CHAPTER XVIII

THE SPANISH BULL-FIGHT

ITS ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT

Perhaps no other contemporary spectacle has been oftener and more minutely described by writers who--censors and enthusiasts alike--possess neither personal nor technical qualification, for the work. Impressions, once the Pyrenees are passed, grow spontaneously deeper and stronger in inverse ratio with experiences. And the majority of descriptions confessedly prejudge the scene in adverse sense--the writer (sometimes a lady) going into wild hysterics after half-seeing a single bull killed.

We have not the slightest intention of entering that arena of ravelled preconceptions and misconceptions, nor are we concerned either to uphold or to condemn. A greater mind has satirised the human tendency to "condone the sins we are inclined to, by damning those we have no mind to," and we are content to leave it at that.

In this chapter we purpose to glance at the subject from three points of view.

(1) The origin of bull-fighting, 500 years ago, and its subsequent development.

(2) The modern system of breeding and training the fighting bull.

(3) The "Miura question"--an incident of to-day.

As a Spanish institution, bull-fighting dates back to the Reconquest or shortly thereafter. When that abounding vigour and virility that had animated and sustained Spanish explorers and warriors--the sailors and adventurers who, following in the wake of the caravels of Columbus, opened up a new world to Spain and carried the purple banner of Castile to the ends of the earth--when that vigour had spent its fiery force and grown anæmic, there still remained (as always) a residue of bold spirits who, scorning decadent circumstance, turned intuitively to that virile and dangerous exercise left them as a heritage by the vanished Moors.

For it was the Arab conquerors, the so-called Moors, who first practised this form of vicarious warfare. It was, however, in no sense as a sport--far less as a popular pastime--that the fierce Arab had risked equal chances with the fiercest wild beast of the Spanish plain. No, it was strictly as a substitute and a preparation for the sterner realities of war that, during the intervals of peace, the Moors "kept their hands in" by fighting bulls.

The object was to keep themselves and their chargers fit, their eyesight true, and muscles toughened for the further struggles that all knew must follow. But during those intervals of peace, the rival knights, Christian and Moslem, met in keen competition with lance and sword on the enclosed arena of the bull-ring. The conclusion of a truce was frequently celebrated by holding a joint _fiesta de toros_.

No trace, however, exists in Arab writings to show that these people possessed any innate love of bull-fighting as a sport, or ever practised it save only as an accessory to the art of war.

No other people of ancient race have had exhibitions of this kind--that is, where the skill of man was invoked to incite a beast to attack in certain desired modes; while the performer escaped the onset, and finally slew his adversary, by preconceived forms of defence governed by set rules--a spectacle wherein the assembled crowd could, each according to his light, estimate both the skill of the man and the fighting quality of the beast. That the blood of many a gladiator dyed the Roman arena at the horns of bulls is certain: but no artistic embellishments of attack or defence added to the joy of the Roman holiday. The mere mechanical instinct of self-preservation may inadvertently have suggested to individual combatants certain combinations in the conflict that in later days have been utilised by modern matadors; but it seems hardly possible to suppose that Roman gladiators saved themselves by methods of prescribed art. Contemporary records, together with the scenes depicted on coinage, represent rather a mere massacre of men by brute force; and such cannot bear any relation to the conditions that govern the national _fiesta_ of Spain to-day.

The actual origin in Spain of the _Corrida de Toros_ must thus be traced to the Spanish Arabs, who, to exercise themselves and their steeds during intermittent periods of peace, adopted this dangerous pastime with the view of fortifying and invigorating personal valour, so necessary in times of constant strife.

The Arab's spear and charger were opposed to the wild bull of the Spanish plain under conditions many of which are analogous to these in vogue to-day.

In those earlier ages it was permitted to an unhorsed cavalier to accept protection from the horns of his enemy at the hands of his personal retainers, who not infrequently sacrificed their own lives in devotion to their chief.

At this period (during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries) the knight who, lance in hand, had been hurled from the saddle might draw his sword and kill the bull, his vassals being allowed to assist in placing the animal (by deft display of coloured cloaks) in a position to facilitate the death-stroke. Here, doubtless, originated the art of "playing" the bull, and incidentally sprang the professional bull-fighter.

For as these servants became experts, and by reason of their prowess gained extra wages, so proportionately such skill became of pecuniary value. Mercenaries of this sort were, nevertheless, despised--to risk their lives in return for money was regarded as an infamous thing. But at least they had inaugurated the regime of the highly paid matador of to-day.

During the first century after the Reconquest bull-fighting was opposed by several powerful influences, but each in turn it survived and set at naught. Isabel la Católica, horrified by the sight of bloodshed at a bull-fight which she personally attended, decided to prohibit all _corridas_; but that, she found, lay beyond even her great influence. Next, in 1567, the power of the Papacy was invoked in vain.

