8 SEPTEMBER 1832, Page 16

THE NEW GIL BLA.S.

THIS is a very clever and lively book in its way, but no more a new Gil Bias than a new Don Quixote. The hero is a imiscular young ruffian, who runs through numerous murders and rogueries with marvellous luck for three or four years, and ends life as a. re-spectable man. His adventures give the author an opportunity 0 weaving into the fiction a variety of tales and narratives some thing after the manner of Don Raphael and Don Ambrose : and so far there is a resemblance to Gil Bias, but not farther. The stories are all sketchy in. manner, and incredible in matter, even in Spain, where, according to Mr. INGLIS, every species of enormity is either neglected or pardoned : and the main narrative is not much superior either in the quality of its incidents or the style in which they are described. The true Gil Bias has been celebrated, ever since it was written, for the deep insight it gives, not into Spanish life only, but into human nature. Probability is never violated ; and when the romantic is resorted to, it is with a view of producing an agreeable relief, and never disgusts by its incredibility. All its pictures are finished as well as striking. No one who has read Gil Bias ever forgets its slightest incident: neither does it ever weary on reperusal. Mr. broms's werk, unluckily, shares the general censure of modern works of its species: it would be intolerable on a second reading. Men of first-rate talent, now-a-days, invariably write as if they were in a vast hurry to be done—they seem to hate their work ; and if success does not follow a succession of hasty and almost random strokes of the brush, they throw up the undertaking with disgust. A work of fiction intended to live, must necessarily cost the writer years of reflection, observation, and patient study. For this reason, we find that, at the present day, the first work of an author is not only invariably the best, but frequently the only good one. He then writes with more care and timidity, with more anxiety as to his success, and with more respect for public opinion: and not only this—his first work generally condenses the reflection and observation of many years, and becomes the depository of the thoughts of a whole life. Such should books always be: few men should ever write more than one : the value of publications would then increase in the inverse ratio of their numbers.

But to return to Mr. INGLIS. The New .Gil Bias must, we suppose, be considered as a continuation of his Travels. They certainly present some vivid pictures of scenery, some striking sketches of manners; but he must pardon us if we think that he has looked for his incidents and characters in Lazarillo de Tormes and Guzman d'Alfarache and similar works, instead of the book of life.

We shall select for extract a pleasing description of a very melancholy place,—the round towers of Tarifa, in which criminals are condemned to solitary imprisonment for life,—partly because it is well executed, and partly because, though improbable enough, this anecdote is told in a tone of more earnestness and truth than perhaps any other part of the book.

I was accordingly sentenced to solitary imprisonment for, life; a punishment that, if the object of law be vengeance, has more to recommend it than death itself.

The unfortunate persons whose crimes have subjected them to this dreadful punishment, in any of the Southern parts of Spain, are most generally sent to Tarifa. Along both sides of the port, there is a mole nearly half a mile in length ; at the extremity of which on either side, and at the entrance of the harbour, stands a huge and ancient Moorish tower, about a hundred and sixty feet in height above the sea. In this tower, which contains six chambers, one above another, prisoners for life are confined ; and thither I was accordingly conveyed. It is the policy of the Spanish laws, to render the punishment of criminals subservient to public utility; and this is in some degree effected even by solitary confinement. The prisoners confined in these towers are employed in turns, night by night, in trimming the lamps—which are a beacon to the vessels at sea. From each chamber there is a separate ascent to the summit of the tower; so that the prisoners never see each other, and each in his turn is obliged to remain from night until day-break upon the summit,—pert of his punishment for the destruction of human life being thus made subservient to its preservation. From these towers there are no visible means of escape : in the chambers, the windows are merely circular holes in walls at least six feet in thickness; and the outside walls being otirely smooth, there are no means of descent from the summit unless by a fearful leap of a hundred and sixty feet into the sea; for on the side towards the town, a wall of twenty feet high shuts out the prospect of land; serving at the same time as a hindrance to any communication and as an aggravation of punishment, by shutting out from the eye of the prisoner the cheerful lights of human habitations, or perhaps even, it might be, the dim view of human forms. It only requires to be added to this description, that a ponderous iron chain stretches from one tower to the other, across the mouth of the port, depending from fastenings situated about two feet below the summit of each, but forming a curve by its own weight ; and in the centre, reaching to within twenty or thirty feet of the surface of the water, from which point other chains are attached, reaching horizontally to the towers on either side. It is

