Various

In the year 1783, Joseph Francisco De Isla, one of the most eminent of modern Spanish writers, published a Spanish translation of Gil Blas. In this work some events were suppressed, others altered, the diction was greatly modified, the topographical and chronological errors with which the French version abounded were allowed to remain, and the Spanish origin of that celebrated work was asserted on such slender grounds, and vindicated by such trifling arguments, as to throw considerable doubt on the fact in the opinion of all impartial judges. The French were not slow to seize upon so favourable an occasion to gratify their national vanity; and in 1818, M. le Comte FranÇois de Neufchateau, a member of the French Institute and an Ex-minister of the Interior, published a dissertation, in which, after a modest insinuation that the extraordinary merit of Gil Blas was a sufficient proof of its French origin, the feeble arguments of Padre Isla were triumphantly refuted, and the claims of Le Sage to the original conception of Gil Blas were asserted, to the complete satisfaction of all patriotic Frenchmen. Here the matter rested, till, in 1820, Don Juan Antonio Llorente drew up his reasons for holding the opinion of which Isla had been the unsuccessful advocate, and, with even punctilious courtesy, transmitted them before publication to M. Le Montey, by whose judgment in the matter he expressed his determination to abide. M. Le Montey referred the matter to two commissioners—one being M. Raynouard, a well-known and useful writer, the other M. Neufchateau, the author whom Llorente’s work was intended to refute.

This literary commission seems to have produced as little benefit to the public as if each of the members had been chosen by a political party, had received a salary varying from £1500 to £2000 a-year, and been sent into Ireland to report upon the condition of the people, or into Canada to discover why French republicans dislike the institutions of a Saxon monarchy. To be sure, the advantage is on the side of the French academicians; for, instead of sending forth a mass of confused, contradictory, and ill-written reports, based upon imperfect evidence, and leading to no definite conclusion, the literary commission, as Llorente informs us, was silent altogether; whereupon Llorente attributing, not unnaturally, this preternatural silence on the part of the three French savans, to the impossibility of finding any thing to say, after the lapse of a year and a half publishes his arguments, and appeals to literary Europe as the judge “en dernier ressort” of this important controversy. Llorente, however, was too precipitate; for on the 8th of January 1822, M. de Neufchateau presented to the French Academy an answer to Llorente’s observations, on which we shall presently remark.

It is maintained by the ingenious writer, Llorente—whose arguments, with such additions and remarks as have occurred to us upon the subject, we propose to lay before our readers,

1st, That Gil Blas and the Bachiller de Salamanca were originally one and the same romance.

2dly, That the author of this romance was at any rate a Spaniard.

3dly, That his name was Don Antonio de Solis y Ribadeneira, author of Historia de la Conquista de MÉjico.

4thly, That Le Sage turned the single romance into two; repeating in both the same stories slightly modified, and mixing them up with other translations from Spanish novels.

As the main argument turns upon the originality of Le Sage considered as the author of Gil Blas, we shall first dispose in a very few words of the third proposition; and for this purpose we must beg our readers to take for granted, during a few moments, that Gil Blas was the work of a Spaniard, and to enquire, supposing that truth sufficiently established, who that Spaniard was.

Llorente enumerates thirty-six eminent writers who flourished in 1655, the period when, as we shall presently see, the romance in question was written. Of these Don Louis de Guevarra, author of the Diablo Cojuelo, Francisco de Santos, JosÉ Pellicer, and Solis, are among the most distinguished. Llorente, however, puts all aside—and all, except Pellicer perhaps, for very sufficient reasons—determining that Solis alone united all the attributes and circumstances belonging to the writer of Gil Blas. The writer of Gil Blas was a Castilian—this may be inferred from his panegyric on Castilian wit, which he declares equal to that of Athens; he must have been a dramatic writer, from his repeated criticisms on the drama, and the keenness with which he sifts the merit of contemporary dramatic authors; he must have been a great master of narrative, and thoroughly acquainted with the habits and institutions of his age and country; he must have possessed the art of enlivening his story with caustic allusions, and with repartees; he must have been perfectly conversant with the intrigues of courtiers, and have acquired from his own experience, or the relation of others, an intimate knowledge of the private life of Olivarez, and the details of Philip IV.’s court. All these requisites are united in Solis:—he was born at AlcalÁ de Henares, a city of Castile; he was one of the best dramatic writers of his day, the day of Calderon de la Barca. That he was a great historical writer, is proved by his Conquista de MÉjico; his comedies prove his thorough knowledge of Spanish habits; and the retorts and quiddities of his Graciosos flash with as much wit as any that were ever uttered by those brilliant and fantastic denizens of the Spanish stage. He was a courtier; he was secretary to Oropezo, viceroy successively of Navarre and of Valencia, and was afterwards promoted by Philip IV. to be “Oficial de la Secretaria” of the first minister Don Louis de Haro, and was allowed, as an especial mark of royal favour, to dispose of his place in favour of his relation. This happened about the year 1654—corresponding, as we shall see, exactly with the mission of the Marquis de Lionne. Afterwards he was appointed Cronista Mayor de las Indias, and wrote his famous history. These are the arguments in favour of Solis, which cannot be offered in behalf of any of his thirty-six competitors. It is therefore the opinion of Llorente that the honour of being the author of Gil Blas is due to him; and in this opinion, supposing the fact which we now proceed to investigate, that a Spaniard, and not Le Sage, was the author of the work, is made out to their satisfaction, our readers will probably acquiesce.

The steps by which the argument that Gil Blas is taken from a Spanish manuscript proceeds, are few and direct. It abounds in facts and allusions which none but a Spaniard could know: this is the first step. It abounds in errors that no Spaniard could make—(by the way, this is much insisted upon by M. de Neufchateau, who does not seem to perceive that, taken together with the preceding proposition, it is fatal to his argument:) this is the second step, and leads us to the conclusion that the true theory of its origin must reconcile these apparent contradictions.

A Spanish manuscript does account for this inconsistency, as it would furnish the transcriber with the most intimate knowledge of local habits, names, and usages; while at the same time it would not guard him against mistakes which negligence or haste, or the difficulty of deciphering a manuscript in a language with which the transcriber was by no means critically acquainted, must occasion. Still less would it guard him against errors which would almost inevitably arise from the insertion of other Spanish novels, or the endeavour to give the work a false claim to originality, by alluding to topics fashionable in the city and age when the work was copied.

