundred ducats my worthy father had got by sleight of hand, and left them in custody of a decent woman, that was the receiver of all that was stolen for ten leagues round the country. To be short, I received and pouched my money, which my uncle had not yet drank out, nor consumed; and that was very much, considering he was such a brutal man; but the reason was, he thought it would serve me to take my degrees, and, with a little learning, I might come to be a cardinal, which to him seemed no difficult matter. When he understood I had the money, he said to me, “My child, Pablo, it will be your own fault if you do not thrive and are not a good man since you have a good example before you. You have got money, and I will always be your friend, for all I have and all I earn is yours.” I returned him thanks for his kind offers. We spent the day in extravagant talk, and in returning visits to the aforesaid persons. They passed the afternoon playing at knuckle-bones, the same company—my uncle, the swineherd, and the beggar, this last squandering the money of the poor at a villainous rate. It was wonderful to see how dexterous they were at it, catching them up in the air and shaking them up as they fell on the wrist. Night came on, the guests went away, and my uncle and I to bed, for he had now got me a quilt. When it was day, I got up before he was awake, and went away, without being perceived, to an inn, locking the door on the outside, and thrusting in the key at a cranny. I went away, as I have said, to an inn, to hide myself, and wait the next opportunity to go to Madrid. I left him a letter sealed up in the room, wherein I gave an account of my departure, and the reasons that moved me so to do, desiring he would make no inquiry after me, for I would never see him more.

CHAP. XII.

Of my flight from Segovia, with what Happened to me by the Way to Madrid.

“Since it has pleased God to show me such signal mercies, as to take away my good father, and to order my mother to be conveyed to Toledo, where I know the best that can come of her is to vanish away in smoke; all I could wish for at present would be to see you served as you serve others. I design to be singular in my family, for I can never make more than one, unless I fall under your hands, and you carve me up as you do others. Do not inquire after me, for I am in duty bound to deny the kindred that is between us. Serve God and the king.”

It is impossible to express how, in all likelihood, he railed and swore at me; but let us leave him there, and return to my journey. I was mounted on a dappled ass of La Mancha, and wished with all my heart that I might meet nobody; when on a sudden I discovered at a distance a gentleman going a-pace, with his cloak hanging on his shoulders, his sword by his side, close breeches, and boots on, altogether, to outward appearance, genteel enough, with a clean starched band, and his hat on one side. I conceived he was some man of quality that was walking, and had left his coach behind him; and accordingly, when I came up, I saluted him. He looked at me, and said, “It is very likely, good Sir, that you travel more easy on that ass than I do with all my equipage.” Imagining he had meant his coach and servants he left behind, I answered, “In troth, Sir, I reckon it more easy travelling than in a coach, for though there is no dispute that you go very easily in that you have left behind you, yet the jolting of it is troublesome.” “What coach behind?” replied he, much disturbed, and turning short to look about him, the sudden motion made his breeches drop down, for it broke the one point he had to hold them up; and though he saw me ready to burst with laughing, he asked to borrow one of me. Perceiving he had no more shirt than would come within the waistband of his breeches, and scarce reach to acquaint his breech he had any, I replied, “As I hope for mercy, Sir, you had best wait till your servants come up, for I cannot possibly assist you, having but one single point to hold up my own breeches.” “If you are in jest, Sir,” quoth he, holding his breeches in his hands, “let it pass, for I do not understand what you mean by servants.” With this he went on, and was so plain in letting me know he was poor, that before we had gone half a league together, he owned he should never be able to get to Madrid, unless I would let him ride upon my ass awhile, he was so tired with walking with his breeches in his hands, which moved me to compassion, and I alighted. He was so encumbered with his breeches, that I was fain to help him up, and was much surprised at what I discovered by my feeling; for behind, as far as was covered with the cloak, the hinder parts had no other fence against the eyes and the air. He, being sensible of the discovery I had made, very discreetly prevented what reflection I might make by saying, “All is not gold that glitters, Sir Licentiate,” giving me that title on account of my long scholar’s robe; “no doubt but when you saw my fine starched band, and the show I made, you fancied I was the Lord knows who.[17] Little do you think how many fine outsides are as bare within as what you felt.” I assured him upon my word that I had conceited much different matters from what I found. “Why then, Sir,” replied he, “let me tell you, all you have seen as yet is nothing, for everything about me is remarkable, and no part of me is truly clad. Such as you see me, I am a real substantial gentleman, of a good family and known seat on the mountains; and could I but feed my body as I keep my seat and gentility, I should be a happy man. But as the world goes, good Sir, there is no keeping up noble blood without bread and meat, and, God be praised, it runs red in every man’s veins; nor can he be a worthy person who is worth nothing.[18] I am now convinced of the value of a good pedigree, for being ready to starve one day, they would not give a chop of mutton in the cook’s-shop for mine; for they said it was not flourished with gold letters; but the leaf gold on pills is more valuable, and few men of letters have any gold. I have sold all to my very burial-place, that nothing may be called mine when I am dead, for my father Toribio Rodriguez Vallejo Gomez de Ampuero y Jordan lost all he had in the world by being bound for others. I have nothing now left to sell but the title of Don, and I am so unfortunate, that I can find nobody that has occasion for it, because there is scarce a scoundrel now but usurps it.” Though the poor gentleman’s misfortunes were intermixed with something that was comical, I could not but pity him, asked his name, whither he was going, and what to do? He answered with all his father’s names, Don Toribio Rodriguez Vallejo Gomez de Ampuero y Jordan. Never did I hear such an empty sounding jingling name, or so like the clattering of a bell, as beginning in Don and ending in dan. He added, he was going to Madrid, because a threadbare elder brother, as he was, soon grew tainted and mouldy in a country town, and had no way to subsist; and therefore he was going to the common refuge of distressed persons, where there is room for all, and open house kept for wandering spongers: “And I never want five or six crowns in my pocket,” said he, “as soon as I am there, nor a good bed, meat, and drink, and sometimes a forbidden pleasure; for a good wit at Court is like the philosopher’s stone, which converts all it touches into gold.” This to me was the most welcome news I had ever heard; and therefore, as it were to divert the tediousness of our journey, I desired him to inform me how, and by whom, he, and others in his condition, could live at Court; for to me it appeared a very difficult matter, because everyone there seemed so far from being contented with his own, that he aimed at what belonged to others. “There are many of all sorts,” replied my spark, “but flattery is like a master-key, which introduces a man wheresoever he pleases, in such great places; and that you may not think strange of what I say, do but listen to my adventures and contrivances, and you will be convinced of the truth of it.”

