The Visions of Quevedo

by Francisco de Quevedo

“No, no,” said I, “do not; I should rather be punished myself.”

Both of them then began to turn their raillery upon me. Perceiving this, I left the chamber, beckoning the old man to follow. I was greatly scandalized at such conduct, and my companion did nothing but laugh. What people you have here! amiable widows!

Some hours afterwards, I accidentally met in the street, the beau whom I parted with at the widow’s.

“It is thus,” said this man, accosting me, “that widows console themselves, and redeem the time they may have lost with a cross, jealous, or avaricious husband.”

“You understand these matters well,” answered I; “and madam will soon forget her loss.”

Conferring thus together, we became familiar: he was anxious to learn my name, and told me his own, which was Joy.

“I am not astonished,” said I, “the beauty listened to you. A quarter of an hour spent in your society, will abundantly recompense her for the sad and weary years passed with a jealous spouse.”

When the old man saw us thus pleased with each other, he said he would leave me in the company of this honest person, and that he should expect me at his house to supper, after the play, to which we had determined to go.

At the theatre we saw comedies about equivalent to our tragedies; and, in fact, of so close a resemblance, that one might almost fancy them the same. The story of the one I saw was this:—Two young persons met at the house of a mutual friend, to concert measures to gain the consent of their parents to their marriage: their degree was not equal; the girl was nobly born, and an heiress; the young man poor, and the son of a merchant. They both promised to put in requisition every possible method that could be devised, to vanquish the opposition of the old folks upon whom they depended. The young man said he would make himself an advocate, and afterwards a counsellor in parliament; the expence of which he could easily defray in one year after his marriage, with the help of his wife’s dowry. The girl, on her part, promised not to refuse him any token of affection; and agreeable to their plan, she was to inform her mother, that she was pregnant by Signor Virodeno; for thus was her lover called. In order to the furtherance of this design, they instigated their friend to pretend to betray them, and to apprise the parents of both parties of what was passing. The parents hastened to the spot; the lovers came promptly from the chamber; they both heaped reproaches upon their daughter, and as the mother was about to strike her, she declared herself pregnant. “Unhappy wretch,” exclaimed her mother, “you will always be a grief to me; you will bring dishonour upon the family: I will strangle you on the spot.” “Stop,” said her husband, “you will only expose yourself to be hanged: we must think rather now to conceal this disgrace.” “No, no,” said the mother; “let me stab her to death with this knife.” She would have executed her resolution, had not her more discreet husband disarmed her, saying, “recollect yourself, madam; you were in the same situation when I married you; and if your mother had killed you, you would not to-day have made all this uproar.” But as she continued to give way to fresh paroxysms of indignation, her husband enforced his reasons with some wholesome correction. He subsequently conferred with the parents of the lover, who promised to do every thing for the advancement of their son, in consideration of the rank of the young lady’s family, with whom they would not be at variance. The company then gave a loose to mirth; they found out the young couple were well matched; they busied themselves in preparations for the nuptials, and sent to apprise the young man, who had taken refuge at the house of the governor of the city. He came, accompanied by the proper officers; the marriage was celebrated; nothing was wanting at the feast, and they parted on the best of terms. All this scene was in such perfect keeping, that the young espoused were married at the house of the maternal father-in-law, who himself did the honours of friendship. Thus they conclude marriages and other matters: so that there, one can see the minds of people, and the purpose of every man’s action.

At the palace it is the same; every thing is laid open; the advocates plead not, but pro honorario; the solicitors think of nothing but prolonging the suits by those incidents they themselves devise; and the judges, for the purpose of enhancing their fees, deliver a hundred judgments, when one would answer. As a specimen of their method, take the following decree: