THE {i} LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF GUZMAN D’ALFARACHE, OR THE SPANISH ROGUE.

——— TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH EDITION OF MONS. LE SAGE. ——— BY JOHN HENRY BRADY. ——— SECOND EDITION, CORRECTED AND CONSIDERABLY IMPROVED. ——— IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. ——— LONDON: PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, BROWN, AND GREEN, PATERNOSTER-ROW. — 1823.{ii}

London: Printed by J. Nichols and Son, 25, Parliament-street.

{iii}

ADVERTISEMENT TO THE SECOND EDITION.

The first large impression of this work, which was published in 1821, being exhausted, and another edition called for, I have taken great pains to render it still more acceptable to the reader. For the many flattering notices bestowed on it by the Reviewers, I have to express my sincere acknowledgments; and they will not fail to observe that their remarks have had their due weight with me in the alterations I have made. The translation has been carefully revised, and the parts complained of as too significant have been softened down; and I trust, from the superior type and paper in which{iv} Guzman is now presented to the public, that the Spanish Rogue will be considered as dressed in a style becoming one whose exploits have already obtained for him a patronage for which he ought, rogue though he is, to feel grateful.

The Translator.

London, 1823.{v}

TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE.

“There is hardly any Language in Europe that knows not Guzman; and the Spanish Rogue is as much talked of, as if there was no other in the world,” is the commencement of the Preface to a “Translation of Guzman d’Alfarache,” into English, by “several hands,” published in 1708: and assuredly such was the popularity of Guzman formerly: although now even his name is unknown, except to the literati; and there is no English translation of him extant, the above one excepted, with another, still more ancient: both of which are only to be found in the select libraries of a few of the learned and curious: particularly{vi} the latter work; which is the production of Don Diego Puede-Sur; and was published in 1634, by “Robert Allot, at the Signe of the Blacke Bear, in Paul’s Church Yard,” to which, among others, is prefixed the subjoined compliment by Ben Jonson.

Some years since, indeed, a Mr. O’Conner published another Translation, avowedly “for the entertainment of a few friends who did not understand French,” and for the incorrectness and mediocrity of which, he made many apologies. This was re-published about four years since; but it is little known: out of print I apprehend: confined to the few, and inaccessible to the many.

These circumstances considered, and a reflection of pity that such an eminent{viii} production of genius should be lost to the British Public, in an age so devoted to the Arts in general, and Literature in particular, induced me to engage in the Translation which I now present to my readers; faithfully rendered from the French of Le Sage, whose pre-eminent talents are too well known to render my expatiating on them necessary. How far I have succeeded in catching the spirit of my prototype (who certainly identifies himself most felicitously with his original) others must determine; I can alone plead the most minute attention, and persevering diligence. If, therefore, to arrive as nearly at perfection as possible, I have consulted the most authentic sources of information, and used the utmost assiduity in collating the accessaries to the subject I engaged{ix} in, though approbation may be qualified, it will not, I trust, be withheld: and though praise for perfection be denied, acceptation will be accorded by liberality for exertion, and by candour for fidelity.

To those friends, who, to stimulate endeavour, and give consistency to hope, have honoured me with their names as Subscribers to the work, gratitude demands my open avowal of unequivocal thanks: and while the respect due to their own feelings must circumscribe the extent of this declaration; I trust their justice and amity will lead them to appreciate the acknowledgment in the full force of its warmth and sincerity.

Before I conclude it may be necessary to make some observations on the nature{x} of the work, with which I shall include some remarks on the Spanish Author.

The History of Guzman d’Alfarache was written originally in Spanish by Mateo Aleman, Contador de Resultas to Philip II. (a situation of high rank in the Royal Accountant’s Office), and was rapidly translated into several Languages. Upon its reception by all polite nations, I have already remarked: and it is significant, that the Author, in testimony of his great genius, was called the divine Spaniard.

