IX The Art of the Bull-Fighter
The Plaza de Toros, or bull ring, of Madrid, is a great structure designed by Capra and Rodriguez Ayuso in 1874. It is in the Moorish style of architecture, with a fine façade and an imposing entrance arch. According to one Spanish writer, the total number of seats is 12,605, but other writers give 15,000 and 14,000 as the number. Philip V. built the first bull-fighting arena in Madrid, in 1747, although he was by no means an enthusiast of the sport. The cost of the present building was 3,000,000 reales.
The seats are divided into boxes and open galleries, the boxes, or palcos de sombra—seats in the shade—being in the best position for watching the contests during the hot months. In early spring a seat in the sun is to be preferred, for the air of Madrid is keen at this season.
The sight of the Plaza de Toros on the day of a great corrida leaves an impression that will not quickly fade from the memory. In the palcos are the rank, beauty, and wealth of Madrid, while packed in the humbler seats is a vast mass of the people. The ladies wear mantillas, and carry fans, which flutter the whole time; and animation, devoid of any trace of rough behaviour, characterises the immense crowd. A tense hush falls on the throng when the first bull of the day bounds in from the dark toril, and confronts his gaily-attired persecutors in the big arena. During the fight the spectators grow excited almost to the verge of frenzy. There is a roar of voices, and the sound of canes struck upon the benches, an indescribable din, which reaches its height when a popular espada delivers a dexterous thrust of the blade into the neck of the baffled and infuriated toro. While the combat proceeds, there are alternating comments of “Bravo toro,” as the bull shows courage, and groans and hisses when the animal displays cowardice or apathy. Both the bull and the men must act their parts with zeal, energy and bravery, or the crowd is disappointed, and wont to express disapprobation in an unqualified manner.
On the day of a corrida Madrid is roused into a mood of joyous expectancy. The town is en fête; the streets are thronged, and every kind of vehicle is seen in the procession to the Plaza de Toros. For an hour the carriages stream in, and the crowd on foot files along to the tiers of seats. Overhead is the vivid sky and a burning sun, which brightens all that it shines upon. Thousands of fans are waving; thousands of dark eyes gleam from the palcos. Presently the music begins, from the large orchestra a stirring air thrills the arena, and almost drowns the voices of the crowd. One is reminded of a scene in the amphitheatre in the days of the grandeur of Rome, when gladiatorial contests attracted a vast concourse of all classes of the population, for the same love of daring and agility still sways the passion of the people, and the same indifference is evinced when blood flows.
The tournament opens with an imposing procession of the bull-fighters, arrayed in all the glory of their gala costumes, in which there is a plentiful glitter of tinsel, and spangles, and gold braid. Two alguaciles, or mounted men in a bygone garb of the police, ride in front of the troop of toreros. The two espadas, who are taking the leading part in the corrida to-day, come next, and they are followed by the picadores, or spearmen, who are well protected with pads and leg-guards. Next come the banderilleros or dart-throwers, a nimble company, in bright silk and velvet, and the rear of the procession is made up of muleteros, with the gaily trapped mules that are used to drag the corpses of the bulls from the ring.
A bugle note rings out like a challenge, and the key of the toril, or bulls’ den, is thrown by the President into the arena. The ring is now cleared of all the combatants except a trio of picadores, who, sitting astride their wretched nags, await the entry of the bull. Amid the hush, toro rushes into the arena, a huge black beast, with elongated horns, a thick, brawny neck, a sleek, shining coat, and a pair of flashing, angry eyes. He paws the ground, and snorts, and catching sight of the gaudy colours of the picadores, lowers his head, and charges them. His assault is received on the blunt point of the garrocha, or spear; and, incensed by the pain, he pauses, lashing his tail, and deliberating a second attack. Perchance the bull is not especially fierce or courageous. He has led a placid life on the plains, and has followed the herd-boy as sheep follow a shepherd. But to-day he must fight and die, and if he is indifferent at the sight of his assailants, means must be employed to anger him.
But a valiant bull needs no such incitement to fury. He is angry with every one, indignant at the whole proceedings, and he charges the picadores with terrific vehemence. Sometimes a rider is unhorsed, and, handicapped by his pads and protectors, he is in peril till the attendants divert the attention of toro.