needless to say, that during the day this great chain is lowered into the water when vessels desire to enter ,• but at night it is again raised; and there being rumours of war at this period, no ships were admitted during the night,—the chain being a security against an enemy entering and cutting out vessels under favour of the darkness. I will not attempt a description of my feelings when left alone in the small stone chamber, from which a speck only of the blue sky was visible through the little aperture, and where not a murmur of human life could penetrate the mas

sive walls. " Here," said I to myself, " I must remain for ever ;"—the thought was enough to turn the merriest mind to sadness. I was not opt to be cast down

with trifles ; but turn the thing which way I would in my mind, I could neither reconcile myself to my misfortune, nor perceive any obvious deliverance from it: yet I could not thoroughly persuade myself, that there was for ever an end of scheming, and that I must live and die in the tower at the entrance to the port of Tarifa. When it came to my turn to watch on the summit, of which the only intimation was the opening of the door by invisible hands I felt the full luxury of the change. In the winter season, it might be indeed a comfortless post; but as yet, the open air was milder than that in the chambers below. When I reached the summit, it was deep twilight; the lamps were already lighted, and it was my business to watch and trim them. The sea and the opposite tower were alone visible ; but the prospect, gloomy as it was, I felt to be life, compared with the limited horizon of the chamber below. At first, some vessels were dimly seen through the dusk, at anchorage off the port ; but the scene was soon wrapt in darkness: it was a moonless night, and nothing was visible but the lights on the opposite tower, and occasionally the gleam of a wave, as its white crest was touched with the reflection of the watch-lights. This, thought I in my own mind, as I leaned upon the wall, is a pretty way of spending the night, for a man who knows how to turn darkness as well as light to account ; and I bethought me of all the pleasures of Cadiz, which I had enjoyed with my unlucky preceptor who was hanged, as well as when in the service of the Marquesa, who poisoned herself; and of the charming suppers of which I had partaken with Violante and her guardian, and Ramirez, whose unfortunate exit was more than all to be regretted; since, had he been allowed to live, I might never have been perched upon a watch-tower from night till morning : and this brought Maraquita to my recollection,—why, this very night might have been my wedding night !! ! When one object only is visible, the eyes naturally wander towards it: I accordingly often found myself looking vaguely at the opposite tower • but my attention was arrested by perceiving a dark shadow at times pass to and fro, among the lights. I might have easily guessed, indeed, that I had a fellow-labourer ; but still, this seemed a discovery, and an agreeable one, because it diminished the feeling of loneliness. I now kept my eyes intently fixed upon the lights ; and as again the form was more revealed by the full blaze of the lamps, it suddenly occurred to me, that I might use the telescope which stood by me (pro bably for the use of the day-watch), as a means of making me better acquainted with the figure at least of my unfortunate fellow-sufferer. I accordingly, with some difficulty, directed it towards the opposite tower ; it was a glass of the finest construction, and as the distance was but inconsiderable, I found it com pletely answer my expectations. I could at once perceive that my fellow-labourer was a female ; the form, indeed, much shrouded by the habiliments suited to the performance of such a duty—but still, sufficiently revealed to leave no doubt upon this score. The head and face were hidden in the hands, and supported by the elbows resting on the knee; so that at first, the features of the countenance were unseen ; but judge of my astonishment when, upon raising her head, the blaze of light fell upon and revealed the well-known features of Isabel. Never before were surprise, pleasure, and pain so strangely mingled— but the last predominated. I had never altogether forgotten Isabel; and with this discovery, I felt for the first time a sting of reproach, since doubtless my de sertion of her had led to her apprehension, and to her punishment as the supposed murderer of her husband Andrades. I looked long and earnestly,—it was indeed Isabel—greatly altered ; but still to be recognized as her who reclined upon the sofa in Don Jose's saloon, and who rode by my side from Seville, and 'whose bead lay upon my shoulder as we journeyed to Xeres. Alas, poor Isabel!