The method we propose to follow, is to place before the reader each division of the argument. We shall show a most intimate knowledge with Spanish life, clearly proving that the writer, whoever he is, is unconscious of any merit in painting scenes with which he was habitually familiar. Let any reader compare the facility of these unstudied allusions with the descriptions of a different age or time, even by the best writers of a different epoch and country, however accurate and dramatic they may be—with Quentin Durward or Ivanhoe, for instance; or with Barante’s Histoire des Ducs de Bourgogne, and they will see the force of this remark. In spite of art, and ability, and antiquarian knowledge, it is evident that a resemblance is industriously sought in one case, and is spontaneous in the other; that it is looked upon as a matter of course, and not as a title to praise, by the first class of writers, while it is elaborately wrought out, as an artist’s pretension to eminence, in the second. If Le Sage had been the original author of Gil Blas, he would have avoided the multiplication of circumstances, names, and dates; or if he had thought it necessary to intersperse his composition with them, he would have contented himself with such as were most general and notorious; the minute, circuitous, and oblique allusions, which it required patient examination to detect, and vast local knowledge to appreciate, could not have fallen within his plan.

Secondly—We shall point out the mistakes, some of them really surprising even in a foreign writer, with regard to names, dates, and circumstances, oversetting every congruity which it was manifestly Le Sage’s object to establish. We shall show that the Spanish novels inserted by him do not mix with the body of the work; and moreover we shall show that in one instance, where Le Sage hazarded an allusion to Parisian gossip, he betrayed the most profound ignorance of those very customs which, in other parts of the work passing under his name, are delineated with such truth of colouring, and Dutch minuteness of observation.

If these two propositions be clearly established, we have a right to infer from them the existence of a Spanish manuscript, as on any other hypothesis the claims of an original writer would be clashing and contradictory.

M. Neufchateau, as we have observed, reiterates the assertion that the errors of Gil Blas are such as no Spaniard could commit, leaving altogether unguarded against the goring horn of the dilemma which can only be parried by an answer to the question—how came it to pass that Le Sage could enumerate the names of upwards of twenty inconsiderable towns and villages, upwards of twenty families not of the first class; and in every page of his work represent, with the most punctilious fidelity, the manners of a country he never saw? Nay, how came it to pass that, instead of avoiding minute details, local circumstances, and the mention of particular facts, as he might easily have done, he accumulates all these opportunities of mistake and contradiction, descends to the most trifling facts, and interweaves them with the web of his narrative (conscious of ignorance, as, according to M. Neufchateau, he must have been) without effort and without design.

Let us begin by laying before the readers the piÈces du procÈs. First, we insert the description of Le Sage given by two French writers.

“Voici ce que disoit Voltaire À l’article de Le Sage, dans la premiÈre Édition du SiÈcle de Louis XIV.:—

“‘Son roman de Gil Blas est demeurÉ, parcequ’il y a du naturel.’

“Dans les editions suivantes du SiÈcle de Louis XIV., Voltaire ajoute un fait qu’il se contente d’Énoncer simplement, comme une chose hors de doute; c’est que Gil Blas est pris entiÈrement d’un livre Écrit en Espagnol, et dont il cite ainsi le tÎtre—La vidad de lo Escudero Dom Marco d’Obrego—sans indiquer aucunement la date, l’auteur, ni l’objet de cette vie de l’Écuyer Dom Marco d’Obrego.”

“Extrait du Nouveau Porte-feuille historique, poetique, et litteraire de Bruzen de La MartiniÈre.

“‘Baillet n’entendoit pas l’Espagnol. Au sujet de Louis VelÉs de Guevarra, auteur Espagnol, dans ses jugements des savants sur les poÈtes modernes, § 1461, il dit: On a de lui plusieurs comedies qui ont ÉtÉ imprimÉes en diverses villes d’Espagne, et une piÈce facÉtieuse, sous le tÎtre El Diabolo Cojuelo, novella de la otra vida: sur quoi M. de La Monnoye fait cette note. Comment un homme qui fait tant le modeste et le reservÉ a-t-il pu Écrire un mot tel que celui-la? Cette note n’est pas juste. Il semble que M. de La Monnoye veuille taxer Baillet de n’avoir pas sontenu le caractÈre de modestie, qu’il affectoit. Baillet ne faisoit pas le modeste, il l’Étoit vÉritablement par État et par principe; et s’il eÛt entendu le mot immodeste, ce mot lui auroit ÉtÉ suspect; il eut eu recours À l’original, oÙ il auroit trouvÉ Diablo, et non Diabolo, Cojuelo et non Cojudo, et auroit bien vÎte corrigÉ la faute. Mais comme il n’entendoit ni l’un ni l’autre de ces derniers mots, il lui fut aisÉ, en copiant ses extraits, de prendre un el pour un d, et de changer par cette lÉgÈre diffÉrence Cojuelo, qui veut dire boiteux, en Cojudo, qui signifie quelqu’un qui a de gros testicules, et sobrino l’exprime encore plus grossiÈrement en FranÇois. M. de La Monnoye devoit moins s’arrÊter À l’immodestie de l’ÉpithÈte, qu’À la corruption du vrai tÎtre le Guevarra.”

“Au reste, c’est le mÊme ouvrage que M. La Sage nous a fait connoÎtre sous le tÎtre du Diable Boiteux; il l’a tournÉ, À sa maniÈre, mais avec des diffÉrences si grandes que Guevarra ne se reconnoÎtroit qu’À peine dans cette pretendue traduction. Par exemple, le chapitre xix de la seconde partie contient une aventure de D. Pablas, qui se trouve en original dans un livre imprimÉ À Madrid en 1729, (sic.) L’auteur des lectures amusantes, qui ne s’est pas souvenu que M. Le Sage, en avoit insÉrÉ une partie dans son Diable Boiteux, l’a traduite de nouveau avec assez de libertÉ, mais pourtant en s’Écartant moins de l’original, et l’a insÉrÉe dans sa premiÈre partie À peu prÈs telle qu’elle se lit dans l’original Espagnol. Mais M. Le Sage l’a traitÉe avec de grands changements, c’est sa maniÈre d’embellir extrÊmement tout ce qu’il emprunte des Espagnols. C’est ainsi qu’il en a usÉ envers Gil Blas, dont il a fait un chef-d’oeuvre inimitable.”—(Pages 336-339, Édition de 1757, dans les Passetemps Politiques, Historiques, et Critiques, tome 11, in 12.)

As an example of the accuracy with which Le Sage has imitated his originals, we quote the annexed passages from Marcos de Obregon—Page 3.

