Except that he was born at Sarzeau, in Brittany, on May 8,
1668, and that he was the son of the novelist Claude le Sage,
little is known of the youth of Alain René le Sage. Until he
was eighteen he was educated with the Jesuits at Vannes, when,
it is conjectured he went to Paris to continue his studies for
the Bar. An early marriage drove him to seek a livelihood by
means of literature, and shortly afterwards he found a
valuable and sympathetic friend and patron in the Abbé de
Lyonne, who not only bestowed upon him a pension of about
£125, but also gave him the use of his library. The first
results of this favour were adaptations of two plays from
Rojas and Lope de Vega, which appeared some time during the
first two or three years of the eighteenth century. Le Sage's
reputation as a playwright and as a novelist rests, oddly
enough, in each case on one work. As the author of "Tuscaret,"
produced in 1709, he contributed to the stage one of the best
comedies in the French language; as author of "The Adventures
of Gil Blas of Santillana" he stands for all time in the front
rank of the world's novelists. Here he brought the art of
story-writing to the highest level of artistic truth. The
first and second parts of the work appeared in 1715, the third
in 1724, and the fourth in 1735. Le Sage died at Boulogne on
November 17, 1747.
_I.--I Start on my Travels_
My uncle, Canon Perez, was a worthy priest. To live well was, in his
opinion, the chief duty of man. He lived very well. He kept the best
table in the town of Oviedo. I was very glad of this, as I lived with
him, my parents being too poor to keep me.
My uncle gave me an excellent education. He even learned to read so as
to be able to teach me himself. There were few ecclesiastics of his rank
in Spain in the early part of the seventeenth century who could read a
breviary as well as he could when I left him, at the age of seventeen,
to continue my duties at the University of Salamanca.
"Here are forty ducats, Gil Blas," he said to me when we parted. "And
you can take my old mule and sell it when you reach Salamanca. Then you
will be able to live comfortable until you obtain a good position."
It is, I suppose, about two hundred miles from Oviedo to Salamanca. Not
very far, you will say, but it took me two years to cover the distance.
When one travels along a high road at the age of seventeen, master of
one's actions, of an old mule, and forty ducats, one is bound to meet
with adventures on the way. I was out to see the world, and I meant to
see it; my self-confidence was equalled only by my utter inexperience.
Out of my first misadventure came an extraordinary piece of good luck. I
fell into the hands of some brigands, and lost my mule and my money.
Among my fellow prisoners was a wealthy lady, Doña Mencia, of Burgos. I
helped her to escape and got away myself, and when I came to Burgos she
rewarded me very handsomely with a diamond ring and a thousand ducats.
This changed my plan of life completely. Why should I go and study at
Salamanca? Did I want to become a priest or a pedant? I was now sure
that I didn't.
"Gil Blas," I said, "you are a good-looking lad, clever, well-educated,
and ambitious. Why not go to Madrid and try to get some place at the
court of King Philip the Third?"
I spent sixty ducats in dressing myself out gaily in the manner of a
rich cavalier, and I engaged a man of about thirty years of age to come
with me as my servant.
Lamela, as he was called, was quite different from the other valets who
applied for the position. He did not demand any sum as wages.
"Only let me come with you, sir," he said. "I shall be content with
whatever you give me."
It seemed to me that I had got a very good servant We slept at Duengas
the first night, and on the second day we arrived at Valladolid. As I
was sitting in my inn, a charming lady entered and asked to see me.
"My dear Gil Blas," she exclaimed "Lamela has just told me of your
arrival. I am a cousin of Doña Mencia, and I received a letter from her
this morning. How brave it was of you to rescue her from those wicked
brigands! I can't leave you in this inn. You must come at once to my
house. My brother, Don Raphael, will be delighted to see you when he
returns in an hour or two from our country castle."
Doña Camilla, as the lady was called, led me to a great house in the
best part of the town, and at the door we met Don Raphael. "What a
handsome young cavalier you are, my dear Gil Blas!" he said. "You must
make up your mind to stay with us for some weeks."
The supper was a pleasant affair. Doña Camilla and her brother found
something to admire in everything I said, and I began to fancy myself as
a wit. It was very late when Lamela led me to my bed-room and helped me
to undress. And it was very late when I awoke next day. I called to
Lamela, but he did not come, so I arose and dressed myself and went
downstairs. To my surprise there was nobody in the house, and all my
baggage had disappeared. I looked at my hand--the diamond ring had gone.
Then I understood why Lamela had been willing to come with me without
troubling about wages. I had fallen for a second time into the hands of
thieves. They had hired the furnished house for a week, and had trapped
me in it. It was clear that I had boasted too much at Burgos about the
thousand ducats which Doña Mencia gave me. Now I found myself at
Valladolid quite penniless.
