MADRID.

FROM THE REMINISCENCES OF A SUBALTERN.

No. XX.

THE execution of the priest Lopez, narrated in my last "Reminiscence," was followed by many arrests. In eight days no fewer than 149 persons were thrown into prison; some on good grounds, others on trivial circumstances, and many on the charge alone of having held employment under the late government. The consequence of this illjudged severity was, that all those who escaped arrest in the first burst of tyranny practised by the local authorities, fled from Madrid, and scarcely a family was to be found that had not to lament the loss of some individual belonging to it, either by flight or imprisonment; and had the siege of Burgos been successful, and the French troops driven to Pampeluna, which would have been the natural result, a tragical scene would have been enacted, not only at Madrid, but throughout the whole of Spain. Yet all the time nothing but forgiveness for the past, and promises for the future, were to be heard of-except the daily and nightly imprisonments that took place!

Two evenings after the execution of Lopez, I met a number of Spaniards at the house of my patron, Don Miguel d'Inza, who had himself been an engineer in the employment of the late King Charles IV.: different topics, as a matter of course, were discussed; the sieges of Rodrigo and Badajoz, the battle of Salamanca, and the triumphant entry of our troops into the capital of Spain. Most of the party seemed well inclined towards us, and towards the king we proclaimed, Ferdinand VII.; but there was little confidence amongst the party themselves, and there were some who would, if they dared, have spoken in favour of the French. One old Donna, in particular, was rather severe in her observations on the dress of the British officers, and remarked, that not one in fifty of them could speak French. Whether it was that she was piqued at my paying much attention to a lady who sat near her, or that she wished to display her wit at my expense, I being nearer to her than any other Englishman, I can't say, but she turned round, and asked if I spoke the French language. I replied, that I understood it tolerably, but that I spoke it but indifferently. "I thought so," was her reply; "I knew by that young fellow's appearance he was a booby (sot)," said she, addressing one of her friends. This she spoke in the very worst French that ever came from the mouth of a Bastan peasant. I was determined to have my revenge. I mustered up all my resolution, made a rapid repasser of all I had ever learned of French grammar, and took the first opportunity that presented itself to attack her. In a word, I completely out-talked her, out-spoke her, and out-crowed her in the estimation of her friends; and she who had been so short a time before the "leader of the opposition," was mum for the remainder of the evening. Harmony was once more restored, and we were beginning to forget the bickerings that party feeling had introduced amongst us, when a violent knocking at the door from the street threw the company into consternation and dismay. Every one looked confounded; some were for barring the door, others wished to escape, but this was easier said than done, for in front stood the police agents (for it was them, and none other), and

in the rear-if rear it could be called-was nothing but a pile of buildings, to the full as lofty as the house we inhabited. "What is to be done?" was a demand much easier made than answered; though in fact the proper and only reply to be made was— Open the door, and see who the gentlemen are looking after." Several persons, who had nothing to dread, loudly called out for this proceeding, but it was far from palatable to the majority of the company. It was idle, however, to talk, and, in fine, the massive door was heard to creak on its rusty hinges. At the same moment, six ill-looking fellows entered the saloon, and having taken a hasty but scrutinizing survey of the company, seized the son-in-law of my patron, and rudely carried him away. Saturio de Padilla was the name of this gentleman, and his only crime was that of holding the situation of Juiz de Fora, under the government of King Joseph. Nothing could be more unjust or impolitic than this arrest: it was, however, idle to reason so with the police agents; Saturio was taken off to the Fort of La China, and thrown into a dungeon, without bed, or any other comfort which a gentleman of his rank might have expected. At an early hour the following morning I was awoke by his father-in-law, the venerable Don Miguel de Torza; he begged of me to allow my servant to convey some bedding to him, which I not only consented to do, but at the entreaties of his daughter, Donna Maria Ignatia de Torza, (whose sister was married to Padilla, and who, by the way, was one of the most beautiful women in Madrid,) went to the prison myself. All entreaties to allow us to see the prisoner were vain, and had it not been for the kindness of Colonel Manners of the 74th, who was the Governor of the Fort, we should not have been allowed to send even a change of linen to this gentleman.

A week passed away, and no tidings were heard of Padilla; and his friends fearing that he might be made away with, became extremely uneasy. Without mentioning my intention, I waited upon Colonel Manners, who was much interested in his behalf, when I told him the circumstances; and owing to his intercession, I had the happiness of seeing my friend Don Saturio at liberty the day but one following. I need scarcely say that this exploit of mine, for so my Spanish friends termed it, raised me considerably in the estimation of the ladies, and all of them, my old formidable antagonist not excepted, were lavish in their praises of my conduct. Nothing but balls, concerts, and parties to the theatre, and the Prado, were thought of, until the announcement in the newspapers, and the never-ceasing cries of affiche venders in the streets, that the bull-fights were to take place, put a stop to all thoughts on any other but this, to a Spaniard at least, momentous affair.