After this we think we are fairly entitled to affirm, that Le Sage was not considered by his contemporaries as a man of original and creative genius; although he possessed, in an eminent degree, the power of appropriating and embellishing the works of others, that his style was graceful, his allusions happy, and his wit keen and spontaneous. If any one assert that this is to underrate Le Sage, and that he is entitled to the credit of an inventor, let him cite any single work written by Le Sage, except Gil Blas, in proof of his assertion. Of course Gil Blas is out of the question. Nothing could be more circular than an argument that Le Sage, because he possessed an inventive genius, might have written Gil Blas; and that because he might have written Gil Blas, he possessed an inventive genius. This being the case, let us examine his biography. Le Sage was born in 1668 at Sargan, a small town near Vannes in Bretagne; at twenty-seven he published a translation of AristoenÆtus; and declining, from his love of literature, the hopes of advancement, which, had he taken orders, were within his reach, he came to Paris, where he contracted an intimate friendship with the AbbÉ de Lyonne, who settled a pension on him, taught him Spanish, and bequeathed to him his library—consisting, among other works, of several Spanish manuscripts—at his death. His generous benefactor was the third son of Hugo, Marquis de Lyonne, one of the most accomplished and intelligent men in France. In 1656 he was set on a secret mission to Madrid; the object of this mission was soon discovered in the peace of the Pyrenees 1650, and the marriage of Maria Theresa of Austria, eldest daughter of Philip IV., with Louis XIV. During his residence in Spain the Marquis de Lyonne lived in great intimacy with Louis de Haro, Duke of Montoro. The Marquis de Lyonne was passionately fond of Spanish literature; he not only purchased all the printed Spanish works he could procure, but a vast quantity of unprinted manuscripts in the same language, all which, together with the rest of his library, became at his death the property of his son, the AbbÉ de Lyonne—the friend, patron, and testator of Le Sage. To these facts must be added another very important circumstance, that Le Sage never entered Spain. Of this fact, fatal as it is to Le Sage’s claims, Padre Isla was ignorant; but it is stated with an air of triumph by M. Neufchateau, is proved by Llorente, and must be considered incontestable. The case, then, as far as external evidence is concerned, stands thus. Le Sage, a master of his own language, but not an inventive writer, and who had never visited Spain, contracts a friendship which gives him at first the opportunity of perusing, and afterwards the absolute possession of, a number of Spanish manuscripts. Having published several elegant paraphrases and translations of printed Spanish works, he published Gil Blas in several volumes, at long intervals, as an original work; after this, he published the Bachelier de Salamanque, which he calls himself a translation from a Spanish manuscript, of which he never produces the original. Did the matter rest here, much suspicion would be thrown upon Le Sage’s claims to the authorship of Gil Blas; but we come now to the evidence arising, “ex visceribus causÆ,” from the work itself, and the manner of its publication.

The chief points of resemblance between Gil Blas and the Bachelier de Salamanque, are the following:—

1. The Bachelier de Salamanque is remarkable for his logical subtilty—so is Gil Blas.

2. The doctor of Salamanque, by whom the bachelor is supported after his father’s death, is avaricious—so is Gil Blas’s uncle, the canon of Oviedo, Gil Perez.

3. The doctor recommends the bachelor of Salamanca to obtain a situation as tutor—the canon gives similar advice to Gil Blas.

4. The bachelor is dissuaded from becoming a tutor—Fabricio dissuades Gil Blas from taking the same situation.

5. A friar of Madrid makes it his business to find vacant places for tutors—a friar of Cordova, in Gil Blas, does the same.

6. The bachelor is obliged to leave Madrid because he is the favoured lover of Donna Lucia de Padilla—Gil Blas is obliged to leave the Marquise de Chaves for the same reason.

7. Bartolome, the comedian, encourages his wife’s intrigues—Melchier Zapata does the same.

8. The lover of Donna Francisca, in Granada, is a foreign nobleman kept there by important business—the situation of the Marquis de Marialva is the same.

9. The comedian abandons an old and liberal lover, for Fonseca, who is young and poor—Laura prefers Louis de Alaga to his rival, for the same reason.

10. Bartolome, to deceive Francisca, assumes the name of Don Pompeio de la Cueva—to deceive Laura, Gil Blas pretends to be Don Fernando de Ribera.

11. Le Bachelier contains repeated allusions to Dominican friars, and particularly to Cirilo Carambola—similar allusions abound in Gil Blas, where Louis de Aliaga, confessor of Philip III., is particularly mentioned.

12. The character of Diego Cintillo, in the Bachelier de Salamanque, is identical with that of Manuel OrdoÑez in Gil Blas.

13. An aunt of the Duke of Uzeda obtains for the bachelor the place of secretary in the minister’s office—Gil Blas obtains the same post by means of an uncle of the Count of Olivarez.

14. The bachelor, whilst secretary at Uzeda, assists in bringing about his patron’s daughter’s marriage—Gil Blas does the same whilst secretary of the Duke of Olivarez.

15. Francisca, the actress, is shut up in a convent at Carthagena, because the corregidor’s son falls in love with her—Laura, in Gil Blas, is shut up in a convent, because the corregidor’s only son falls in love with her.

16. The adventures of Francisca and Laura resemble each other.

17. So do those of Toston and Scipio.

18. Toston and Scipio both lose their wives; and both disbelieve in reality, though they think proper to accept, the excuses they make on their return.

19. Finally, in Gil Blas we find a vivid description of the habits and manners prevalent in the European dominions of Spain during the reigns of Philip III. and Philip IV. But in no part of Gil Blas do we find any allusion to the habits and manners of the viceroy’s canons, nuns, and monks of America; and yet Scipio is dispatched with a lucrative commission to New Spain. It may fairly be inferred, therefore, that so vast a portion of the Spanish monarchy did not escape the notice of the attentive critic who wrote Gil Blas; and the silence can only be accounted for by the fact, that the principal anecdotes relating to America, were reserved to make out the Bachelier de Salamanque, from the remainder of which Gil Blas was taken.

Now, the dates of Gil Blas and the Bachelier de Salamanque were these:—the two first volumes of Gil Blas were published in 1715, the third volume in 1724, which, it is clear, he intended to be the last. First, from the Latin verses with which it closes; and secondly, from the remark of the anachronism of Don Pompeyo de Castro, which he promises to correct if his work gets to a new edition. In 1735 he published a fourth volume of Gil Blas, and, in 1738, the two volumes of the Bachelier de Salamanque as a translation. Will it be said that Le Sage’s other works prove him to have been capable of inventing Gil Blas? It will be still without foundation. All his critics agree, that, though well qualified to embellish the ideas of others, and master of a flowing and agreeable style, he was not an inventive or original writer. Such is the language of Voltaire, M. de la MartiniÈre, and of Chardin, and even of M. Neufchateau himself; and yet, it is to a person of this description that the authorship of Gil Blas, second only to Don Quixote in prose works of fiction, has been attributed.

