THE ADVENTURES OF GIL BLAS OF SANTILLANE

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY TOBIAS SMOLLETT

PRECEDED BY A BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICE OF LE SAGE BY GEORGE SAINTSBURY

With Twelve Original Etchings by R. de Los Rios

IN THREE VOLUMES—VOL. III.

LONDON J. C. NIMMO AND BAIN 14, KING WILLIAM STREET, STRAND, W.C. NEW YORK: SCRIBNER, WELFORD & CO. 1881

CONTENTS OF VOL. III.

BOOK THE EIGHTH—CONTINUED.

CHAPTER VIII.

History of Don Roger de Rada.

CHAPTER IX.

Gil Blas makes a large Fortune in a short Time, and behaves like other wealthy Upstarts.

CHAPTER X.

The Morals of Gil Blas become at Court much as if they had never been at all. A Commission from the Count de Lemos, which, like most Court Commissions, implies an Intrigue.

CHAPTER XI.

The Prince of Spain's secret Visit, and Presents to Catalina.

CHAPTER XII.

Catalina's real Condition a Worry and Alarm to Gil Blas. His Precautions for his own Ease and Quiet.

CHAPTER XIII.

Gil Blas goes on personating the great Man. He hears News of his Family; a Touch of Nature on the Occasion. A grand Quarrel with Fabricio.

BOOK THE NINTH.

CHAPTER I.

Scipio's Scheme of Marriage for Gil Blas. The Match, a rich Goldsmith's Daughter; Circumstances connected with this Speculation.

CHAPTER II.

In the Progress of political Vacancies, Gil Blas recollects that there is such a Man in the World as Don Alphonso de Leyva, and, renders him a Service from Motives of Vanity.

CHAPTER III.

Preparations for the Marriage of Gil Blas. A Spoke in the Wheel of Hymen.

CHAPTER IV.

The Treatment of Gil Blas in the Tower of Segovia. The Cause of his Imprisonment.

CHAPTER V.

His Reflections before he went to sleep that Night, and the Noise that waked him.

CHAPTER VI.

History of Don Gaston de Cogollos and Donna Helena de Galisteo.

CHAPTER VII.

Scipio finds Gil Blas out in the Tower of Segovia, and brings him a Budget of News.

CHAPTER VIII.

Scipio's first Journey to Madrid; its Object and Success. Gil Blas falls Sick. The Consequence of his Illness.

CHAPTER IX.

Scipio's second Journey to Madrid. Gil Blas is set at Liberty on certain Conditions. Their Departure from the Tower of Segovia, and Conversation on their Journey.

CHAPTER X.

Their Doings at Madrid. The Rencounter of Gil Blas in the Street, and its Consequences.

BOOK THE TENTH.

CHAPTER I.

Gil Blas sets out for the Asturias, and passes through Valladolid, where he goes to see his old Master, Doctor Sangrado. By Accident be comes across Signor Manuel Ordonnez, Governor of the Hospital.

CHAPTER II.

Gil Blas continues his Journey, and arrives in Safety at Oviedo. The Condition of his Family. His Father's Death, and its Consequences.

CHAPTER III.

Gil Blas sets out for Valencia, and arrives at Idrias; Description of his Seat; the Particulars of his Reception, and the Characters of the Inhabitants he found there.

CHAPTER IV.

A Journey to Valencia, and a Visit to the Lords of Leyva. The Conversation of the Gentlemen, and Seraphina's Demeanor.

CHAPTER V.

Gil Blas goes to the Play, and sees a new Tragedy. The Success of the Piece. The Public Taste at Valencia.

CHAPTER VI.

Gil Blas, walking about the Streets of Valencia, meets with a Man of Sanctity, whose pious Face he had seen somewhere else. What Sort of Man this Man of Sanctity turns out to be.

CHAPTER VII.

Gil Blas returns to his Seat at Idrias. Scipio's agreeable Intelligence, and a Reform in the Domestic Arrangement.

CHAPTER VIII.

The Loves of Gil Blas, and the Fair Antonia.

CHAPTER IX.

Nuptials of Gil Blas with the Fair Antonia; the Style and Manner of the Ceremony; the Persons assisting thereat; and the Festivities ensuing thereupon.

CHAPTER X.

The Honeymoon (a very dull Time for the Reader as a third Person) enlivened by the Commencement of Scipio's Story.

CHAPTER XI.

Continuation of Scipio's Story.

CHAPTER XII.

Conclusion of Scipio's Story.

BOOK THE ELEVENTH.

CHAPTER I.

Containing the Subject of the greatest Joy that Gil Blas ever felt, followed up, as our greatest Pleasures too generally are, by the most melancholy Event of his Life. Great Changes at Court, producing, among other important Revolutions, the Return of Santillane.