This national amusement is of so old a standing, and has been so often related in novels and romances, that a description of it may, in the present day, be thought ill-timed; but as many of my readers may have never thrown their eye over such works-which, to say the truth, give but an imperfect outline of these combats-I shall, as far as my recollection will permit, detail the particulars of the day's fighting I witnessed at the Plaza de los Toros; as also the manner in which those animals are bred and trained, before it can be ascertained by their owners how far they will justify the expectations held by them of their probable success in their début before a Madrid audience, or, more correctly speaking, before the eye of the bulk of the population of that city.

So soon as those bulls which, from their pedigree, are thought to be worthy of entering the public lists for fame, attain the age of one year, they are collected together by the breeder, who invites his friends to be present at the trial. The fate of the bull is decided in a short time; he is either destined for the plough, the butcher, or the matador. To attain the chance of dying so honourable a death as by the hands of the latter, he must attack a horseman, armed with a long spear, twice, bearing its point on his neck or shoulder, before his pretensions to figure at the amphitheatre can be admitted; and it is really astonishing that animals so young possess such daring, but such is the fact, nevertheless. The bull who thus "passes muster, is destined for the long Toledo blade of the matador; those who hang back, for the ploughman's rivo stick, or the butcher's knife. Poor devils!—if they knew but all, it is-as regards the two latter at least-but "hang choice" between them; and for that matter, they have a better life than he that falls to the lot of the ploughman. We soldiers of the Peninsula used to say, "A short life and a merry one;" so say, or think, I suppose, the pugnacious bulls, and so say I; so say the veterans who are now going out to this same Spain, to fight for the Spanish Queen; so say the young men who have never "smelt powder," and are going out likewise; so say the old pensioned soldiers, and so say the raw recruits. All, one and all, are carried on by the destiny marked out for them; and though we sometimes make "bulls," we nevertheless follow our destiny as they do. But as I am going to write a chapter on "bulls," or bull-fights at least, I must go on regularly, least I should write a page of bulls!

Those animals destined for the amphitheatre on the day I am speaking of were conducted from the wilds they were brought up in, and, amidst a number of oxen and cows, were, on the evening previous to the display of the following day, within a league of Madrid. It was deemed necessary to confine them as short a time as possible, in order that their spirit might not be broken. There was something extremely exciting in this scene; for a number of gentlemen on horseback, armed with spears, went out to witness the shutting-in of the bulls. They were followed by the greater part of the mob of Madrid, and the bulls became so wild at the novel scene, that two of the most savage rushed among the crowd, and killed an old man, a shoemaker, and dreadfully wounded two women. Yet this, so far from being a warning to the rest, seemed to stimulate others to the risk which they madly courted. I saw one fellow, certainly in a state of intoxication, run forward and take a bull by the horns. He was tossed in the air, and fairly caught again by the infuriated brute, who had him placed in a sitting position on his head. Some of the boldest among the vast crowd ran forward to extricate him, which was affected by means of cloaks thrown over the bull's face. The man, to the astonishment of all, escaped unhurt, and was about to attack the bull again, but was restrained by his friends. My man servant, Dan Carsons, whom I have more than once introduced to my readers, was on the spot, and seeing the fool-hardiness of the Spaniard, attempted to expostulate with him, but Dan either speaking the Castilian language imperfectly, or the fellow being so drunk that he could not or would not take his council, turned away, and was about to break from his friends, when Dan quickly walked up to him, and seizing him by the collar, thus addressed him :

Honey, now! will ye be quiet now; can't you be aisy, and don't be afthur frettin' your poor ould mother there. See what a takin' she's in at your manner of misconducting yourself; you ought to know bether, before so many jontlemen, how to bemane yourself; and that baste of a bull gave you enough already to put a start in your poor ould mother. And I tell you, my boy, iv you get on with any more ov your anticks you'll be mighty apt to get the making of a horn-spoon in your

The delivery of Dan's advice caused much amusement, not only to those who understood him, but also to those who did not; but when he came to the end of it,-when he pointed to the bull's horns, the netherend of the Spaniard, and to his own mess-spoon, made of horn, which he fortunately had in his pocket, and which he held up by way of illustration, the roars of laughter were astounding, and the allusion was right well understood by the crowd. The bulls were soon got in, the Spaniard took Dan's counsel, and Dan himself walked away with his shoulders at least an inch higher than he ever carried them before; and though he unquestionably owed the success of the hit he had made to his horn-spoon, he by no means considered himself a spooney!