Among the topics insisted upon by the Comte de Neufchateau as most clearly establishing the French origin of Gil Blas, an intimate acquaintance with the court of Louis XIV., and frequent allusions to the most remarkable characters in it, are very conspicuous. But to him who really endeavours to discover the country of an anonymous writer, such an argument, unless reduced to very minute details, and contracted into a very narrow compass, will not appear satisfactory. He will recollect that the extremes of society are very uniform, that courts resemble each other as well as prisons; and that, as was once observed, if King Christophe’s courtiers were examined, the great features of their character would be found to correspond with those of their whiter brethren in Europe. The abuses of government, the wrong distribution of patronage, the effects of clandestine influence, the solicitations and intrigues of male and female favourites, the treachery of confidants, the petty jealousies and insignificant struggles of place-hunters, are the same, or nearly so, in every country; and it requires no great acuteness to detect, or courage to expose, their consequences—the name of Choiseul, or Uzeda, or Buckingham, or Bruhl, or Kaunitz, may be applied to such descriptions with equal probability and equal justice. But when the Tiers Etat are portrayed, when the satirist enters into detail, when he enumerates circumstances, when local manners, national habits, and individual peculiarities fall under his notice; when he describes the specific disease engendered in the atmosphere by which his characters are surrounded; when, to borrow a lawyer’s phrase, he condescends to particulars, then it is that close and intimate acquaintance with the scenes and persons he describes is requisite; and that a superficial critic falls, at every step into errors the most glaring and ridiculous. There are many passages of this description in Gil Blas to which we shall presently allude; in the mean time let us follow the advice of Count Hamilton, and begin with the beginning—

In France, the custom of travelling on mules was unknown, so was the coin ducats, so was that of begging with a rosary, and of extorting money in the manner in which Gil Blas describes. In fact, the “useful magnificence,” as Mr Burke terms it, of the spacious roads in France, and the traffic carried on upon them, would render such a manner of robbing impossible. How then could Le Sage, who had never set his foot in Spain, hit upon so accurate a description? Again, Rolando explains to Gil Blas the origin of the subterraneous passages, to which an allusion is also made by Raphael; now such are in France utterly unknown.

Rolando, giving an account of his proceedings, says, that his grandfather, who could only “dire son rosaire,” “rezar su rosario.” This is as foreign to the habits of a “vieux militaire FranÇois,” as any thing that can be imagined; and, on the other hand, exactly conformable to those of a Spanish veteran:—

In this statement are many circumstances irreconcilable with French habits. 1st, A whole day passing without meeting a traveller on the high-road of Leon, an event common enough in Spain, but in France almost impossible; 2d, the escort of the coach, a common precaution of the Spanish ladies against violence—the fact that the coach is drawn by mules, not horses, of which national trait six other instances may be found in the same story:—

This is an exact description of the manner in which prisoners were treated in Spain, but bears not the slightest resemblance to any abuse that prevailed at that time in France:—

This is an exact description of a class of women well known in Spain by the name Beata, but utterly unknown in France till the Soeurs de CharitÉ were instituted:—

During the reign of Philip III. and Philip IV., and even till the time of Charles IV., twelve was the common hour of dinner, and all the public offices were closed: this is very unlike the state of things in Paris during the reign of Louis XV., when this romance was published.

In Spain, owing in part to the hospitality natural to unsettled times and a simple people, in part to the few strangers who visited the Peninsula, inns were for a long time almost unknown, and the occupation of an innkeeper, who sold what his countrymen were delighted to give, was considered degrading: so dishonourable indeed was it looked upon, that where an executioner could not be found to carry the sentence of the law into effect upon a criminal, the innkeeper was compelled to perform his functions: therefore the innkeepers, like usurers and other persons, who follow a pursuit hostile to public opinion, were profligate and rapacious. Don Quixote teems with instances to this effect; and there are other allusions to the same circumstance in Gil Blas. It must be observed that if M. Le Sage stumbled by accident upon so great a peculiarity, he was fortunate; and if it was suggested to him by his own enquiries, they were more profound in this than in most other instances. The Barber, describing his visit to his uncle’s, (1, 2, 7,) mentions the narrow staircase by which he ascended to his relation’s abode. Here, again, is a proof of an intimate acquaintance with the structure of the hotels of the Spanish grandees: in all of them are to be found a large and spacious staircase leading to the apartments of the master, and a small one leading to those of his dependents. So the hotel in which Fabricio lives, (3, 7, 13,) and that inhabited by Count Olivarez, are severally described as possessing this appurtenance. It is singular that Le Sage, who seems to have been almost as fond of Paris as Socrates was of Athens, should have picked up this intimate knowledge of the hotels of Madrid. The knowledge of music and habit of playing upon the guitar in the front of their houses, is another stroke of Spanish manners which no Frenchman is likely to have thought of adding to his work (1, 2, 7.) Marcelina puts on her mantle to go to mass. This custom prevailed in Spain till the sceptre passed to the Bourbons—in many towns till the time of Charles III., and in small villages till the reign of Charles IV. Gil Blas joins a muleteer, (1, 3, 1,) with four mules which had transported merchandise to Valladolid—this method of carrying goods is not known in France. The same observation applies to 3, 3, 7. Rolando informs Gil Blas, (1, 3, 2,) “Lorsqu’il eut parlÉ de cette sorte, il nous fit enfermer dans un cachot, oÙ il ne laissa pas languir mes compagnons; ils en sortirent au bout de trois jours pour aller jouer un rÔle tragique dans la grande place.”

This exactly corresponds with the Spanish custom, which was to allow prisoners, capitally convicted, three days to prepare for a Christian death. Rolando continues, “Oh! je regrette mon premier metier, j’avoue qu’il y a plus de sÛretÉ dans le nouveau; mais il y a plus d’agrÉment dans l’autre, et j’aime la libertÉ. J’ai bien la mine de me defaire de ma charge, et de partir un beau matin pour aller gagner les montagnes qui sont aux sources du Tage. Je sais qu’il y a dans cet endroit une retraite habitÉe par une troupe nombreuse, et remplie de sujets Catalans: c’est faire son Éloge en un mot. Si tu veux m’accompagner, nous irons grosser le nombre de ces grands hommes. Je serai dans leur compagnie capitaine en second; et pour t’y faire recevoir avec agrÉment, j’assurerai que je t’ai vu dix fois combattre À mes cÔtÉs.”

The chain of mountains of CuenÇa Requena Aragon y Abaracin, in which the Tagus rises, does contain such excavations as Rolando employed for such purposes as Rolando mentions, (1, 3, 11.) The grace of Carlos Alfonso de la Ventolera in managing his cloak, was an Andalusian accomplishment, and an accomplishment which ceased to prevail when the Bourbons entered Spain. It could not have been applied to describe a Castilian, as it was confined to the inhabitants of Murcia, Andalusia, Valencia, and la Mancha. How could Le Sage have known this? When the Count Azumar dines with Don Gonzalo Pacheco, the conversation turns on bull-fights, (2, 4, 7.)

