illustration of a man on horseback, with a species of lance in rest, and galloping with much bravado after a retreating bull. Below, vast capitals conveyed the announcement that a “Grande Course Extraordinaire” would take place “aux Arènes,” the name given here and at Nismes to the amphitheatre. Several of the seven bulls which made up the manége, or stud, were to fire off pistols on their entry into the arena: a promise which was fulfilled by some simple contrivance to meet the fore-legs as the bull advanced, the result affording thorough satisfaction to the audience. One of the animals was to be received at the outer end of the flanked passage leading into the arena by a net, into which he was to plunge “comme un lapin se prend dans la bourse en sortant du terrier.” Another was to wear a cockade mounted on his horn; and a twenty-franc piece was to reward that skilful youth who might pluck the cockade from the horn within ten feet (trois mètres) of the barricades.
Our determination was at once taken to be present at the “grande course,” the proper study of mankind being man, even man the bull-aggravator. It was unnecessary to visit the “Rue Wauxhall,” where the placard informed us that tickets might be obtained, as we learnt that an office for the purpose was always erected at the amphitheatre itself. Thither, accordingly, we repaired at about half-past four, when the great heats succeeding noontide were beginning to relax their violence. Half a franc gave us the unlimited right of wandering over every part of the astounding ruin. Hopeless indeed is the task of conveying by words any adequate notion of this, or the closely similar building at Nismes. The amphitheatre at Arles is a vast oval construction, 460 feet in length of the greater axis, by 338 of the lesser. The gigantic walls running round the entire circumference are more than 60 feet in height. And the width of this mass of masonry is so great as to allow of ample corridors, two storeys high, opening out upon the interior in two beautiful tiers of arches, sixty to each tier. The grand effect of the original design, so far from being damaged as the French guide-books affirm, has been rather heightened than otherwise by the three lofty square towers rising at intervals from the summit of the arcades. These remain out of four built here by the Saracens in the eighth century, when the amphitheatre was used as a fortress, as it subsequently was, in all likelihood, by Charles Martel, who dislodged the invaders.
The view of the Rhone valley, and of the Camargue, or vast delta reaching away below the city towards the Mediterranean, is fine in the extreme. The interior of the building exceeds, if possible, the impressive effect of a first sight of the outer shell. The inner oval, or arena proper, is not so charmingly proportioned as that at Nismes; but, on the other hand, the arches are more graceful, and large parts of the podium, or parapet skirting the barricades, as well as of the chambers for the animals and the condemned, are in a more perfect condition. The rows of seats above the upper tier of arcades remain at Nismes, but are lost here. In the original design, the rows appear to have numbered forty-four in all; and it is conjectured, with great probability, by local connoisseurs, that 40,000 spectators could be accommodated.
On entering, we mounted the stone staircase leading to the upper gallery, and began a promenade round the wonderfully preserved building. Between 5000 and 6000 people were already assembled, showing, however, the appearance of quite a thin house, owing to the vast extent of the theatre.
Great skill was shown in securing patches of shade afforded by the towers, or other portions of the masonry; and the sea of moving heads was prettily diversified by light parasols of every colour under the sun. In the arena itself about two hundred men and boys were walking leisurely about, waiting with apparent coolness the entry of the bull. A timber staging, affording a rough kind of retreat in case of too hot pursuit, ran round the sides of the oval; and a narrow passage, some twenty yards long, strongly planked on each side, led from the salle d’attente of the unlucky bulls to the presence of their tormentors. Suddenly a single drum set up a tattoo. In another moment—bang, bang, bang, from the pistols announced in the programme,—and a bull came plunging down the passage into the arena. At the first touch of the drumstick, our friends in the arena began to cluster in a very partially dignified manner upon the narrow steps of the staging, so narrow that men and boys had to cling to one another in order to preserve the necessary balance. The bulls were all of southern breed, jet black, with small haunches, and horns generally bent backwards over the shoulder. The first fellow that enters looks about him, puzzled and almost terrified, until some nimble youngster, stepping from the staging, rolls a kind of basket-barrel at him, and follows suit by waving a handkerchief in his face. Two or three comrades assist the first brave by pulling the bull’s tail, or hallooing at him from a short distance. The bull makes a dig at the basket, and very likely succeeds in burying his horns in it, when he becomes the prey of half a hundred persecutors, who fearlessly pull his tail and ears or poke his sides, until he can again withdraw his horns, and cause a general retreat to the palings. Whenever he pursues A for a few yards, B is at hand to make a nimble diversion in A’s favour, so that it is but rarely the bull has a chance of running his game fairly to earth at the staging. If he succeeds in doing this, he is instantly scared by a score of booted legs thrust out in the direction of his head, and despairingly seeks the open, only to go through a series of precisely similar troubles. Young Alphonses and Leons in white trousers and straw-hats, the cynosure of ladies’ eyes, skip athletically before the bull, who occasionally succeeds in jerking a hat from the hand that is tauntingly brandishing it at him, when he transfixes it or paws it in the dust.
Should he show poor fight, two men enter the arena with long poles headed by a sharp trident of this design, and by sundry pokes, which draw the blood each time, rouse him to a sense of his duty towards