CHAP. XIII.

In which the Gentleman pursues his Journey, and his promised Tale of his Life and Condition.

THE first thing you are to observe is, that at Court there are always the wisest and the weakest, the richest and the poorest, and the extremes of all other sorts. There the virtuous are concealed, and the wicked not taken notice of; and there live a sort of people like myself, who are not known to have any estates, real or personal, nor does it appear whence they came, or how they live. Among ourselves we are distinguished by several names, some are called gentlemen-mumpers, others sharpers, others pinchguts, others barebones, and others commoners; but in general we live by our wits. For the most part, we cheat our guts of their due, for it is a very dangerous and troublesome thing to live upon others. We are scarecrows at all good tables, the terror of cook-shops, and always unbidden and unwelcome guests, living like chameleons by the air, and so contented. When we happen to dine upon a leek, we strut and look as big as if stuffed with capon. Whosoever comes to visit us, never fails to find mutton and fowl bones, and parings of fruit about the house, and the doors strewed with feathers and young coney skins; all which we pick up over night, about the streets, to credit us the next day. As soon as the friend comes in, we fall into a passion, and cry, ‘It is a strange thing that I can never make this maid sweep the room in time. Good Sir, excuse me, for I have had some friends at dinner, and these servants never mind their business,’ &c. Such as do not know us believe it, and think we have had an entertainment. Next, as for dining at other men’s houses, whensoever we have spoke but three words with a man, we take care to know where he lives, thither we are sure to make just at eating-time, when we know he is at table; we tell him his conversation has so charmed us, that we are not able to keep away, for he is the most taking person in the world. If he asks whether we have dined, and they have not yet begun, we answer in the negative. If they invite us, we never stay to be asked twice, because those ceremonies have often made us go with hungry bellies. If they have begun to eat, we say we have dined, and then, though the master of the house carves up his fowl, or any joint of meat never so dexterously, that we may have the opportunity of chopping up a mouthful or two, we cry, ‘By your leave, Sir, pray let me have the honour of being your carver, for I remember (naming some duke or earl that is dead, God rest his soul), used to take more delight in seeing me carve than in eating.’ This said, we lay hold of the knife, cut out curious bits, and say, ‘How deliciously it smells! It would be an affront to the cook not to taste it; what a delicate hand she has at seasoning!’ With this we fall on, and down goes half the meat in the dish for a taste. If there be bacon, we call it our delight; if mutton, the only thing we love; if but a turnip, an excellent morsel; and so everything that comes in our way is ever the thing that we most admire. If all this fails, we are sure of the alms of some monastery, which we do not receive in public among the beggars, but privately, endeavouring to persuade the friars that we rather take it out of devotion than for want.

