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NOTES ON HIS HISTORY: HIS BREEDS AND REARING: AND HIS LIFE UP TO THE "ENCIERRO,"—i.e., THE EVE OF HIS DEATH.

We trust the reader may not fear that he is about to suffer once more the infliction of the oft-described Spanish bull-fight. We have no intention so far to abuse his patience. The subject is exhausted: has been dilated upon by almost every visitor to this country, though nearly always with inaccuracy and imperfect knowledge.

It is customary for such writers to condemn the bull-fight[10] in toto on account of its cruelty: to denounce it without reservation, as a barbarous and brutal exhibition and nothing more. The cruelty is undeniable, and much to be deprecated; the more so as this element could, to a large extent, be eliminated. But, despite the fate of sacrificed horses, there are elements in the Spanish bull-fight that the British race are accustomed to hold in esteem—the qualities of pluck, nerve, and coolness in face of danger. To attack in single combat, on foot, and with no weapon but the sword, a powerful and ferocious animal, means taking one's life in one's hand, and relying for safety and final triumph on cool intrepid pluck, on a marvellous activity and truth of hand, eye, and limb, and on a nerve which not the peril even of the supreme moment can disturb.

There are doubtless balanced minds which, while in no way ignoring or exculpating its cruelties, can yet recognize in the toréo an unrivalled exhibition of human skill, nerve, and power, and can distinguish between the good and the bad among its heterogeneous constituents.

The bull-fight, as a spectacle, has often been described: but no English writers have attempted to trace its origin and history; to explain its firm-seated hold on the affections of the Spanish people, and to show how their keen zest for the national sport goes back to the days of chivalry. Nor has anything been written of the agricultural, or pastoral side of the question, and of the picturesque scenes amidst which the earlier stages of the drama are enacted, on broad Iberian plain and prairie: of the feats of horsemanship and "derring do" at the tentaderos, or trials, and later at the encierro on that hot summer morning when the gallant toro bravo is lured for ever from his native pastures, and led by traitor kin within the fatal enclosure of the arena.

The custom of the toréo, if not the art, is so ancient, its origin so lost in the mists of time, that it is difficult to fix the precise period at which bull-fighting was first practised. There is written evidence to show that encounters between men and bulls were not infrequent at the time of the Arab invasion in the eighth century, and it may be accepted that it was this eastern race that gave the diversion its first popularity.[11] It is proved beyond doubt that at the Moorish fêtes encounters with bulls were one of the chief sports, and when, centuries later, the Arab was finally driven from Spanish soil, they left behind them their passion for these conflicts, as they left many of their industries and many words of their language. Wherever the expelled Arabs may now be, it is at least certain that the bull-fight has taken root in no other land outside of Spain.[12] During the interludes of war, when the opposing forces of Moor and Christian made peace for a while, the inauguration of a truce was celebrated by a bull-fight, whereat knights of both sides rivalled each other in the tauromachian fray. The heroic Cid, el Campeador (obiit, A.D. 1098) signalized the contests of the eleventh century, himself taking the chief part. His graceful horsemanship in the arena was as favourite a theme for song and sonnet as even his redoubtable deeds in the field. The ever-popular ballad of Don Rodrigo de Bivar is still heard in the mountain villages.

So frequent and of such importance had these fiestas become that, after the termination of Moorish dominion, Queen Isabel I. of Castile prohibited them by edict in all her kingdoms: but the edict proved waste paper. Alarmed by witnessing a corrida at which human blood was shed, her Catholic majesty made strenuous efforts to put down bull-fighting throughout the land: but the national taste was too deeply implanted in the breasts of a warlike and powerful nobility, whom she was too prudent to offend. In a letter to her Father Confessor in 1493, she declares her intention never again to witness a corrida, and adds:—"Y no digo defenderlos (esto es prohibirlos) porque esto no era para mi á solas"—which is to say, that her will, which could accomplish the expulsion of the Moor and the Jew, was powerless to uproot the bull-fight.

Plate XI. BULLS ON THE PLAINS. Page 57.

The power of the papacy was alike invoked in vain. In 1567 a papal bull issued by Pius V. prohibited all Catholic princes, under pain of excommunication, from permitting corridas in their dominions; a similar punishment for all priests who attended them, and Christian burial was denied to all who fell in the arena. Not even these terrible measures availed, and succeeding Pontiffs were fain to relax the severity of the bulas of their predecessors, since each successive prohibition was met by the magnates of the land arranging new corridas. At length the time arrived when masters of theology at Salamanca ruled that clerics of a certain rank might licitly attend these spectacles.

