centre of the arena. The chulos played with their cloaks, the bull began to move about again, and the combat went on with as much spirit as before. Three or four times the bull pursued his adversaries as far as the barrier, thus affording us the graceful spectacle of the light movements of these men, who appeared actually to float along with their waving mantles. A banderillero soon entered the arena with a banderilla in each hand; his three companions followed him armed exactly as he was. To drive the banderillas into the bull's shoulders is by no means an agreeable office; they must be planted precisely at the same moment, and the more straightly they can be placed, the more easily is the business accomplished. The chulos directed the bull towards the banderillero, who drove the two darts into his shoulders; from the rebound of each of the darts a flight of five or six little birds, goldfinches, linnets, and canaries, started above the arena; these unfortunate little creatures were so completely bewildered by the shock, as not to be immediately able to fly, and they fell quite flat upon the sand in the circus; five or six persons leaped in consequence from the passage to pick them up, at the imminent risk of being gored to death by the bull. But he was evidently beginning to lose his head; he seemed to have abandoned that desperate plan of attack which renders this animal so formidable: he darted from one chulo to another, giving blows with his horns to all, but allowing himself to be drawn from one enemy to another. A second banderillero made his appearance; the bull became suddenly calm on perceiving him, but this calm was only a proof of his more certain vengeance; he recognised in this man's hands the instruments of torture which he bore in his shoulders, for he sprang upon him without allowing any obstacle to oppose him. The banderillero awaited his attack with the banderillas, but he could only plant one of these in the bull's shoulder; and the next moment a slight scream was heard; the rose-coloured sleeve of the banderillero was instantly stained with purple, and his hand was covered with blood, which streamed through his fingers; the horn had completely pierced the upper part of his arm. He reached the barrier by himself, for he would not accept any support; but when he attempted to spring over it he fainted away; and we saw him lifted into the passage with his head drooping, and in a state of unconsciousness. One bull had done enough mischief, so the trumpet sounded for the death. Each of the combatants withdrew, for the lists now belonged to the torero. Cuchares, who was the torero in this combat, came forward; he appeared to be between thirty-six and forty years of age; he was of ordinary height, thin, with a shrivelled skin and tawny complexion. If he is not one of the most skilful toreros, for I believe the Spaniards prefer Montès and Chiclanero to him, he is certainly one of the most daring and courageous; he performs all sorts of audacious tricks directly in front of the bull, which proves that he has a thorough knowledge of this animal's nature. One day, when he was contesting with Montès, who had carried off the largest share of the public applause, he did not know exactly how to gain a portion of the bravos which were so bountifully bestowed upon his rival; so he knelt down before the infuriated bull. The bull gazed at him a few seconds in astonishment, and then, as if intimidated by such an act of boldness, abandoned him and pursued a chulo.

To return to the combat which I am describing; Cuchares came forward, holding a sword in his left hand, which was concealed

by the muleta, a piece of red cloth set on a little stick, which serves as a shield to the torero; he walked across the circus till he came in front of the queen's box, when he bent one knee to the ground, and taking off his hat, asked permission of its august occupant to kill the bull. Permission was immediately granted him, by a sign and a gracious smile. On retiring he threw his hat away from him, with a certain gesture of pride, which belongs only to a man who knows he is about to struggle with death, and then prepared to meet the bull. The quadrille was now entirely at his disposal; it surrounded him, awaiting his orders; from this time forth nothing is done without the torero's leave. He has chosen the part of the arena upon which he desires the conflict to take place, the exact spot upon which he intends to give the death blow; the business of the whole party, therefore, is to attract the bull towards this point of the circus. The spot chosen on this occasion was just underneath the queen's box, but the chulos were determined to display a little coquetry in directing the bull thither, for they naturally wished to have their triumph. They caused the animal to make a complete circuit, obliging him to pass in front of the ayuntamiento, by the toril, and from thence to the spot where Cuchares awaited him, with sword in one hand, and muleta in the other. In passing the horse which he had lifted on his head, the bull gave him two or three more blows with his horns. When Cuchares saw the bull nearly opposite to him, he made a sign, and everybody moved away; the man and the animal were now face to face. Cuchares had only a long thin sword, and the animal possessed terrific horns, enormous power, and his movements were more rapid than those of the swiftest horse; the man appeared nothing by the side of this tremendous monster; but the light of intelligence shone forth in the man's eyes, while the sole expression in the bull's look was the wild glare of ferocity. It was clear, however, that all the advantage was on the man's side, and that in this seemingly unequal conflict, the strong would be compelled to yield, and the weak would be the conqueror. Cuchares waved his muleta before the bull's eyes; the bull darted upon him, but he turned on his heel and received only a slight graze from one of the horns; but the stroke was magnificently given, and the whole circus rang with applause. The shouts seemed only to increase the bull's fury, for he sprang again upon Cuchares, who this time met him with his sword. The shock was frightful, the sword bent like a hoop, and flew into the air, the point had touched the shoulder bone, but, in rebounding, caused the hilt to quit the torero's hand. The spectators would have hooted Cuchares, but by a dexterous volt he escaped the attack of his enemy. The chulos now advanced and endeavoured to distract the bull's attention; but Cuchares, disarmed as he was, made a signal to them to remain in their place, for he still had his muleta.

