“Make with his wings a cover for his eyes.”
The picadoras ride on mules; the espada—the one I saw was an old woman of sixty, Martina by name, an Asturian, known in all the circuses in Spain,—the espada fights on foot with the rapier, and the muleta like the most intrepid matador of the stronger sex. The entire cuadrilla is accompanied by a train of chulos with great wings and humps on their backs. These unfortunate women risk their lives for forty francs! A bull on the day when I witnessed the spectacle broke the arm of one banderillera and tore the petticoat of another, so that she was left in the middle of the circus with scarcely enough clothes on her back to cover her nakedness.
After the women, the wild beasts. At various times they made the bull fight with lions and with tigers; it is only a few years since one of these combats was held in the circus of Madrid. It was that celebrated event which the count-duke de Olivares commanded in honor of the birthday, if my memory does not fail me, of Don Baltasar Carlos of Asturia, prince of the Asturias. The bull fought with a lion, a tiger, and a leopard, and succeeded in conquering them all. Also in a combat a few years ago the tiger and the lion got the worst of it; they both jumped impetuously upon the back of the bull, but before they were able to fasten their teeth in his neck they fell to the ground in a pool of blood, pierced by the terrible horns. Only the elephant—a huge elephant which still lives in the gardens of Buen Retiro—carried the day; the bull attacked him, and he simply placed his head on the bull’s back and pressed, and the pressure was so delicate that his reckless assailant was crushed as flat as a pancake.
But it is not easy to imagine what skill, what courage, and what imperturbable tranquillity of mind must be possessed by a man who with his sword faces an animal that kills lions, attacks elephants, and tears in pieces, crushes, and covers with blood everything that he touches. And there are men who face them every day.
The toreros are by no means artists, as one would suppose, to be placed in the same category with mountebanks and those for whom the people feel no other sentiment than that of admiration. The torero is respected even outside of the circus; he enjoys the protection of the young aristocrats, has his box in the theatre, frequents the best cafés in Madrid, and is saluted in the street with a low bow by persons of refinement. Famous espadas like Frascuelo, Lagartijo, and Cayetano receive the nice little sum of about ten thousand francs a year; they own houses and villas, live in sumptuous apartments, dress with elegance, spend heaps of money on their costumes embroidered with gold and silver, travel like nabobs, and smoke Havana cigars. Their dress out of the circus is very curious: an Orsini hat of black velvet; a jacket fitting closely around the waist, unbuttoned and reaching barely to the trousers; a waistcoat opened almost to the waist, which allows a white shirt of very fine texture to be seen; no cravat; a sash of red or blue silk about the loins; a pair of breeches fitting the limb like the tights of a ballet-dancer; a pair of low shoes, of morocco leather, ornamented with embroidery; a little periwig falling down the back; and then gold studs, chains, diamonds, rings, and trinkets; in short, an entire jewelry-shop on their persons. Many keep their saddle-horse and some their carriages, and when they are not killing bulls they are always walking in the Prado, at the Puerto del Sol, or in the gardens of Recoletos with their wives and their sweethearts, splendidly dressed and proudly affectionate. Their names, their faces, and their deeds are even better known to the people than the deeds, faces, and names of their commanders and statesman. Toreros in comedies, toreros in song, toreros in pictures, toreros in the windows of the