As in his History of Guzman, a professed rogue, he had to describe, necessarily, predicaments and adventures of a nefarious character, that they might produce the proper effect, a dissuasive from evil, he accompanied each with moral reflections too enlightened to be slighted,{xi} and too impressive to be easily forgotten: mingling circumstance and reasoning so adroitly together, that entertainment and instruction, the utile et dulce, are blended in the most effectual manner; and while the one excites admiration, the other, as forcibly, not only counteracts evil example, but impresses the mind fully with the vanity of folly, and the turpitude of crime.

Mons. Bremont was the first who translated the work into French; and to the moral reflections of Aleman he added many of his own, which from their unreasonable frequency gave the work a sombre character, and operated much to its disadvantage. To remedy this defect, Le Sage was induced to render it into French, omitting what he considered the superfluous reflections of both.{xii} From Le Sage’s edition I have translated it almost to the letter, leaving my readers to make additional comments themselves; as their especial province if they read profitably; but not at all the business of a Translator, who is bound in justice to abide by the dictum of his Author, if he would exhibit him in his true spirit, and accord to him the exact meed of merit to which he has an indubitable claim.

Having thus premised, I submit the work, with the greatest diffidence, to the reader’s indulgence: trusting that while, on the one hand, the credit of assiduity will not be denied me, my youth, on the other, may protect me from severity of criticism.

{1}

THE LIFE OF G U Z M A N D’A L F A R A C H E.

CHAP. I. Introduction.

I was so desirous, curious reader, to relate to you my own adventures, that I had almost commenced speaking of myself without making any mention of my family, with which some sophist or other would not have failed to accuse me: “Be not so hasty, friend Guzman,” would he have said; “let us begin, if you please, from the definition, before we proceed to speak of the thing defined. Inform us, in the first place, who were{2} your parents; you can then relate to us at your pleasure those exploits which you have so immoderate a desire to entertain us with.”

To proceed, therefore, in due course, I will introduce my parents to your notice. Were I to relate their history, I doubt not that you would find it more entertaining than my own; but think not that I am going so far to enlarge at their expence as to reveal all that I know of them: let any other that pleases rake up the ashes of the dead, and regale himself on their bodies, like the hyena; for my part, I shall so far respect the memory of my parents, as to pass over in silence such things as it would not become me to speak of; and it is even my wish so to set off such as I shall recount to you, that it may be said of me, “Blessed be the man who thus glosses over the crimes of his ancestors.”

Their conduct, however, has certainly not always been blameless, and some of{3} their actions have made so much noise in the world, that it were in vain for me to attempt to make them appear spotless. I shall only give the lie to the numerous comments that have been made upon the truth; for, God be praised! it is the fashion now-a-days to disguise truth by such comments. Every man who relates a story, whether from malice or ostentation, is sure to interlard with it some portion of slander, more or less; such is the good disposition of our nature, that something of our own invention must be added to that which is expected of us. I will relate to you an example of this.

I knew a gentleman at Madrid, a stranger, who was a great lover of Spanish horses. He possessed two of a remarkably fine shape, a sorrel and a dapple grey, which he would willingly have transported to his own country; but it not being lawful, and, besides, scarcely possible, on account of the very great distance, he resolved to have them painted,{4} that he might at least have the pleasure of shewing their pictures to his friends. With this view he employed two celebrated painters, to each of whom he gave a horse to paint; promising, over and above the price agreed on, to recompense handsomely the one whose performance should excel the other’s.

The first painted the sorrel almost to the life, and filled up the rest of his canvas with light strokes and shades. The other painter was not so perfect in the dapple-grey; but, to make amends, he adorned the upper part of his picture with trees, clouds, a beautiful perspective and venerable ruins, and he represented, at the lower part, an open country abounding with shrubs, meadows, and waterfalls. In the corner of his piece he had suspended all manner of horse-furniture on the trunk of a tree, with a hunting-saddle, which for workmanship could not be excelled.