Pope Pius V., by a _bula_ of November 20, forbade the spectacle under pain of excommunication, the denial of Christian burial, and similar ecclesiastical penalties; but he and his _bula_ had likewise to go under in face of the national sentiment of Spain.

A noble bull fell to the lance of Isabel's grandson, H.M. the Emperor Charles V., in the Plaza Mayor of Valladolid amidst acclamation of countless admirers. This occurred during the festivals held to celebrate the birth of his eldest son, afterwards Phillip II.

In 1612 bull-fighting first assumed a financial aspect. Phillip III. conceded to one Arcania Manduno the emoluments accruing during the term of three lives from the _corridas de toros_ in the city of Valencia. Charities and asylums benefited under this fund, but the bulk went in payment for professional services in the Plaza.

During the reign of Phillip IV.--that king being skilled in the use of lance and javelin (_rejón_), and frequently himself taking a public part--the _fiesta_ advanced enormously in national estimation. English readers may recall the sumptuous _corrida_ which marked the arrival of Charles I., with the Duke of Buckingham, at Madrid.

Later, during the reigns of the House of Austria, to face a bull with bravery and skill and to use a dexterous lance was the pride of every Spanish noble.

Phillip V., however, would have none of the spectacle, and then the nobility held aloof from the _corridas_; but their example proved no deterrent. For the hold of the national pastime on the Moro-hispanic race was too firm-set to be swept aside by alien influence, however strong; and when thus abandoned by the patricians, the hidalgos and grandees of Spain, the sport of bull-fighting (hitherto confined exclusively to the aristocracy) was taken up by the Spanish people. A further impulse was generated later on under Ferdinand VII., who obtained a reversal of the anathema of the Church on condition that some of the pecuniary profits of the _corridas_ should swell the funds of the hospitals.

It was, however, during the first half of the eighteenth century that bull-fighting on a popular basis, as understood and practised at the present day, took its start. Then there stepped upon the enclosed arena the first professional _Toréro_ amidst thrilling plaudits from tier above tier of encircling humanity. Never before had the bull been taken on by a single man on foot armed only with his good sword and scarlet flag--with these to pit his strength and skill against the weight and ferocity of a _toro bravo_--alone and unaided to despatch him. Such a man was Francisco Romero, erewhiles a shoemaker at Ronda--A.D. 1726--first professional _lidiador_. On his death at an advanced age, he left five sons, all craftsmen of repute, who, in honour of their sire, formed a bull-fighting guild still known as the Rondénean School--distinguished from the later Sevillian cult by its more serious and dignified attack as compared with the prettiness and "swagger" of the Sevillano.

In that generation Francisco's son, Pedro Romero, appeared in rivalry with PEPE-ILLO, the new-risen star in the Sevillian firmament. It was, by the way, the master-mind of the latter which completed and perfected the reorganisation on popular lines of the national _fiesta_ after Bourbon influence had alienated the aristocracy from their ancient diversion. The rivalry between these competing exponents of the two styles commenced in 1771, the pair representing each a supreme mastery of their respective schools, and only terminated with the death of Pepe-Illo in the Plaza of Madrid, May 11, 1801. The Sevillian style has since attained pre-eminence, appealing more to the masses by its nonchalance and apparent disregard of danger. When the best features of both schools are combined--as has been exemplified in more than one brilliant exponent of the art--then the letters of his name are writ large on the _cartels_.

One other famous name of that epoch demands notice--that of Costillares, who introduced the flying stroke distinguished as the _suerte de volapié_. Hitherto all _lidiadors_ had received the onset of the bull standing--the _suerte de recibir_. In the _volapié_ the charging bull is met half-way, an exploit demanding unswerving accuracy, strength of arm, and exact judgment of distance, since the spot permissible for the sword to enter, the target on the bull's neck, is no bigger than an orange.

The normal difficulty of sheathing the blade at that exact point on a charging bull is great enough; but is vastly increased in the _volapié_, or flying stroke, and the effect produced on the spectators emotional in the last degree.

Costillares also formalised the costumes of the different classes of bull-fighters. He flourished in 1760, and died of a broken heart owing to his right arm being injured, which incapacitated him from further triumphs. About that period Martinho introduced the perilous pole-jump, and José Candido stood out prominent for skill and extraordinary resource.

Intermediate episodes of minor importance we must briefly note. Thus Godoy in 1805 stopped bull-fights, but Joseph Bonaparte in 1808 re-established the spectacle, in vain hope--a sop to Cerberus--of attaching sympathy to his dynasty.

On the return of Fernando VII. in 1814, he also prohibited the shows, only to re-authorise them the following year, while in 1830 he founded a school of Toromaquia in Seville. One famous _toréro_, matriculating thereat, inaugurated a new epoch. Francisco Montes carried popular enthusiasm to its highest apex. Joy bordering on madness possessed the Madrilenean ring when Montes handled the _muleta_. Yet as a matador he had serious defects.