CHAPTER II.

Gil Blas arrives in Madrid, and makes his Appearance at Court; the King is blessed with a better Memory than most of his Courtiers, and recommends him to the Notice of his Prime Minister. Consequences of that Recommendation.

CHAPTER III.

The Project of Retirement is prevented, and Joseph Navarro brought upon the Stage again, by an Act of signal Service.

CHAPTER IV.

Gil Blas ingratiates himself with the Count of Olivarez.

CHAPTER V.

The private Conversation of Gil Blas with Navarro, and his first Employment in the Service of the Count d'Olivarez.

CHAPTER VI.

The Application of the three hundred Pistoles, and Scipio's Commission connected with them. Success of the State-paper mentioned in the last Chapter.

CHAPTER VII.

Gil Blas meets with his Friend Fabricio once more; the Accident, Place, and Circumstances described, with the Particulars of their Conversation together.

CHAPTER VIII.

Gil Blas gets forward progressively in his Master's Affections. Scipio's Return to Madrid, and Account of his Journey.

CHAPTER IX.

How my Lord Duke married his only Daughter, and to whom, with the bitter Consequences of that Marriage.

CHAPTER X.

Gil Blas meets with the Poet Nunez by Accident, and learns that he has written a Tragedy, which is on the Point of being brought out at the Theatre Royal. The ill Fortune of the Piece, and the good Fortune of its Author.

CHAPTER XI.

Santillane gives Scipio a Situation; the Latter sets out for New Spain.

CHAPTER XII.

Don Alphonso de Leyva comes to Madrid; the Motive of his Journey a severe Affliction to Gil Blas, and a cause of Rejoicing subsequent thereon.

CHAPTER XIII.

Gil Blas meets Don Gaston de Cogollos and Don Andrew de Tordesillas at the Drawing-room, and Adjourns with them to a more convenient Place. The Story of Don Gaston and Donna Helena de Galisteo, concluded. Santillane renders some Service to Tordesillas.

CHAPTER XIV.

Santillane's Visit to Poet Nunez, the Company, and Conversation.

BOOK THE TWELFTH.

CHAPTER I.

Gil Blas sent to Toledo by the Minister. The Purpose of his Journey, and its Success.

CHAPTER II.

Santillane makes his Report to the Minister, who commissions him to send for Lucretia. The first Appearance of that Actress before the Court.

CHAPTER III.

Lucretia's Popularity, her Appearance before the King, his Passion, and its Consequences.

CHAPTER IV.

Santillane in a new Office.

CHAPTER V.

The Son of the Genoese is acknowledged by a legal Instrument, and named Don Henry Philip de Guzman. Santillane establishes his Household, and arranges the Course of his Studies.

CHAPTER VI.

Scipio's Return from New Spain. Gil Blas places him about Don Henry's Person. That young Nobleman's Course of Study. His Career of Honor, and his Father's matrimonial Speculation on his Behalf. A Patent of Nobility conferred on Gil Blas against his Will.

CHAPTER VII.

An accidental Meeting between Gil Blas and Fabricio. Their last Conversation together, and a Word to the Wise from Nunez.

CHAPTER VIII.

Gil Blas finds that Fabricio's Hint was not without Foundation. The King's Journey to Saragossa.

CHAPTER IX.

The Revolution of Portugal, and Disgrace of the Prime Minister.

CHAPTER X.

A difficult, but successful Weaning from the World. The Minister's Employment in his Retreat.

CHAPTER XI.

A Change in his Lordship for the Worse. The marvellous Cause, and melancholy Consequences of his Dejection.

CHAPTER XII.

The Proceedings at the Castle of Loeches after his Lordship's Death, and the Course which Santillane adopted.

CHAPTER XIII.

The Return of Gil Blas to his Seat. His Joy at finding his God-daughter Seraphina marriageable, and his own second Venture in the Lottery of Love.

CHAPTER XIV.

A Double Marriage, and the Conclusion of the History.

HISTORY OF GIL BLAS OF SANTILLANE.

CHAPTER VIII.

HISTORY OF DON ROGER DE RADA.

Don Anastasio de Rada, a gentleman of Grenada, was living happily in the town of Antequera, with Donna Estephania his wife, who united every charm of person and mind with the most unquestionable virtue. If her affection was lively towards her husband, his love for her was violent beyond all bounds. He was naturally prone to jealousy; and though wantonness could never assume such a semblance as his wife's, his thoughts were not quite at rest upon the subject. He was apprehensive lest some secret enemy to his repose might make some attempt upon his honor. His eye was turned askance upon all his friends, except Don Huberto de Hordales, who frequented the house without suspicion in quality of Estephania's cousin, and was the only man in whom he ought not to have confided.

