The risk of the fighters is great, and their dexterity alone prevents its being imminent. The lives most exposed are those of the _Matadores_; and few of them have retired in time to avoid a tragical end. Bull fighters rise from the dregs of the people. Like most of their equals, they unite superstition and profligacy in their character. None of them will venture upon the arena without a _scapulary_, two small square pieces of cloth suspended by ribbons, on the breast and back, between the shirt and the waistcoat. In the front square there is a print, on linen, of the Virgin Mary--generally, the _Carmel_ Mary, who is the patron goddess of all the rogues and vagabonds in Spain. These scapularies are blessed, and sold by the Carmelite Friars. Our great _Matador_, Pepe Illo, besides the usual amulet, trusted for safety to the patronage of St. Joseph, whose chapel adjoins the Seville amphitheatre. The doors of this chapel were, during Illo’s life, thrown open as long as the fight continued, the image of the Saint being all that time encircled by a great number of lighted wax-candles, which the devout gladiator provided at his own expense. The Saint, however, unmindful of this homage, allowed his client often to be wounded, and finally left him to his fate at Madrid. To enjoy the spectacle I have described, the feelings must be greatly perverted; yet that degree of perversion is very easily accomplished. The display of courage and address which is made at these exhibitions, and the contagious nature of all emotions in numerous assemblies, are more than sufficient to blunt, in a short time, the natural disgust arising from the first view of blood and slaughter. If we consider that even the Vestals at Rome were passionately fond of gladiatorial shows, we shall not be surprised at the Spanish taste for sports which, with infinite less waste of human life, can give rise to the strongest emotions. The following instance, with which I shall conclude, will shew you to what degree the passion for bull-fights can grow. A gentleman of my acquaintance had some years ago the misfortune to lose his sight. It might be supposed, that a blind man would avoid the scene of his former enjoyment--a scene where every thing is addressed to the eye. This gentleman, however, is a constant attendant at the amphitheatre. Morning and evening he takes his place with the _Maestranza_, of which he is a member, having his guide by his side. Upon the appearance of every bull, he greedily listens to the description of the animal, and of all that takes place in the fight. His mental conception of the exhibition, aided by the well known cries of the multitude, is so vivid, that when a burst of applause allows his attendant just to hint at the event that drew it from the spectators, the unfortunate man’s face gleams with pleasure, and he echoes the last clappings of the circus. LETTER V. _Seville, ---- 1801._