In 1840 Cuchares appeared on the scene, and two years later the great disciple of Montes, José Redondo. The rivalry of these notable contemporaries lifted the _toréo_ once more to a level of absorbing national interest. It will have been seen that whenever two brilliant constellations flash forth simultaneously, their very rivalry commands the sympathy and supreme interest of the Spanish people.

From 1852 El Tato stood out as a type of elegance and valour, the idol of the masses, till on June 7, 1859, a treacherous bull left him mutilated in the arena. Antonio Carmóna (El Gordito), commenced his career in 1857, alternating in the ring with El Tato and later with Lagartijo, the latter a brilliant _toréro_ (or player of bulls) as distinguished from a matador. Consummate in every feint and artifice, Lagartijo could befool the animals to the top of his bent, yet as a matador, the final and supreme executor, he failed.

For twenty years (1867-87) the Spanish public were divided in their keen appreciation of contemporaneous masters, Lagartijo and Frascuelo. The latter, whose iron will and courage made amends for certain personal defects in the lighter role, had marvellous security in the final stroke.

Lagartijo and Frascuelo accentuate an era well remembered by enthusiasts in the Classic School of the _Toréo_. In their day all Spaniards were devoted, aye, passionate adherents of one or the other: all Spain was divided into two camps, that of Lagartijo and that of Frascuelo. The actual supporters of the ring were probably no more numerous then than to-day; but toreadors breathed that old-fashioned atmosphere in which a love of the profession was supreme--an heroic unselfishness, personal skill, and valour were the ruling motives. Pecuniary interest was a thing apart.

The career of the bull-fighter to-day is absolutely wanting in such virtue. Lagartijo and Frascuelo staked their lives each afternoon, through a love of their art, by the impress of honest nature, perhaps by inspiration of a woman's eyes. Into their calculations, ideas of lucre did not enter, money had no value.

Then came on the scene (1887) that bright particular star, Rafael Guerra (Guerrita) celebrated and admired--and with justice. But his coming destroyed for ever the legend of the disinterested _toréro_. The lover of the art for its own sake was no more, Guerrita was a mercenary of the first water. Admittedly first of modern bull-fighters, the aspiration of his soul was the possession of bank-notes, to be the clipper of many coupons! Neither passion, nor blood, nor favour of the fair inspired his sordid soul. At the supreme moment of danger, money, only money, was the motive which actuated him. In his desire for wealth, he succeeded. His unexpected retirement from the arena in the very apogee of his glory, and carrying away the accumulation of his thrift, was a shock to this warm-hearted people. Every vestige of the romantic halo with which personal prowess and graceful presence had surrounded him was destroyed. Guerrita as a player of bulls (_toréro_) was the first in all the history of the ring. As a "matador" also he was the most complete and certain. Unlike the majority of his compeers, he was reserved in his habits, and lived apart from the bizarre and tempestuous life of the ordinary bull-fighter, with its feminine intrigues and excitements. For that reason he had many enemies amongst his set; but of his claim to be in the very first rank there has never been a question. To see Guerrita wind the silken sash around his ribs of steel, as he attired himself for the arena, was a sight his patrons considered worth going many a mile to witness.[32]

Since his retirement, the show has fallen greatly, in the quality of the bull-fighter.

Luis Mazzantini created a temporary revolution in the annals of toromaquia (1885), lighting up anew the enthusiasm for the _fiesta_. He came not of the usual low, half-gipsy caste, but of the class which entitled him to the _Don_ of gentle birth. Don Luis Mazzantini, the only professional bearing such a prefix, acquired at an unusually late period of life sufficient technical knowledge of bull-fighting to embolden him to enter the lists in competition with professionals. He was thirty years of age when the heavy pay of the matador induced him to risk his life in the arena.

Whatever may be said of his failing as an artistic exponent of the art of Cucháres, he killed his bulls in a resolute manner, and re-animated the interest in the _corrida_, but his example was a bad one. Several men emulating his career have endeavoured to become improvised _toréros_, and, like him, to avoid the step-by-step climb to matador's rank. All have been failures. They wanted to begin where the bull-fighter of old left off.

Mazzantini has retired, unscathed, from his twenty years of perilous experience in the arena, and is now a civic light in the local government of the city of Madrid.

Since Guerrita, not a single matador of leading light has arisen. Reverte (1891), Antonio Fuentes (1893), and Bombita (1894) all attracted a numerous public; and after them we arrive at the lesser lights of the present day, Bombita II. and Machaquito.

Notwithstanding its present decadence in all the most essential qualities, yet the _fiesta de toros_ is still, if not the very heartthrob of the nation, at least the single all-embracing symbol of the people's taste as distinguished from that of other lands. Racing has been tried and failed; there are no teeming crowds at football, nor silent watchers on the cricket-field. _La Corrida_ alone makes the Spanish holiday.