Don Huberto did actually fall in love with his cousin, and ventured to make his sentiments known, in contempt of consanguinity and the ties of friendship. The lady, who was considerate, instead of making an outcry which might have led to fatal consequences, reproved her kinsman gently, represented to him the extreme criminality of attempting to seduce her and dishonor her husband, and told him very seriously that he must not flatter himself with the most distant hope.

This moderation only inflamed the seducer's appetite the more. Taking it for granted that, as a woman who had been accustomed to save appearances, she only wanted to be more strongly urged, he began to adopt little freedoms of more warmth than delicacy, and had the assurance one day to put the question home to her. She repulsed him with unbridled indignation, and threatened to refer the punishment of his offence to Don Anastasio. Her suitor, alarmed at such an intimation, promised to drop the subject; and Estephania, in the candor of her soul, forgave him for the past.

Don Huberto, a man totally devoid of principle, could not feel his passion to be foiled without entertaining a mean spirit of revenge. He knew the weak side of Don Anastasio's temper. This was enough to engender the blackest design that ever scoundrel plotted. One evening, as he was walking alone with this misguided husband, he said with an air of extreme uneasiness, My dear friend, I can no longer live without unburdening my mind; and yet I would be forever silent, but that you value honor far above a treacherous repose. Your acute feelings and my own, on points which concern domestic injuries, forbid me to conceal what is passing in your family. Prepare to hear what will occasion you as much grief as astonishment. I am going to wound you in the tenderest part.

I know what you mean, interrupted Don Anastasio, in the first burst of agony; your cousin is unfaithful. I no longer acknowledge her for my cousin, replied Hordales with impassioned vehemence; I disown her, as unworthy to share my friend's embraces. This is keeping me too long upon the rack, exclaimed Don Anastasio: say on; what has Estephania done? She has betrayed you, replied Don Huberto. You have a rival to whom she listens in private, but I cannot give you his name; for the adulterer, under favor of impenetrable darkness, has escaped the ken of those who watched him. All I know is, that you are duped: of that fact I am well assured. My own share in the disgrace is a sufficient pledge of my veracity. Her infidelity must be palpable indeed, when I turn Estephania's accuser.

It is to no purpose, continued he, watching the successful impression of his discourse,—it is to no purpose to discuss the subject further. I perceive your indignation at the treacherous requital of your love, and your thoughts all aiming at a just revenge. Take your own course. Heed not in what relation to you your victim may stand; but convince the whole city that there is no earthly being whom you would not sacrifice to your honor.

Thus did the traitor exasperate a too credulous husband against an innocent wife; depicting in such glowing colors the infamy in which he would be plunged, if he left the insult unpunished, as to heighten his anger into madness. Behold Don Anastasio with his mind completely overturned, as if goaded by the Furies. He returned homewards with the frantic design of murdering his ill-fated wife. She was just going to bed when he came in. He kept his passion under for a time, and waited till the attendants had withdrawn. Then, unrestrained by the fear of vengeance from above, by the vulgar scorn which must recoil upon an honorable family, by natural affection for his unborn child, since his wife was near her time, he approached his victim, and said to her in a furious tone of voice, Now is your hour to die, wretch as you are! One moment only is your own, which my relenting pity leaves you to make your peace with heaven. I would not that your soul should perish eternally, though your earthly honor is forever lost.

At these words he drew his dagger. Estephania, just speechless with terror, throwing herself at his feet, besought him, with uplifted hands and inarticulate agony, to tell her why he raised his arm against her life. If he suspected her fidelity, she called heaven to attest her innocence.

In vain, in vain, replied the infuriated murderer; your treason is but too well proved. My information is not to be contradicted: Don Huberto... Ah! my lord, interrupted she with eager haste, you must hold your trust aloof from Don Huberto. He is less your friend than you imagine. If he has said aught against my virtue, believe him not. Restrain that infamous tongue, replied Don Anastasio. By appealing against Hordales, you condemn yourself. You would ruin your relation in my esteem, because he is acquainted with your misconduct. You would invalidate his evidence against you; but the artifice is palpable, and only whets my appetite for vengeance. My dear husband, rejoined the innocent Estephania, while her tears flowed in torrents, beware of this blind rage. If you follow its instigation, you will perpetrate a deed for which you will hate yourself, when convinced of its injustice. In the name of heaven, compose your disordered spirits. At least give me time to clear up your suspicions; you will then deal candidly by a wife who has nothing to reproach herself with.