The hapless horses are the worse sufferers, for they cannot escape from the ring. They serve as butts for the bull’s horns; they are frequently ripped open, and sometimes lifted off their feet by the horns of their maddened enemy. To English eyes it is a heartrending spectacle to see a sorry old horse, which has patiently served man all his life, urged up to the sharp horns of the bull, and made to receive his cruel charges. The wounded horses lie quivering and expiring in the ring; a look of supplication and suffering in their eyes fills the unaccustomed spectator with compassion, and the sight of their terrible injuries sickens the sensitive.
The banderilleros now appear, armed with steel barbed darts, adorned with coloured papers, and with coolness and dexterity, they approach toro, and throw their stinging missiles at his neck and shoulders. The bull winces, shakes his head, and turns upon his tormentors. He chases one of them across the ring; the pursued banderillero vaults over the high wooden barrier, and the horns of the bull resound against the wood with a dull crash. Another dart-thrower runs up, and deftly plants his weapons in the bull’s flesh. Again toro turns, and as he runs with lowered horns, a third banderillero stands in his course, leaps aside at the crucial instant, and delivers his darts.
An expert banderillero will sit on a chair and await the rush of toro. The agility and daring of these performers is very extraordinary. If the bull is apathetic, drastic means are used to stir his anger. The banderillas de fuego, or fire darts, are used to arouse his fury. These instruments of irritation are provided with explosives, which startle and infuriate the bull with their noise and their sting. Now and then, a nimble and frenzied bull, when pursuing a banderillero, will even leap over the high barrier of the arena, causing tremendous consternation among the spectators. Sometimes a plucky bull-fighter grows bolder, and dares the bull by every imaginable device until, in a fatal moment, he receives a thrust of the horn, and falls bleeding to the ground.
Before entering the perilous arena, the toreros receive the sacrament from the priest who is always in attendance at bull-fights. During the corrida the padre remains in waiting in the chapel of the Plaza de Toros, ready to minister, if need be, to a fighter borne dying from the scene.
The last great act in the drama is the suerte de matar. It is then that the espada steps into the ring, carrying his red cloth over one arm, while the other arm is engaged with the sword. Bowing to the President, the espada turns around and faces the bull, who is now somewhat fatigued from his exercise in chasing the banderilleros and butting at the horses of the picadores. The bull, whose neck bristles with the darts, stands slowly moving his tail, and staring at his new aggressor in sullen anger. Waving the muleta, or red cloth, the espada advances to toro, and impudently flutters the cloth in his face. The bull charges; the muleta receives his horns, and is tossed in the air, while the espada skips aside. Again and again the bull attempts to impale the man, but only succeeds in striking the muleta. Baffled and exasperated, toro pauses as though in sober reflection. How can he outwit that smiling, calm assailant who fixes him with an insolent stare? The bull walks round and round the motionless espada, trying, as it were, to find a weak point for a charge, but the swordsman follows every movement with a shrewd and practised eye, and even divines what ruse the bull intends to adopt.
It is a wonderful display of coolness and courage. There are moments in the fight between the bull and the espada when a deep hush spreads among the spectators; and, then, as the man swerves aside from the on-rush of the beast, a deafening roar goes up from the crowd. The last act is protracted at the discretion of the espada, who is always delighted to exhibit his cleverness and nimbleness to his thousands of admirers in the palcos and galleries. A master of the art of the espada has an extensive répertoire of tricks and passes of the sword, which he loves to display, and he will risk his life a dozen times in the afternoon in exhibiting his skill and prowess. Often the bull is stupid. He must be made to prove his mettle. But usually toro is already mad with anger when called upon to fight the last duel with the espada. It is curious to note how the muleta enrages the bull, who seems to hate it more than the banderillas or the pike of the picador.
At length the espada determines that toro shall die. There is only one legitimate way to kill him. The thrust must be delivered in the neck, and the point of the sword should reach the heart. Before this death-stroke there is a stillness and tense feeling in the Plaza. Will the espada blunder, or will the blade go home at the first thrust. A rapt excitement is on the faces of the crowd. And now the bull makes his last headlong rush; there is a flash of steel in the sunshine, and the sword pierces the black hide, and the blade disappears up to the hilt. Toro staggers, turns and makes a final assault on the espada, only to receive the muleta on his horns. The bull falls, and blood gushes from his wound. He lies dying amid the thunderous din of applause. An attendant appears with a narrow-bladed dagger. He stoops over the bull and plunges the weapon into the spine, near the head. With a shudder, toro dies. During the babel of voices discussing the fight, the mules are driven into the ring, traces are fixed to the horns of the dead bull, and the corpse is dragged out; and with scarcely an interval, another victim is turned into the arena.
