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  A well chosen anthology is a complete dispensary of medicine for the more common mental disorders, and may be used as much for prevention as cure.

  FRANK WYNNE, 2018

  1 From The Curtain translated by Linda Asher

  “A short story is the ultimate close-up

  magic trick – a couple of thousand words

  to take you around the universe or

  break your heart.”

  —NEIL GAIMAN

  THE GLASS GRADUATE

  Miguel de Cervantes

  Translated from the Spanish by C. A. Jones

  Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra (1547 (assumed)–1616) is widely regarded as the greatest writer in the Spanish language, and the greatest novelist of all time. His major work, Don Quixote, is considered the first modern novel, a classic of Western literature, and is regarded among the best works of fiction ever written. His influence on the Spanish language has been so great that the language is often called la lengua de Cervantes (“the language of Cervantes”). Don Quixote has been translated into more languages than any other book except the Bible. All the existing portraits of Cervantes were based on a brief description of himself in one of his own novels. A boat on which Cervantes was sailing was captured by Algerian pirates and he was imprisoned in Algiers for five years. After four unsuccessful escape attempts, he was eventually bailed out by his parents, who clubbed together with a religious order to raise a handsome ransom for his return. Cervantes was an inveterate dueller: the first written record of his activities is a warrant for his arrest in 1569 issued after he wounded his opponent. In fact, his third and final stint in prison was occasioned by the death of a man following a duel. Cervantes was shot three times, twice in the chest and once in the arm, with a harquebus – a forerunner of the musket – during the Battle of Lepanto in 1571.

  Two gentlemen students were walking along the banks of the Tormes, when they found, asleep beneath a tree, a lad of some eleven years of age, in peasant dress. They sent a servant to wake him, and when he awoke, they asked him where he came from and what he was doing asleep in that deserted place. The lad replied that he had forgotten the name of his birthplace, and that he was going to the city of Salamanca to look for a master who, in exchange for his services, would give him the opportunity to study. They asked him if he could read, to which he said that he could, and write as well.

  ‘So that it is not poor memory’, said one of the gentlemen, ‘that has made you forget the name of your country.’

  ‘Whatever the reason,’ answered the lad, ‘no one shall know the name of my country or my parents until I can bring honour to them both.’

  ‘And in what way do you propose to honour them?’ asked the other gentleman.

  ‘By the fame I win through my studies,’ replied the boy, ‘because I have heard that even bishops start off as men.’

  This reply made the two gentlemen decide to accept him into their service, and take him along with them, so they did, giving him a chance to study according to the customary way with servants in that university. The lad said he was called Thomas Rodaja, whereby his masters inferred, from his name and dress, that he must be the son of some poor peasant. A few days later they dressed him in black, and after a few weeks Thomas showed signs of such extraordinary talent, serving his masters so faithfully, punctually and diligently that, although he never failed in any way to pursue his studies, he seemed to be solely occupied in serving them; and since a servant who gives good service gets treated well, Thomas Rodaja became his masters’ companion, and no longer their servant. Eventually, in the course of the eight years he was with them, he became so famous in the university by reason of his keen intelligence and remarkable talents, that he won the esteem and affection of people of every kind. His principal study was law, but he was even more outstanding in the humanities; and he possessed such an astoundingly good memory, illuminated with such good judgement, that he became famous alike for both qualities.

  The time came at last when his masters completed their studies and went off to their home, which was in one of the finest cities in Andalusia. They took Thomas off with them, and he stayed with them for a few days, but as he was anxious to return to his studies and to Salamanca, whose charms make everyone who has enjoyed the pleasure of living there determine to go back, he asked his masters’ leave to return. They, being kind and generous, gave him leave, setting him up with the means to support himself for three years.