Now followed the most astonishing proofs of this man's profound knowledge of the animal, so essential to him in a conflict which lasted full five minutes, during which time his sole weapon was his muleta. He drove the bull wherever he desired, bewildering him so completely as almost to make him lose his instinct. Twenty times the bull sprang upon him, darting from the right side to the left; he grazed him repeatedly with his horn, but never really wounded him. At length Cuchares picked up his sword, wiped it composedly, and presented it, amidst the deafening applause of the spectators: this

time the full length of the blade was buried between the bull's shoulders; he quivered with agony, and was completely rooted to the spot; it was very clear that the cold of the steel had struck into his heart, if not the steel itself,-the hilt of the sword alone could be seen above the nape of the neck; Cuchares did not occupy himself any longer with the bull, but proceeded to offer his homage to the queen. The bull was mortally wounded; he gazed around him, when his eye lighted suddenly upon the dead horse, and with a trot rendered heavy by the agony he endured, he moved towards it. When the bull reached the dead body of the horse, he fell upon his two knees by the side of it, uttered a faint bellow, lowered his hinder quarters as he had previously bent his head, and laid himself down. The cachetero leaped from the passage, crept softly up to the bull, drew forth his stiletto, and, when he had well taken his aim, gave the final stroke. Lightning could not have taken a more instantaneous effect; the head dropped without a struggle, and the animal expired without a single groan.

A strain of music announced the death; a door opened, and four mules drawing a sort of truck entered the arena. The mules were almost hidden by their trappings; these were covered with brilliant knots of ribbon and tinkling bells; the dead horses were fastened to the truck, one after the other, and borne away with the rapidity of lightning. Next came the bull's turn, and he soon disappeared like the rest through the door destined for the dead bodies to pass out. The door closed behind him; four large streaks of blood crimsoned the sand, this was the blood of the dead horses and the bull; here and there, too, might be discovered a few other red spots, but in less than ten minutes all traces of the last combat had vanished. The valets of the circus brought their rakes and two large baskets full of sand, with which they fresh strewed the arena. The piccadors resumed their position on the left of the toril, and the chulos and banderilleros on the right. Lucas Blanco, who succeeded Cuchares, placed himself a little in the rear. The band announced that the second conflict was about to commence; the door of the toril burst open, and another bull made his appearance.

But it is really time that I should bid you adieu; a bull-fight is a thing one never tires of seeing, and when I tell you that I have been eight days successively to all the bull-fights which have taken place in Madrid, you will readily understand what an infatuating scene it is.

THE SIX DECISIVE BATTLES OF THE WORLD.

BY PROFESSOR CREASY,

"Those few battles of which a contrary event would have essentially varied the drama of the world in all its subsequent scenes.”—HALLAM,

No. I.-MARATHON.

"Quibus actus uterque

Europæ atque Asiæ fatis concurrerit orbis."

Two thousand three hundred and thirty-seven years ago, a council of Greek officers was summoned on the slope of one of the mountains that look over the plain of Marathon, on the eastern coast of Attica. The immediate subject of their meeting was to consider whether they should give battle to an enemy that lay encamped on the shore beneath them; but on the result of their deliberations depended, not merely the fate of two armies, but the whole future progress of human civilization.