As I walked along the street in a very despondent mood, not knowing how
to get a meal, someone tapped me on the shoulder, and said, "Good
gracious, Gil Blas, I hardly knew you! What a princely dress you've got
on. A fine sword, silk stockings, a velvet mantle and doublet with
silver lacings! Have you come into a fortune?"
I turned around, and found it was Fabrice, an old schoolfellow, the son
of a barber at Oviedo. I told him of my adventure.
"Pride comes before a fall, you see," he said with a laugh. "But I can
get you a place if you care to take it. One of the principal physicians
of the town, Dr. Sangrado, is looking for a secretary. I know you write
a very good hand. Sell your fine raiment and buy some plain clothes, and
I will take you to the doctor."
I am glad to say that I obtained the post, but I wasn't altogether
satisfied with it. Dr. Sangrado believed in vegetarianism, and he gave
me only peas and beans and baked apples to eat, and not much of those.
At the end of a fortnight I resolved to go as a servant in some house:
where meat and wine were to be had.
"Don't be foolish," said Sangrado. "Your fortune is made if you only
stay with me. I am getting old and I require someone to help me in my
practice. You can do it. You need not waste your time in studying all
the nonsense written by other doctors. You have only to follow my
method. Never give a patient medicine. Bleed him well, and tell him to
drink a pint of hot water every half hour. If that doesn't cure
him--well, it's time he died."
So I donned one of Sangrado's gowns, which gave me a very original
appearance, as it was much too long and ample for me, and then I began
to attend his patients. A few of them, I believe, managed to recover.
One day a woman stopped me and took me into her house to look at her
niece. I recognised the girl as soon as I saw her. It was the pretty
adventuress, Camilla, who had decoyed me and helped to rob me of my
thousand ducats. When I took her hand to feel her pulse I perceived that
she was wearing my diamond ring. Happily, she was too ill to know me.
After ordering her to be bled and given a pint of warm water every half
hour, I went out and talked the matter over with Fabrice. We resolved
not to call in the police, as they would certainly keep whatever money
of mine they recovered. The ways of the law in Spain in the seventeenth
century are very strange and intricate.
Nevertheless, I returned late at night to the house accompanied by a
sergeant of the police and five of his men, all well armed. I then awoke
Camilla, and told her to dress herself and attend before the magistrate.
"Oh, Gil Blas," she cried, "have pity on me. Lamela and Raphael have run
off with the money, and left me alone here on a bed of sickness."
I knew this was true, as I had made inquiries; but I also knew that
Camilla had had a share of the spoil, and had bought some valuable
jewelry with it. So I said, "Very well, I won't be hard on you. But you
must give me back the diamond ring which you are wearing, and you must
satisfy these officers of the police."
Poor Camilla understood what I meant. It is a costly matter to satisfy
the Spanish police. She gave me the ring, and then, with a sigh, she
opened a casket and handed the sergeant everything it contained--a
necklace of beautiful pearls, a pair of fine earrings, and some other
jewels.
"Isn't this better than calling in the police?" said the sergeant when
we had left the house. "There are the jewels. Two hundred ducats' worth,
I'll be bound!"
No doubt, dear reader, you have seen through this little plot. The
supposed sergeant was my old friend, Fabrice, and his five men were five
young barbers of his acquaintance. They quickly changed their clothes,
and we all went to an inn and spent a merry evening together.
_II.--In Male Attire_
A few days afterwards I took up the plan which I had formed at Burgos,
and bravely set out for Madrid in the hope of making my fortune there.
But my money did not last long, for on reaching the capital I fell in
with a wild company of fashionable actors and actresses.
As my purse grew lighter my conscience became tenderer, and at length I
humbly accepted the position of lackey in the house of a rich old
nobleman, Don Vincent de Guzman. He was a widower, with an only child,
Aurora--a lovely, gay, and accomplished girl of twenty-six years of age.
I had hardly been with him a month when he died, leaving his daughter
mistress of all his wealth, and free to do what she liked with it. To my
surprise, Aurora then began to distinguish me from all the other
servants. I could see by the way she looked at me that there was
something about me that attracted her. Great ladies, I knew, sometimes
fall in love with their lackeys, and one evening my hopes were raised to
the highest pitch; for Aurora's maid then whispered to me that somebody
would like to talk to me alone at midnight in the garden. Full of wild
impatience, I arrived at the spot two hours before the time. Oh, those
two hours! They seemed two eternities.
At midnight Aurora appeared, and I threw myself at her feet, exclaiming,
"Oh, my dear lady! Even in my wildest dreams of love I never thought of
such happiness as this!"
"Don't talk so loud!" said Aurora, stepping back and laughing. "You will
rouse all the household. So you thought I was in love with you? My dear
boy, I am in love with somebody else. Knowing how clever and ingenious
you are, I want you to come at once with me to Salamanca and help me to
win my love."