  He thanked them, said good-bye, and left Málaga – for this was where his masters lived. As he was coming down the Zambra hill, on the road to Antequera, he met a nobleman on horseback, in splendid travelling clothes, with two servants also on horseback. He joined him and found out that they were going the same way; they shared lodgings, chatted about various things, and Thomas soon gave signs of his unusual talent and the gentleman of his magnificent and courtly bearing. He said that he was an infantry captain in the King’s Guard, and that his ensign was recruiting in the Salamanca area. He praised the soldier’s life, and gave him a vivid picture of the beauty of the city of Naples, the delights of Palermo, the prosperity of Milan, the banquets in Lombardy, and the splendid food in the inns. He gave a delightful and exact account of the way they shouted, ‘Here, landlord’, ‘This way, you rogue’, ‘Let’s have the maccatella, the polastri and the macaroni’. He praised to the skies the soldier’s free life and the easy ways of Italy; but he said nothing to him about the cold of sentry duty, the danger of attacks, the horror of battles, the hunger of sieges, the destruction of mines, and other things of this kind, which some consider to be the extra burdens of a soldier’s life, when in fact they are the main part of it. In short, he told him so many things and in such an attractive way, that our Thomas’s judgement began to waver, and his will to be set on that way of life, where death is always so near at hand.

  The captain, whose name was Don Diego de Valdivia, delighted with Thomas’s good bearing, talent and free and easy manner, begged him to go with him to Italy, if he was interested in seeing it. He offered him his table and even a commission as ensign, a post which the present holder was about to give up. Thomas didn’t need much pressing to take up the offer, and quickly persuaded himself that it would be a good thing to see Italy and Flanders and various other lands and countries. After all, travel makes men wise, and at the most he would spend three or four years which, considering his youth, would not be enough to prevent his returning to his studies. And thinking that everything would turn out as he wished, he told the captain that he was happy to go off with him to Italy, but only on condition that he need not take any commission or enlist as a soldier, for he did not want to be obliged to follow the flag. The captain told him that enlisting would not make any difference except that it would have the advantage of enabling him to enjoy the allowances and payments the company might receive, because he would give him leave whenever he requested it. But Thomas replied, ‘That would be going against my conscience and against yours, captain; and so I would rather go as a free agent than be under an obligation.’

  ‘Such a scrupulous conscience’, said Don Diego, ‘is more becoming to a monk than a soldier; but in any case, we shall go together.’

  They got to Antequera that night and, by spending long periods on the road, in a few days they reached the place where the company was duly assembled. It was about to set out again for Cartagena, intending, with four other companies, to put up at such places as they should come across. Thomas took due note of the authority of the commissaries, the bad temper of some of the captains, the importunity of the billeting officers, the keenness of the paymasters, the complaints of the townspeople, the trading of passes, the insolence of the recruits, the quarrels of the tavern-keepers, the vast amount of excess baggage, and finally the way one more or less had to do all those things which he saw and disliked so much.

  Thomas was now got up in all the finery of a soldier, having thrown aside his student garb, and was dressed to kill, as they say. He got rid of all
his books with the exception of a copy of the Hours of our Lady, and a Garcilaso without commentary, which he carried in his pockets. They got to Cartagena more quickly than he would have wished, because life in lodgings is easy and has plenty of variety, and every day one comes across new and pleasing things. At Cartagena they embarked on four galleys going to Naples, and Thomas Rodaja was struck by the strange life that goes on in those floating houses, where most of the time one is pestered by the bedbugs, robbed by the galley slaves, annoyed by the sailors, gnawed by the mice and worn out by the heavy seas. He was terrified by the great squalls and storms, especially in the Gulf of Lyons, where they had two, one of which drove them as far as Corsica, while the other brought them back to Toulon in France. In short, deprived of sleep, soaked to the skin and hollow-eyed, they reached the beautiful city of Genoa. Disembarking in its sheltered harbour, they visited a church, and then the captain with all his companions came to an inn, where they forgot all about the storms of the past in the merry-making of the present.

