probably, what gave to the Spanish soldiery the ferocity so striking in all this period, and which was previously so foreign to the national character. The Jews, against whom the people nourished, at all times, a hatred founded on commercial jealousies, were the first victims devoted to the inquisition: they constituted an important part of the population, and were almost extirpated. The Moors were in their turn, given up to it; suffering drove them to revolt, and revolt drew on them new punishments; the ancient tie between the two nations was broken; a bitter hatred took its place, and the inquisition had no repose until after having burnt a part of the Moors, converted another portion, and ruined the greatest number, it prevailed on Philip III., in 1614, to drive from their homes six hundred thousand of these unfortunate people, the feeble remains of a nation at one time so numerous and so powerful. The inquisition at last, turned its redoubtable attention to the Christians themselves; it took care that no error, no disagreement in matters of faith should be introduced into Spain; and at the epoch of the reformation, when every mind was solely occupied with religious controversies, it succeeded in preventing the establishment of any reformed community in Spain, by burning every innovator, as soon as he was discovered. By this terrible example, it diverted all the rest of the nation from every metaphysical idea, from all religious meditations and from every effort of the mind, which might lead to such dangers on this earth, and which were represented as exposing the soul to still more frightful punishment in the life to come.

Thus the reign of Charles V., in spite of all the glory which seems to be attached to it, was as disastrous for Spain as it was for Italy. The Spaniards lost at the same moment, their political and religious liberty; their private and public virtues, humanity and good faith; their commerce, population and agriculture; and in recompence for so many losses, they acquired the glory of camps, and the execration of the people, against whom they carried their arms. But, as we have remarked as to Italy, it is not at the moment when a nation loses all its political advantages, but at least fifty years after, that its elasticity of mind is broken, and its literature declines or perishes altogether.

Just at the time when the native language of the Aragonese was abandoned for the Castilian, there appeared a man who, under the reign of Charles V., made a complete revolution in Castilian poetry. He was endowed with a grace and delicacy of style, and a richness of imagination, which enabled him to give examples of what he deemed a better taste.

This man was John Boscan Almogaver, born towards the end of the fifteenth century, of a patrician family of Barcelona. He had served in the armies in his youth, and had then travelled; but it was at his return to Grenada, in 1526, that his intimacy with André Navagéro, ambassador of Venice, to the emperor; a man celebrated both as a poet and historian, inspired him with the pure and classic taste which then predominated in Italy. His friend, Garcilaso de la Vega, associated himself with him in the project of effecting a reform in Spanish poetry. Both of them studied correctness and grace, despising the accusations of their adversaries, who reproached them with introducing among a valiant nation, the soft and effeminate taste of

the vanquished. They undertook to overturn all the laws of Castilian versification, to introduce new ones, on a system directly opposite, and they succeeded.

Boscan, who was one of the instructors of the too famous duke d'Alva, finished his days in an agreeable retirement in the midst of his family and friends. He died about the year 1544. There is in his poetry a harmony of style, and an elegance of expression, which account for the esteem in which the Spaniards hold the first among their poets, whom they regard as classic.

The Spaniards give Mendoza, but the third place among their poets, after Boscan and Garcilaso,* because in comparing him to the two latter, they find harshness in his poetry. Boutterwerk on the other hand, compares his epistles in verse, to those of Horace.

The grand reformation effected, by the example of the Italians, in Castilian poetry, was imitated by the Portuguese; and we must place in the first rank, in this new school, two of them, † Miranda and Montemayor.

Behold then, the men, who are with propriety called the classic poets of Spain; they, who under the brilliant reign of Charles V, and in the midst of the commotions which his ambitious policy excited in Europe, changed the laws of Castilian versification, the national taste, and almost the language; who gave to poetry a more graceful, correct and elegant form, and who have served as models to all those who from that time, have pretended to classic poetry. Whilst Europe and America were deluged in blood by the Spaniards, Boscan, Garcilaso, Mendoza,‡ and Montemayor,§ all of them soldiers, all engaged in these same wars, which were destined to shake all Christendom during a century, describe themselves as shepherds, wearing garlands of flowers, who watch, tremblingly, the favour of a look from their mistresses, who scarcely allow themselves to complain; who interdict to themselves even jealousy, because it is not sufficiently submissive. There is in all their poetry a Sybarite or Lydian softness, which we might with propriety look for among the Italians, made effeminate by servitude, but which is astonishing in men so masculine, the warriors of Charles V. * ***

Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, was born in poverty and obscurity, in 1549, at Alcala de Honarès; he took the title of Hidalgo or gentleman, but no account has been preserved either of his family, or early education. It is ascertained only, that he was sent to school at Madrid, where he acquired some knowledge of the classics. At the same time, he read with extreme avidity, all the poets and romance writers of Spain, and he attached, from his earliest youth, the greatest importance to the purity of the Castilian language, and to elegance of diction. He very soon wrote a quantity of verses, sonnets, romances, and a pastoral romance intitled Filena, but which has not been preserved. The absolute want of fortune determined him to travel, to seek abroad those resources which he could not find in his own country. He attached himself to the person of cardinal Aquaviva, who took him to Rome. The love of fame, and the activity of his mind, soon induced him to relinquish the almost servile duties which he had at first undertaken for that prelate. He entered the army

* Born about 1503, at Toledo. † Died 1575. Died 1558. § Born about 1520.

served under Marc-Antonio Colonna-and under Don Juan of Austria: he was in the battle of Lepanto, where he lost his left hand by a shot from an arquebuse. Obliged to abandon the profession of arms, in which it is probable he did not rise above the rank of a common soldier, he embarked to return to Spain; but the vessel was captured by a Barbary corsair, and taken into Algiers. He remained there five years and a half, in the most rigorous slavery; and was at last ransomed in 1581.

This man, who returned to his country maimed, ruined, without protection, without hopes, and without resources, found still in the force of his mind, enough of gaiety and fire of imagination, to secure for himself a livelihood and a reputation by the dramatic art, and to compose comedies and tragedies, which were received by the public with great applause. It was in 1584, when he was, of course, thirtyfive years old, that he published his Galatea; about the same time, he furnished to the theatre at least thirty comedies, which have not been preserved. The rivalship of Lopes de Vega, who, about this time, obtained prodigious success, caused him some humiliation, and induced him to lay down his pen; he married, and it is probable he then lived on the portion of his wife. It appears that he obtained at Seville a small employment, which barely kept him above want, as long as Philip II. lived. The death of this monarch in 1598, restored some elasticity to those geniuses who felt themselves overpowered by his sinister reign. Cervantes who had abstained from publishing any thing, during twenty-one years, gave to the public, in 1605, the first part of his Don Quixotte. The success of this book was unprecedented; thirty thousand copies of it were sold as we are assured, during the lifetime of the author: it was translated into every language, and was applauded by all classes of society. The king himself, Philip III. seeing from his balcony, a scholar on the banks of the Mançanarès, who was interrupted in the perusal of a book by continued bursts of laughter, said to his courtiers,—that man is either mad, or he is reading Don Quixotte. However, neither Philip III., nor any of the lords of his court, ever thought of granting a pension or any other aid of that sort, to this author, the glory of Spain, who was then living in poverty, and who wrote this book, seasoned with so much comic wit, in the prison where he was confined for debt.

One of his cotemporaries, concealing himself under the name of Avelloneda, undertook to continue Don Quixotte, and published, in 1614, at Saragossa, a continuation of this romance, very inferior to the original. Cervantes felt the greatest indignation at this literary fraud; and he issued in his turn, in 1615, a second volume of Don Quixotte, in which he several times turns into ridicule the Aragonese continuation of his history, and introduces Don Quixotte himself complaining of the wretched impostures which had been circulated concerning him. He had already, in 1513, published his twelve novels, in 1614, his Journey to Parnassus,-in 1615, eight comedies, and eight interludes, which he sold at a low price to a bookseller, not being able to have them received at the theatre. He laboured a long time, at a romance intitled by him, the Labours of Persileus and Sigismond; but he had scarcely accomplished it when he died; and this work was published only after his death, in 1617, by his widow, Catherine de Salazon. The preface, which the author wrote when he

had reached the last stage of life, shows us the gaiety, the strength of soul, and the philosophy which he preserved to his dying mo

ments.

He dedicated this same work to the count de Lemos, who, in his latter years, had accorded him his protection, and had done him some service. The dedication is dated 19th April, 1616. "I should like," he says, "not to be compelled to make a so exact application of the "ancient stanzas which begin with these words: the foot already in "the stirrup; for I can say, with a slight alteration, the foot already "in the stirrup, feeling now the agonies of death, my Lord, I write 66 you this letter: yesterday they administered extreme unction "to me; to-day I resume my pen; time is short; the agonies increase; "hope diminishes; yet I should wish to live long enough to see you once more in Spain."-The count de Lemos was then returning from Naples, and was expected in his country. Cervantes died four days after having written this dedication, the 23d April, 1616, at 67 years of age. *

It was love of country that induced Cervantes to write his Numantia. He took for the subject of this tragedy, the destruction of a city which valiantly withstood the Romans, and whose inhabitants, rather than surrender, being resolved to bury themselves under the ruins of their country, slew each other, or precipitated themselves into the flames, and all perished without exception. This terrible subject is not one of those which we at this day consider proper for the dramatic art; it is too grand, too public, too little susceptible of the development of individual passions, and in which a people instead of persons, were brought into action. But a certain degree of admiration cannot be refused to the poetical enterprise of Cervantes, which has the appearance of an expiatory sacrifice to the manes of a great city.

