but, at any rate, the time for their abolition has not yet arrived, and those sensitive writers who affirm the contrary have only to transport themselves some Monday, between the hours of four and five, to the Puerta d'Alcala, in order to be convinced that the taste for this ferocious pastime is, as yet, very far from extinct.
Monday, which is the bull-day, dia de toros, is a holiday. No one does any work, and the whole town is in commotion. Those persons who have not previously bought their tickets, hasten off towards the Calle de Carretas, where the ticket-office is situated, in the hope of finding some place still vacant, for the enormous amphitheatre is all numbered and portioned into stalls, a plan which cannot be praised too highly, and which might be imitated with advantage in the French theatres. The Calle d'Alcala, the artery into which all the populous streets of the city flow, is filled with foot-passengers, horse-men, and vehicles. To grace this solemnity, the most strange and extravagant calesins and cars emerge from their dusty retreats, while the most fantastic horses, and the most phenomenal mules come forth into the light of day. The calesins reminded me of the Neapolitan corricoli. They have large red wheels and no springs, the body being decorated with paintings more or less allegorical, and lined with old damask silk or faded serge with long silk fringe. Altogether, they produce a most absurd rococo effect. The driver sits upon the shaft; this enables him to harangue and belabour his mule just as he thinks fit, and also makes one place more for his customers. The mule is tricked out with as many feathers, rosettes, tufts, bells, and as much fringe as it is possible to fasten to the harness of any quadruped in existence. A calesin generally contains a manola, and a female friend as well as her manolo, not to mention a bunch of muchachos hanging on behind. All this flies along with the speed of lightning in the midst of a whirlwind of cries and dust. There are also carriages with four or five mules. Nothing equal to them can be found now-a-days, anywhere save in the pictures of Van der Meulen, which represent the conquests and hunting exploits of Louis XIV.
Every vehicle in the town is laid under contribution, for it is accounted the height of fashion by the manolas, who are the grisettes of Madrid, to proceed in a calesin to the Plaza de Toros: they pawn even their mattresses to obtain money on the day of a bull-fight, and without being exactly virtuous the rest of the week, they are most decidedly much less so on Sunday and Monday. You also see country people who have come to town on horseback, with their carbine suspended at the bow of their saddle; others, again, either alone or with their wives, are mounted on asses. Besides all these persons, there are the carriages of the fashionable world, and a whole host of honest citizens and señoras in mantles on foot, who quicken their pace on perceiving the mounted National Guard, headed by their trumpeters, advancing to clear the arena. For nothing in the world would any one miss seeing the clearing of the arena, and the precipitate flight of the alguazil after he has thrown to the helper the key of the toril, where the horned gladiators are confined. The toril is situated opposite the matadero, in which place they flay the animals that have been killed. The bulls are driven, the night before the fight, to a meadow called el arroyo, near Madrid. This meadow is a favourite walk with the aficionados; but it is one, by the way, not wholly free from danger, for the bulls are at liberty, and their drivers find it rather a difficult task to keep them in order. Lastly, the bulls are conducted into the encierro (stable attached to the circus) by the aid of old bulls used to the office, and scattered among the herd of their wild brethren.
The Plaza de Toros is situated on the left-hand side of the road, beyond the Puerta d'Alcala (which, I may mention in a parenthesis, is a fine structure, resembling a triumphal arch, with trophies and other heroic ornaments); it is an enormous circus, with whitewashed walls, presenting no remarkable feature on the outside. As all the tickets are taken beforehand, the audience enter without the least confusion, and every one clambers to his place, and sits down according to the particular number of his ticket.
The interior is arranged in the following manner:—Around the arena, which is of truly Roman grandeur, runs a circular barrier of planks, six feet high, painted a bright red, and furnished on each side, at about two feet from the ground, with a wooden ledge, on which the chulos and banderilleros put one foot, in order to jump over to the other side when they are followed too closely by the bull. This barrier is called las tablas. It has four doors, for the entrance of the officials and the bulls, as well as for carrying off the bodies, &c. Beyond this barrier there is another, rather higher. The space between the two forms a kind of corridor, where the chulos rest themselves when they are fatigued; it is likewise the station of the picador sobresaliente (substitute), whose duty it is always to hold himself in readiness, fully dressed and equipped, in case the chief picador should be killed or wounded; and also of the cachetero and a few aficionados, who, by dint of perseverance, succeed, despite the rules, in smuggling themselves into this blest place, admittance into which is as much sought after in Spain as is the privilege of going behind the scenes of the opera at Paris.
As it frequently happens that the bull, when exasperated, clears the first barrier, the second is surmounted by a network of ropes to prevent his leaping further; and a number of carpenters with axes and hammers are always at hand to repair any damage done to the enclosure, so that accidents are almost impossible. However, bulls de muchas piernas (of much legs), as they are technically called, have been known to clear the second barrier. We have an instance of this in an engraving of the Tauromaquia of Goya, the celebrated author of the "Caprices," representing the death of the alcade of Torrezon, who was miserably gored by one of these leaping gentry.
The seats destined for the use of the public are situated immediately beyond the second barrier. Those near the ropes are called plazas de barrera, those in the middle tendidos, while those next to the first tier of the grada cubierta are distinguished by the appellation of tabloncillos. All these rows, which remind you of the seats in the Roman amphitheatres, are composed of bluish granite, and have no covering but the canopy of heaven. Immediately behind them are the covered places, gradas cubiertas, which are divided into delantera, first seats; centro, middle seats; and tabloncillo, seats with backs. Above these are the boxes, called palcos and palcos por asientos. They are a hundred and twenty in number, very spacious, and capable of containing twenty persons each. The difference between the palco por asientos and the simple palco is, that in the former you can take a single place as you can a balcony-stall at the opera. The boxes of the Reina Gobernadora y de la Innocente Isabel are decorated with silk hangings and closed by curtains. Next to them is the box of the ayuntamiento (municipal authorities), who preside over the sports, and whose duty it is to settle any dispute that may arise.
The circus, thus arranged, contains twelve thousand spectators, all seated at their ease, and enjoying a clear view of everything going forward,—a most indispensable condition in an amusement that is purely ocular. The immense building is always full; and those who are unable to procure plazas de sombra (places in the shade) prefer being broiled alive in the uncovered seats, to missing one fight. It is considered as indispensable by those persons who pride themselves on their gentility to have a box at the bull-fights in Madrid, as it is by Parisians of fashion to possess one at the Italian Opera.
On issuing from the outward corridor to proceed to my place, I was seized with a sort of sudden giddiness. The circus was bathed in torrents of light, for the sun is a chandelier of a very superior description, which possesses the advantage of not spilling the oil upon those beneath, and which not even gas will supersede for some time to come. An immense humming floated like a fog of noise over the arena. On the sunny side of the building palpitated and glistened thousands of fans and little round parasols with handles made of reed. They looked like flocks of birds, of ever-varying hues attempting to fly. There was not one place empty. I can assure the reader that it is in itself a grand sight to see twelve thousand people assembled in a theatre of such a size, that heaven alone is capable of painting the ceiling with the blue which it procures from the palette of eternity.
A detachment of the cavalry of the National Guard, exceedingly