“It is pleasant enough to see one of us in a gaming-house, how diligently he attends, snuffs the candles, reaches the pots, fetches cards, applauds all the winner says, and all this for a poor real or two he gives him. We carry in our mind the whole inventory of our wardrobe or ragshop, in order to dress us; and as in some places they observe set times for prayer, so do we for mending and botching. It is wonderful to see what variety of rubbish we lay up, and produce upon occasion. We look upon the sun as our mortal enemy, because he discovers our darns, stitches, and patches; and yet are forced to be beholden to him, standing up with our legs wide open in the morning where he shines in, to discover by the shadows on the ground what shreds or rags hang between our legs, and then with a pair of scissors we trim the breeches. Now that part betwixt the thighs being so apt to wear, it is very odd to observe what gaps we make behind to fill up the forepart, so that very often the posteriors are hacked away till they remain quite naked. Only the cloak is privy to this secret, and therefore we are very cautious of windy days, and of going upstairs that are light, or mounting a-horseback. We make it our business to study postures against the light; and if it prove a very bright day, we walk with our legs as close as may be, and sit as if our knees were clung together, for fear lest we open them the gashes may appear. There is nothing about us but what has been another thing before, and may have a particular history writ of it; as for instance, you see this waistcoat. Sir, it was once a pair of wide-kneed breeches, grandchild to a short cape, and great-grandchild to a long mourner’s cloak, which was its first parent, and now it waits to be converted into footing for stockings, and forty other things. Our socks were once handkerchiefs, descended from towels, which had been shirts, and those the issue of sheets; after all this, they are made into paper, on which we write, and at last burn to make blacking for our shoes, where I have seen it perform wonders, recovering many a pair that was condemned as only fit for the dunghill. At night we never fail to get at the greatest distance we can from the light, for fear of discovering our threadbare cloaks and woolless coats, for there is no more nap on them than is upon a stone; and though it pleases God to give us hair on our faces, we have none on our clothes; and therefore, to save the expense of a barber, we always contrive to stay till two of us want trimming together, and then we scrape one another, following the advice of the gospel, ‘Be helpful to one another, like loving brethren.’ Besides, we always take care not to intrude into the houses of others, for everyone keeps his own and timely notice is given to avoid contention, being very jealous in the point of eating. It is an indispensable duty among us to ride about all the great noted streets once a quarter, though it be on an ass-colt, and once a year to go in a coach, when we are sure to sit as close to the door as possible, thrusting out our heads, bowing to all that pass by to be seen, and talking to our friends and acquaintance, though they do not see or mind us. If any unmannerly creature happens to bite us before ladies, we have ways to scratch in public, without being taken notice of; for if it happened to be on the thigh, we tell a story of a soldier we saw had a shot through there, clapping our fingers on the place that itches, and clawing instead of pointing. If it is in the church, and they sting on our breasts, we beat them by way of devotion, though it be at a christening; for the back, we lean against a pillar or wall, and rub it there, as if we only stood up to observe something. To deal ingenuously, as to the matter of lying, not one word of truth ever comes out of our mouths. In all companies we run over a bead-roll of dukes and counts, making some of them our friends, and others our relations, always observing that those great men must be either dead or very remote. The best of all is that we never fall in love, unless it be to earn our bread; for by our constitutions, coy ladies, though never so beautiful, are absolutely forbidden; so that we ever court a tripe-man for our meat, the landlady for our lodging, the starcher for our band and other necessaries; and though such slender diet makes us unfit to satisfy them all, yet we keep them in good humour. Will anybody that sees the boots on my legs believe they are upon the bare skin, without any stockings? Or will any one that sees my curious starched band imagine I have no shirt? Let me tell you, Sir, a gentleman may make a shift without those things, but there is no living for him without a set starched band. This is an outward ornament, altogether necessary to grace a man; and besides, when he has turned it and wound it every way, the starch in it will make him a mess as good as watergruel. In short, reverend Sir, a gentleman of our stamp must go through all sorts of wants and hardships, and that is the way to live at Court. Sometimes he flourishes and rolls in plenty, and at another time he falls into an hospital; but still he lives; and he who knows how to manage is a king, though he has never so little.”

BOOK II.

CHAP. I.

Of what happened to me at my coming to Madrid as soon as I arrived there, until Nightfall.

