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 66 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?" Scipio 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 heretofore 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 termi66 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

mans from the walls of Numantia, but that he feels the futility of his enterprise, that the fatal hour is arrived, and that he must find consolation in the disclosures made to him by Proteus, of the glorious destiny reserved for Spain, and the future humiliation of the Romans. He foretells the victories of Attila, the conquests of the Goths, who shall give Spain a new existence, the title of catholic kings which shall be accorded to her monarchs; and in fine, the glory of Philip II. who will unite to the two kingdoms of Spain that of Portugal.

In the second act, the Numantians are seen assembled in council. Theogenes demands of his fellow citizens what resolutions they should adopt, to free themselves from the cruel vengeance of their enemies, who, not daring to meet them in fight, reduce them to the alternative of dying by famine. Corabino proposes that they should offer to the Romans to decide the quarrel of the two people, by a single combat, and if they refuse, to pass the ditch, and open to themselves a passage through the enemy; other counsellors support this proposition, and express at the same time, the torments of the hunger under which they labour, and their despair. They also propose sacrifices to appease the gods, and to know their will by the skill of the augurs.

The scenes of the theatre of Cervantes are as completely separated as the acts: bringing before our eyes at one time the chiefs, at another the people, and then allegorical personages, with the intention of making us acquainted with the sentiments and thoughts of a whole people on the subject of the public weal, in the various aspects under which they consider it. The second scene is between two Numantian soldiers, Morandro and Leoncio; the first the lover of Lira, whom he was to marry when the war and the misfortunes of his country caused the nuptials to be deferred. Leoncio accuses him of forgetting in his love, the dangers of the city. Morandro replies:-" Never did "love teach cowardice! has any one seen me quit the post where I "was centinel to go and visit my mistress? has any one seen me re"posing in ease when my captain watched? have I ever been seen "to fail in what duty demands of me for the purpose of devoting "myself to her whom I love? If then I am guilty of no fault, why "should the passion which I feel be made one?" But their dialogue is interrupted by the arrival of the people and priests, the victim and the incense, going to be offered to Jupiter. In proportion as the priests proceed in the ceremonies of the sacrifice, do the most ter rible presages present themselves; the fire refuses to adhere to the torches; the smoke flies off to the west; thunder responds to the invocations; (and it is amusing to see by what expedients the author proposes to imitate thunder,-let them, he observes, make a noise under the theatre with a hogshead filled with stones;) in the air the eagles pounce on the vultures and tear them with their talons; in fine, the victim is borne away from the sacrificers by an infernal spirit, at the moment when they are going to slay it.

Marquino the magician, endeavours to discover by incantations, the will of Heaven. He approaches a tomb, where three hours before, a young Numantian had been buried, who died of famine; he invokes his spirit from hell. His discourse to the infernal spirits is singularly poetic. He speaks to the demons with that authority, and VOL. II. 2 B

at the same time, with that contempt and anger, which the poets have lent to those magicians who have not suffered themselves to be subjected by the devil. The grave opens, the dead man rises, but without motion. Marquino, by new enchantments, forces him at last to rouse himself and to speak; the shade then announces that Nu. mantia shall not be conquered, nor shall she be victorious, and that the citizens shall perish by each others swords. The corpse then falls back into the tomb, and Marquino throws himself into the grave, stabbing himself at the same time.

The third act leads us back to the camp of the Romans. Scipio congratulates himself on having reduced the Numantians to the last extremity, without being obliged to expose his soldiers to new combats. However, a trumpet is heard from the top of the walls of Numantia. Corabino appears soon after with a white flag in his hand. He proposes to decide the quarrel of the two people by a single combat, on condition that if the Numantian soldier is vanquished, the city shall open its gates; if the Roman, that the siege shall be raised. At the same time, he flatters the vanity of the Romans, who, from the valour of their champions must, he says, be assured of victory; but Scipio rejects with derision a proposition that makes a conquest of which he is already certain, depend on an equal chance.