Isabel's grandson, Charles I., killed with his own hand a bull in the city of Valladolid, during the festivities held to celebrate the birth of his eldest son, afterwards Philip II.; and, 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.

It was a gay and imposing scene in those days when the lidia, or tournament, took place—held in the largest open square of the town, around which were erected the graded platforms whence Damas and Caballeros, in all the bravery of mediæval toilet and costume, watched the performance.

The people were permitted only a servile share in these aristocratic fiestas. The knight, mounted on fiery Arab steed, was armed only with the rejon, or short sharp lance of those days, five feet in length, and held at its extreme end. At a given signal he sallied forth to meet the bull, which, infuriated by sight of horse and rider, dashed from his trammels and went straight to the charge. The first blow of his horns, if driven home, meant death: and the horseman's art lay in avoiding the impact by a well-timed move to the left: at the same moment, by an adroit counter-move, empaling with his lance the lower neck: and so delivering the thrust as to clear himself and horse from the rebound of the bull. This manœuvre required dexterity, coolness, and strength of arm: and when successful was graceful in the highest degree, eliciting, as the rider curvetted away from his worsted and enraged antagonist, the loudest applause, and dark-eyed Damas, with flashing glances of pride and sympathy, would throw flowers to the valiant Paladin.

"The ladies' hearts began to melt,

Subdued by blows their lovers felt;

So Spanish heroes with their lances

At once wound bulls and ladies' fancies."

When the bull fell dead from a single thrust enthusiasm knew no bounds: to administer this fatal stroke in masterly style was the ambition of the flower of Spanish youth.

If dismounted, the knight, by established rule, must face the bull on foot, sword in hand. He was allowed the assistance of his slaves or servants, who, at the risk of their lives, "played" the brute till an opportunity was afforded for a death-thrust from their master's sword. It is in this phase of the fight that we trace the origin of several of the suertes which are practised in the modern Corrida de Toros.[13]

With the accession of the Bourbons to the Spanish throne came a change. These rude encounters were little in harmony with the elegance and effeminacy of the French court. So coldly were they regarded that, by slow degrees, the Spanish nobility withdrew themselves from the arena. Then, as Gallic manners and customs prevailed and extended beyond court circles till adulation of the French monarch became a creed, the Spanish gentry abandoned their ancient sport.

But the hold of the national pastime on the Moro-hispanic race was too firm-set to be swept away by alien influence, however strong: and when thus abandoned by the patricians, by the hidalgos and grandees of Spain, the sport of bull-fighting was taken up by the Spanish people. It was at this period (towards the end of the eighteenth century) that the Corridas de Toros, as now practised (with slight variations), were established and organized. Bull-rings and paid matadores took the place of the city square and the knight. Many additions to the original corridas were inaugurated, and the sport assumed more diversified and even more dangerous forms.

The first professional matadors were the brothers Juan and Pedro Palomo, followed by the celebrated names of Martinez Billon (el Africano), Francisco Romero and his son Juan, José Delgado Candido (better known as Pepe Hillo), who died in the Plaza of Port St. Mary on the 24th June, 1771, and, later on, Rodriguez Castellares, Geronimo Candido, son of José (Pepe Hillo), who fell mortally wounded at Madrid, 11th May, 1802, and many more of high tauromachian fame.[14]

Most of the Plazas de Toros, or bull-rings, of the first class, were erected at this period—that at Madrid in 1741, at Seville, 1768, at Aranjuez, 1796, Saragoza, 1764, Puerto S^ta. Maria, 1771, Ronda, 1785, and Jerez de la Frontera, 1798.

The master-hand who directed and perfected this reorganization, on popular lines, of the national fiesta, after the Bourbon influence had alienated the aristocracy from their ancient diversion, was Pepe Hillo: who established the rules and etiquette and drew up the tauromachian code of honour, written and unwritten, which, in the main, prevails at the present day. None more fully recognize the ability and prowess of this 'gran maestro' of old than the famous matadors who are to-day the highest living exponents of tauromachian art—men such as Frascuelo, Lagartijo and Mazzantini, whose names are household words from the Bidasoa to the Mediterranean.