When the gentleman saw the two{5} paintings, he with reason very much preferred the sorrel to the other, paid without hesitation what the artist demanded, and presented him besides with a fine ring. The other painter seeing the stranger so liberal, and conceiving that he deserved a much greater recompence than his rival, set his performance at an excessive rate; at which the gentleman, being surprised, asked him, “How he could for a moment imagine that he would purchase his painting at a higher rate than the other, to which it was undoubtedly much inferior?” “Inferior!” answered the painter: “I grant that my brother may have excelled me in the horse, but my shrubs and ruins alone are worth much more than the whole of his painting.” “I had no occasion,” answered the gentleman, “for your shrubs and ruins, we have enough of those in our own country. In one word, all that I desired of you was a true painting of my horse.”{6}

The painter replied, that “a horse alone would have had but a very poor effect in so large a piece, whereas the ornaments he had introduced had given great relief to its appearance. Besides,” added he, “I could not think of leaving a horse without saddle and bridle, and those that I have made I would not change for others, though made of gold.” “Once more,” said the stranger, “all I asked of you was a horse, for which I am ready to pay you a reasonable price. In regard to the saddle and bridle, you have only to dispose of them as you please.” Thus, for having done more than was desired of him, the artist was not paid for his trouble.

How many people are there in the world like this painter! A plain horse only is required of them, and they will, peremptorily, give you him saddled and bridled. Once more, slanderous commentaries are the fashion, and nobody escapes them. Judge then, reader, if my parents have been spared.{7}

CHAP. II. Of the Parents of Guzman, but more particularly of his Father.

My ancestors, as well as my Father, were originally from the Levant; but having settled in Genoa, and been ingrafted with the noblesse there, I shall call them Genoese.

They employed themselves in the traffic of exchanges, which was much practised among the gentry of that city. It is true that they acted in such a manner in their commerce, that their credit was soon publicly cried down, and they were accused of usury; it was moreover said of them, that they lent money at an exorbitant interest, upon plate and other good security, for a limited time, at the expiration of which, the pledges, if not redeemed,{8} remained at their disposal; sometimes they even denied themselves, and evaded persons who came for the purpose of reclaiming their property at the stipulated time, and, very frequently, restitution could only be obtained by an appeal to justice.

My parents well knew that they were reproached with these and the like villanies, but as they were prudent, peaceful people, they always went on their own way, and cared not what detractors said of them. In fact, when one behaves with decorum, why pay any regard to such slander? My father was a constant attendant at church, and always carried about with him a rosary of fifteen complete sections, each bead of which was larger than a hazel-nut. He never failed at mass; humbly kneeling before the altar, with his hands folded together, and his eyes turned up towards heaven, he uttered such ejaculations, and sighed with so much fervency,{9} that he inspired all around him with devotion. Can it be believed, then, without injustice, that with so truly religious an outward appearance, he was capable of the infamous transactions of which he was accused? God only is able to form a correct judgment of the heart of man. I confess, that if I saw a religious man enter a house in the night-time, armed with a sword, I might suspect his intention; but that such a man as my

father, who was constantly seen to act in this Christian-like manner, should be taxed with hypocrisy, is a piece of malignity which I cannot pass over.

Thus, though he had determined to treat all these unpleasant reports respecting him with contempt, he found that he had not always resolution sufficient to bear them with patience. That he might hear no more of them, therefore, he determined upon leaving the City. Another reason for his taking this resolution{10} was, that he had received information that his correspondent at Seville, with whom he was engaged for a considerable sum, had become a bankrupt. At this distressing intelligence he embarked immediately for Spain, in the hope of meeting with that person. But the vessel in which he sailed being taken by the corsairs, he was made a slave and carried to Algiers.

My father was now not only afflicted at the loss of his liberty, but was obliged to give up all hope of regaining his money. In his despair he took the turban; and having, by his insinuating manner, been happy enough to be well received by a rich widow at Algiers, he shortly afterwards married her.

