thor's favourite, and he was earnestly engaged in its completion when he was arrested by the disease which shortly after proved fatal. The preface, written only a few days before his death, is a wonderful instance of his naturally gay, careless temperament, and unfading energy of mind, which all his poverty and misfortunes had been powerless to repress. It gives us, besides, the only details we possess with reference to his last illness. We are tempted to extract the whole : "It so happened, beloved reader, that as myself and two friends were journeying from Esquivias, a famous place for fifty reasons, but particularly for its noble families and capital wines, I heard a man approaching behind, vigorously whipping his nag, and apparently very anxious to overtake us. He presently shouted for us to stop, which we did; and when he came up to us, we found that he was a country student, attired in brown, with round-toed shoes and spatter dashes. He had a sword in an immense sheath, with a tape-tied band; he had only two tapes, so that his band got sadly out of place, which he was at great pains to rectify. Without doubt, Senors,' said he, 'you seek to obtain some office or prebendal stall, from my Lord of Toledo or the king, to judge by the haste with which you journey; for in truth my ass, hitherto considered a famous trotter, has not been able to overtake you.' To which answered one of my companions, 'The fault lies with the stout nag of Senor Miguel de Cervantes, for he is somewhat quick in his paces.' No sooner had the student heard the name of Cervantes than throwing himself from his ass, his cloak-bag falling on one side, and his portmanteau on the other, he sprang forwards and seized me by the left hand, exclaiming This, then, is the famous one-handed author, the merry writer, the favourite of the muses!' When I heard him thus pour forth my praises, I thought myself obliged in politeness to respond; so embracing his neck, whereby I managed to pick off his bands altogether, I saidThis is an error in which many, being kindly disposed have fallen; Senor, I am indeed Cervantes, but not the fa vourite of the muses, nor any one of the other fine things you have said of me. Mount your ass again, and we will converse together for the short remainder of our journey.' The good student did as I requested, and we continued our journey at a moderate pace. In the course of conversation, we talked of my illness, but the worthy student gave me but little hope, saying, 'This illness is a hydropsy, which all the water in the ocean would not cure, if you could drink it; you must drink less, Senor Cervantes, and not forget to eat, for this alone can cure you!' 'Several people told me this,' I replied, but it is as difficult for me to refrain from drinking, as if I had been born for nothing else. My life draws near its close, and to judge by my pulse, I cannot live longer than next Sunday. You have made my acquaintance at an unfortunate time, for I shall not live long enough to show my gratitude for your expressions of kindness and good-will.' Just then we arrived at the bridge of Toledo, over which I was to pass, while he departed for that of Segovia. As to my history I leave that in the hands of fame; my friends, doubtless, will be eager to narrate it, and I should have the greatest pleasure in hearing it. We embraced again, and once more I offered my services. He spurred his ass, and left me as little inclined to prosecute my journey, as he was well disposed for his; he had supplied my pen with ample materials for pleasantry, but all times are not the same. Perhaps even yet the day may arrive when taking up this broken thread, I may supply that which is now wanting. Adieu, gaiety! Adieu, humour! Adieu, pleasant friends! I must now die, hoping soon to see you all well contented in another world." A sad picture this of our author's physical infirmities, albeit the record is penned in that cheerful, almost joyous spirit which seems to have distinguished him at all times, and under all circumstances. His illness greatly increasing he received extreme unction, on the 18th of April. The day following he still preserved the same serenity of mind; and anxious to testify his regard for his friend, the Count of Lemos, as a last tribute, Cervantes dedicated to him his posthumous work, the "Persiles y Sigismunda." This dedication, singular and touching, from the fact of its being written at such a period, abounds with noble sentiment and lofty expression. The dying man commences with the remark that he might well address his friend in the words of the antique rhyme:— Puesto ya el pié en el estribo, With foot already in the stirrup, I write you this, my lord. He continues-"Yesterday I received extreme unction; the time is short; my pain increases; my hopes diminish. Yet do I greatly wish that life could be so prolonged that I might see you once again on Spanish ground." The Count of Lemos was then on his way home from Naples. own portrait in a few graphic words. The passage will be found in his preface to the "Novelas":-" Him whom you here observe with the lean countenance, chestnut locks, smooth and open forehead, lively eyes, wellproportioned aquiline nose, beard silvery, that was golden some twenty years ago; large moustache, small mouth, the teeth, of which he has but six, in bad condition and worse placed, so that they have no correspondence one with the other; of clear complexion, rather inclined to fair