EUGENE SCRIBE'S PIQITILLO

Is a novel of Spanish adventure. The time embraces the entire reign of Philip the Third; opening with the accession of the monarch and closing with his death, though only certain periods are prominently introduced into the story. The leading historical characters are Philip, and his Minister the Duke of Lerma, with several courtiers, ladies, and ecclesi- astics; their incidents sufficiently altered for the purposes of fiction. The classes of society from whom the characters of the romance are taken are common to Spanish stories,—a captain of banditti with his followers ; alguazils, or rogues in their guise ; an old father ; young ladies ; an of- ficer and lover ; a page or confidant, rising as suddenly as people rise in Spain, at least in books, and falling in love above his station ; with inn- keepers, barbers, inquisitors, and so forth. The Moors and their expul- sion form a variety, if not a relief from the usual mark of the Inquisi- tion the Jews. But in its substance the book is a reflection of Gil Bias; the more formal historical matter and persons introduced his- torically, with the Frenchified couleur de rose thrown over the Moors, rather detracting from the interest of the real Spanish romance than add- ing anything to it.

Piquillo is a clever novel. The author has studied Spain and Spa- nish story. With the quick perception of his countrymen he has seized the distinguishing masses of Spanish society at the time of his tale, and represented them distinctly in the dramatis personre, but has endowed them with a liveliness which belongs rather to the French writer than the real Spaniard. The story or fable is long and complex, mixing public and private interests too much together, and without possessing unity or much either of real interest or denouement : a defect., no doubt, visible in the prototypes of M. Eugene Scribe ; but an author has no occasion to ex- aggerate defects that are not essential to his particular subject, although they may exist in the life which the original writers followed.

In particular scenes or situations M. Scribe is very clever. He tells what is essential for the reader to know, with a smartness which is at- tractive in itself and at the same time carries on his narrative. Although sometimes inconsistent in his details from carelessness, he exhibits skill in his situations and invention in extricating his persons from difficulties. For example, his hero, Piquillo escapes from the bandit whom he serves unwillingly ; and, being overtaken, ascends a difficult tree : Captain Juan Baptista cannot climb—his pistol only breaks a branch or scatters the thick leaves—to wait may be dangerous ; so he sets the tree on fire ; and when the trunk and lower branches have thoroughly caught the flames, departs exultingly.

"The flames rose higher and higher. But the prayer of the poor child as- cended still higher. Doubtless, God heard it, and was willing it should be grant- ed. The sky, which ever since the morning had been obscured by heavy thick vapours, now began to be illumined by lightning; and presently a terrible flash shook even the oak in which Piquillo was praying. A long train of fire traversed the horizon, rending the immense cloud by which the forest was enveloped; at the same moment all the fountains of heaven seemed to be opened, and the rain fell in torrents. The storm continued for an hour with unabated violence; and Piquillo blessed it. With what joy, with what gratitude, he contemplated this new deluge ! and the rain, which rattling upon the dried leaves, already formed a broad stream at the foot of the oak, at the very place which just before formed the centre of the fire! All the flaming branches were successively extinguished; their half-consumed arms formed broad black lines amid the green foliage which had been spared by the destroying element, and not a gleam of fire was any longer perceptible."

Perhaps the greatest merit of the book is in its manner and its style. M. Scribe has the smartness, the vivacity, the point, the pleasantry, and the turns which distinguish his countrymen and our Sir Bulwer Lyt- ton. But vivacity of manner, and cleverness, however available in a scene or a tale, are not sufficient to sustain a fiction of three volumes. Piquillo is not only long as regards duration, but long and rather heavy in effect. We are tickled and amused by a brisk and well-turned dialogue, especially when we can see how the dialogue is made to fulfil a purpose without losing its character ; we are led on by a skilfully-contrived scene or episode, which contains in itself a sort of story; but true in tercet in a long work can only be sustained by reality and nature ; and not much of either will be found in Piquillo. It is a manufacture, well designed and very well executed ; but the maker is too obviously think- ing of his work and of himself to impart an air of nature to his fiction, even were his materials more original and his structure more natural than they are. The real cleverness of Eugene Scribe—the airy smartness of his dia- logue' and the mots with which he enriches it, not as mere pointed say- ings, but as sentences accomplishing an end—can only be exhibited by an elaborate selection of bits, or long quotations of dialogue. The manner in which be manages a scene of adventure may be more readily displayed. The following exhibits Piquillo and two travellers his former acquaint- ances escaping from the robbers' head-quarters at an ostensible hostel.

The idea of the thing, with the best bed sinking through the floor, and the substitution of a drunken robber for the victims, is as old as novel- Writing ; but it is managed with playwright dexterity.

Pedralvi's faithful companion informed them in a few words in what sort of an hotel they had fallen; what were the projects and the profession of the cap- tain, and the only chances of escape they had left. They have all gone to bed,' said he, 'and will be asleep in an hour's time. The captain, according to custom, will probably g0 down into the cellar; we too will go down, and endeavour to get out of this infernal house. How, I know not; we shall see when the moment comes: wait, I will go and watch.' ."He left the barber and his niece, more dead than alive, and went a short dis- tance down stairs. He then lay down on the ground, and listened—watching in the dark, and intent on the slightest noise. At length he heard all the banditti retire successively to their chambers. He now went still lower, stopping at the first-floor, and listened again, trembling, and scarcely daring to breathe. The diningroom door on the ground floor opened, and the captain came forth with a lantern in his hand. He went down the steps leading to the cellar, the door of which he left wide open behind him. Piquillo summoned up his courage to follow him slowly and at a distance. He shut this door, and double-locked it; then, taking out a bunch of keys, he flew up the stairs to his loft.

