Volume 3 — THE SPANISH BULL-FIGHT.

JOSEPH MOORE.

[“Outlying Europe and the Nearer Orient,” by Joseph Moore, Jr., a work devoted to descriptive sketches of Egypt, the Holy Land, and the various countries of Europe, is the source of the following selection, which excellently delineates that ancient, though hardly time-honored, institution of Spain, which has long been its most distinctive form of public recreation. Happily, no other race than the Spanish has adopted this cruel sport.]

Nothing in the popular mind is more closely associated with Spain than the bull-fight. To travel in that country without witnessing the spectacle would imply the loss of an invaluable opportunity to study Spanish life. The people of all classes throughout the kingdom are unremitting in their enthusiasm for this favorite amusement, and no political or social prerogative could be guarded with more zealous devotion.

This species of gladiatorial contest took its origin at a remote period, and long before it assumed its present form exhibition combats of one bull against another were not uncommon. Pictorial sculptures at Beni Hassan and Thebes prove the latter to have been among the sports of the Egyptians nearly three thousand years before the Christian era. Strabo states that the bulls employed on these occasions were carefully trained for the purpose, and the encounters generally took place in the dromos, or avenue of approach to the temples. These displays, however, were probably abandoned under succeeding dynasties, as no such representations exist on walls of later periods. We have reasonable evidence to assume that bull-fights which included men and beasts as combatants were first instituted by the Thessalians more than three hundred years before Christ. As a people, they were skilled in horsemanship, and the spectacle was not unlike that of modern Spain. Julius Cæsar is believed to have noticed such exhibitions in Thessaly, which led to their appearance in Rome about B.C. 45. In later ages they were generally prohibited in the Latin empire, both by the emperors and the popes. Gibbon, however, describes a feast celebrated at Rome in 1332, which included a bull-fight in the Coliseum, with the Roman nobles as participants. The bull-fight was introduced into the Spanish peninsula by the Moors in the eighth century, and when those people were finally expelled in 1492 by Ferdinand and Isabella, Catholic Spain adopted the cruel sport of her Mohammedan predecessors. In the sixteenth century Pope Pius V. vainly decreed its extinction, and two hundred years later Charles III. practically failed to accomplish the same by persuasion. Late in the last century Charles IV. suppressed the bull-fight, but Joseph Bonaparte soon after restored the privilege to ingratiate himself with the nation whose throne he had usurped. Since then the ancient diversion has flourished despite the unanimous condemnation of the outer world. The present monarch, Alfonso XII., is said to favor its abolition, but such an attempt, it is declared, would be attended with the risk of engendering a revolution.

Bull-fights are popular throughout Spain, but, with the exception of Madrid, they are more frequent in the southern provinces. In fact, Seville is regarded as the centre of tauromachia. The season extends from the close of Lent to November, with Sundays and religious fiestas as the favorite days. The Plaza de Toros, or bull-ring, is an extensive hypæthral amphitheatre resembling the Coliseum on a reduced scale. The new one at Madrid is located near the driving-park, or Gardens of the Buen Retiro, and will seat about fifteen thousand people. That at Seville is an older building, situated near the Guadalquivir, and estimated to accommodate from ten to twelve thousand spectators. The stone Plaza de Toros of Jerez is credited with a capacity of thirteen thousand. The seats are of various grades, and the charges for them range from ten reales (fifty cents) to forty-six reales (two dollars and thirty cents). The choicest are those in the shade and in the boxes which form the upper tier. Not unfrequently during holy week in Seville the demand for places is such that speculators will realize fifty pesetas (ten dollars) for a single ticket.

The various breeds of Spanish bulls are easily distinguished by the practised eye, and the entire interest of the Spaniard is centred on the movements of the doomed beast. A savage, aggressive toro is an object of admiration, and one of timid demeanor of corresponding reproach. The fiercest of all are those of Andalusian blood. The stock of Navarre and the Castilian bulls on the Jarama, near Aranjuez, are likewise favorites, and the latter are generally used at Madrid. The proceeds of the bull-fights are usually devoted to religious or charitable purposes; those of the capital chiefly supporting the State hospital.

The actors in the bull-fights are of four classes: matadores, banderilleros, picadores, and chulos, their relative importance being in the order named. The word torero is a general term for bull-fighters on foot, while toreador is commonly applied to those on horseback. Before entering the ring a bull-fighter repairs to the chapel or confessional to be prepared for death should the merciless horns chance to reach his life.