In the mean time it was known at Genoa that he had been taken prisoner by the pirates, and this news soon came to the ears of his correspondent at Seville, who was the more rejoiced at it, as he fancied he had got rid of his principal{11} creditor, whom he considered a slave for life. Finding, therefore, that one way or other he had sufficient remaining to satisfy the others, he arranged his affairs with them immediately. So that, having discharged all his debts, according to the mode prescribed for bankrupts, he found himself able to commence business again in a better condition than ever.

On the other hand, my father’s thoughts were still completely occupied with the remembrance of his correspondent’s bankruptcy, and he never failed to make inquiries respecting him in all his letters to Spain. He learnt by this means, that his debtor had adjusted his affairs, and was in a better condition than ever: this afforded some consolation to our captive, who began to hope from that moment that he should recover some part of his debt. As to his having taken upon him the Turkish habit, and married in Algiers, nothing appeared easier to him than to clear himself from any difficulty{12} on that score. The first thing he did, was to persuade his wife to turn all her property into ready money, telling her that he was desirous to trade again. In respect to what jewels she had, he made not the slightest scruple to possess himself of them, before she had the least suspicion of his intention.

When he had thus got every thing in readiness, his next business was to find out some christian captain, who, out of compassion for him, and for a reasonable remuneration, would undertake to transport him to the Spanish coast, and he was fortunate enough to meet with one who was an Englishman, with a feeling heart, and a proper sense of religion, which the majority of his nation generally possess. Every thing was so well ordered that they had got a considerable way out to sea with my father and his treasure, before his wife had any knowledge of his departure. To add to his good luck, the vessel was bound for{13} Malaga, whence it is but three short days’ journey to Seville. No sooner had my father landed, than the idea of soon securing his rascally debtor seemed to complete his joy. The first thing he did was to get reconciled to the church; more, perhaps, from the fear of penance in this world, than from dread of punishment in the world to come.

Having got rid of an affair of so great importance, he thought of nothing but Seville, whither he hastened immediately. The news of my father’s having embraced Mahometanism had got to Seville long before him, and his correspondent felt so well assured of it, that he was enjoying his money without entertaining the slightest apprehension of ever being compelled to make any account of it: judge, therefore, of his surprise upon seeing the Genoese strut into his house one fine morning, with an imperious air, and dressed in a manner bearing but little resemblance to a slave; he could not but believe him for{14} some moments to be some spirit in the form of his principal creditor; but recollecting, in spite of himself, that it was my father, in his own flesh and blood, he was obliged at length to come to some explanation. With the utmost effrontery, therefore, he agreed that it was but right to settle accounts; but that they had so many and long dealings together, that their business required a long discussion. It may be

boldly asserted, that during their commerce there had been a thousand rogueries on both sides, known to themselves only; and as these slights of hand, or mutual juggles, are never entered on tradesmen’s books, this roguish correspondent had the audacity to deny three-fourths of them, unmindful of the good faith and honor which thieves are said so religiously to observe towards each other.

What more have I to tell you? After the perusal and reperusal of many papers pro and con; after an infinity of demands{15} and replies, accompanied by reproaches and reciprocal hard words; an accommodation was made, by which my father was content to lose the greater part of his demand. Of water spilt we must recover what we can, and certainly my father acted wisely in ridding himself at Malaga of the itch of Algiers[A]. If he had not taken this precaution, he would have obtained no redress, nor would he have touched a farthing of his debt. A man of his correspondent’s character might easily have taken advantage of the circumstance at Seville; perhaps by giving the half of his debt to the Brothers of the Holy Inquisition to undertake the cause for him. You may judge of the feeling he entertained towards him, by the reports that he spread to his disadvantage throughout Seville. What absurdities did he not relate to all the merchants upon ’Change, of two former petty bankruptcies of the Genoese,{16} which, in fact, were not without fraud;