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Updated: May 26, 2025
"'And Torellas! A torero, yes. But whether a man is muletero, vaquero, or torero, what matters it? Torellas has been all three, and I, too I, her brother-in-law, but what matters it? Luis, my brother, was, oh, so poor when they married, but, my friend, I who say it I, his brother a scamp possibly, yes, but we had family. A handsome boy was Luis, and she I admit it very beautiful and good.
They are, as someone has said, "ferociously virtuous," and share in the open-handed generosity of their husbands. The earnings of a successful torero are very large. In some cases, they make as much as £4000 or £5000 a year of English money, during the height of their popularity, and retire to end their days in their native and beloved Andalucia.
'Big leaguers of some kind, thinks Cogan, and asked the fruit-stand keeper who they were, and the fruit-seller said 'Torero. "'Torero? Torero? Ah-h-h' Cogan recalled his 'Spanish Without A Master' 'Ah-h-h, of course, Toreros Toreadors' he remembered the opera 'Carmen' bull-fighters. Cogan got up and followed them.
He said, "It's like the difference between throwing a bunch of Christians to some wild bulls in a Roman arena, to being a torero in Spain, a matador who has chosen his profession and enters the bullring to make money." Then the boy said something that gave him greater depth than Joe had expected.
The wives of the toreros are generally celebrated for their beauty, their wit, and their devotion to their husbands indeed, the men have a large choice before them when choosing their helpmates for life. To their wives is due much of the making and all the keeping up of the elaborate and costly dress of the torero.
Every urchin in Andalusia knows the names of the most prominent champions and can tell you their merits. The bull-fight is the national spectacle; it excites Spaniards as nothing else can, and the death of a famous torero is more tragic than the loss of a colony. Seville looks upon itself as the very home and centre of the art.
When the tournament was ended, and we were hauled back to the river-side, the torero was not with us. Fortunate Sanchez! He had won his life! Henceforth he was to be riding-master to the Navajo nation! Another day came: our day for action.
Life is too short to learn bull-fighting. A grandee of Spain, if he knows anything else, would make a sorry torero. The good times of the art are more modern. I saw the short day of the glory of the ring when I was a boy. There was a race of gladiators then, such as the world will never see again, mighty fighters before the king.
Should any of us succeed in running through the whole line, and reach the mountain foot before we could be overtaken, the promise was that our lives should be spared! "Is this true, Sanchez?" I whispered to the torero, who was standing near me. "No," was the reply, given also in a whisper. "It is only a trick to make you run the better and show them the more sport. You are to die all the same.
"Otra copita! vamos Inglesito: Otra copita!" "Thank you, my good sir, you are very kind, you appear to know me, but I have not the honour of knowing you." "Not know me!" replied the being. "I am Sevilla, the torero. I know you well; you are the friend of Baltasarito, the national, who is a friend of mine, and a very good subject."
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