This alludes to the “Caballeros de Plaza,” as they were called, gentlemen by birth animated by the love of glory, very different from the hired Picadors. This custom of the Spanish gentlemen, which many of our fox-hunting and pheasant-shooting squires will condemn for its cruelty, was very common during the reigns of Philip III. and IV., but gradually declined, and was at last only prevalent at the Fiestas Reales. The last example was known in 1789, to celebrate the jura of the Prince of Asturia, afterwards the pious and exemplary Ferdinand VII. This must have been before his attempted parricide. Ambrosio de Lamela, in order to accomplish his designs on Simon, (2, 6, 1,) purchases articles at Chelva in Valencia, among others—

Now this is a faithful portrait of the inkstand, called Tintero de Escribano, which the Spanish scriveners always carry about with them, and which it is most improbable that M. Le Sage should ever have seen in his life, or indeed have heard of but through the medium of a Spanish manuscript. The account proceeds; and the distinction, which the reader will find taken with so much accuracy, between the inquisitor and familiar of the holy office, is one which, however familiar to every Spaniard, it is not likely a Frenchman should be acquainted with. In France the inquisitor was confounded with the commissary, and all were supposed to be Dominican friars.

This custom of carrying wine in a leathern bag, is a peculiar trait of Spanish manners.

Catalena, the chambermaid of Guevarra, nurse of Philip IV., obtains from her mistress, for Ignatio, the archdeaconry of Granada, which, as “pais de conquista,” was subject to the crown’s disposal:—

Now, that Le Sage should have been acquainted with this fact, for fact it unquestionably is, does appear astonishing. Till the concordat of 1753, the kings of Spain could only present to dignities in churches subject to the royal privilege, among which was this of Granada, by virtue of particular bulls issued at the time of its conquest. This is a fact, however, with which very few Spaniards were acquainted. Antonio de Pulgar, in his Cronica de Los Reyes Catholicos, c. 22, tells us that Isabella, “En el proueer de las yglesias que vacaron en su tiempo, ouo respecto tan recto, que pospuesta toda afficion siempre supplico al Papa por hombres generosos, y grandes letrados, y de vida honesta; lo que no se lee que con tanta diligencia ouiesse guardado ningun rey de los passados.” Another remarkable passage, and to us almost conclusive, is the following—

This alludes to a dispute between the Spanish government and the Aragonese, which had continued from the days of Charles V. The Aragonese claimed either that the king himself should reside among them, or be represented by some person of the royal blood. Charles V. appointed, as viceroy of Aragon, his uncle, the Archbishop of Zaragoza, and then Don Fernando de Aragon, his cousin. Philip II. appointed a Castilian to that dignity. This produced great disturbances in Aragon, and the dispute lasted till 1692, when the Aragonese settled the matter by putting the Castilian viceroy, Inigo de Mendoza, to death. His successor was an Aragonese, Don Miguel de Luna, Conde de Morata, and he was succeeded by Don John of Austria, his brother. It is most improbable that M. Le Sage, whose knowledge of Spanish literature was very superficial, and whose ignorance of Spanish history was complete, should have understood this allusion. This, therefore, leads to the conclusion that it must have been taken from a Spanish manuscript.

In conformity with this we find Mariana saying, in the days of Ferdinand and Isabella—“Los Aragoneses no querian recebir por Virrey a D. Ramon Folch, Conde de Cardona, que el rey tenia seÑalado para este cargo; decian era contra sus fueros poner en el gobierno de su reyno hombre extrangero. Hobo demandas y respuestas, mas al fin el rey temporizo con ellos, y nombro por Virrey a su hijo D. Alonso de Aragon, Arzobispo de Zaragoza.”

Can any one doubt that the writer of the following passage had seen the spot he describes?

These notices of reference, taken at random, are all adapted to the places at which they are found—the narrative leads to them by regular approximation, or they are suggested by the subject and occasion which it draws forth. To introduce a given story into the body of a writing without abruptness, or marks of unnatural transition,

is, as Paley observes, one of the most difficult artifices of composition; and here are upwards of a hundred Spanish names, circumstances, and allusions, incorporated with the story written, as M. Neufchateau assures us, by a Frenchman concerning the court of Louis XIV. A line touching on truth in so many points, could never have been drawn accidentally; it is the pencil thrown luckily full upon the horse’s mouth, and expressing the foam which the painter, with all his skill, could not represent without it. Let the reader observe how difficult Le Sage has found the task of connecting the anecdotes taken from Marcos de Obregon, and put into the mouth of Diego, with the main story. How awkward is this transition? “Le seigneur Diego de La Fuente me raconta d’autres aventures encore, qui lui Étoient arrivÉes depuis; mais elles me semblent si peu dignes d’Être rapportÉes, que je les passerai sous silence.”

The next branch of the argument which we are called upon to consider, relates to the Spanish words in Gil Blas, which imply the existence of a Spanish manuscript. The names Juan, Pedro, often occur in Le Sage’s work, and Pierre, Jean, are sometimes used in their stead. The word Don is prefixed by the Spaniards to the Christian, and never to the surname, as Don Juan, Don Antonio, not Don Mariana, Don Cervantes. In France, Dom, its synonyme, is, on the contrary, prefixed to the surname—as Dom Mabillon, Don Calmet. Le Sage always adheres to the Spanish custom. The robber who introduces Gil Blas to the cavern, says, “Tenez, Dame Leonarde, voici un jeune garÇon,” &c. Again, “On dressa dans le salon une grande table, et l’on me renvoya dans la cuisine, oÙ la Dame Leonarde m’instruisit de ce que j’avais a faire.... Et comme depuis sa mort c’Étoit la Senora Leonarda qui avoit l’honneur de prÉsenter le nectar À ces dieux infernaux,” &c. This expression “SeÑora Leonarda,” is much in favour of a Spanish original; why should not Le Sage have repeated the expression “Dame Leonarde,” on which we have a few observations to offer, had it not been that he thought the word under his eyes at the moment would lend grace and vivacity to the narrative. A French writer would have said, “Tenez, Leonarde,” or perhaps, “Tenez, Madame Leonarde;” but such a phrase as “Tenez, Dame Leonarde,” in a French writer, can be accounted for only by the translation of “seÑora.” So we have “la SeÑora Catalena,” (7, 12)—“la SeÑora Sirena,” (9, 7)—and “la SeÑora Mencia,” (8, 10) of the French version, and instead of “une demoiselle,” “une jeune dame,” which is a translation of “seÑorita.” In giving an account of his projected marriage with the daughter of Gabriel Salero, Gil Blas says, (9, 1)—“C’Étoit un bon bourgeois qui Étoit comme nous disons poli hasta porfiar. Il me prÉsenta la SeÑora Eugenia, sa femme, et la jeune Gabriela, sa fille.” Here are three Spanish idioms—“hasta porfiar,” which Le Sage thinks it necessary to explain, “la SeÑora Eugenia,” “Gabriela.” Diego de la Fuente tells his friend, “J’avois pour maÎtre de cet instrument un vieux ‘seÑor escudero,’ À qui je faisois la barbe. Il se nommoit Marcos DÔbregon.” A French author, instead of “seÑor escudero,” would have said, “vieux ecuyer;” a Spanish transcriber would have written “Marcos de Obregon.” We have (x. 3, 11) “SeÑor Caballero des plus lestes,” “romances” instead of “romans,” (1, 5,) “prado” instead of “prÉ,” twice, (4, 10; 7, 13.)