  There they became acquainted with the smooth Trebbiano, the full-bodied Montefiascone, the strong Asprino, the generous Greek wines Candia and Soma, the great Five Vineyards, the sweet and gentle Vernaccia and the rough Centola, the lowly Roman wines never being allowed a place among these lordly creatures. And when mine host had gone through all these different wines, he volunteered to bring in, without recourse to trickery or sleight of hand, the genuine Madrigal, Coca, Alaejos and Cuidad Real (which deserves to be called Imperial rather than Royal) which is sacred to the god of laughter; he offered Esquivias, Alanis, Cazalla, Guadalcanal and Membrilla, not forgetting Ribadavia and Descargamaría. In short, our host named and offered them more wines than Bacchus himself can have had in his vaults.

  Our good Thomas was also fascinated by the fair hair of the girls of Genoa, the elegance and noble bearing of the men and the remarkable beauty of the city, whose houses are set on its hills like diamonds in gold. The next day all the companies which were to go to Piedmont disembarked; but Thomas did not want to go on this journey, but to go overland from there to Rome and Naples, which he did. He resolved to come back via the great city of Venice, through Loretto to Milan and then to Piedmont, where Don Diego de Valdivia said he would meet him, if they hadn’t already been carried off to Flanders, as rumour said they might.

  Thomas took his leave of the captain a couple of days later, and within five days reached Florence, having first seen Lucca, a small but very well-appointed city in which Spaniards are better received and entertained than in other parts of Italy. He was delighted with Florence, both because of its splendid situation and its cleanness, magnificent buildings, cool river and quiet streets. He was there for four days, and then set off for Rome, the queen of cities and mistress of the world. He visited its shrines, worshipped its relics and marvelled at its great size; and just as one realizes the greatness and ferocity of the lion by its claws, so he came to realize the greatness of Rome by its marble ruins, its statues, damaged or intact, its broken archways and ruined baths, its magnificent porticos and great amphitheatres, and by its famous and sacred river, which always fills its banks with water and blesses them with the countless relics of the bodies of martyrs which have been buried there; by its bridges, whose arches are like eyes looking at each other, and by its streets whose names alone make them superior to those of every other city in the world: the Via Appia, the Via Flaminia, the Via Julia, and others like them. But he was no less amazed by the way its hills were laid out within the boundaries of the city: the Caelian, the Quirinal and the Vatican, with the other four, whose names testify to the greatness and majesty of Rome. He was also impressed by the pomp of the College of Cardinals, the majesty of the Supreme Pontiff, the mass and variety of peoples and nations. He saw and took careful note of it all. And when he had gone the rounds of the Seven Churches, and made his confession to a penitentiary, and kissed His Holiness’s feet, he decided to go off to Naples, loaded with Agnuses and beads. As it was unsettled weather, which made it dangerous to leave or enter Rome overland, he went off to Naples by sea, where he added to the delight of seeing Rome that of seeing Naples, a city which in his opinion, and in that of everyone who has seen it, is the best in Europe and even in the world.

  From there he went off to Sicily, and saw Palermo, and then Messina. He was favourably impressed by the situation and beauty of Palermo, by the port of Messina, and by the abundance of the whole island, which is justly and truthfully called the granary of Italy. He went back to Naples and to Rome, and from there he went to Our Lady of Loretto, in whose holy shrine he did not see any walls at all, because they were all covered with crutches, shrouds, chains, shackles, manacles, switches of hair, wax busts, paintings and altar pieces, which gave testimony to the innumerable favours received by so many from God’s hand through the intercession of His divine mother, to whose holy image He chose to give power and authority by many miracles, as a reward for the reverence which is shown to her by those who have adorned the walls of her house with these signs of devotion. He saw the very room and spot which witnessed the most exalted and important charge ever witnessed, though not comprehended, by the heavens, the angels, and all the dwellers of eternity.