The piece opens with a dialogue between Scipio and Jugurtha. Scipio declares the repugnance which he feels at the continuation of a war, which has already cost so much blood to the Roman people, and in which he has at the same time, to combat the obstinacy of a brave nation, and the want of discipline in his own army. He gives orders for an assembly of his soldiers, that he may harangue them, and recall them to their duty. The novelty of the dramatic art is pleasantly enough shown in the notes, with which Cervantes accompanied his piece, for the guidance of the actors in the representation. He says in this place, "as many soldiers as can be found, must be "brought on the stage, and Caius Marius with them; they must be "armed in the ancient manner, without arquebuses; and Scipio "mounted on a small rock, which must be on the stage, shall regard "his soldiers, before he addresses them."

The discourse of Scipio to his army, too long to insert a translation of the whole of it here, and so long that it must have been fatiguing to the audience, is, however, full of nobleness, and of an eloquence which is at once Roman and military. He begins thus:

"In beholding, my friends, your bold appearance, and the lustre "of your martial ornaments, I recognise in you, Romans, Romans "I say, valiant and courageous; but from the delicacy and whiteness "of your hands, from the care with which your faces are cleansed, I "should take you for the sons of Britain or of Flanders. Your uni"versal negligence, my friends, your indifference to all that touches

you the nearest, gives courage to your enemies already dishearten. "ed, and diminishes your strength and your reputation. The walls of "that city, thus far immoveable as the firm rock, are witnesses of "your careless efforts, which have nothing in them of Roman except "the name. Does it seem to you, my children, just, that whilst the "whole world trembles at the name of Rome, you alone are now de "stroying this renown in Spain, you are tarnishing her glory?" Sci. pio then gives orders for the reformation of his army; he directs that the women should be sent away, and every thing which keeps up luxury and effeminacy should be banished, and he promises that as soon as order shall be re-established in his camp, it will be easy for him to conquer this small remnant of Spain, cooped up in the walls of Numantia. Caius Marius replies in the name of all: he promises for the soldiers, that, from this moment they will show themselves true Romans, and will submit to all the rigours of discipline.

Two Numantian ambassadors then present themselves before the general and his army; they declare that the severity, avarice, and in. justice of the generals who had, until now, commanded in Spain, had alone caused the revolt of Numantia; but that the arrival of Scipio, whose virtues they know, and in whom they have full confidence, makes them desire peace with as much ardour as they have hereto. fore courageously supported the war. But Scipio demands a higher satisfaction for the insults offered by the Numantians to the majesty of Rome; he refuses all conditions of peace and sends back the ambassadors, exhorting them to defend themselves well. He then informs his brother, that instead of exposing his army to new combats and shedding more Roman blood in Spain, he intends to surround Numantia with a deep ditch and reduce it by famine. He immediately orders his army to begin the work of circumvallation.

In the second scene (and the separation of the scenes indicates the lapse of a space of time between them) we see Spain advance, in the character of a female, crowned with towers and bearing a castle in her hand, emblematical of the castles from which originated the name and arms of Castile. She invokes the favour and commiseration of Heaven; complains of having been always bowed in servitude, of seeing her riches pillaged alternately, by the Phenicians and the Greeks; her most valiant sons ever divided and combating each other, when there was the most pressing need of their uniting against enemies from abroad. "Numantia alone," she says, "has dared to "draw her brilliant sword, and maintain, at the price of her blood, "that liberty she always cherished. But alas! I see it, her fate is "decided, her last hour has arrived, her existence is soon to termi"nate, her fame alone will survive, and like the phoenix she will "spring up again from her ashes."

The circumvallation is completed, and the Numantians struggle with famine, without being able to combat the enemy. The side alone where the broad Duero bathes the walls of the city, is not yet fortified, and Spain addresses herself to the river god, supplicating him to favour as much as he can the Numantian people, and to swell his waves to prevent the Romans from erecting towers and machines on his banks. The Duero, followed by two rivulets which pour their streams into his bosom, appears in his turn on the stage; he declares that he has made the greatest efforts to keep off the Ro