In “Childe Harold,” Lord Byron records his impressions of a bull-fight:
“Thrice sounds the clarion; lo! the signal falls,
The den expands, and Expectation mute
Gapes round the silent circle’s peopled walls.
Bounds with one lashing spring the mighty brute,
And, wildly staring, spurns, with sounding foot,
The sand, nor blindly rushes on his foe;
Here, there, he points his threatening front, to suit
His first attack, wide waving to and fro
His angry tail; red rolls his eye’s dilated glow.
Foil’d, bleeding, breathless, furious to the last,
Full in the centre stands the bull at bay—
’Mid wounds, and clinging darts, and lances brast,
And foes disabled in the brutal fray:
Shake the red cloak, and poise the ready brand;
Once more through all he bursts his thundering way—
Vain rage! the mantle quits the conynge hand,
Wraps his fierce eye—’tis past—he sinks upon the sand!”
Every literary man who has visited Madrid, from the Chevalier de Bourgoanne to Mr Arthur Symons, has given us his impressions of the sport of bull-fighting. De Bourgoanne, in his “Travels in Spain” (1789), writes of the severity with which the spectators at the Madrid bull-fights criticised any deficiencies on the part of the toreros. Speaking of the final act of the corrida, the Chevalier states that, “if the animal immediately falls, the triumph of the conqueror is celebrated by a thousand acclamations; but if the blow be not decisive, if the bull survives and again strives to brave the fatal knife, the murmurs are not less numerous. The espada, whose address was about to be extolled to the skies, is considered only as a clumsy butcher. He instantly endeavours to recover from his disgrace, and disarm the severity of his judges.”
De Bourgoanne found the Madrileños divided in their admiration for the two celebrated espadas of that day. One coterie swore by Costillares; another avowed that Romero was the better exponent of the art of tauromachy. This extravagant enthusiasm of the Madrid populace, aroused by the bull-fight, greatly bewildered the French traveller; but he admits that, in spite of the indifference evinced by the spectators at the corrida, the Spaniard is not lacking in compassion nor “devoid of every amiable and delicate emotion.” He relates that the government was alive to “the moral and political inconvenience of that kind of frenzy,” and the economists declared that the destruction of so many robust bulls was prejudicial to agriculture. “The reigning monarch,” writes the Chevalier, “who endeavours to polish the manners of his nation and to turn its attention towards more useful objects, wishes to destroy in it an inclination in which he perceives nothing but inconvenience; but he is too wise to employ violent means.”
An American traveller, writing anonymously in 1831, says that a bull-fight always drew several thousand people to the Plaza. In the winter, states this observer, the corridas took the form of combats with young bulls, whose horns were covered with pads or balls. These bulls were called novillos embolados, and they were baited by novices and amateurs. This writer describes the tragic encounter of a notable torero, known as El Sombrerero, who was so called because he had been a hatter. El Sombrerero was the foremost espada in Spain in his time, and he was wont to perform the most valiant feats in the ring. He was once fighting an exceptionally savage bull, which swerved suddenly in a charge, and caught his opponent upon the point of his horns. The espada was lifted off, and carried from the ring in a state of insensibility. He recovered of his injuries, and resolved to abandon bull-fighting and to return to his trade of hat-making. But the small earnings of this occupation did not satisfy him, and El Sombrerero went back to the ranks of the bull-fighters. He had, however, lost his nerve, and in a fight at Granada he was hissed for his timidity in engaging a very fierce bull.
Manuel Romero was one of the most popular of toreros in 1830. He was a short, rather stout man, though well built and extremely nimble. His features had “an air of cold-blooded ferocity as became one whose business it was to incur danger and to deal death.” Romero wore a very resplendent dress in the ring, with much lace and jewellery.
Théophile Gautier describes a corrida with the zest of one who found a genuine delight in the spectacle. It is somewhat curious that men of refined instincts can look on unconcernedly at the sufferings of horses and bulls; but human nature presents such singular anomalies in abundance. Gautier relates how Sevilla, a famous picador, had his horse lifted off its legs, and tossed in the air by the bull, while the rider maintained his coolness and retained his seat in the saddle. Antonio Rodriguez was a celebrated picador of this day (1840), and Gautier pays a tribute to his valour and extraordinary agility. The favourite espadas of this date were Juan Pastor and Joaquin Rodriguez.
