Some rush upon their enemy without a moment’s hesitation; and I have not unfrequently seen a valiant bull overthrow the four picadores placed at intervals round the circus, in less than that number of minutes. But, in general, the animal pauses ere making his first onset—looks round with amazement at the assembled multitude—paws up the dusty surface of the arena—appears bewildered at the novelty of the sight and by the din of voices,—and is undecided where to make the first attack. At length, his eye rests on the nearest picador, and it is seldom withdrawn until he has made his charge. He rushes on his enemy with his head erect, lowering it only when arrived within a few paces. The picador gives point to receive him on the fleshy part of the neck above the right shoulder; and, if his horse be steady, he generally succeeds in turning the bull off. But should the bull, regardless of his wound, return immediately to the attack, the man has not time to resume his defensive position, and his only safety is in ignominious flight. If his steed be quick in answering the spur, he is soon removed from danger, but, if otherwise, nine times in ten both horse and rider are laid prostrate.
Whilst in confinement, the bulls are decorated with the colours of their respective breeders (a bunch of ribbon, attached to a dart, which is forced into the animal’s shoulder); and such as appear tame, and hold out small promise of sport, are often “ingeniously tormented” previously to being turned into the arena. I have heard also that it is not unusual, when the circus is small, and the Toreadores are not very expert, to weaken the animal’s powers by letting a weight fall upon his back, so as to injure the spine; but this refinement of cruelty is certainly not practised at Ronda.
It doubtless requires the possession of some courage to be a bull-fighter; though at the same time it is to be recollected, that the people who devote themselves to the profession have been brought up, from their earliest youth, amongst the horns of these animals, and have thus acquired a knowledge of all their peculiarities; they are consequently aware, that the bull’s furious onset requires but a little activity to be readily avoided, and they have by long habit become quick-sighted to take advantage of his blind rage, for striking their blow. But, above all, their confidence is increased by knowing with what ease the attention of the bull is drawn off; and no Picador or Matador ever ventures into the arena unattended by one Chulo,[95] at least; who, provided with a gaudy coloured flag or cloak, stands near at hand to occupy the bull’s attention, should his opponent have met with any accident.
I once witnessed a laughable instance—as it turned out—of the ease with which a bull’s attention may be diverted. An Aguador, or water-seller, had taken post in the narrow passage which serves as a retreat for the bull-fighters when hard pressed, between the front row of seats and the Arena, and, unconscious of danger, was vending his iced liquid to the thirsty spectators—pouring it with singular dexterity from a huge jar made fast to his back into their outstretched goblets—when a bull, following close upon the heels of a Chulo, leapt the five-foot barrier, and came with his fore legs amongst the front row spectators, but, unable to make good his footing, fell back into the narrow passage. The Chulo, by vaulting back into the Arena, readily escaped from the enraged animal, which, not having space to turn round, face and re-leap the barrier, found himself a prisoner within the narrow passage. Very different, however, was the situation of the venturous Aguador, who, labouring under his weighty liquid incubus, could not possibly have clambered over the fence, even had time permitted of his making the attempt. But, so far from that being the case, the bull having instantly recovered his legs, was coming trotting and bellowing towards him, with the most felonious intentions. The spectators shouted with all their might to the luckless water-seller, to save himself; alas! how was he to do so?—a single glance over his right shoulder convinced him of the vainness of the admonition! Instinct prompted him to run; but escape appeared impossible; for the horns of the rabid animal were within a few feet of him, and every barrier was closed!
In this awful predicament, fright made him take the only step that could possibly have saved him—namely, a false one. He stumbled, groaned, and fell flat upon his face. The bull, without slacking his speed, stooped down to give him his quietus; when a peasant—one of the spectators—having tied his pocket-handkerchief to the end of his porra,[96] dangled it before the animal’s eyes just as he reached the fallen Aguador. The enraged bull, making a toss at the new object thus placed before him, bounded over the prostrate water-carrier, without doing any other injury than breaking his jar with his hind feet, and proceeded on to complete the tour of the circus.
The fright of the fortunate vender of water was excessive, and now most ludicrous. The liquid poured in torrents over his shoulders and down his neck, leading him to believe that he had been most desperately gored, and that it was his life’s blood which was—not oozing out of, but—absolutely deluging him. He screamed most lustily that he was a dead man; and the spectators, highly amused at the scene, cried out in return, “Get up—get up, or you’ll be drowned!” But, until some of the Chulos came to his aid, and put him on his legs, he could not be persuaded that he had escaped without even a scratch.
He lost no time, however, in putting the power of his limbs to the proof, running off as fast as they could carry him, to escape from the jeers of the crowd, who, amidst roars of laughter, shouted after him, “What a gash!”—“I can see right through his body.”—“The Bull is swimming after you!”—“Toro! Toro!” &c.
We will now leave the Amphitheatre, and proceed to visit one of the most interesting sights of the ancient city—namely, an extraordinary staircase, or Mina as it is called by the natives, which, sunk close to the edge of the chasm dividing the two towns, communicates with the rocky bed of the river.
It is said to have been a work of Abou Melic, the first king of Ronda, and was clearly undertaken to ensure a supply of water to the city in the event of a siege;—the want of this indispensable article being, in those early days, the only dread the inattackable fortress had to guard against.
The entrance to the Mina is in the garden attached to a gentleman’s house at a little distance from, and to the east of, the principal bridge.