Andalucia has always been, and still remains, the province where the love of the bull and all that pertains to him is most keenly cherished, and where the modern bull-fight may to-day be seen in its highest perfection and development. It provides both the best bull-fighters and most valued strains of the fighting bull. It may be added that the Andalucian nobility were the last of their order to discontinue their historic pursuit: and when, during the darker days of this sport, the Royal order of the Maestranza de Sevilla was created by Philip V., it was conceded in the statutes that members of the order could hold two corridas with the long lance annually outside the city walls. Three gentlemen subsequently received titles of exalted nobility of this order in respect of brilliant performances with the lance.

Though Andalucia is the stronghold both of the Toro and of the Toreador—the scene of the popular bull-fighting opera of Carmen is appropriately laid at Seville—yet the oldest of all the Spanish herds is pastured in the rough country around Valladolid, in Old Castile. This caste has been in existence since the fifteenth century: from it the old nobility selected their bulls, and it furnished the kingly contests of Philip and Charles III. This herd is known as El raso del Portillo, and, though entitled to pre-eminence in respect of antiquity, yet several of the more modern breeders command higher prices. The ever-increasing demand has driven the cost of a "warrantable" five-year-old bull up to £70 or £80. To succeed in uniting the various qualities required in an animal of this value, great judgment in breeding and a considerable outlay are necessary.

Plate XII. THE MORN OF THE FIGHT—BULLS IN THE TORIL. (Miura's Breed.) Page 61.

At the age of one year, the young bulls are separated from the heifers, each animal branded on the side with the insignia of its herd, and on the neck with its number therein, and turned out loose on the plains to graze with its companions of similar age and sex. When the youngsters have passed another year, their critical time has arrived, and their first trials for mettle and fighting qualities take place. The brave are set aside for the Plaza: the—comparatively—docile destroyed, at least by scrupulous breeders; while from the chosen lot a further selection is made of the sires for perpetuating the breed. From the moment the fighting bulls are selected, they are treated with the utmost care, and for two years more roam at liberty over the richest pasturage of the wide unfrequented prairies. At four years old they are moved into the cerrados, or enclosures—fields of great extent, surrounded by a wooden stockade and double ditch. The cerrado they never leave till bound for the Plaza. Should pasture fail through drought or deluge, they are fed on tares, vetch, and maize—even with wheat. Their début in public must be made in the highest possible condition. The bulls should be, at the time, not less than five nor more than seven years old.

While thus grazing at large on the open plain, the bulls are in charge of herdsmen over whom is the official known in Castile as mayoral, in Andalucia as conocedor, assisted by his ayudante. These two spend their lives in the saddle, each carrying the long "garrocha," or lance, as a defensive weapon. The herdsmen go on foot, each armed with a sling, in the use of which they are adepts.

To return to the two-year-old point in the bull's life—that is, as we have stated, the critical stage in his existence, for then his "trial" takes place.

It is also an important period for the owner, for upon the proportion of good-mettled, "warrantable" beasts depends the profit and reputation of the herd. It is customary for the owner and his friends to be present at these tentaderos or trials: and a bright and picturesque scene they afford, thoroughly typical of untrodden Andalucia, and of the buoyant, careless exuberance and dare-devil spirit of her people.

Nowhere can the exciting scenes of the tentadero be witnessed to greater advantage than on the wide level pastures which extend from Seville to the Bay of Cadiz. Here, far out on the spreading "vegas," carpeted with rich profusion of wild flowers and pasturage, where the canicular sun flashes yet more light and fire into the fiery veins of the Andaluz—here occurs the first scene in the drama of the Toréo. For centuries these flowery plains have been the scene of countless tentaderos, where the "majos,"—young bloods—generation after generation, revel in feats of skill, courage, and horsemanship. Both good riding and staying power are often called into requisition by those taking an active part in the operations.