The number of bulls destined for the sports of the morrow was nine; those were shut into a small court-yard, divided by partitions, with a sluice-gate attached to each; by this means the bulls were got one by one into their respective cells, where they were lodged for the night.

A dia de los toros, or bull-day, at Madrid, is an event of such importance that all business is at a stand still: young and old, female as well as male, are, one and all, engrossed by this all-powerful amusement, and as the hour approaches for the opening of the amphitheatre, the streets of the city are nearly impassable from the vast and dense mass which throng them, all bending their steps towards the Plaza de los Toros. The spirits too of the multitude are wound up to the highest pitch of enthusiasm, and it is by no means safe to walk the suburbs on these occasions.

So early as ten in the morning the doors of the amphitheatre were thrown open for the admittance of those who had tickets of admission to witness the final arrangement of the bulls previous to their appearance on the stage. This part of the ceremony consists in arranging a bunch of ribbons, called the devisa, tied to a piece of barbed iron, which is fastened in the neck of the bull. This is meant to distinguish the breed of the animal, something like the colours worn by our jockeys at the different race-courses, which denote to whom such and such a horse belongs.

The clearing of the amphitheatre, where a vast number of people remain up to the last moment, is considered a part of the exhibition, and is termed el despejo. Some hundreds of soldiers are on duty to perform this ceremony: they enter at one of the two great gates in a solid body, and, debouching to the right and left, perform a variety of evolutions, which, while it attracts and amuses the multitude, gains the object in view-their dispersion. The arena is thus cleared by this ruse militaire; a splendid band of music, playing inspiring national airs, heightens the effect; every countenance is gay; and the ground once cleared, the gates are shut. The soldiers then perform a few evolutions, which are meant as a sort of peace-offering to those who have been ejected from the circus, and immediately afterwards retire behind the palisadoes.

To accomplish what I have described occupied three hours and a half, that is to say, from ten o'clock until half-past one. At that hour all was in readiness; nine magnificent bulls were prepared for the fight; and the picadores, banderilleros, and matadores, were equally ready and equally anxious to enter the lists with their formidable antagonists. The amphitheatre was filled almost to suffocation; all the rank and beauty of Madrid were here congregated together, and the arrival of Lord Wellington was looked for with breathless expectation. The hour named for the commencement of the combats was two; it now wanted twenty minutes of the time, and every minute was counted over in awful suspense until the arrival of the Commander-in-Chief of the British Army should be announced. True to his appointment, Lord Wellington reached the Plaza de los Toros at two o'clock precisely. A shout of approbation from without announced the fact, and his appearance in the royal box was hailed by a thunder of applause. He wore the uniform of a Spanish general officer, and was attended by a numerous staff of British, Spanish, and Portuguese officers. The whole assembly stood up to greet him on his arrival, and the different bands of bullfighters, according to their precedence in rank, passed before him in turn. They were as follows:

First, the banderilleros, in number twenty, dressed in scarlet and blue cloaks, silk breeches and stockings, their hair clubbed like the soldiers of Napoleon's guard, advanced in a line across the arena, and made their bow in front of the box occupied by Lord Wellington. Those were followed by the two matadores attended by their assistants; then came the picadores on horseback, wearing brown jackets trimmed with silver lace and adorned with a profusion of silver buttons. Their pantaloons were of buffalo leather, extremely wide and stuffed with a quantity of cotton which resists the bull's horns; their hats were large, tied under the chin, and turned up in the front, a plume of feathers outtopped the hat, and their appearance altogether was of a very imposing nature. A pike, six feet in length, with a spike at the end not more than three inches long, was all they had to defend themselves against the desperate fury of the bull. So soon as this part of the ceremony finished, the trumpets sounded, the two large gates were again thrown open, and the three classes of combatants quitted the arena; the horsemen by the gate to the right, those on foot by the one opposite to it.

The amphitheatre of Madrid, perhaps the finest in the world, is capable of accommodating twenty thousand spectators. The seats in the pit and gallery rise one above the other like our Opera-house. The gallery is flanked on each side by boxes, where those who wish to take a more distant view of the combat can sit with ease and safety; but the greater portion of the spectators, young ladies as well as gentlemen, prefer, like our play-going critics, the lower seats, as being best suited to give them a nearer view of those terrific, but certainly most exciting, encounters. This tier, protected by a strong palisade, or fence, six feet in height, with a space twenty feet wide between it and the first tier, is considered a sufficient defence against most bulls, but to guard against accident there are several doors which open from this space into the circus, as a high-mettled bull will not be stopped in his pursuit by this barrier. We looked upon this as an exaggeration, and did not credit it, but the sequel of the day's fighting proved that we were in error, and that the precaution was one of absolute necessity.