Читать книгу Into the Frozen South онлайн

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A Portuguese bull-fight is not quite so bloodthirsty as those held in the neighbouring land of Spain. In Spain the main idea is to get the bull killed, after suitable tortures have been inflicted; in Portugal the bull’s horns are padded thickly at the tips, and the principal scheme seems to be to show the agility of the bullfighters.

As soon as the bull, always a magnificent animal, is admitted into the ring he is annoyed and excited by the waving of gaudily-coloured cloaks and flags. Being only a bull and not a philosopher, he naturally gets angry and promptly puts his head down and goes for his tormentors, who, after risking as much as they dare, leap over the barricades into safety. These cloak-wavers are merely pawns in the game; for all the time they are busy the genuine hero of the hour is in the ring, either afoot or on horseback, showing himself off to an admiring audience. A successful bull-fighter on the Tagus is a very much more important personage than the captain of a Cup Final team or a hero who has knocked up a couple of centuries in a county cricket match.