Naturally, I was much disconcerted by this strange turn of affairs.
However, I managed to recover myself and listen to my mistress. She had
fallen in love with a gallant young nobleman, Don Luis Pacheco, who was
unaware of the passion he inspired. He was going the next day to
Salamanca to study at the university, and Aurora had resolved to go
there also, dressed as a young nobleman, and make his acquaintance. She
had fallen in love with him at sight, and had never found an opportunity
to speak to him.
"I shall get two sets of rooms in different parts of the town," she said
to me. "In one I shall live as Aurora de Guzman, with my maid, who must
play the part of an aunt. In the other, I shall be Don Felix de Mendoc,
a gallant cavalier, and you must be my valet."
We set off for Salamanca at daybreak, and arrived before Don Luis.
Aurora took a furnished mansion in the fashionable quarter, and I called
at the principal inns, and found the one where Don Luis had arranged to
stay, Aurora then hid her pretty brown tresses under a wig, and put on a
dashing cavalier's costume, and came and engaged a room at the place
where her lover was.
"So you have come to study at the university, sir?" said the innkeeper.
"How lucky! Another gallant young nobleman has just taken a room here
for the same purpose. You will be able to dine together and entertain
one another."
He introduced his two guests, and they quickly became fast friends.
"Do you know, Don Felix, you're uncommonly good-looking," said Don Luis,
as they sat talking over the wine. "Between us we shall set on fire the
hearts of the pretty girls of Salamanca."
"There's really a lovely girl staying in the town," said my mistress.
"She's a cousin of mine, Aurora de Guzman. We are said to resemble each
other in a remarkable way."
"Then she must be a beautiful creature," said Don Luis, "for you have
fine, regular features and an admirable colour. When can I see this
paragon?"
"This afternoon, if you like," said my mistress.
They went together to the mansion, where the maid received them, dressed
as an elderly noblewoman.
"I'm very sorry, Don Felix," said the maid, "but my niece has a bad
headache, and she has gone to lie down."
"Very well," said the pretended cousin. "I will just introduce my
friend, Don Luis, to you. Tell Aurora we will call to-morrow morning."
Don Luis was much interested in the lovely girl whom he had not been
able to see. He talked about her to his companion late into the night.
The next day, as they were about to set out to visit her, I rushed in,
as arranged, with a note for my mistress.
"What a nuisance!" she said. "Here is some urgent business I must at
once attend to. Don Luis, just run round and tell my cousin that I
cannot come until this afternoon!"
Don Luis retired to put some final touches to his dress, and my mistress
hurried off with me to her mansion, and there, with the help of her
maid, she quickly got into her proper clothes. She received Don Luis
very kindly, and they talked together for quite two hours. Don Luis then
went away, and Aurora slipped into her cavalier's costume and met him at
the inn.
"My dear Felix," said Don Luis, "your cousin is an adorable lady. I'm
madly in love with her. If I can only win her, I'll marry and settle
down on my estates."
Aurora gazed at him very tenderly, and then, with a gay laugh, she shook
off her wig and let her curls fall about her shoulders.
Don Felix knelt at her feet and kissed her hands, crying, "Oh, my
beautiful Aurora! Do you really care for me? How happy we shall be
together!"
The two lovers resolved to return at once to Madrid, and make
preparations for the wedding. At the end of a fortnight my mistress was
married, and I again set out on my travels with a well-lined purse.
_III.--Old Acquaintances_
I had always had a particular desire to see the famous town of Toledo. I
arrived there in three days, and lodged at a good inn, where, by reason
of my fine dress, I passed for a gentleman of importance. But I soon
discovered that Toledo was one of those places in which it is easier to
spend money than to gain it.
So I set out for Aragon. On the road I fell in with a young cavalier
going in the same direction. He was a man of a frank and pleasant
disposition, and we soon got on a friendly footing. His name, I learned,
was Don Alfonso; he was, like me, seeking for means of livelihood.
It came on to rain very heavily as we were skirting the base of a
mountain, and, in looking about for some place of shelter, we found a
cave in which an aged, white-haired hermit was living. At first he was
not pleased to see us, but something about me seemed to strike him
favourably, and he then gave us a kind welcome. We tied our horses to a
tree, and prepared to stay the night. The hermit began to talk to us in
a very pious and edifying way, when another aged anchorite ran into the
cave, and said, "It is all over; we're discovered. The police are after
us!"
The first hermit tore off his white beard and his hair, and took off his
long robe, showing a doublet beneath; and his companion followed his
example. In a few moments they were changed into a couple of young men
whose faces I recognised.
"Raphael! Lamela! What mischief are you working now? And where are my
thousand ducats, you rascals?"