The ten Athenian generals who, with the Archon entitled the War-Ruler, formed the council, had deep matter for anxiety, though little aware how momentous to mankind were the votes they were about to give, or how the generations to come would read with interest the record of their discussions. They saw before them the invading forces of a mighty power, which had in the last fifty years shattered and enslaved nearly all the kingdoms and principalities of the then known world. They knew that all the resources of their own country were comprised in the little army entrusted to their guidance. They saw before them a chosen host of the Great King, sent to wreak his special wrath on that country, and on the other insolent little Greek community, which had dared to aid his rebels and burn the capital of one of his provinces. That victorious host had already fulfilled half its mission of vengeance. Eretria, the confederate of Athens in the bold march against Sardis nine years before, had fallen in the last few days; and the Athenians could discern from their heights the island, in which the Persians had deposited their Eretrian prisoners, whom they had reserved to be led away captives into Upper Asia, there to hear their doom from the lips of King Darius himself. Moreover, the men of Athens knew that in the camp before them was their own banished tyrant, who was seeking to be reinstated by foreign scymitars in despotic sway over any remnant of his countrymen, that might survive the sack of their town, and might be left behind as too worthless for leading away into Median bondage.

The

The numerical disparity between the force which the Athenian commanders had under them and that which they were called on to encounter, was hopelessly apparent to some of the council. historians who wrote nearest to the time of the battle do not pretend to give any detailed statements of the numbers engaged, but there are sufficient data for our making a general estimate. The musterroll of free Athenian citizens of an age fit for military service never exceeded 30,000, and at this epoch probably did not amount to twothirds of that number. Moreover, the poorer portion of these were

unprovided with the equipments and untrained to the operations of the regular infantry. Some detachments of the best-armed troops would be required to garrison the city itself, and mann the various fortified posts in the territory; so that it is impossible to reckon the fully equipped force that marched from Athens to Marathon, when the news of the Persian landing arrived, at higher than 14,000. The gallant little allied state of Platea had sent its contingent of 1000 of its best men; so that the Athenian commanders must have had under them about 15,000 fully-armed and disciplined infantry, and probably a larger number of irregular light-armed troops; as, besides the poorer citizens who went to the field armed with javelins, cutlasses, and targets, each regular heavy-armed soldier was attended in the camp by one or more slaves, who were armed like the inferior freemen. Cavalry or archers the Athenians (on this occasion) had none; and the use in the field of military engines was not at that period introduced into ancient warfare.

Contrasted with their own scanty forces, the Greek commanders saw stretched before them, along the shores of the winding bay, the tents and shipping of the varied nations who marched to do the bidding of the king of the eastern world. The difficulty of finding transports and of securing provisions would form the only limit to the numbers of a Persian army. Nor is there any reason to suppose the estimate of Justin exaggerated, who rates at 100,000 the force which on this occasion had sailed, under the Satraps Datis and Artaphernes, from the Cilician shores against the devoted coasts of Euboea and Attica. And after largely deducting from this total, so as to allow for mere mariners and camp-followers, there must still have remained fearful odds against the national levies of the Athenians. Nor could Greek generals then feel that confidence in the superior quality of their troops, which ever since the battle of Marathon has animated Europeans in conflicts with Asiatics; as, for instance, in the after struggles between Greece and Persia, or when the Roman legions encountered the myriads of Mithridates and Tigranes, or as is the case in the Indian campaigns of our own regiments. On the contrary, up to the day of Marathon the Medes and Persians were reputed invincible. They had more than once met Greek troops in Asia Minor and had invariably beaten them. Nothing can be stronger than the expressions used by the early Greek writers respecting the terror which the name of the Medes inspired, and the prostration of men's spirits before the apparently resistless career of the Persian arms.* It is, therefore, little to be wondered at, that five of the ten Athenian generals shrank from the prospect of fighting a pitched battle against an enemy so vastly superior in numbers, and so formidable in military renown. Their own position on the heights was strong, and offered great advantages to a small defending force against assailing masses. They deemed it mere foolhardiness to descend into the plain to be trampled down by the Asiatic horse, overwhelmed with the archery, or cut to pieces by the invincible veterans of Cambyses and Cyrus. Moreover, Sparta, the great war-state of Greece, had been applied to

Αθηναίοι πρωτοι ἀνέσχοντο ἐσθητα τε Μηδικην όρεωντες, και τους άνδρας ταυτην ἔσθημενους· τέως δε ἦν τοισι Έλλησι και το ούνομα των Μηδων φοβος ἀκουσαι.—HERODOTUS. Αἱ δε γνώμαι δεδουλωμεναι ἁπάντων ἀνθρωπων ἦσαν ούτω πολλά και μεγάλα και μαχιμα γένη καταδεδουλωμενη ἦν ἡ Περσων άρχη.-PLATO.