“I should think that one-third of the audience were ladies,” replied the doctor, looking about the plaza. “At those I attended in Madrid, there were not five hundred ladies present.”
The Plaza de Toros at Seville, which the people dignify by calling it the Coliseum, is about the same size as the one at Madrid, open at the top, and will seat ten or twelve thousand people. It is circular in form, and the walls may be twenty or twenty-five feet high. Standing in the ring, the lower part of the structure looks much like a country circus on a very large scale; the tiers of seats for the common people sloping down from half the height of the walls to the arena, which is enclosed by a strong fence about five feet high. Inside of the heavy fence enclosing the ring, is another, which separates the spectators from a kind of avenue all around the arena; and above this is stretched a rope, to prevent the bull, in case he should leap the inner fence, from going over among the spectators. This avenue between the two fences is for the use of the performers and various hangers-on at the funcion.
Above the sloping rows of seats, are balconies, or boxes as they would be called in a theatre. They are roofed over, and the front of them presents a continuous colonnade supporting arches, behind which are sloping rows of cushioned seats. In hot weather, awnings are placed in front of those exposed to the sun. Opposite the gates by which the bull is admitted is an elaborately ornamented box for the “autoridad” and the person who presides over the spectacle. The latter was often the late queen, in Madrid; and on the present occasion it was the infanta, the Marquesa de Montpensier. This box was dressed with flags and bright colors.
During the gathering of the vast audience, which some estimated at fifteen thousand, a band had been playing. Punctually at three o’clock came a flourish of trumpets, and two alguacils, dressed in sober black, rode into the ring; and the people there vacated it, leaping over the fences to their seats. When the arena was clear, another blast announced the first scene of the tragedy.
“Now we have a procession of the performers,” said the doctor to his pupils. “The men on horseback are picadores, from pica, a lance; and you see that each rider carries one.”
These men were dressed in full Spanish costume, and wore broad sombreros on their heads, something like a tarpaulin. They were mounted on old hacks of horses, worn out by service on the cabs or omnibuses. They are blindfolded during the fight, to keep them from dodging the bull. The legs of the men are cased in splints of wood and sole-leather to protect them from the horns of the bull. Each of them is paid a hundred dollars for each corrida, or performance.
“Those men with the red and yellow mantles, or cloaks, on their arms, are the chulos, whose part is to worry the bull, and to call him away from the picador, or other actor who is in danger,” continued the surgeon. “Next to them are the banderilleros; and the dart adorned with many colored ribbons is called a banderilla. You will see what this is for when the time comes. The last are the matadors, or espadas; and each of them carries a Toledo blade. They are the heroes of the fight; and, when they are skilful, their reputation extends all over Spain. Montes, one of the most celebrated of them, was killed in a corrida in Madrid. Cuchares was another not less noted; and, when I saw him, he was received with a demonstration of applause that would have satisfied a king of Spain. I don’t know what has become of him. I see that the names of four espadas are given on the bill, besides a supernumerary in case of accident. The espadas receive from two to three hundred dollars for a corrida; the banderilleros, from fifty to seventy-five; and the chulos, from fifteen to twenty.”
An alguacil now entered the ring, and, walking over to the box of the authorities, asked permission to begin the fight. The key of the bull-pen was given to him. He returned, gave it to the keeper of the gate; and made haste to save himself by jumping over the fence, to the great amusement of the vast audience.
Most of the students had been informed what all this meant by the interpreters and others; and they waited with no little emotion for the conflict to commence. The bull had been goaded to fury in the pen; and, when the gates were thrown open, he rushed with a bellowing snort into the ring. At first he seemed to be startled by the strange sight before him, and halted at the gate, which had been closed behind him. Two picadores had been stationed on opposite sides of the arena; and, as soon as the bull saw the nearest of these, he dashed towards him. The picador received him on the point of his lance, and turned him off. The animal then went for the other, who warded him off in the same way. The audience did not seem to be satisfied with this part of the performance, and yelled as if they had been cheated out of something. It was altogether too tame for them.
Then the first picador, at these signs of disapprobation, rode to the middle of the ring; and the bull made another onslaught upon him. This time he tumbled horse and rider in a heap on the ground. Then the chulos put in an appearance, and with their red and yellow cloaks attracted the attention of the bull, thus saving the picador from further harm. While the bull was chasing some of the chulos, more of them went to the assistance of the fallen rider, whose splinted legs did not permit him to rise alone. He was pulled out from beneath his nag; and the poor animal got up, goaded to do so by the kicks of the brutal performers. His stomach had been ripped open by the horns of the bull, and his entrails dragged upon the ground.