Four o’clock in the afternoon is the usual time for the commencement of the spectacle, and but few seats are vacant when that hour approaches. The cheap circles are replete with boisterous humanity of both sexes, who loudly vent their impatience in case of delay. During the performance any failure of skill is greeted by the lower classes with energetic cries of condemnation, many of the epithets used being of an extremely vulgar character. The choicer sections contain a brilliant assemblage, the señoritas in full evening toilettes of delicate tints, white kid gloves, lace veils, fans, and opera-glasses. The señores wear a suit of black, except a vest of white, and pearl-colored gloves. Directly on the opposite side of the arena from the toril, or bull-door, is the enclosure reserved for the autoridad, or one in authority presiding on the occasion, just as a Cæsar did of old in the gladiatorial contests. In Madrid the king and his suite occupy this box, and the nobility cluster in the vicinity.

A few minutes before the performance opens, the floor of the arena is sprinkled to prevent any disturbance of the dust during the struggle. When this operation is completed, music by the band follows, and the king or the president of the day enters the reserved box. The excitement now becomes intense. A trumpeter stands awaiting the command to inaugurate the exhibition, and but a few seconds elapse before the notes are sounded. The band plays a march, a gate swings open, and a procession advances towards the royal loge. There it halts, and every performer salutes the occupant. The men on foot are in the Andalusian costume, richly elaborated,—flat hats, embroidered jackets, bright-colored knee-breeches, white stockings, and black slippers, and with the hair confined in nets. The horsemen are arrayed as Spanish knights of the olden time, with long buckskin breeches, under which the limbs are protected from injury by cork or tin leggings. The spurs of these combatants are provided with most cruel rowels to goad the timorous horses. The lance which the picador carries is of the usual length for a horseman, but the spear-head is purposely too short to inflict a very serious wound. The group of performers consists of six chulos on foot, with gay mantles, which they carry on the arm; two matadores in green, one with a red-hilted Toledo blade and the other with a mantle; three banderilleros, each with a pair of decorated barbed darts called banderillas; three picadores on blindfolded horses and armed with the lance; and, finally, some minor characters in charge of two brightly-caparisoned teams harnessed to crossbars.

After the salutation the teams withdraw, and the actors dispose themselves at various points in the ring. A horseman clad in black court costume, who has accompanied the procession and is called an alguazil, now gallops over to the box containing the authorities to receive the key of the toril, or bull-door. This he carries to the person in charge of that gate, and then hurriedly withdraws. The trumpet again sounds, the tumult becomes intensified, the toril-door opens, and the bull dashes into the arena. Upon his flank is a bright rosette with long ribbons, the moña, which is the prize of the victorious matador. For an instant “the lord of lowing herds” halts to survey the situation, but only an instant, and then the game of death commences. One of the picadores, mounted on a horse whose ears are filled with tow and whose eye towards the bull is covered, takes a position fronting the enemy, with his blunt spear in rest. The mighty brute hesitates a second, lowers his head, and charges. The spear is buried in the bull’s shoulder, and the unprotected horse rears to escape the attack, but the deadly horns gore him, and all fall together. The bull’s violence is instantly diverted by a chulo, who flaunts the red cape, and the picador is quickly extricated by vigilant satellites. The attention of a stranger is now instinctively directed to the horse, to discover the extent of the damage. Perhaps his hip bleeds, or there is a visible rent in his chest from which the blood jets forth, or a mass of entrails protrudes as he walks. In the first case the wound is stanched with clay, and the picador immediately remounts. If either of the latter happens, the horse is led towards the exit, but before reaching it he staggers and falls, in all probability dead. A subordinate called a cachetero then thrusts a stiletto into the brain, as though the bull had not wholly completed the tragedy.

In the mean while the infuriated bovine has been otherwise engaged. A chulo or two have flashed their bright-colored mantles in his face to madden him, or another picador has stood an attack. Then a chulo is pursued, greatly to the delight of the audience, and hastily retreats behind a short fence or refuge, built close to the ring and too narrow to admit the bull. In some plazas the refuges are entirely wanting, and instead the nimble actors leap the first of the two barriers. Occasionally the pursuing bull will likewise jump this outer fence, and must then be driven from the intervening circle back to the arena through a gate especially opened for the purpose.

