Few among the lower classes retire to their beds on the eve of a _Bull-day_. From midnight they pour down the streets leading to the amphitheatre, in the most riotous and offensive manner, to be present at the Encierro--_shutting-in_ of the bulls--which being performed at the break of day, is allowed to be seen without paying for seats. The devoted animals are conducted from their native fields to a large plain in the neighbourhood of Seville, from whence eighteen, the number exhibited daily during the feasts, are led to the amphitheatre, on the appointed day, that long confinement may not break down their fierceness. This operation has something extremely wild in its character. All the amateurs of the town are seen on horseback with their lances hastening towards Tablada, the spot where the bulls are kept at large. The herdsmen, on foot, collect the victims of the day into a drove; this they do by means of tame oxen, called _Cabestros_, taught to be led by a haulter, carrying, tied round their neck, a large deep-sounding bell, with a wooden clapper. What the habit of following the bells of the leaders fails to do, the cracking of the herdsmen’s slings is sure to perform, when the animals are not driven to madness. The horsemen, also, stand on all sides of the drove till they get into a round trot. Thus they proceed to within half a mile of the amphitheatre. At that distance a path is closed up on both sides, with stout poles, tied horizontally across upright stakes--a feeble rampart, indeed, against the fury of a herd of wild bulls. Yet the Sevillian mob, though fully aware of the danger, are mad enough to take pleasure in exposing themselves. The intolerable noise in my street, and the invitation of a Member of the _Maestranza_--a corporate association of noblemen, whose object is the breeding and breaking of horses, and who in this town enjoy the exclusive privilege of giving bull-feasts to the public--induced me, during the last season, to get up one morning with the dawn, and take my stand at the amphitheatre, where, from their private gallery, I commanded a view of the plain lying between the river Guadalquivir and that building.
At the distant sound of the oxen’s bells, shoals of people were seen driving wildly over the plain, like clouds before a strong gale. One could read in their motions, a struggle between fear on one side, and vanity and habit on the other. Now they approached the palisade, now they ran to a more distant spot. Many climbed up the trees, while the more daring or fool-hardy, kept their station on what they esteemed a post of honour. As our view was terminated by a narrow pass between the river and the ancient tower called _del Oro_, or Golden, the cavalcade broke upon us with great effect. It approached at full gallop. The leading horsemen, now confined within the palisades, and having the whole herd at their heels, were obliged to run for their lives. Few, however, ventured on this desperate service, and their greatest force was in the rear. The herdsmen clinging to the necks of the oxen, in order to keep pace with the horses, appeared, to an unpractised eye, doomed to inevitable destruction. The cries of the multitude, the sound of numberless horns, made of the hollow stem of a large species of thistle, the shrill and penetrating whistling, which seems most to harass and enrage the bulls, together with the confused and rapid motion of the scene, could hardly be endured without a degree of dizziness. It often happens, that the boldest of the mob succeed in decoying a bull from the drove; but I was, this time, fortunate enough to see them safely lodged in the _Toril_--a small court divided into a series of compartments with drop-gates, in the form of sluices, into which they are successively goaded from a surrounding gallery, and lodged singly till the time of letting them loose upon the arena.