"'Now,' cried he to his friends, we have not a moment to lose! Come ! Among these keys we shall be sure to find one to open to the door leading to the wood. If that fail, we have nothing further to do.' " Yes, dear uncle, come along ! Our life is at stake, and you stand there!' "Gongarello would fain have done otherwise; but it was impossible. His head was heavy and his eyes were overpowered and shut; urged by terror, he strove hard to move; but his legs refused to do him service, and a yawning in.. dicative of heavy sleep prevented him from speaking. At length, after a few moments' struggle, quite overcome by his useless efforts, he sank down upon a bundle of bay, and, to the surprise and horror of his niece and Piquillo, fell fast asleep. All their efforts to awaken or rouse him were useless. He murmured a few words, took a step or two, and then fell back in his lethargy. "' Ah !' cried Piquillo, 'it is that foreign wine, that pretended French wine ! That they may run no danger, and have nothing to fear from their victims, they begin by sending them to sleep, and depriving them of the use of their senses.' Then Juanita who had drawn near her uncle, crossed her arms upon her breast, inclined her held, and began pronouncing fervently a few sentences in an un- known language.

"'What are you doing?' cried Piquillo, in astonishment. "I am praying to the God of my fathers, the God of Mehemet: for my uncle, like me and Pedralvi, is descended from the Moors of Grenada.'

"'And so am I! cried Piquillo, joyfully; these bandits told cue so, on seeing some Arab characters traced upon my arm.'

"'Well, then,' said Juanita, giving him her hand,—' well then, poor son of lehrasel, thou shalt die with thy brethren.' " That is better than to live alone,' replied Piquillo.

"At that moment a loud noise was heard in the house. It would seem that in the cellar, and in the dark, a desperate combat was going on between the cap- tain and his lieutenant. The latter, although drunk, had awoke on feeling his bed lowered; and though he had hardly recovered his reason, had easily made up his mind that they wanted to strangle him. He had of his own accord rushed at the throat of his assailant; who, expecting no resistance, had been thrown down, together with his lantern, by this attack, as vigorous as it was unexpected. The combatants were rolling together on the ground; and as their strength, which was about equal, was increased twofold by their rage, they were tearing each other with their teeth and nails; the lieutenant not having his dagger, and the pistol that Juan Baptista wore at his belt having fallen to the ground during their desperate struggle. At the howling of these combatants, and the dreadful noise in the cellar, all the banditti awoke.

"'Help!' shouted Carnego; 'a troop of alguazils or familiars of the Holy Office are assassinating the captain. Come on, my friends; break down this door!'

"Some with spades, others armed with levers and iron bars, attacked the door and the walls; which could not long resist their efforts. This was the cause of the horrible din which had just then been heard by the two prisoners; as for the third, he heard nothing. "'There is no longer any hope,' cried Piquillo; who had just ventured to go to the top of the stairs, and who guessed what was going on below. Even if we wanted to fly now, we could not. All those brigands are on the alert. They are now on the stairs, and running all over the house; and if they come up here to awake and fetch me—' "He looked at Juanita aghast; and the poor girl, seized with a horrible fear, which had not yet crossed her mind, rushed towards Piquillo, crying involunta- rily,' Save me, save me!' then looking towards her uncle, she said, dropping her arms, I am mad—it is impossible

" 'No,' cried Piquillo, struck with a sudden idea; no, it is not impossible ! ' "The loft in which our prisoners were now shut up had but one window, which was in the roof, and opened towards the forest. Piquillo pushed back the shutter; and Juanita perceived, by the light of the moon, the tops of the trees waving in the wind.

"'You see,' cried her young companion, we have still one way of escape.' "He showed her above the jutting roofs rope and a pulley, by which they used to bring up the hay and straw into the loft.

'" If you are not afraid, and will trust to me—' "'Yes,' answered the maiden, with intrepidity. "Then, with a running knot, he passed the rope round her body and under her arms. And he set about lowering down the young girl slowly and cautiously. She soon disappeared from his eyes, turning round in empty space; a few mo nests after, the rope drew no longer and stopped. Doubtless, Juanita had landed safe and sound; for the rope, to which he gave a slight shake, came up alone. "It was now the barber's turn: this was more difficult, as he could hardly awake or support himself. But, without consulting him about the perilous jour- ney he was about to make him undertake, Piquillo launched him forth in the same manner as Juanita, merely struggling with all his might to counterbalance his burden, the very weight of which caused it to descend rapidly to the ground by the natural force of gravitation. I V‘ He heard a pretty heavy shock: it was the barber, who had arrived without damage at his destination; and the rope, loosened by Juanita again ascended. This time, seeing himself alone to effect his descent, Piquillo made fast one end of the rope to a beam in the loft, and then launched himself off into the air and slid fearlessly down to the ground. "'Are you there, my friends and unhurt?' said he, in a whisper. "'Yes, brave lad; yes, my deliverer !' replied Gongarello; whom Piquillo was surprised to hear speak so distinctly; but, by a happy revolution, when he had alighted on the ground, the barber felt himself better, at least for a few moments. The motion and oscillation that he had just experienced in his aerial voyage had Produced upon him (thanks to this salutary crisis) the same effect that sea- voyages have upon people who are unaccustomed to them. Thus, partly reco- vered from the influence of the opium in the captain's wine, the barber was now restored to his senses, and consequently to the use of speech.

"'1 shall never forget the service you have just done us, my young friend.' " 'Silence !' said Piquillo, interrupting the ebullition of his gratitude, to make him observe that though out of the hotellerie they were still before the door; that the bandits might come out and pursue them; that there was but a very short time to daybreak; and that the most prudent thing to be done was to bury them- selves in the depths of the forest, and hasten away as fast as possible. "They therefore ran into the forest, and walked forward at random for more than an hour."