I might well say, to be thus employed. I would have given worlds to speak to

her, and hear from her the 'history of her misfortune; but this was impossible, and I was forced to be contented, during the remainder of the night, with keeping my eye at the telescope, and watching her movements. At times, I almost felt that I would have risked my life for her deliverance; but how, alas! could I scheme the deliverance of another, when my own seemed hopeless ! The day had scarcely begun to break, when the door by which I reached the summit

of the tower fell back,—announcing to me that the time had arrived when I must betake myself to my chamber.

The next night upon which it was again my turn to watch the lights, I mounted to the summit with alacrity ; and scarcely had I reached it when I eagerly turned the telescope towards the opposite tower; but alas ! how great was my disappointment to find, that this night my fellow-sufferer was not Isabel ! 'This was easily enough explained, on the supposition that each of the towers had not the same number of inmates ; and it was therefore impossible for me to discover when the turn of Isabel might next chance to be upon the same night as my own. This night I was thus forced to spend in melancholy reflection, and in listening to the waves breaking upon the mole. Another night returned,

and brought with it another disappointment; but upon the fourth, no sooner bad I applied my eye to the telescope, than it rested upon the form of Isabel. I

watched her movements—her countenance; and she seemed so near me, that when I whispered—" Ah ! my poor Isabel !" I fancied she could hear me pity her; but when I withdrew my eye from the glass, this delusion fled, for I saw the dark gulf that yawned between the towers. When, after a few moments, I

again applied my eye to the telescope, I was not at first able to perceive anyone; but upon a more attentive scrutiny, I discovered that Isabel was employed in the same manner, and had turned her telescope towards my tower, and was kneeling behind it. I immediately discontinued my scrutiny, and placed myself in the full blaze of the lights,—making, at the same time, signals of recognition ; and when, after a little interval, I again sought Isabel, I had the satisfaction of seeing her instantly return the signals.

It would have been no difficult matter for the human voice to he heard from tower to tower on a still night. A slight elevation of tone would have been sufficient for this; for the distance could not greatly have exceeded three hundred yards; but the same sounds that would have reached the opposite tower, must also have been heard within the port, and even on the mole. This sort of communication was, therefore, out of the question; but anxious as I was to attain the object in some way, I still continued to ruminate upon the possibiliV of effecting it. While leaning over the tower, my eyes rested upon the iron chain, dimly seen suspended from tower to tower; and I almost instantly began to consider the possibility of attempting by its means to pass the gulf, and thus reach the opposite tower. My arms were sinewy,—my strength and agility great,—and courage I had never yet found wanting.

Scarcely was the scheme suggested to the mind, before it was resolved upon • and it was no sooner resolved upon, than adopted. As I raised myself upon the wall, and the next instant dropped upon the chain, I distinctly heard from the Opposite tower a faint cry, which I made no doubt was the expression of Isabel's fears, as she watched my motions. And now I was suspended over the gulf—pitchy darkness around, and the black sea beneath; but I felt my arms strong and my grasp secure, and. I worked my way rapidly forward. At first my progress was speedy and easy; for I was descending the curve, and soon reached the lower point of it, and was enabled where the smaller chains were attached to rest awhile,—standing upon one of these, and leaning upon the great chain. Here, I seemed to be within but a short distance of the water, whose surface gleamed faintly and trembling,ly beneath. I could have dropped into it without danger, but to what purpose? I now began to enter upon the more difficult and perilous taut of my task,— ascending the chain to the opposite tower; and as I found the labour of this attempt every moment increase, I could not help feeling, that I was guilty of an act of folly, in risking life to reach one from whom I had once before voluntarily separated myself: but there was now no room fur repentance; and besides, I could not but feel some interest in her who I had every reason to believe had been brought into misfortune by me ; and if this conjecture should prove correct, my doom would be rendered no worse, by declaring myself the murderer, or at least the slayer of Andrades, as my punishment was already fixed,—and thus Isabel might be restored to liberty. Occupied with such thoughts, I at length reached the top of the chain ; and in another moment had sprung upon the summit of the tower, and stood beside the long-lost, the unfortunate, the altered, but still lovely, and as it appeared, the yet affectionate Isabel. " Alt ! barbaro," said she, as I clasped her in my arms: but notwithstanding this salutation, I could perceive that ill-treatment had no ways diminished her predilection for we (an enigma, by the by, in the character of a woman); and as her tears fell abundantly upon my cheek, I could not do less than accuse myself, in terms of the bitterest self-reproach, for my cruelty in having ever abandoned so charming a creature.