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within my power, I will instantly deliver up their throats to the knife,” General Doyle was much impressed with the manner in which she uttered this fierce denunciation, a manner that can leave but little doubt of her carrying it into executior, should an opportunity offer, Soon after the husband of Augustina entered,' &c. : Augustina calls herself the Woman of Zaragoza: she occasionally wears the dress of the service into which she has entered, the artillery, but modestly preserves the petticoat. One evening as she was walking alone in this habit, in one of the streets of Cadiz, with her -sabre by her side, a man, attracted by her beauty, followed her a considerable way; upon which offended at his impertinence, she turned round, and drawing her sabre, 'with great calmness but determination, told him, that if he followed her another step, she would cut him down. The gay but not gallant Lothario Aed as fast as his legs could carry him.'

We have no objection to this mode of sending off Lothario, though we may not be quite certain that Sir Jobn is of our mind. But what is it that reconciles him to sce the woman deliberately cut the throats of men unable thus to run away, and deprived of all means of resistance, -in short, disarmed fetiered captives of war? Is it because the knife will cut with a gentler sensation, when grasped by a female hand? or is it that nothing is too barbarous to be sanctified by the character of patriot. IOur traveller's book could not fail to afford additions to the immense accumulation of facts, illustrative of the dreadful excess of provocation experienced by the Spanish people; but it also gives evidence, in many places and particulars, of something more in that people than that fierceness of spirit, with which the most civilized and generous nation would re-act against such atrocious aggression. It relates numerous facts tending to prove an habitually barbarous state of moral sentiment, a facility of massacre, an indiscriminateness of revenge, an incapabiliy of relenting towards a prostrate, helpless, and sufiering enemy, which could not have been produced and matured by all the fury of which they have suffered the incessant stimulus these several years past.

Having seen to the end of the novelties at Cadiz in about twelve days, Sir John, with the view of proceeding toward Seville, buț in the first place of seeing a bull-fight, went over to Port St. Mary's. It seems, this detestable amusement was not permitted in any other part of Spain, and was permitted here only by a disgraceful suspension of the law.

• Many of the low Spaniards believe that the cause of the royal abolition of this their favourite pastime, arose from an objection entertained by the queen to the people assembling in large bodies, but this is not the fact; more rational and provident reasons suggested it, in 1805, to Charles IV. or his ministers. This cruel exhibition embrutes the disposition of the people; if the day on which it happens be not a Sunday, à day is lost to labour ; the poorest people will sell their very beds to raise money to attend their popular spectacle ; and agriculture and the army suffer by the extraordinary havoc which was formerly made among the horsés and oxen, to an amount which is almost incredible. 1. found by what took place,' that the bullfight at the Port was as much interdicted as in every town in Spain, but as a convenient boon to the people, the Governor was permitted by the Supreme Junta in. directly to concede it to them. ;. Our author has given a very clear, concise, and striking account of this exhibition, which he witnessed in a theatre containing, probably, not much less than 10,000 persons. - The number of men and women,' he says, appeared nearly equal; and among the latter were several females of distinction, and many of great respectability.' Vast numbers of people had come from Cadiz, which is, as to its inhabitants, confessedly one of the most respectable cities in the kingdom. So that this great assembly might justly be taken as fairly representative of the national character, in point of what is called, by a sufficiently gross misnomer, humanity. Let then a cultivated reflective man, just moderately endowed with that quality, and without pretending to any thing exquisite in sensibility, turn himself to the spectacle in the arena, and take on his mind the right impression of the scene; in which he would behold, according to our author's description, horses literally torn open, with their ' entrails hanging down like ribbons, streaming with blood,' and the intended victims of the game, the bulls, with their necks bristled with barbed darts stuck in their flesh, on some of which darts gunpowder crackers are fixed, and, as it should seem, lighted the instant before the darts are stuck into the animal, so as to explode speedily afterwards. The human operator's too in the performance (but this, we confess, is really a trifling circumstance) are in great peril, and not upfrequently wounded. Let this humane spectator then turn toward the vast assembly, and take his impression of the national character from the appearance of intense, of alniost ecstatic delight in viewing the most miserable and horrid parts of this exhibition. Now to com

plete the complacency and harmony of this man's ideas , and sensations, we want him but to turn to one side more, and take the third impression—the correct impression of the sense of those persons, who have poured out on such a nation unbounded eulogies, in a strain composed of all

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the epithets importing any thing related to generosity and magnanimity; and we may add, the impression of the politics of those who, in scouting all considerations of economy in the measures for assisting such a people, would equally reject all ideas of stipulating for any reformation in their barbarous national system. The most unequivocal proof, of the thoroughly barbarous state of any people, is when the woinen are as much delighted with cruel spectacles and sports as the men. Sir John's professed gallantry does not withhold or modify this proof in the present instance. Unless,' he says, several horses are killed, the fight is considered by the most delicate and refined female spectators as unsatisfactory.' The interest is much increased by a man being now and then wounded. The ladies have no very high idea of the bravery of a foreigner who exbibits any other sensations than those of gratification at these fights. “Oh, what merit has that fine young nobleman” said a pretty Spanish lady, 6 how beautifully did he kill the bull!"--In describing the accommodations of the theatre, our author mentions that there is a room where a priest attends witb the hust, in case of a fatal accident. The lacerated horses are left to die in protracted anguish, the pride of these barbarians deeming it below the Spanish dignity to stoop to so low an office as that of despatching horses !Wonderful dexterity and courage are displayed by the bull-fighters; and Sir John says it is a well known fact that the men who most distinguished themselves in the battle of Baylen had been of this class.

