Wanderings in Spain. Theophile Gautier

dressed in a completely new suit, was showing off on his horse without taking any part in the proceedings, and remaining in a part of the circus where there was no danger. "Pintura! pintura!" hollaed the spectators to him, clearly perceiving the motives of his conduct.

      Very frequently the bull is so cowardly that even the banderillas de fuego are insufficient. He returns to his querenzia, and will not enter. The cries of "Perros! perros!" then recommence. On a sign from the alcade, the canine gentlemen are introduced. They are admirable animals, of the purest breed and most extraordinary beauty. They go straight up to the bull. The latter tosses about half-a-dozen in the air, but that does not prevent one or two of the strongest and most courageous from at length succeeding in catching hold of his ear. When they have once fastened on it they are like leeches; they might be turned inside out before they would let go. The bull shakes his head—dashes them against the barrier—but it is of no avail. When this has lasted for some time, the espada, or the cachetero, plunges a sword into the side of the victim, who bends his knees and falls on the ground, where he is despatched. Sometimes they employ a kind of instrument called a media-luna, (half-moon), with which they hamstring him, and render him incapable of offering any resistance: in this case it is no longer a combat, but a disgusting butchery. It frequently happens that a matador fails; his sword meets with a bone and springs back, or else it enters the throat and causes the bull to vomit blood in large quantities; this is a serious fault according to the laws of Tauromaquia. If the animal is not despatched at the second blow, the espada is overwhelmed with hisses and abuse; for the Spanish public is impartial: it applauds both bull and man in exact proportion to their respective merits. If the bull rips up a horse and over-throws the rider, it shouts "Bravo, toro!" if the man wounds the bull, "Bravo, torrero!" but it will not suffer cowardice either in man or beast. A poor devil who was afraid to go and fix his banderillas in an extremely ferocious bull, occasioned such a tumult, that the alcade, in order to restore order, promised to have him sent to prison.

      During this very fight, Sevilla, who is an admirable horseman, was greatly applauded for the following feat:—An extraordinarily strong bull caught his horse under the belly, and, tossing up its head, lifted it completely off the ground. In this perilous situation, Sevilla did not so much as move in his saddle, but kept both stirrups, and held his horse so well in hand that it came down again upon its four feet.

      The day's entertainment had been good. Eight bulls and fourteen horses killed, and a chulo slightly wounded: what could any one desire more? Each bull-fight must bring in about twenty or twenty-five thousand francs,[5] which are given by the queen to the principal hospital, where the wounded torreros are treated with every possible attention. A priest and a surgeon are always waiting in a room at the Plaza de Toros, ready to administer spiritual or corporal assistance as the case may be. Formerly, and I believe it is the case at present as well, a mass used to be said for the combatants during the fight. You see that nothing is neglected, and that the impressarios take every precaution. As soon as the last bull is killed, every one leaps into the arena, and discusses on the way home the merit of the different suertes or cogidas which have struck him as most worthy of notice. And what, you will ask, are the women like? for that is the first question put to a traveller. I own, frankly, that I have not the slightest idea. I have a vague notion that there were some very pretty ones near me, but I will not positively assert the fact.

      Let us proceed to the Prado, in order to clear up this important point.