Is the courage of the Spanish torero declining? There are one-time aficionados of bull-fighting who declare that the art is not so exciting, scientific, and well studied as in bygone days, and yet there is scarcely any decline in the absorbing interest devoted to the corridas in all parts of the Peninsula. Prosper Mérimée, in his “Lettres à une Inconnue,” written in 1859, supports the view that bull-fighting has deteriorated. He writes: “I was present at a bull-fight on Monday, and it amused me a very little indeed. I was unlucky enough to know all too early in life what a degree of excellence this sport can attain to, and after having seen Montes, I really cannot look at his degenerate successors with any degree of pleasure. The animals have degenerated, too, as well as the men.”
No doubt there are many able exponents of bull-fighting still left in Spain, and there are writers in abundance who could probably prove that the sport is as stirring as ever. We, who have not seen Montes and Romero, and other dead heroes of the Plaza de Toros, are scarcely in a position to decide whether the bull-fighter’s art has degenerated. If the daring of the espada of to-day is called into question, it must be said that while there are men who will stand motionless as statues, and allow a furious bull to sniff at them, and others who will stand still to the rush of a bull, and receive the beast on the point of the sword, there are still fighters prepared to risk their lives in exhibitions of intrepidity. There remain some toreros who perform the perilous feat of vaulting over the bull with a pole, and many who expose themselves to a deadly thrust of the horns while planting the darts in the animal’s neck. The coolness of several of the leading professors of bull-fighting is unquestioned, and it cannot be denied that the patrons of the ring are not still exacting in their desire for hair-raising performances.
It is perhaps correct to state that there is a little more sympathy for the horses than in the old days of the lidia. Many Spanish people express disgust at the sight of the mangled carcasses of the miserable, worn-out horses, which are forced to end their hard lives in this cruel manner. But your true aficionado has no scruples of pity, and he will assert that a bull does not fight at his best until he has seen blood flow.
Perhaps the greatest of all bull-fighters was Frascuelo. The Spaniards declare that no torero has taken his place. Guerra, his rival, was a fine fighter, but he has retired, and lives on his laurels at Cordova. Frascuelo was the leader of what may be called the dare-devil school of bull-fighters. He was always at close quarters with the bull, and he strove to out-do the most daring espadas of his day. Bombita, or Bombita-Chico, is a young torero of great courage and especially popular in Madrid, where he was born.
Mazzantini is now only seen occasionally in the Plaza de Toros. He is a big stalwart man, but past his prime, though he is still esteemed by his admirers as the best fighter in Spain. Conejito, who was wounded in Barcelona in 1903, is another favourite of the public. But the first exponent of bull-fighting is, in the opinion of the majority, the handsome and plucky Fuentes. This torero is not only a proficient espada; he plays all the parts in the ring except that of picador. Fuentes exercises a weird power over his bulls. He fixes the bull with his keen eyes as he approaches him, and steps backward, slowly followed by the enraged and fascinated toro, in whose neck he deliberately sticks a dart. The spell of this man’s eyes has a subtle influence which seems to utterly bewilder a bull. Again and again the bull advances to the attack, only to turn aside from the glare of the espada’s eyes.
The favourite device of Bombita is to kneel on the ground, shaking the muleta in the bull’s face. In such a position it is, of course, almost impossible for the espada to skip aside when the bull charges, and the art of the trick lies in receiving the horns upon the red cloth. Guerra, sometimes called Guerrita, used to allow the bull to pass so close to him that his side was often scratched by the point of the horn.
Every stratagem and feat of the espada in the final suerte of the ring has its technical name, such as pase de pecho, pase natural, and paso por alto, and all these tricks are closely watched and criticised by the vast concourse of spectators. Fuentes has written learnedly upon the theory and practice of his art, describing the various pases minutely. Those who are interested in the literature of the bull-ring will find a complete account of the life of the bull from the placid days of youth upon the plains, down to the last tragic scene in the Plaza, in Los Toros, an illustrated pamphlet by E. Contreras y R. de Palacio. Fuller and more advanced “tauromachian” literature may be purchased in Madrid. Among the works of note are Bedoya’s Historia del Toreo, Annales del Toréo, by Velazquez, and En la Plaza, by Pascual Millan. There are several magazines and journals much read by the devotees of the sport, such as La Lidia and El Toréo. Bull-fighting is a subject of perennial interest in Madrid, and the literatura taurina, issued in the city, would fill many book-shelves.
