Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine. Volume 55, No. 344, June, 1844

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.)

“Leur conversation roula d’abord sur une course de taureaux qui s’étoit faite depuis peu de jours. Ils parlèrent des cavaliers qui y avoient montré le plus d’adresse et de vigueur; et la-dessus le vieux comte, tel que Nestor, à qui toutes les choses presentes donnoient occasion de louer les choses passées, dit en soupirant—Hélas! je ne vois point aujourd’hui d’hommes comparables à ceux que j’ai vus autrefois, ni les tournois ne se font pas avec autant de magnificence qu’on les faisoit dans ma jeunesse.”

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—

“Il nous fit voir un manteau et une robe noire fort longue, deux pourpoints avec leurs hauts-de-chausses, une de ces écritoires composées de deux pièces liées par un cordon, et dont le cornet est séparé de l’etui où l’on met les plumes; une main de beau papier blanc un cadenas avec un gros cachet, et de la cire verte; et lorsqu’il nous eut enfin exhibé toutes ses emplettes, Don Raphael lui dit en plaisantant: Vive Dieu! Monsieur Ambroise, il faut avouer que vous avez fait là un bon achat.”

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.

“Là, mon garçon barbier étala ses vivres, qui consistoient das cinq ou six oignons, avec quelques morceaux de pain et de fromage: mais ce qu’il produisit comme la meilleure pièce du sac, fut une petite outre, remplie, disoit-il, d’un vin delicat et friand,” (2, 6.)

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:—

“Cette soubrette, qui est la même dont je me suis servi depuis pour tirer de la tour de Segovie le seigneur de Santillane, ayant envie de rendre service à Don Ignacio, engagea sa maîtresse à demander pour lui un bénéfice an Duc de Lerme. Ce ministre le fit nommer à l’archidiaconat de Granade, lequel étant en pays conquis; est à la nomination du roi.”

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—

“Je le menai au comte-duc, qui le reçut très poliment, et lui dit qu’il s’étoit si bien conduit dans son gouvernement de la ville de Valence, que le roi, le jugeant propre à remplir une plus grande place, l’avoit nommé à la viceroyauté d’Aragon. D’ailleurs, ajouta-t-il, cette dignité n’est point au-dessus de votre naissance, et la noblesse Aragonoise ne sauroit murmurer contre le choix de la cour.”

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?

“Il me fit traverser une cour, et monter par un escalier fort étroit à une petite chambre qui étoit tout an haut de la tour. Je ne fus pas peu surpris, en entrant dans cette chambre, de voir sur   une table deux chandelles, qui bruloient dans des flambeaux de cuivre, et deux couverts assez propres. Dans un moment, me dit Tordesillas, on va nous apporter à manger: nous allons souper ici tous deux. C’est ce reduit que je vous ai destiné pour logement. Vous y serez mieux que dans votre cachot; vous verrez de votre fenêtre les bords fleuris de l’Erêma, et la vallée delicieuse qui, du pied des montagnes qui separent les deux Castilles, s’étend jusqu’à Coca. Je suis bien que vous serez d’abord peu sensible à une si belle vue, mais quand le temps aura fait succeder une douce mélancolie à la vivacité de votre douleur, vous prendrez plaisir à promener vos regards sur des objets si agréables.”

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,

“Ut per læve moventes,Effundat junctura ungues.”

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—

“Ayde nie un año feliceParece un soplo ligeroPero sin duda un instanteEs un siglo de tormento.”

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.24 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.