  From there, embarking at Ancona, he went to Venice, a city which if Columbus had never lived would be unmatched by any in the world. Thanks be to heaven and to the great Hernando Cortés, who conquered the great city of Mexico, whereby this great city of Venice came to have something of a rival. These two famous cities are alike in that their streets are all water; the European one is the wonder of the old world; the American one, the marvel of the new. Its richness seemed to him to know no limits, and the way it was governed seemed a model of prudence, its situation impregnable, its prosperity vast, its surroundings delightful. In short, the whole and all the parts deserve the reputation they have in every part of the globe, and to which its famous arsenal, which is the place where the galleys, together with countless other craft, are made, adds even further fame.

  The delights and pastimes our traveller found in Venice were nearly as dangerous as those of Calypso, for they almost made him forget his original intention. But after he had been there a month, he came back by way of Ferrara, Parma and Piacenza to Milan, that Vulcan’s forge and envy of the kingdom of France; a city of which it is said that they only have to think of something for it to be done. The size of the city and its great church and the marvellous abundance of everything necessary for human life are truly magnificent. From there he went off to Asti, and got there just a day before the regiment was leaving for Flanders. He was very well received by his friend the captain, and in his company went over to Flanders, and to Antwerp, a city no less worthy of admiration than those he had seen in Italy. He saw Ghent and Brussels, and he saw that the whole country was preparing to take up arms to go out on campaign the following summer. Having fulfilled the desire which prompted him to see what he had seen, he decided to go back to Spain and to complete his studies at Salamanca. It was no sooner said than done, to the great sorrow of his comrade, who begged him, as they parted, to let him know how he got on with his journey, how he was and what happened to him. He promised to do as he asked, and returned to Spain through France, without seeing Paris, since there was fighting going on there. He finally reached Salamanca, where he was warmly welcomed by his friends, and with the help they gave him he continued his studies until he finally graduated as a licenciate in Law.

  It so happened that at that time there came to the city a certain lively lady who was up to all the tricks. Everybody rushed into the trap and fell for the decoy, and not one of the lads failed to pay her a call. They told Thomas that this lady said she had been in Italy and Flanders, and just to see if he knew her, he went to call on her. The result of this visit was that as soon as she saw Thomas she fell in love with him. He, not realizing it, would not have gone to her house unless he had been marched off to it by someone else. In the end she declared her love for him and offered him all she h
ad. As he was more devoted to his books than to anything else, he did not respond at all to the lady’s fancy, and she, seeing herself scorned, and, as she thought, hated, and realizing that she could not conquer the rock of Thomas’s will by ordinary means, decided to look for other methods which seemed to her more effective and capable of achieving what she wanted. So, taking the advice of a Moorish woman, she gave Thomas one of those things they call love potions, hidden in a Toledo quince, thinking that by this means she would force his will to love her, as if there were herbs, charms or words in the world powerful enough to force free will. Those who give these aphrodisiac drinks or foods are called ‘poisoners’: because all they do is to poison those who take them, as experience has shown on many and varied occasions.

  Thomas ate the quince to such ill effect that straight away he began to shake in his feet and hands as if he had epilepsy, and lost consciousness for many hours, after which he came to in a stupefied condition. He declared in a confused and stammering way that a quince he had eaten had done for him, and gave the name of the person who had given it to him. When the Officers of the Law learned of the affair, they went in search of the culprit; but she, seeing what had happened, had made herself scarce and was never seen again.

  Thomas was in bed for six months, during which time he became completely dried up, and was nothing but skin and bones, as they say. Moreover, his senses seemed completely at sixes and sevens; and although they gave him all the treatment they could, they only managed to cure his bodily complaints, but not his mind. He got better but remained possessed by the strangest madness anybody had ever seen. The poor wretch imagined that he was all made of glass, and under this delusion, when someone came up to him, he would scream out in the most frightening manner, and using the most convincing arguments would beg them not to come near him, or they would break him; for really and truly he was not like other men, being made of glass from head to foot.