Laura says—“Un jour il nous vint en fantaisie À DorothÉe et À moi d’aller voir joner les comÉdiens de Seville. Ils avaient affichÉ qu’ils representaient la famosa comedia, et Embajador de si mismo, de Lope de Vega Carpio.... En fin le moment que j’attendais Étant arrivÉ, c’est-À-dire, la fin de la famosa comedia, nous nous en allÂmes.” We have “hidalgo” instead of “gentilhomme” three times; “contador mayor” twice, once used by Chinchillo, again by the innkeeper at Suescas, “oidor” instead of “juge” or “membre de la cour royale,” “escribano” instead of “notaire,” (8, 9.) “Hospital de niÑos” instead of “hospice des enfans orphelins,” “olla podrida” three times “marmalada de berengaria,” (9, 4,) and “picaro” instead of “fripon,” (4, 10, 12.) Scipio says, “un jour comme je passois auprÈs de l’Église de los reyes.” There is at Toledo a church named “San Juan de los Reyes.” How could Le Sage, who never had been in Spain, know this fact? Gil Blas thus relates an event at Valencia—“Je m’en approchai pour apprendre pourquoi je voyois lÀ un si grand concours d’hommes et de femmes, et bientÔt je fus au fait, en lisant ces paroles Écrites en lettres d’or sur une table de marbre noir, qu’il-y avait audessus de la porte, ‘La posada de los representantes,’ et les comÉdiens marquaient dans leur affiche qu’ils joueraient ce jour-lÀ pour la premiÈre fois une tragÉdie nouvelle de Don Gabriel Triaguero.” This passage is an attestation of the fact, that during the reign of Philip IV. the buildings of the Spanish provinces in which dramatic performances were represented were at the same time the residence, “posada,” of the actors—a custom even now not altogether extinguished; but which Le Sage could only know through the medium of a Spanish manuscript. Gil Blas, imprisoned in the tower of Segovia, hears Don Gaston de Cavallos sing the following verses—

Where did Le Sage find these verses, sweet, gracious, and idiomatic as they are? The use of the word “felice” for “feliz” is a poetical license, and displays more than a stranger’s knowledge of Spanish composition. It has been said that Smollett has left many French words in his translation of Gil Blas, and that too strong an inference ought not to be drawn from the employment of Spanish phrases by Le Sage. But what are the words? Are they words in the mouth of every one, and such as a superficial dilettante might easily pick up; or do they, either of themselves or from the conjunctures in which they are employed, exhibit a consummate acquaintance with the dialect and habits of the people to which they refer? Besides, it should be remembered that French is a language far more familiar to well-educated people in England, than Spanish ever was to the French, and that Smollett had lived much in France; whereas Le Sage knew from books alone the language which he has employed with so much colloquial elegance and facility. We now turn to the phrases and expressions in French which Le Sage has manifestly translated.

The first word which occurs in dealing with this part of the subject is “seigneur” as a translation for “seÑor;” “seigneur” in France was not a substitute for “monsieur,” which is the proper meaning of “seÑor.” On the use of the word “dame” we have already commented. Instead of Dame Leonarde and Dame Lorenzo Sephora, a French writer would have put “Madame” or “la cuisiniÈre,” or “la femme de chambre,” as the case might be. So the exclamation of the highwayman, “Seigneur passant,” &c., must be a translation of “SeÑor passagero.” Describing the parasite at PeÑaflor, Gil Blas says, “le cavalier portait une longue rapiÈre, et il s’approcha de moi d’un air empressÉ, Seigneur Écolier, me dit-il, je viens d’apprendre que vous Êtes le seigneur Gil Blas de Santillane. Je lui dis, seigneur cavalier, je ne croyois pas que mon nom fÛt connu À PenÁflor.” “Le cavalier” means a man on horseback, which is not a description applicable to the parasite; “chevalier” is the French word for the member of a military order. “Cet homme,” or “ce monsieur,” would have been the expression of Le Sage if “este caballero” had not been in the manuscript to be copied. “Carillo” for “Camillo,” “betancos” for “betangos,” “rodillas” for “revilla;” and yet M. Le Sage is not satisfied with making his hero walk towards the Prado of Madrid, but goes further, and describes it as the “prÉ de Saint Jerome”—Prado de S^te Geronimo, which is certainly more accurate. Again he speaks of “la Rue des Infantes” at Madrid, (8, 1)—“De los Infantos is the name of a street in that city—and in the same sentence names “une vieille dame Inesile Cantarille.” Inesilla is the Spanish diminutive of Ines, and Cantarilla of Cantaro. The last word alludes to the expression “mozas de Cantaro,” for women of inferior degree. Philip III. shuts up Sirena “dans la maison des repenties.” This is also the name of a convent at Madrid, called “casa de las arrepentidas.” But a still stronger argument in favour of the existence of a Spanish manuscript, is to be found in the passage which says that Lucretia, the repentant mistress of Philip IV., “quitte tout À coup le monde, et se ferme dans le monastÈre de la Incarnacion;” that having been founded by Philip III. in compliance with the will of DoÑa Margarita, his wife, it was reserved expressly for nuns connected in some way with the royal family of Spain; and that therefore Lucretia, having been the mistress of Philip IV., was entitled to become a member of it.

