You should know first of all that I'm called Lazaro of Tormes,and that I'm the son of Tome Gonzales and Antona Perez,who were born in Tejares,a village near Salamanca.I was actually born in the Tormes River,and that's how I got my name.It happened this way:My father (God rest his soul)was in charge of a mill on the bank of that river,and he was the miller there for more than fifteen years.Well,one night while my mother was in the mill,carrying me around in her belly,she went into labor and gave birth to me right there.So I can really say I was born in the river.
Then when I was eight years old,they accused my father of gutting the
sacks that people were bringing to the mill.They took him to jail,and without a word of protest he went ahead and confessed everything,and he suffered persecution for righteousness'sake.But I trust God that he's in heaven because the Bible calls that kind of man blessed.At that time they were getting together an expedition to go fight the Moors,and my father went with them.They had exiled him because of the bad luck that I've already told about,so he went along as a muleteer for one of the men,and like a loyal servant,he ended his life with his master.
My widowed mother,finding herself without a husband or anyone to take care of her,decided to lie at the side--I mean,stay on the side--of good men and be like them.So she came to the city to live.She rented a little house and began to cook for some students.She washed clothes for some stableboys who served the Commander of La Magdalena,too,so a lot of the time she was around the stables.She and a dark man--one of those men who took care of the animals--got to know each other.Sometimes he would come to our house and wouldn't leave till the next morning;and other times he would come to our door in the daytime pretending that he wanted to buy eggs,and then he would come inside.
When he first began to come I didn't like him,he scared me because of the color of his skin and the way he looked.But when I saw that with him around there the food got better,I began to like him quite a lot.He always brought bread and pieces of meat,and in the winter he brought in firewood so we could keep warm.
So with his visits and the relationship going right along,it happened that my mother gave me a pretty little black baby,and I used to bounce it on my knee and help keep it warm.
I remember one time when my black stepfather was playing with the little fellow,the child noticed that my mother and I were white but that my stepfather wasn't and he got scared.He ran to my mother and pointed his finger at him and said,"Mama,it's the bogeyman!"And my stepfather laughed:"You little son-of-a-bitch!"
Even though I was still a young boy,I thought about the word my little brother had used,and I said to myself:How many people there must be in the world who run away from others when they don't see themselves.
As luck would have it,talk about Zaide (that was my stepfather's name)reached the ears of the foreman,and when a search was made they found out that he'd been stealing about half of the barley that was supposed to be given to the animals.He'd pretended that the bran,wool,currycombs,aprons,and the horse covers and blankets had been lost;and when there was nothing else left to steal,he took the shoes right off the horses'hooves.And he was using all this to buy things for my mother so that she could bring up my little brother.
Why should we be surprised at priests when they steal from the poor or at friars when they take things from their monasteries to give to their lady followers,or for other things,when we see how love can make a poor slave do what he did?
And they found him guilty of everything I've said and more because they asked me questions and threatened me too,and I answered them like a child.I was so frightened that I told them everything I knew--even about some horseshoes my mother had made me sell to a blacksmith.
They beat and tarred my poor stepfather,and they gave my mother a stiff sentence besides the usual hundred lashes:they said that she couldn't go into the house of the Commander (the one I mentioned)and that she couldn't take poor Zaide into her own house.
So that matters wouldn't get any worse,the poor woman went ahead and carried out the sentence.And to avoid any danger and get away from wagging tongues,she went to work as a servant for the people who were living at the Solano Inn then.And there,while putting up with all kinds of indignities,she managed to raise my little brother until he knew how to walk.And she even raised me to be a good little boy who would take wine and candles to the guests and do whatever else they told me.
About this time a blind man came by and stayed at the inn.He thought I would be a good guide for him,so he asked my mother if I could serve him,and she said I could.She told him what a good man my father had been and how he'd died in the battle of Gelves for the holy faith.She said she trusted God that I wouldn't turn out any worse a man than my father,and she begged him to be good to me and look after me,since I would be an orphan now.He told her he would and said that I wouldn't be a servant to him,but a son.And so I began to serve and guide my new old master.
After he had been in Salamanca a few days,my master wasn't happy with the amount of money he was taking in,and he decided to go somewhere else.So when we were ready to leave,I went to see my mother.And with both of us crying she gave me her blessing and said,"Son,I know that I'll never see you again.Try to be good,and may God be your guide.I've raised you and given you to a good master;take good care of yourself."
And then I went back out to my master who was waiting for me.
We left Salamanca and we came to a bridge;and at the edge of this bridge there's a stone statue of an animal that looks something like a bull.The blind man told me to go up next to the animal,and when I was there he said,"Lazaro,put your ear up next to this bull and you'll hear a great sound inside of it."
