The sky may fall, and they may catch four reals'
worth of larks. It is worth taking the chances.
One does not soon forget the first sight of the full coliseum. In the
centre is the sanded arena, surrounded by a high barrier. Around this
rises the graded succession of stone benches for the people; then
numbered seats for the connoisseurs; and above a row of boxes extending
around the circle. The building holds, when full, some fourteen thousand
persons; and there is rarely any vacant space. For myself I can say that
what I vainly strove to imagine in the coliseum at Rome, and in the more
solemn solitude of the amphitheatres of Capua and Pompeii, came up
before me with the vividness of life on entering the bull-ring of
Madrid. This, and none other, was the classic arena. This was the crowd
that sat expectant, under the blue sky, in the hot glare of the South,
while the doomed captives of Dacia or the sectaries of Judea commended
their souls to the gods of the Danube, or the Crucified of Galilee. Half
the sand lay in the blinding sun. Half the seats were illuminated by the
fierce light. The other half was in shadow, and the dark crescent crept
slowly all the afternoon across the arena as the sun declined in the
west.
It is hard to conceive a more brilliant scene. The women put on their
gayest finery for this occasion. In the warm light, every bit of color
flashes out, every combination falls naturally into its place.
Pages:
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85