(To be concluded in the next Number.) Art. V. Poems, original and translated; including Versions of the Medea and Octavia of Seneca. By the Rev. C. A. Wheelwright, A, B. of Trinity College, Cambridge. Second Edition. In two volumes,

8vo. Price 12s.' boards. pp. xviii. 391. Longman and Co. 1811, TT is much to be wished, that our young translators would

strike into the less frequented paths of classical literature, break up new ground, and reclaim the wastes of antiquity, instead of attempting to introduce a new and inferior mode of cultivation into the tracts already possessed by their predecessors There is no necessity for fighting the battles of Homer o'er again, but we should rejoice to see tbem rival the success of Pope in versions of the Greek tragedians. It can answer no purpose to pile up new translations of Juvenal; but an English Statius would be a valuable gitt. We are therefore grati. fied to observe Mr. Wheelwright try his hand, by no means an unskilful one, on some of the productions of the Latin

· Muse, which have never been introduced to the English reader,

or at least have been hitherto consigned to neglect for want of a modern and respectable dress. It is not likely, perhaps, that his performance will be more read, than a needless version of more popular works; but, at any rate, it is more wanted, and will be resorted to for the sake of information, as well as for the mere indulgence of curiosity.

The first volume of this work contains the Medea, which is beyond all doubt the genuine production of the philosopher Seneca ; and the Octavia, which has been loosely, and we think erroneously attributed to the same writer, but tlie real author of which cannot be satisfactorily ascertained. A neat and unostentatious preface is prefixed, containing a summary account of the tragedies ascribed to Seneca, and the versions of them into the modern languages of Europe. The notes to both these performances are select, appropriate, and judicious. In the second volume Mr. Wheelwright has added translations of the principal fragments of the Latin tragic au. thors, selected from Scriverius.

The merit of the - Medea is not only considerable enough to justify the trouble of translating it, but to give it a strong claim to be first selected for that purpose. This merit indeed is chiefly confined to the sentiments and language; for there is scarcely any thing like plot, situation, or incident. Neither. is there any strong delineation of character, with the brilliant exception of Medea herself, whose desperate energy is well relieved by the peevish imbecility of Creon, and the fickle tenderness of Jason. The sentiment is often bold and striking, though sententious, epigrammatic, and savouring of affecta. tion; the language is rich and splendid, but sometimes verges ou foppishress and bombast.

Of a story so trite and fainiliar, we need not furnish any outline, but shall content ourselves with an extract or two, which will recommend the version, we think, to a considerable share of public attention. The following passage is put in the mouth of the Nurse, who describes Medea's magical preparations to revenge herself on Jason, by the destruction of his new bride Creusa, and her father Creon.

Thus, having summond
The Serpent tribe, she culls the deadly bane
Of inauspicious herbs. Whate'er the height
Of craggy Eryx generates; or, expos'd
To endless winters, what bleak Caucasus,
Stain'd with Promethean gore, envenom'd bears
Or arrow-darting Mede, or Parthian swift :
The pois'nous juice, with which the wealthy Song
Of Araby the blest distain their shafts

Or where from out the bleak Hercynian groves
The noble Suevi cull their venom'd stores
Whate'er in gentle Spring the earth creates : .
Or when dull Winter with his cheerless breath
Shakes off the leafy honors of the grové,
And binds the land in frost; whatever herb'
In rank luxuriacce rears its lofty head,
Or from the dire and interwisted roots
Whence springs the baleful juice, her deadly hand
Culls all.......

Some in their full-blown pride her charmed nail
Pluck”d off: the deadly juice and venom'd gore
Of Serpents she distils ; and mingles too
The bace of birds obscene; the boding owl..
Yields her warm entrails ; these the plotting Fiend
For sep’rate deeds prepares. Some with the spark
Of flame rapacious glow ; some torpid freeze
In unrelenting cold. She crowns the rites
With incantations of as dread import
As all the venom'd stores! And see her step
Of hurried madness: now she mutters o'er
The dreadful charm; trembles affrighted earth,

In conscious horror of th’unhallow'd strain.' pp. 62-64.. We shall add part of the soliloquy, in which Medea wavers for a time between conflicting passions, but determines at length to sacrifice her affection to her revenge, and to wreak her enmity on that Jason, for whose sake she had despoiled her father, and murdered her brother, by imbruing her hands in the blood of her children.

My plotting mind
Secret has purpos’d some dark crime within,
Nor dares confess it. Foolish woman! whither
Will thy blind rashness lead thee? Would the bride
Had been a mother ! But my tender offspring
Shall be to me as her's. Aye, this revenge
Will please indeed !--This act, that crowns at length
My dread career of blood, must be achiev'd
With unrelenting spirit. Ye dear children!
Whom once I call'd my own, 'tis your's to bleed,
Unspotted victims ! for a father's crimes.
Cold horror strikes my heart-An icy chillnes
Numbs ev'ry limb, and my uncertain bosom
Heaves high with strange forebodings. Anger fiesmu
The jealous wife yields her contested claim,
And all the mother governs in her stead.
Ha! shall I spill my tender infant's blood ?
Peace, baleful vengeance ! leave the dama'd design.
Nor e'en Medea dare a deed like this !
Unhappy children! Say, what deadly crime

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