Time passes, and the bull is wearied and bleeding. A banderillero now advances with a pair of the banderillas, or barbed darts, before mentioned. These instruments are rather less than a yard in length, and when necessary to aggravate a cowardly bull they are sometimes charged with explosives. The banderillas are whisked in the brute’s face until he charges, which is the result desired. The banderillero quickly steps aside, the bull passes, and the javelins are thrust deeply into his shoulders, one on each side of the spine. The movement is as dexterous as it is dangerous, and never fails to excite a shout of admiration. The bull struggles to extricate himself from the darts, and perhaps one falls to the ground. A second adept immediately places a second pair in the bleeding shoulders, and then still another, making six in all. Now the bull is furious, and accordingly a picador again moves into position. A charge is made; all fall, and the horse is gored,—in all probability killed. The chulos again flaunt their red lures, and so the struggle continues until the bull retires some distance for a respite. Perhaps he will rest on his haunches, or lie upon the ground in utter exhaustion. A cry from the audience at this juncture is well understood. The skilled matador advances with his red-hilted Toledo blade and scarlet muleta to ask formal permission of the authority to despatch the foe. A duel ensues to display the dexterity and grace of the espada. Frequently but a single step is necessary to remove him from the approaching horns, so great is this actor’s composure, and so thorough his mastery of his movements. The matador, to employ the technical parlance, “knows when the bull is right to kill;” and finally he deliberately aims a thrust which in an instant displays the sword transfixed almost to the hilt. If one blade is not sufficient, another sinks to the appointed spot.

“Where his vast neck just mingles with the spine, Sheathed in his form the deadly weapon lies. He stops—he starts—disdaining to decline; Slowly he falls, amidst triumphant cries, Without a groan, without a struggle, dies.”

The victorious matador salutes the presiding dignitary, and Spain’s sons and daughters unite in one mighty outburst of joy and noise. One of the teams is summoned; a rope is attached from the crossbar to the deadly horns; the whips are applied, and the dead monarch of the farm disappears with the galloping horses. Nothing is left of him save the blood-stained track which his weighty corse has marked on the soil. The trumpet again sounds; the toril-door swings on its hinges, and a second bull rushes into the arena. The entertainment consists of the death of six bulls, all by the original group of men, and is usually of three hours duration.

A remarkable fact to be noted is that injuries to the human combatants are not frequent, though occasionally one is killed and others are maimed. At Madrid we saw a matador thrown by the bull immediately after the sword had been fairly driven to the hilt. While the man lay upon his breast he received three passes from the frantic beast before the mantles of the chulos could distract the animal’s attention. Strange to relate, the unfortunate performer escaped with no greater injury than bruises, and, indeed, he evinced a disposition to renew the contest; but his companions almost forcibly led him from the arena. An instant afterwards the bull commenced bleeding at the mouth from the internal sword wound, and in less than a minute dropped dead. In another case related by a spectator, a chulo, in his attempt to escape, slipped when close to the barrier. Upon falling the man quickly doubled himself into a ball, and, miraculous as it may seem, the bull’s horns were driven into the wooden fence on each side of the huddled form, and the actor was saved. In an instant the lure of a brother chulo had diverted a second attack. Once when we were present a cachetero struck a dying bull with a stiletto before the tenacious vitality was wholly exhausted, and so suddenly did the brute resent the wound that the public butcher had his nether garment rent by the pursuing horns.

Words cannot describe the strange and engrossing excitement which the bull-fight inspires. The brain is probably in a whirl of agitation, when suddenly the heart ceases beating for an instant, as rider, horse, and bull clash in the deliberate encounter. The sympathy for the poor defenceless horse is without bounds, and with it comes a flush of indignation that so noble an animal should be cruelly butchered to make a Spanish holiday. It is true the horses thus devoted to immolation are of little value; but they are nevertheless horses, and their wanton slaughter will admit of no justification. The destruction of so many bulls is equally to be condemned, and charity for the brute should not be wanting because he employs the weapons and exhibits the propensities with which the Creator endowed him. The stranger is also impelled to contemplate the fact that those of the gentler sex, the famed beauty of Spain, regard these combats with sufficient partiality to insure their presence, and to behold with the utmost composure a death-stricken horse trailing his vitals before their very eyes. In extenuation it must be considered that their training and the traditions of the country pronounce the bull-fight a legitimate amusement. Travellers, however, are almost unanimous in their conclusion that pleasure is vainly sought in frequenting the corrida de toros. Yet

“Such the ungentle sport that oft invites The Spanish maid, and cheers the Spanish swain.”