than dark; the figure of middle size, somewhat stooping in the Four days after writing thus, Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra died, aged sixty-shoulders, and not very light of foot; seven years, on the 23rd of April, 1616; on the death-day of our own Shakspere, according to some; but as the Gregorian Calendar was not adopted in England until 1754, it follows thence that the English poet survived Cervantes twelve days. this, I say, is the author of the Galatea' and of Don Quixote,' this is he who performed the journey to Parnassus, and is commonly styled Miguel de Cervantes Saavedraa." We will now proceed to a critical examination of our author's literary No monumental stone proclaims the labours. It were a mere waste of words spot where in deep-tomb silence repose to give a detailed analysis of a work so the earthly remains of Spain's most widely known, and so universally apprenoble son. He desired to be interred ciated as the "Don Quixote." We have in the church belonging to the monks all journied with the faithful Rosinante, of the Holy Trinity. This conventual enjoyed the sublime hallucinations of establishment was removed in 1633 to a the ingenioso hidalgo," and heartily new church in the Calle de Cantaranas, laughed over the broader drolleries and and it is supposed that here is the resting- less refined absurdities of that model of place of the mortal remains of Miguel attendant squires, Sancho Panza. It de Cervantes. was our good fortune never to have Our author was ever cheerful and read a translation of the book until affable in manners; thoroughly kind-after the perusal of the inimitable orihearted; a man of warm and earnest ginal, which is written in a style of such sympathies, and of high-toned chivalric matchless grace and beauty, that it is feeling. Without bigotry, he was rigour- quite impossible to gain any worthy ous in the discharge of all the duties en-idea thereof through the medium of a joined by religion; particularly in the observances of the Church of Spain. A few years before his death he became one of a society of religious persons established under the name of the "Oratory of Olivaror de Canizares." This association seems to have been highly fashionable, being patronized by Philip III., and the principal nobility of his court. Although Cervantes experienced so much neglect from his own countrymen, he was always treated with distinguished regard and attention by foreigners who visited Madrid. They gazed after him with interest and curiosity, as he passed along the streets, and anxiously sought every opportunity of introduction to an author so illustrious. As to his personel, Cervantes has very characteristically sketched his foreign language. When some time after we looked into an English version, we were perfectly astonished at the difference. It was not that any of the original ideas were lost in the translation. These were, for the most part, well preserved. But it was a certain exquisite and all-pervading grace which had evaporated. This singular influence regarding style may be compared to the wonderful magic of light upon a varied landscape; and the translation to the same combinations of nature, with the sun behind a cloud-the scenery, indeed, has undergone no material change, but an indiscribable charm is fled, and it requires the aid of the magician to touch it into beauty and glory again. The romance of Cervantes was written in ridicule of the extravagant tales of knight errantry which inundated Spain servants he maltreats. While he is at that period, and by their highly- thus repairing wrongs and redressing wrought wonders, and the distorted injuries, the bachelor Antonio Lopez views, they presented of actual life, very properly tells him:-'I do not tended greatly to corrupt the purity of precisely understand your mode of rethe public taste. The hero of the story, dressing wrongs; but, as for myself, you Don Quixote of La Mancha, has com- have made me crooked, when I was pletely lost his reason through the straight enough before; you have broken perusal of these outré-chivalric ro- my leg, which will never be set right mances; and imagining himself another all the days of my life; nor do I underOrlando or Amadis, he buckles on his stand how you repair injuries, for that ancient armour, mounts his Rosinante, which I have received from you will and accompanied by his trusty squire, never be repaired. It was the most unSancho Panza, sets forth with all the fortunate adventure that ever happened enthusiasm of the knights of eld, in to me when I met you in search of adquest of "strange adventure." It is his ventures!"" to relieve the distressed, to be a friend to In thus entering upon a crusade the orphan and the widow, to fight for against the indefinite multiplication of the defenceless, the injured, and op-knightly romances, it must not be suppressed, and give liberty to the captive, to war with giants, and to break the wand of the enchanter. Such he conceives to be "his mission." And he addresses himself thereto with faith and true-hearted sincerity,―with a mind which, although erratic and indeed sadly astray, is yet instinct with generous impulses and pure and lofty feeling. In the words of a Spanish critic, he is "a veritable Amadis de Gaula in caricature." To quote from the discriminating review of Sismondi, Cervantes "has described in Don Quixote an accomplished man, who is, notwithstanding, the constant object of