Corabino, remaining alone on the wall, loads the Romans with invectives, who no longer listen to him; he then withdraws, and the stage represents the interior of the city. The council of war is assembled, and Theogenes, after having rendered an account of the ill success of the sacrifices, the enchantments, and the challenge, proposes anew to open a passage through their enemies. His warriors fear the opposition only of their wives, whom they will thus be obliged to abandon. In fact, the women of Numantia already informed of the sortie which is meditated, fly to the council chamber, carrying their children in their arms; each one begs in an eloquent address, to participate in the fate of their husbands: "What are you going to "do brave warriors, says one; do you still, in your dreadful council, "think of departing, of leaving us? Would you abandon the virgins ❝ of Numantia to the insolence of Roman soldiers, and our sons who "were born free, will you leave them slaves? Is it not better to "strangle them with your own hands? Will you then satisfy Roman "cupidity and avarice? Will you that their injustice obtain a triumph "over us? That our houses be pillaged by foreign hands?-If you "wish to pass the ditch, take us with you in your sortie: it will be "life to us to die by your sides, and you will not thereby hasten our "death, since famine now leaves us no hope." Another presenting her children to the senators of Numantia, says to them:"O chil"dren of wretched mothers! Why then do you not speak also? Why "not supplicate with tears your fathers not to abandon you? Let famine "terminate your lives, and may you not experience Roman cruelty "and rage! Tell them that you were begotten free, that you were "born free, and that your unhappy mothers reared you for liberty! "say, that since fate is so opposed to us, those who gave you life "ought also to give you death! O walls of this city! if you can "speak, say, and repeat a thousand times-Numantians! Liberty!" After several women have spoken, Theogenes replies to all with tenderness. He protests that their husbands will not abandon them,

and that living or dying, they wish to serve them still; but he invites the Numantians to a resolution more desperate than the preceding; it is, not to leave in Numantia any remains of their property or persons, over whom the enemy may triumph. He requests that a funeral pile be erected in the middle of the public square, into which each shall himself cast all his wealth; and to appease for at least some hours the hunger which consumes them, that the Roman captives be devoted to death and eaten by the soldiers. All the people receive with joy this shocking order, and disperse themselves to execute it. Morandro and Lira remain alone on the stage, and there is between them a horrible scene of love and hunger. Lira, in answer to the passionate expressions of her lover, declares that her brother died the evening before of hunger, that her mother died this day, and that she believes she has not an hour to live. Morandro, however, determines to penetrate to the Roman camp, and bring off some aliment to prolong the days of his mistress. Leoncio, his friend, in spite of his entreaties, determines to accompany him, and both await the obscurity of night to attempt their enterprize.

Two Numantians then announce that the pile is already lighted, and that all the citizens are crowding round to throw in their wealth. Men loaded with precious burdens cross the stage to repair to the pile. One of the Numantians informs us, that when all the property is consumed, the women, children, and aged will be massacred, to prevent their falling into the hands of the conquerors. A mother then arrives on the stage; she leads by the hand a boy who carries a bundle of valuable effects; an infant is in her arms, and is pressed to her bosom.

"The mother. O cruel, hard life! O sad and terrible agony!

"The son. My mother, shall we have the happiness of meeting "some one who will give us bread for all this?

"Mother. Neither bread or any thing else that will serve as nou"rishment.

"Son. Must I then die of this cruel hunger? O my mother! a "single morsel of bread is all I ask of you.

"Mother. O my son, what pain you give me!

"Son. What, mother, then you will not?

"Mother. I will; but what can I do? I know not where to find it. "Son. Can you not, mother, buy some for me? See, I will buy "some myself, and will give to the first who desires it, all that I "carry here, for a morsel of bread.

"Mother (to the infant). And thou unfortunate creature, why "dost thou press against my bosom? do you not feel, to my grief, "that you draw from this enfeebled breast pure blood instead of "milk? Why dost thou exhaust my substance to satisfy thy hunger? "nor can my weak and tired arms support you any longer. O child "of my bosom, what can I do to sustain thee? scarcely is there any " of my own flesh left to satisfy you. O terrible, cruel hunger, in "what torments you terminate my life! O dreadful war, what a death "thou hast reserved for me!

"Son. Mother, I am going to faint; let us hasten to the place we "are going to, for the walk seems to increase our hunger.

"Mother. The house, my son, is not far, where, in the midst of a