"Ah, Gil Blas, I knew you at once!" said Raphael blandly. "One comes on
old acquaintances when one least expects them. I know we treated you
badly. But the money's gone, and can't be recovered. Come with us, and
we will soon make up to you all that you have lost."
It was certainly unwise to remain in a cave which the police were about
to visit, and, as the rain had ceased and the night had fallen, we all
set out in the darkness to find some better shelter. We took the road to
Requena, and came to a forest, where we saw a light shining in the
distance. Don Alfonso crept up to the spot, and saw four men sitting
round a fire, eating and quarrelling. It was easy to see what they were
quarrelling about. An old gentleman and a lovely young girl were bound
to a tree close by, and by the tree stood a fine carriage.
"They are brigands," said Alfonso, when he returned, "who have captured
a nobleman and his daughter, I think. Let us attack them. In order, no
doubt, to prevent their quarrelling turning into a deadly affray, they
have piled all their arms in a heap some yards away from the fire. So
they cannot make much of a fight."
And they did not. We quietly surrounded them, and shot them down before
they were able to move. Don Alfonso and I then set free the captives,
while Raphael and Lamela rifled the pockets of the dead robbers.
"I am the Count of Polan, and this is my daughter Seraphina," said the
old gentleman. "If you will help me to get my carriage ready, I will
drive back to an inn which we passed before entering the forest."
When we came to the inn, the count begged us all to stay with him.
Raphael and Lamela, however, were afraid that the police would track
them out; Don Alfonso, who had been talking very earnestly to Seraphina,
was, for some strange reason, also unwilling to remain; so I fell in
with their views.
"Why didn't you stay?" I said to Don Alfonso.
"I was afraid the count would recognise me, as Seraphina has done," he
said. "I killed his son in a duel, just when I was trying to win
Seraphina's love. Heaven grant that the service I have now rendered will
make him inclined to forgive me."
The day was breaking when we reached the mountains around Requena. There
we hid till nightfall, and then we made our way in the darkness to the
town of Xeloa. We found a quiet, shady retreat beside a woodland stream,
and there we stayed, while Lamela went into the town to buy provisions.
He did not return until evening. He brought back some extraordinary
things.
He opened a great bundle containing a long black mantle and robe,
another costume, a roll of parchment, a quill, and a great seal in green
wax.
"Do you remember the trick you played on Camilla?" he said to me. "I
have a better scheme than that. Listen. As I was buying some provisions
at a cook-shop, a man entered in a great rage and began abusing a
certain Samuel Simon, a converted Jew and a cruel usurer. He had ruined
many merchants at Xeloa, and all the towns-people would like to see him
ruined in turn. Then, my dear Gil Blas, I remembered your clever trick,
and brought these clothes so that we might visit this Jew dressed up as
the officers of the Inquisition."
After we had made a good meal, Lamela put on the robe and mantle of the
Inquisitor, Raphael the costume of the registrar, and I took the part of
a sergeant of the police. We walked very solemnly to the house of the
usurer; Simon opened the door himself, and started back in affright.
"Master Simon," said Lamela, in a grave imperative tone of voice, "I
command you, on behalf of the Holy Inquisition, to deliver to these
officers the key of your cabinet. I must have your private papers
closely examined. Serious charges of heresy have been brought against
you."
The usurer grew pale with fear. Far from doubting any deceit on our
part, he imagined that some of his enemies had informed the Holy Office
against him. He obeyed without the least resistance, and opened his
cabinet.
"I am glad to see," said Lamela, "that you do not rebel against the
orders of the Holy Inquisition. Retire now to another room, and let me
carry out the examination without interference."
Simon withdrew into a farther room, and Lamela and Raphael quickly
searched in the cabinet for the strongbox. It was unlocked, being so
full of money that it could not be closed. We filled all our pockets;
then our hose; and then stuffed the coins in any place in our clothes
that would hold them. After this, we closed the cabinet, and our
pretended Inquisitor sealed it down with a great seal of green wax, and
said very solemnly to the usurer, "Master Simon, I have sealed your
cabinet with the seal of the Holy Office. Let me find it untouched when
I return to-morrow morning to inform you of the decision arrived at in
your case."
The next morning we were a good many leagues from Xeloa. At breakfast,
we counted over the money which we had taken from Simon. It came to
three thousand ducats, of which we each took a fourth part. Raphael and
Lamela then desired to carry out a similar plot against someone in the
next town; but Don Alfonso and I would not agree to take any part in the
affair, and set out for Toledo. There, Don Alfonso was reconciled to the
Count of Polan, and soon afterwards he and Seraphina were happily
married.
I retired to Lirias, a pleasant estate that Don Alfonso gave me, and
there I married happily, and grew old among my children. In the reign of
Philip IV., I went to the court, and served under the great minister,
Olivarez. But I have now returned to Lirias, and I do not intend to go
to Madrid again.
* * * * *