ridicule; a man, brave beyond all history can boast of, who confronts the most terrific not only of mortal but of super-natural perils; a man whose high sense of honour permits him not to hesitate for a single moment in the accomplishment of his promises, or to deviate in the slightest degree from truth. As disinterested as brave, he combats only for virtue, and when he covets a kingdom, it is only that he may bestow it upon his faithful squire. He is the most constant and respectful of lovers, the most humane of warriors, the kindest master, the most accomplished of cavaliers. With a taste as refined as his intellect is cultivated, he surpasses in goodness the Amadises and Orlandos whom he has chosen for his models. His most generous enterprises, however, end only in blows and bruises. His love of glory is the bane of those around him. The giants whom he believes he is fighting are only windmills; the ladies whom he delivers from enchanters, are harmless women whom he terrifies upon their journey, and whose posed that Cervantes intended to ridicule the spirit of true chivalry-that spirit and those institutions which, arising in the depths of a half-illuminated and semi-barbarous age, tended, perhaps above all other influences, to strengthen, exalt and ennoble, and, at the same time, to soften and refine. The age of chivalry was the age of courage and of daring, of generous impulses and heroic achievements. It steeped the ways of common life and of dull reality in the light of idealism and the rainbow hues of poetry. It made of existence one vast and magnificent tournament, where the victors were crowned with rich garlands by fairest hands, and smiled upon by bright and loving eyes, amid the waving of gorgeous banners and the sound of martial music. Its laws were those of self-denial and high sacrifice. It deified Honour, it raised altars to Beauty, and embalmed the whole universe in the golden mysteries of devotion and of love. It invested the "overflowing solitudes" with visions of beauty and of grace, or it peopled them with dimly defined images of fear, of terror or enchantment. It rushed nobly forward to deeds of hard accomplishment, and returned crowned with the " laurels of success," and glad with the light of victory. A dark age, if you will: but still it was a night glorious with stars, and rich in dreams of wonder and delight. Such, we imagine, were a few of the characteristics of that era of past history- "When chivalry's laws were omnipotent, Every age and every successive deve- a few italicisms, that no better work can lopment of humanity, is, in some way be placed in the hands of a student of or other, mirrored in its literature. Thus the language. with the age of chivalry. Its spirit was The Novelas Ejemplares" consists imaged in the lofty sentiment and wild of twelve tales of much variety and enthusiasm of contemporary romancists, beauty. The first, called "La Gitanilla," in the strange, quaint recitals of the is a most interesting picture of Gipsy heroic chroniclers; and in the soft and life in Spain. The heroine Preciosa, is tender love-song, or in the ringing war- a beautiful girl who wins the heart of like strains of its errant troubadours. an accomplished cavalier, and induces But, in course of time, this literature him to pass two probationary years lost, in a great measure, its original among the Gipsy band, before she accharacteristics. Spain especially was cepts him as her husband. Of course, overwhelmed with imitative chivalric the tale concludes with the discovery romances, abounding in false, exagge- that Preciosa is a lady of high and noble rated sentiment, improbable incident birth, every way equal in rank to her and every description of wild extrava-lover. gance. It was against such books as The second story, "El Amante Libethese that Cervantes directed his admi-ral," or The Liberal Lover, relates the rable satire, and so successfully, that adventures of some Christians enslaved the publication of the " Don Quixote" by the Turks. Cervantes has here prewas the death-blow to all after attempts sented us with a vivid picture of his own to revive an interest in the exploits of sufferings, while in captivity, and the Roland, Amadis and the famous pala- entire narrative, which is one of deep dins of old. interest, bears the stamp of stern truth. One remarkable feature in the history The history of" Rinconete and Cortaof "Don Quixote," is the deep contrast dillo," presents us with the story of two between the refinement and lofty feeling young thieves. It is an amusing tranof the Knight, and the vulgar and pro- script from nature, such as can only be saic character of the Squire. The poetic realized by those conversant with Spaimagination of Don Quixote colours nish life and character. It illustrates all nature and every incident of life strikingly the strange admixture of dewith its own magic hues. To his ex-votional sentiment and superstition cited fancy, as before observed, wind- among beings we might well imagine mills are giants, and ordinary women lost to every sense of religion. Rincobeautiful princesses, in the power of nete inquires of a robber-"Perhaps, cruel enchanters. Sancho Panza, on then, you follow the occupation of a the contrary, is just the rude villager, thief?" "I do so," is the reply, "in the common-place enough, simple and cre- service of God and of all good people." dulous, a lover of fun and good-living; "The Spanish-English Lady," shews