DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.48088#0216
ST. ANTHONY.
187
had recently plied their trade in the vicinity of Seville. These man were iron-headed Galicians,
little concerned at the capture or execution of their comrades.
“I had made a vow, to confess to the monk of the Guadalquiver,” muttered Sancho Montez
and hastened to put on his gala attire. Jose Carreguy wore a large ribbon rosette with ends of
white and blue on his right shoulder, while Sancho was decorated with a brilliant red and yellow
scarf. A wild chorus of Moorish music was heard as the procession, ending with the Matadores,
proceeded towards the Plaza Mayor. Here it was joined by the brotherhoods with their insignias,
and the dignitaries of the numerous cloisters in Seville, whilst behind followed a tropp of
beggars, poor women and children, whose homes were to be found on the streets or under the
portal of churches and cloisters.
The immense arena was already surrounded by thousands of gaily-attired spectators. The
Picadores rode in, and displayed their horsemanship. Then, after this greeting to the spectators,
and especially to the dignitaries of the Church and the State, the Matadores all entered the
enclosure, in which only the Picadores remained, while the Banderilleros took their places round
it, either sitting or standing, an old Franciscan marched across the red and white sand, with
two choristers, sprinkling holy-water. The spectators awaited the arrival of the first animal in
breathless anxiety.
The most distinguished personages amongst the company then entered the king’s box,« the
side seats of which were occupied by a number of grave old men in dark dresses, amongst whom
was the Governor.
Don Guzman entered in a magnificent brown costume, trimmed with a narrow border of
yellow silk, glittering chains around his neck, and long feathers were hanging from his velvet
hat. He also wore a regal crimson mantle. By his side was the Nuncio at the court of Madrid,
a distinguished Italian, dressed in a broad red scapulary, white robes, and a red cap, and holding
his heavy Jesuit’s hat in his hand, on account of the heat. Although the Nuncio had selected
this hat, out of respect to the powerful disciples of Loyola he had the right to wear another,
namely the Cardinal’s. He was Cardinal Dezio Azzolini, a man of about forty-two years of age,
and his presence at the games showed that it was not considered advisable at Rome to deny the
faithful, of a pleasure, although Papal decrees had been issued against bull-fights.
Behind the two dignitaries, Donna Mencia, with her little boy, appeared in mourning.
She kept her eyes steadily directed towards the palace gates through which the Matadores would
enter the enclosure. She was followed by a troop of gaily dressed ladies, who had only just
taken their places on the carpeted seats, when a magnificent animal, covered with large black
patches, dashed into the arena amidst the deafening roar of music. The animal chased the Pica-
dores, raced round the arena with the horses, and leapt high in the air; but at once assumed
a different character, when it felt the first touch of an arrow, and the lances of the Picadores.
It dashed away with gigantic springs, its head erect in the air, not until this decisive moment did
it first attack its antagonists with its horns. Three horses fell to the ground amid pools of blood,
and an unhappy Banderillero, thrust through the breast, lay motionless on his back, in the arena.
The spectators no longer shouted and applauded, as at the commencement of the drama; but
sat quiet and silent, when the bull, springing forward like a lion, struck a horse in the breast,
So that a red stream issued forth like a spring.
“Montez! Montez!” echoed the cries of the spectators.
The Governor lifted a golden staff, and then let it fall—a wild shout of joy was the reponse,
24*
187
had recently plied their trade in the vicinity of Seville. These man were iron-headed Galicians,
little concerned at the capture or execution of their comrades.
“I had made a vow, to confess to the monk of the Guadalquiver,” muttered Sancho Montez
and hastened to put on his gala attire. Jose Carreguy wore a large ribbon rosette with ends of
white and blue on his right shoulder, while Sancho was decorated with a brilliant red and yellow
scarf. A wild chorus of Moorish music was heard as the procession, ending with the Matadores,
proceeded towards the Plaza Mayor. Here it was joined by the brotherhoods with their insignias,
and the dignitaries of the numerous cloisters in Seville, whilst behind followed a tropp of
beggars, poor women and children, whose homes were to be found on the streets or under the
portal of churches and cloisters.
The immense arena was already surrounded by thousands of gaily-attired spectators. The
Picadores rode in, and displayed their horsemanship. Then, after this greeting to the spectators,
and especially to the dignitaries of the Church and the State, the Matadores all entered the
enclosure, in which only the Picadores remained, while the Banderilleros took their places round
it, either sitting or standing, an old Franciscan marched across the red and white sand, with
two choristers, sprinkling holy-water. The spectators awaited the arrival of the first animal in
breathless anxiety.
The most distinguished personages amongst the company then entered the king’s box,« the
side seats of which were occupied by a number of grave old men in dark dresses, amongst whom
was the Governor.
Don Guzman entered in a magnificent brown costume, trimmed with a narrow border of
yellow silk, glittering chains around his neck, and long feathers were hanging from his velvet
hat. He also wore a regal crimson mantle. By his side was the Nuncio at the court of Madrid,
a distinguished Italian, dressed in a broad red scapulary, white robes, and a red cap, and holding
his heavy Jesuit’s hat in his hand, on account of the heat. Although the Nuncio had selected
this hat, out of respect to the powerful disciples of Loyola he had the right to wear another,
namely the Cardinal’s. He was Cardinal Dezio Azzolini, a man of about forty-two years of age,
and his presence at the games showed that it was not considered advisable at Rome to deny the
faithful, of a pleasure, although Papal decrees had been issued against bull-fights.
Behind the two dignitaries, Donna Mencia, with her little boy, appeared in mourning.
She kept her eyes steadily directed towards the palace gates through which the Matadores would
enter the enclosure. She was followed by a troop of gaily dressed ladies, who had only just
taken their places on the carpeted seats, when a magnificent animal, covered with large black
patches, dashed into the arena amidst the deafening roar of music. The animal chased the Pica-
dores, raced round the arena with the horses, and leapt high in the air; but at once assumed
a different character, when it felt the first touch of an arrow, and the lances of the Picadores.
It dashed away with gigantic springs, its head erect in the air, not until this decisive moment did
it first attack its antagonists with its horns. Three horses fell to the ground amid pools of blood,
and an unhappy Banderillero, thrust through the breast, lay motionless on his back, in the arena.
The spectators no longer shouted and applauded, as at the commencement of the drama; but
sat quiet and silent, when the bull, springing forward like a lion, struck a horse in the breast,
So that a red stream issued forth like a spring.
“Montez! Montez!” echoed the cries of the spectators.
The Governor lifted a golden staff, and then let it fall—a wild shout of joy was the reponse,
24*