WE got to Madrid at ten o’clock in the morning, and went lovingly together by consent to the house where Don Toribio’s friends lived. A very old woman miserably clad opened the door; he inquired for his friends, and she answered, they were gone out a-seeking. We continued by ourselves until noon, diverting the time, he encouraging me to follow the sponging course of life, and I listening carefully to his advice. Half an hour after twelve in came a scarecrow, clad in black baize down to his heels, more threadbare than his conscience. They talked to one another in the thieves’ cant, the result whereof was his embracing me and offering his service. We discoursed awhile, and then he pulled out a

glove, in which were sixteen reals, and a letter, by virtue of which he had collected that money, pretending it was a licence to beg for a woman in distress. He took the money out of the glove, drew another to it out of his pocket, and folded them together as physicians do. I asked him why he did not wear them? And he answered, because they were both for one hand, and that way they served as well as if they had been fellows. All this while I observed he did not let go his cloak, which was wrapped about him; and, being but a novice, for my better information took the liberty to inquire why he still hugged himself up so close in his cloak? He replied, “My friend, there is a great rent down my back, made up with a patch of old stuff, besides a great spot of oil; this piece of a cloak hides all, and thus I can appear abroad.” At length he unwrapped himself, and under his cassock I perceived a great bulk sticking out, which I took to have been trunk-breeches, for it looked like them, until he, going in to louse himself, tucked up his coats, and I perceived there were only two hoops of pasteboard tied to his waist, and joined to his thighs, which stuck out under his mourning, for he wore neither shirt nor breeches, but was so naked that he had scarce anything to lose. He went into the lousing room, and turned a little board that hung at the door, on which was written, “One is lousing,” that no other might go in until he had done. I blessed God with all my heart to see how he had provided for men, giving them ingenuity if they wanted riches. “For my part,” said my friend, “I have something the matter with my breeches with travelling, and therefore must withdraw to mend.” He asked whether there were any rags? The old woman, who gathered them twice a week about the streets, as the rag-women do for the paper mills, to cure the incurable diseases of those gentlemen, answered there were none; and that Don Lorenzo Yñiguez del Pedroso had kept his bed a fortnight for want of them, being bad of his coat. At this time in came one booted, in a travelling garb, a grey suit, and a hat bridled up on both sides. The others told him who I was, and he, saluting me very lovingly, laid down his cloak; and it appeared—who would imagine it?—that the fore part of his coat was of grey cloth, and the back of white linen, well stained with sweat. I could not forbear laughing, and he very demurely said, “You’ll come into action, and then you won’t laugh; I’ll lay a wager you don’t know why I wear my hat with the brims bridled up.” I answered, “Out of gallantry, and that they may the better see your face.” “That’s your mistake,” said he, “I do it to prevent them seeing; it is because I have no hatband, and this hides it.” This said, he pulled out about twenty letters, and as many reals, saying, he could not deliver those. Everyone was marked a real postage, and they were all folded alike. He signed any name that came into his head, writ news of his own making, and delivered them in that habit to people of fashion, receiving the postage, which he practised once a month; all which to me was very amazing.

Next came two others, one of them with a cloth coat, reaching but half way down his wide Walloon trunks, and a cloak of the same, with his band ruffled up to hide the lining, which was rent. The breeches were of camlet, but only as far as appeared, for all the rest was of red baize. This man was jangling and wrangling with the other, who wore a ruff for want of a band, a hanging coat for want of a cloak, and went upon a crutch, with one leg bound up in rags and furs, because he had but one stocking. He pretended to be a soldier, and had been so, but a scurvy one and in peaceful regions, and by the privilege of a soldier intruded into any house. He in the coat and half breeches cried, “The one half, or at least a considerable part, is due to me; if you do not give it me, I swear to God——” “Do not swear to God,” replied the other, “for I am not lame at home, and if you prate, I’ll lay this crutch about your ears.” “You shall give it.” “I shall not give it.” So they came to high words, and gave one another the lie; then falling to blows, the clothes in a moment flew all about in rags at the first handling. We parted them, and inquiring into the cause of the quarrel, the soldier cried, “Put tricks upon me! you shall not have the value of a doit. You must understand, gentlemen, that being at St. Saviour’s Church, there came a child to this poor fellow, and asked him whether I was the ensign Juan de Lorenzana? who answered, I was, because he saw he had something in his hand. With this, he brought the child to me, and, calling me ensign, said, ‘Here, Sir, see what this child would have with you.’ I understood the trick, and said I was the man, took his message, and with it a dozen of handkerchiefs, returning an answer to his mother, who sent them to some person of that name. Now he demands half, and I’ll be torn in pieces before I’ll part with them; my own nose shall have the wearing of them all out.” The cause was adjudged in his favour, only he was forbid blowing his nose in them, and ordered to deliver them up to the old woman, to make ruffles and cuffs for the honour of the community, to represent shirt-sleeves; for blowing the nose was absolutely prohibited. When night came we all went to bed, and lay as close together as herrings in a barrel, or tools in a tweezer-case. As for supper, there was not so much as a thought of it; most of the gang never stripped, for they were naked enough to go to bed as they went all day.