Pascual Millan describes the bull-fight as “a grand spectacle in which art, bravery, nobility, light, sun, colour, animation, and beauty” all play a part. This writer asserts that the theories of bull-fighting can rarely be carried into practice, as there is nothing stable or fixed in the art. Pepe-Illo, a famous espada, wrote a treatise on the conduct of the fighter in the arena, which was highly interesting; but, had his views been put into practice, they would “have excluded every bull-fighter from the arena.” Señor Millan thinks that rules are impossible; that everything done in the ring is the outcome of inspiration on the spur of the moment. Lagartijo sums up the matter thus: “Bull-fighting is very simple: you place yourself in front of the bull, the bull comes and you move away; you do not move away, then the bull moves you away. And there you are.”
The directions as to moving aside when the bull charges are plain enough, and the counsel is obvious. But in the method of avoiding the horns of the bull lies the art of the espada, and in this movement he reveals his genius, and displays adroitness, grace, and daring. No proficient performer ever allows toro to chase him about the ring. He bounds aside as the bull bears down upon him, and receives the furious attack of the beast upon the fluttering muleta. Sometimes the red cloth is waved aloft, high over the bull’s horns, causing the animal to rear upon his hind legs in a savage effort to wreak his rage on the offending muleta. An expert torero knows perfectly well that the bull directs his fury at the fluttering cloth or cloak rather than at the man who manipulates it.
The boldest of bull-fighters, Espartero, stood so pluckily in the path of a charging bull that he was more than once thrown several yards by a violent butt from the beast’s horns. This fighter used to employ his fists upon the bull’s head, and his method was always to fight at the closest quarters. It was said that Espartero suffered more fear of hunger than of death by the horns of a bull; and in his desire for fame and wealth, he continually courted tragedy in the ring and behaved with reckless daring. Espartero was killed in 1894 during a fight with the first bull of the day.
Guerra retired in 1899, and his leave-taking was a source of much regret among the aficionados of bull-fighting, who declared that he was the last of the great toreros. Pascual Millan, the chronicler of modern bull-fighting, asserts that the successors of Guerra cannot be compared with him for refinement and grace in their displays. He gives prominence to Antonio Fuentes, “the only one who came into the ring with some foundation, bringing a certain personal note which raised him a few inches above the common level.” Among the living exponents of the art of the espada may be mentioned Torerito, Torres, Reverte, Ronal, Algabeño, and above all, “Bombita.”
The corrida may seem to assume an undue importance in the life of Spain. It is, however, to be regarded as a reflection of the Spanish character, and bull-fighting in Madrid cannot be dismissed as a mere recreation of the mob. Bull-fighting is taken seriously among a serious-minded people, who regard it as one of the great institutions of the country. It is a survival of the warlike temper, a manifestation of the love of courage and the admiration for endurance, and it remains as the last vestige of the traditions of the age of chivalry in Spain.
This intense enthusiasm, this profound interest in the killing of bulls is bewildering to the foreigner, who cannot accept the sport in such a serious spirit. It is almost as grave a matter as a canon of the Church whether an espada wields the sword in accordance with the tradition of the ring. The writers upon bull-fighting are divided into schools of critics and eulogists, who dissect every pase minutely, or extol the “æsthetics” of a finished artist with the darts or the sword. There are volumes of serious literature upon the lidia, which amaze the stranger who peruses them. We have nothing like it in the sporting literature of England. Our books upon hunting or racing are not written with all the earnestness and fervour of treatises on matters of faith; but the taurine monographs of Spain are composed in the temper of piety, and the rules of the ring are set down as though they were the articles of a creed. When a famous jockey appears in the street, he is not mobbed by a crowd of admirers; but the espada in Spain is acclaimed everywhere as a great hero and the darling of the people.
Bull-fighting is a deep-rooted passion of the people of Spain, and it has to be reckoned with in any examination of the Spanish character. Its ethics and its sociological significance cannot be discussed here. We must accept the corrida, whether we approve of it or not, as one of the chief institutions of the capital of Spain. Madrid is the Mecca of the bull-fighter.