Any other than Don Anastasio would have been touched by her pleadings, and still more by her agonizing affliction; but the barbarian, far from being softened, ordered the lady once again to recommend herself briefly to mercy, and lifted his arm to strike the blow. Hold, inhuman as you are! cried she. If your love for me is as if it had never been, if my lavish fondness in return is all blotted from your memory, if my tears have no eloquence to disarm your hellish purpose, have some pity on your own blood. Launch not your frantic hand against an innocent, who has not yet breathed this vital air. You cannot be its executioner without the curse of heaven and earth. As for myself, I can forgive my murderer; but the butcher of his own child—think deeply of it!—must pay the dreadful forfeit of so detestable a deed.

Determined as Don Anastasio was to pay no attention to anything Estephania could say, he could not help being affected by the frightful images these last words presented to his soul. Wherefore, as if apprehensive lest nature should play the traitress to revenge, he hastened to make sure of his staggering resolves, and plunged his dagger into her bosom. She fell motionless on the ground. He thought her dead, and on that supposition left his house immediately, to be no more seen at Antequera.

In the mean time, the unhappy victim of groundless suspicion was so stunned with the blow she had received, as to remain for a short interval on the ground without any signs of life. Afterwards, coming to herself, she brought an old female servant to her assistance by her plaints and lamentations. That good old woman, beholding her mistress in so deplorable a state, waked the whole household, and even the neighborhood by her cries. The room was soon filled with spectators. Surgical assistance was sent for. The wound was probed, and pronounced not to be mortal. Their opinion turned out to be correct, for Estephania soon recovered, and was in due time delivered of a son, notwithstanding the cruel circumstances in which she had been placed. That son, Signor Gil Blas, you behold in me; I am the fruit of that dreadful pregnancy.

Women, when chaste as ice, when pure as snow, seldom escape calumny: this plague, however, though virtue's dowry, did not alight upon my mother. The bloody scene passed, in common fame, for the transport of a jealous husband. My father, it is true, bore the character of a passionate man, prone to kindle into fury on the slightest occasion. Hordales could not but suppose that his kinswoman must suspect him of having sown wild fancies in the mind of Don Anastasio, so that he satisfied himself with this imperfect relish of revenge, and ceased to importune her. But, not to be tedious, I shall pass over the detail of my education. Suffice it to say, that my principal exercise was fencing, which I practised regularly in the most famous schools of Grenada and Seville. My mother waited with impatience till I was of age to measure swords with Don Huberto, that she might instruct me in the grounds of her complaint against him. In my eighteenth year, she submitted her cause to my arbitrament, not without floods of tears, and every symptom of the deepest anguish. What must not a son feel,

if he has the spirit and the heart of a son, at the sight of a mother in such distressing circumstances? I went immediately and called out Hordales; our place of meeting was private, as it should be; we fought long and furiously; three of my thrusts took place, and I threw him to the ground, like a dead dog despised.

Don Huberto, feeling his wound to be mortal, fixed his last looks upon me, and declared that he met his death at my hands as a just punishment for his treason against my mother's honor. He owned that in revenge for the pangs of despised love he had resolved on her ruin. Thus did he breathe his last, imploring pardon from heaven, from Don Anastasio, from Estephania, and from myself. I deemed it imprudent to return home and acquaint my mother of the issue; fame was sure to perform that office for me. I passed the mountains, and repaired to Malaga, where I embarked on board a privateer. My outside not altogether indicating cowardice, the captain consented at once to enroll me among his crew.

We were not long before we went into action. Near the island of Alboutan, a corsair of Millila fell in with us, on his return towards the African coast with a Spanish vessel richly laden, taken off Carthagena. We attacked the African briskly, and made ourselves masters of both ships, with eighty Christians on board, going as slaves to Barbary. Afterwards, availing ourselves of a wind direct for the coast of Grenada, we shortly arrived at Punta de Helena.

While we were inquiring into the birthplace and condition of our rescued captives, a man about fifty, of prepossessing aspect, fell under my examination. He stated himself, with a sigh, to belong to Antequera. My heart palpitated, without my knowing why; and my emotion, too strong to pass unnoticed, excited a visible sympathy in him. I avowed myself his townsman, and asked his family name. Alas! answered he, your curiosity makes my sorrow flow afresh. Eighteen years ago did I leave my home, where my remembrance is coupled with scenes of blood and horror. You must yourself have heard but too much of my story. My name is Don Anastasio de Rada. Merciful heaven I exclaimed I; may I believe my senses? And can this be? Don Anastasio? Father! What is it you say, young man? exclaimed he, in his turn, with surprise and agitation equal to my own. Are you that ill-fated infant, still in its mother's womb, when I sacrificed her to my fury? Yes, said I; none other did the virtuous Estephania bring into the world, after the fatal night when you left her weltering in her own blood.