“Nous aperÇumes un rÉligieux de l’ordre de Saint Domingue, montÉ, contre l’ordinaire de ces bons pÈres, sur une mauvaise mule.A Dieu soit louÉ, s’Écria le capitaine.” In this sentence all the passages in Italics are of Spanish origin. “Seigneur cavalier, vous Êtes bien heureux qu’on se soit adressÉ À moi plutÔt qu’À un autre: je ne veux point dÉcrier mes confrÈres: À Dieu ne plaise que je fasse le moindre tort À leur rÉputation: mais, entre nous, il n’y en a pas un qui ait de la conscience—ils sont tous plus durs que des Juifs. Je suis le seul fripier qui ait de la morale: je ne borne À un prix raisonable; je me contente de la livre pour sou—je veux dire du sou pour livre. GrÂces au ciel, j’exerce rondement ma profession.” Here we find “Seigneur cavalier,” “À Dieu ne plaise,” which is the common Spanish phrase, “no permita Dios,” “GrÂces an ciel,” instead of “Dieu merci,” from “Gracias a Dios.” A little further we find the phrase “Seigneur gentilhomme,” which can only be accounted for as a translation of “SeÑor hidalgo;” “garÇon de famille,” (1, 17,) “bÉnÉfice simple,” (11, 17) are neither of them French expressions. “The virtuous Jacintha,” says Fabricio, “mÉrite d’Être la gouvernante du patriarche des Indes.” Now, it is impossible that the existence of such a dignity as this should have been known at Paris. It was of recent creation, and had been the subject of much conversation at Madrid. “GarÇon de bien et d’honneur,” (1, 2, 1,) “un mozo, hombre de bien y de honor.” “Je servis un potage qu’on auroit pu prÉsenter au plus fameux directeur de Madrid, et deux entrÉes qui auroient eu de quoi piquer la sensualitÉ d’un viceroi.” It is impossible not to see that the first of the phrases in italics is a translation “del director mas famoso de Madrid;” first, because a Frenchman would have used “cÉlÈbre,” and secondly, because the word “director” in a different sense from that of confessor was unknown at Madrid. The allusion to the Viceroy, a functionary unknown to the French government, also deserves notice. The notaire, hastening to Cedillo, takes up hastily “son manteau et son chapeau.” This infers a knowledge on the part of the writer that the Spanish scrivener never appeared, however urgent the occasion, without his “capa.” We have the word “laboureurs” applied to substantial farmers, (1, 2, 7.) This is a translation of “labradores,” to which the French word does not correspond, as it means properly, men dependent on daily labour for their daily bread. “J’ai fait ÉlÉver,” says the schoolmaster of Olmedo, “un thÉatre, sur lequel, Dieu aidant, je ferai rÉprÉsenter par mes disciples une piÈce que j’ai composÉe. Elle a pour titre les jeunes amours de Muley Bergentuf Roi de Moroi.” “Disciples” is a translation of “discipulos.” A French writer would have said “ÉlÈves.” Again, the title of the Pedant’s play is thoroughly Spanish. It was intended to ridicule the habit which prevailed in Spain, after the expulsion of the Moriscoes in 1610, of adapting for the stage Moorish habits and amusements, by making a stupid pedant in an obscure village, select them as the subject of his tragedy.

Describing the insolence of the actors, Gil Blas says, “Bien loin de traiter d’excellence les seigneurs, elles ne leur donnoient pas mÊme de la seigneurie.” This would hardly be applicable to the manners of the French. The principal of Lucinde’s creditors, “se nommoit Bernard Astuto, qui meritoit bien son nom.” The signification of the name is clear in Spanish; but in French the allusion is totally without meaning. This probably escaped Le Sage in the hurry of composition, or it would have been easy to have removed so clear a mark of translation. The following mark is still stronger. Speaking of Simon, the bourgeois of Chelva, he says—“Certain Juif, qui s’est fait Catholique, mais dans le fond de l’Âme il est encore Juif comme Pilate.” Now, the lower classes of Spain perpetually fall into this error of calling Pilate a Jew; and this is a trait which could hardly have occurred to a foreign writer, however well acquainted with Spain, much less to a writer who had never set his foot in that country. Here we cannot help observing, that the whole scene from which this passage is taken is eminently Spanish. In Spain only was such a proceeding possible as the scheme for deprecating Simon, executed by Lucinda and Raphael. The character of the victim, the nature of the fraud, the absence of all suspicion which such proceedings would necessarily provoke in any other country, are as conclusive proofs of Spanish origin as moral evidence can supply. Count Guliano is found playing with an ape, “pour dormir la siesta.” Lucretia says to Gil Blas, “Je vous rends de trÈs humbles grÂces,” “doy a usted muy umildes gracias.” A French writer would have said, “Je vous remercie infiniment.” Melendez is described as living “À la Porte du Soleil du coin de la Rue des BalustrÉes,” “esquina de la Calle de Cofreros.” There is such an alley as this, but it is unknown to ninety-nine Spaniards in a hundred. Beltran Moscada tells Gil Blas, “Je vous reconnois bien, moi—nous avons jouÉ mille fois tous deux À la Gallina ciega.” This Le Sage thinks it necessary to explain by a note, to inform his readers that it is the same as “Colin Maillard.” From all these various phrases and expressions, scattered about in different passages of Gil Blas, and taken almost at random from different parts of the work, the conclusion that it was copied from a Spanish manuscript appears inevitable.

Le Sage has named Sacedon, Buendia, Fuencarrat, Madrid, Campillo, Aragon, Penaflor, Castropot, Asturias; Salcedo, Alava; Villaflor, Cebreros, Avila; Tardajos, Kevilla, Puentedura, Burgos; Villar-de-saz; Almodovar, CuenÇa; Almoharin, Monroy, Estremadura; Adria, Gavia, Vera, Granada; Mondejar, Gualalajara; Vierzo, Ponferrada, Cacabelos, Leon; Calatrava, Castilblanco, Mancha; Chinchilla, Lorque, Murcia; Duenas, Palencia; Colmenar, Coca, Segovia; Carmona, Mairena, Sevilla; Cobisa, Galvez, Illescas, Loeches, Maqueda, Kodillas, Villarejo, Villarrubia, Toledo; Bunol, Chelva, Chiva; Gerica, Liria Paterna, Valencia; Ataquines, Benavente, Mansilla, Mojados, Olmedo, Penafiel, Puente de Duero, Valdestillas, Valladolid.

The story of Gil Blas contains the names of no less than one hundred and three Spanish villages and towns of inferior importance, many of them are unknown out of Spain—such as Albarracin, Antequera, Betanzos, Ciudad Real, Coria, Lucena, Molina, Mondonedo, Monzon, Solsona, Trujillo, Ubeda.