and evidently throughout a transcript clearly that our author had a very droll from nature. The story abounds with idea of England and the English. "The incident and exquisite touches of wit. Licentiate of Glass," and "The Coloquio Here and there, too, are some very de los Perros," are satirical pieces. The choice scraps of criticism. For instance,"Beautiful Charwoman," and the "Lady the Curate's examination of the Knight's library, &c. The forte of Cervantes lay not alone in humourous delineations; for some of the episodical stories he has introduced in the course of his work, are remarkable for pathetic interest, as the tale of the "Shepherdess Marcela," of "Cardenio," &c. The popularity of "Don Quixote" has been almost unbounded. Thirty editions were published during the author's lifetime. It has been translated into all European languages. No other book is so true an exponent of Spanish character; and its language throughout is so varied, elegant and idiomatic, despite Cornelia," are romantic love stories. Each one of these admirable tales possessing a peculiar charm of its own. They are all different in incident and character, and more or less attractive. To some editions of the "Novelas" will be found an appendix, containing tales, by Dona Maria de Zayas y Sottomayor; and it is interesting to observe how very inferior these are, to the ever-varied productions of Cervantes. The earliest prose work of our author, the "Galatea," a pastoral, was written in avowed imitation of a similar romance, the "Diana," by Montemayor, a Portuguese, who wrote in Castilian. It is interest ing in parts, but like the generality of books, with shepherds and shepherdesses for heroes and heroines, it is tedious as a whole. This work contains six books, and was left unfinished. The "Persiles y Sisigmunda," a story of the North, the latest production of Cervantes, and the one which of all he loved the best, is a most wild and improbable romance, exceeding even in fantastic extravagance the tales of chivalry he had satirised so successfully in the "Don Quixote." Nevertheless, it is a model of elegance and perfect purity of style, and rich in flashes of genius, amid all its eccentricities, and, therefore, deserving well a place among the Spanish classics. It remains to contemplate Cervantes as a dramatist and a poet. His fame as such rests entirely, we think, upon his two plays, the "Numantia," and "El Trato de Argel;" for they both contain higher flights of poetry than the "Viaje al Parneso," or any other of his poetical attempts. He who has once read the "Journey to Parnassus," will not often revert to it again; but the dramas contain some really fine passages. The "Numantia" celebrates the noble sentiment of patriotism. It is founded upon the story of the siege of that city, when the inhabitants rather than surrender to the Romans, perished amid the flames of their desolated homes. "Life in Algiers" contains a vivid picture of the sufferings of the Christian captives in Moorish slavery, and was intended by the author as an excitement to the Spanish government to undertake active measures for the redemption of all such captives. We shall not attempt any analysis of these two dramas, that having been already so admirably done by M. Sismondi in his excellent work on the Literature of the South of Europe." 66 And here we close our sketch of the life and writings of Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra; the brightest ornament that shines out amid Spanish literary records; a man of heroic soul, of fair and broad humanity, and of highest genius, of whom his country has, indeed, truest reason for pride and self-gratulation. M. J E. DR. DAVID MACBETH MOIR. DR. DAVID MACBETH MOIR was born Latin, Greek and French languages, at Musselburgh, a sea-port town of Scotland, situated about six miles east of Edinburgh, on the 5th of January, 1798. His parents were respectable citizens. He was the second of four children, two of whom, Hugh Moir and Charles Moir, are still living. The father of this family died in 1817, the mother in 1842. The father of Dr. Moir was a man of high worth and established respectability; the mother was a woman of refined feeling and exalted intellect, who gave every encourage ment to the mental growth of her children, and afforded them every possible facility for the acquisition of a knowledge of literature. Young Moir received the first rudiments of his education at a small school in Musselburgh, from which he was removed to the grammar-school, and placed under the training of Mr. Taylor. Here he acquired a knowledge of the besides making some progress in geometry and algebra. His boyhood was of a healthy sort, marked by no very striking features, yet full of that bonhommie which the juvenile man invariably indulges in, when his elastic spirit is not broken by premature troubles. He was fond of innocent sports, and took a hearty share in the out-door games of boyhood. A warm, enthusiastic nature of a highly imaginative cast, always evinces itself in boyhood, in a love of green fields and athletic sports; and the remembrance, in after life, of these exciting scenes of pleasure, is a constant source of refreshment to the soul of a high-toned man. In his full manhood, Moir found it a peculiar pleasure to call to mind the "old lurking-places of hunt-the-hare;" and the "old fantastic beech-tree," from the boughs of which he and his companions suspended their swings. The |