There are also cited the names of thirteen dukes—Alba, Almeida, Braganza, Frias (condestable de Castilia,) Lerma, Medina-celi, Medina de Rioseco, (almirante de Castilia,) Medina-Sidonia, Medina de las Tarres (Marques de Toral,) Mantua, Osuna, Sanlucar la Mayor y Uceda. Eleven marquises—De Almenara, Carpia, Chaves, Laguardia, Leganes, Priego, Santacruz, Toral, Velez, Villa-real y Zenete. Eight condes—De Azumar, Galiano, Lemos, Montanos, Niebla, Olivares, Pedrosa y Polan. Of these four only are fictitious. It is remarkable also, that one title cited in Gil Blas, that of Admirante de Castilia, did not exist when Le Sage published his romance—Felipe V. having abolished it, to punish the holder of that dignity for having embraced the cause of the house of Austria. Nor are there wanting the names of persons celebrated in their day among the inhabitants of the Peninsula. Such are Fray Luis Aliago, confessor of Philip III., Archimandrite of Sicily, and inquisitor-general, Don Rodrigo Calderon, secretary of the king, Calderon de la Barca, Antonio Carnero, secretary of the king, Philip IV., Cervantes, Geronimo de Florencia, Jesuit preacher of Philip IV., Fernando de Gamboa, one of the gentlemen of his bedchamber, Luis de Gongora, AÑa de Guevarra, his nurse, Maria de Guzman, only daughter of Olivarez, Henry Philip de Guzman, his adopted son, Baltasar de Zuniga, uncle of Olivarez, Lope de Vega Carpio, Luis Velez de Guevarra, Juana de Velasco, making in all nineteen persons. There are the names of not only thirty-one families of the highest class in Spain, as Guzman, Herrera, Mendoza, Acuna, Avila, Silva, &c., but twenty-five names belonging to less illustrious, but still distinguished families; and twenty-nine names really Spanish, but applied to imaginary characters. This makes a list of eighty-five names, which it seems impossible for any writer acquainted only with the lighter parts of Spanish literature to have accumulated. Nor should it be forgotten that there are forty-five names, intended to explain the character of those to whom they are given, like Mrs Slipslop and Parson Trulliber, retained by Gil Blas, notwithstanding the loss of their original signification. Doctor Andros don AÑibal de Chinchilla, Alcacer, Apuntador, Astuto, Azarini, Padre Alejos y Don Abel, Buenagarra, Brutandof, Campanario Chilindron, Chinchilla, Clarin, Colifichini, Cordel, Coscolina, Padre Crisostomo, Doctor Cuchillo, Descomulgado, Deslenguado, Escipion, Forero, Guyomar, Ligero, Majuelo, Mascarini, Melancia, Mogicon, Montalban, Muscada, Nisana, Doctor Oloroso, Doctor Oquetos, Penafiel, Pinares, Doctor Sangrado, Stheimbach, Samuel Simon, Salero, Talego, Touto, Toribio, Triaquero, Ventolera, Villaviciosa, are all names of this sort. Who but a Spaniard, then, was likely to invent them? Were there no other argument, the case for Spain might almost safely be rested on this issue. But this is not all, since the mistakes, orthographical and geographical, which abound in the French edition of Gil Blas, carry the argument still further, and place it beyond the reach of reasonable contradiction. The reader will observe, that much of the question depends upon the fact, admitted on all sides, that Le Sage did not transcribe his version from any printed work, but from a manuscript. Had Le Sage merely inserted stories here and there taken from Spanish romances, his claims as an original writer would hardly be much shaken by their discovery, supposing the plot, with which they were skilfully interwoven, and the main bulk and stamina of the story, to be his own. But where the errors are such as can only be accounted for by mistakes, not of the press, but of the copies of a manuscript, and are fully accounted for in that manner—where they are so thickly sown, as to show that they were not errors made by a person with a printed volume before his eyes, but by a person deciphering a manuscript written in a language of which he had only a superficial acquaintance, no candid enquirer will hesitate as to the inference to which such facts lead, and by which alone they can be reconciled with the profound and intimate knowledge of Spanish literature, habits, and manners, to which we have before adverted. The innkeeper of PeÑaflor is named Corcuelo in the French version, an appellation utterly without meaning. The real word was Corzuelo, a diminutive from corzo, which carries a very pointed allusion to the character of the person. It was usual to write instead of the z—c with a cedilla, and this was probably the origin of the mistake. The innkeeper of Burgos is called in the French text Manjuelo, which is not Spanish, and is equally unmeaning. The original undoubtedly was Majuelo, the diminutive of Majo, which is very significant of the class to which the person bearing the name belonged. The person to whom Gil Blas applies for a situation at Valladolid, is called in the French text Londona. The real word is LondoÑo, the name of a village near OrduÑa, in Biscay. Inesile is the name given to the niece of Jacinta. This is instead of Inesilla, and corresponds with the French AgnÉs. Castel Blargo is used for Castel Blanco. Rodriguez says to his master, “Je ne touche pas un maravÉdis de vos finances.” The word in the manuscript was marivedi. Le Sage has used the plural for the singular. “Seguier,” a proper name, is used for “Seguiar.” “De la Ventileria” is the unmeaning name given to a frivolous coxcomb, instead of “De la Ventilera.” Le Sage, speaking of the same person, sometimes calls her “DoÑa Kimena de Guzman,” and sometimes “DoÑa Chimena,” a manifest proof that “DoÑa Ximena” was written in the work from which he transcribed; as the French substitute sometimes k and sometimes ch, for the Spanish x.
Pedros is used for Pedroga, (the name of a noble family.)
Moyades for Miagades, (a village.)
Zendero for Zenzano, (do.)
Salceda for Salcedo, (do.)
Calderone for Calderon.
Oliguera for Lahiguera.
Niebles for Niebla.
Jutella for Antella.
Leiva for Chiva.

After Gil Blas’s promotion, he says that his haughty colleague treated him with more respect; and this is expressed in such a way as to show that Le Sage was ignorant of Spanish etiquette, and did not understand thoroughly the meaning of what he transcribed. “Il Don Rodrigo de Calderone ne m’appela plus que Seigneur de Santillane, lui qui jusqu’alors ne m’avoit traitÉ que de vous, sans jamais se servir du terme de seigneurie,” supposing the meaning equivalent—whereas, in fact, though Gil Blas might complain of not being addressed in the third person, which would draw with it the use of seÑor, and was a common form of civility—it would have been ridiculous to represent him as addressed by a name, seÑoria, to which none but people of high station and illustrious rank were entitled. But Le Sage supposed that every one addressed as seÑor, might also be spoken of by the term seÑoria; a mistake against which a very moderate knowledge of Spanish usages would have guarded him. We may illustrate this by a quotation from Navarete:—

“En este estado enviaron a decir a Magallanes.... Que si se queria avenir a lo que cumpliese, al servicio de S. M. estarian a lo que les mandase, y que si hasta entonces le dieron tratamiento de merced, en adelante se lo darian de senoria, y le besarian pies y manos.”