The night before the trials take place, the usually quiet and sequestered Estancia (or rancho) is a scene of unwonted revelry. The owners of the herd and many friends—all aficionados of the sport—have come up from the distant town to take part in the selection of the morrow—as this work commences at early dawn, the night must be spent on the spot. The rude walls of the rancho resound with boisterous hilarity, dance and song succeed each other, to the vigorous notes of the guitar—sleep is not to be thought of, good humour, gaiety, and no small admixture of practical joking pass away the night, and by the first of the daylight all are in the saddle. The two-year-old-bulls have previously been herded upon a part of the estate which affords the best level ground for smart manœuvre and fast riding, and here the duty of keeping the impetuous beasts together—no easy task—is allotted to skilled herdsmen armed with long garrochas—lances of some four yards in length, with short steel tips. As just mentioned, it is no easy work to keep the young bulls together, for they are anxious to break away and dart off to join their friends in the distance. When all is ready the herdsmen allow one bull to escape across the flat open country, pursued by two horsemen who are awaiting the moment, garrocha in hand. These men rival each other to place the first lance and to turn the bull over. This is effected by planting a blunt-tipped garrocha, on the bull's off-flank, near the tail, when a powerful thrust, given at full speed, overthrows him: but obviously the feat requires a good eye, a firm seat, and a strong arm. Immediately the bull is over, with his four feet in the air, another horseman, who has ridden close behind, comes up. He is armed with a more pointed lance, and is called el tentador. On rising, the bull finds this man between him and his companions in the rodéo, to whom he would now fain return. He immediately charges the obstacle, receiving on his shoulder the garrocha point; thrown back for a moment, and smarting under this first check to his hitherto unthwarted will, he returns to the charge with redoubled fury, but only to find the horse protected as before: the pluckier spirits will make a third or a fourth attack, but those which freely charge twice are passed as fit for the ring.

Sometimes the young bull declines to charge the tentador, submitting quietly to his overthrow, and only desiring to escape. He does not get off without a second fall; but if, after this, he still refuses to charge, he is at once condemned—doomed to death, or at best a life of agricultural toil. A note is taken of each selected bull (its colour, size, and shape of horns, and general appearance); and each is entered in the herd-book, under a particular name—such as Espartero, Cardinillo, Linares, Flamenco, and the like. By these names they are known, and at the end publicly described in the flaming "posters" and advertisements of the Corrida at which they are to make their final appearance.

Nor is there anything modern in this individualizing of the champions of the arena. In the Moorish ballads ("The Bull-Fight of Gazul"), so happily translated by Lockhart, we find the "toro bravo" had his name in those days:—

"Now stops the drum; close, close they come; thrice meet, and thrice give back:

The white foam of Harpado lies on the charger's breast of black—

The white foam of the charger on Harpado's front of dun;—

Once more advance upon his lance—once more, thou fearless one!"

It often happens, when a bull is singled out from the rodéo, that he does not take to his heels as expected, but charges the nearest person, on foot or mounted, that he may see. Then look out for squalls! The danger must be averted, when it is averted, by skill and experience; but it seldom happens that one of these trial-days passes without broken bones or accidents of some kind or other. The men engaged in these operations have, of course, no shelter of any kind; but the Spanish herdsmen, when taken at disadvantage, are adepts in the use of their jackets, with which they give "passes" to the bull, who always follows the moving object. A smart fellow, when caught in the open, can thus keep a bull off him for several moments, giving time for the horsemen to come up to the rescue. Even then it is no unusual occurrence to see horsemen, horse and bull all rolling together on the turf in one common ruin. A bright-coloured scarf or mantle will always draw away the bull from his prostrate foe; otherwise there would soon be an end of tentadores, bull-branders, and bull-fighters too, for the matter of that.

Each animal in the herd is put through the tests we have described, the proportion selected varying according to the excellence and purity of the strain: and then, for three years longer, the selected bulls continue to lead a life of ease and abundance upon the smiling Andalucian vega.[15]

Skill in handling the garrocha, and the ability to turn over a running bull, are accomplishments in high esteem amongst Spanish youth. Names now famous in politics or diplomacy (Don Luis Albereda, for example, late Spanish Minister at St. James's, the Duke of San Lorenzo, and many more), are still mentioned in Andalucia as past experts in the records of this southern diversion—a fame analogous to that of our foremost steeple-chase riders at home.[16]

The tentadero at the present day affords opportunity for aristocratic gatherings, that recall the tauromachian tournaments of old. Even the Infantas of Spain enter into the spirit of the sport, and have been known themselves to wield the garrocha with good effect, as was, a few months ago, the case at a brilliant fête champêtre on the Sevillian vegas, when the Condesa de Paris and her daughter, Princess Elena, each overthrew a sturdy two-year-old; the Infanta Eulalia riding "á ancas," or pillion-fashion, with an Andalucian nobleman, among the merriest of a merry party.

Plate XIII. THE ENCIERRO. Page 65.

At length, however, the years spent in luxurious idleness on the silent plains must come to an end. One summer morning the brave herd find grazing in their midst some strange animals, which appear to make themselves extremely agreeable to the lordly champions, now in the zenith of magnificent strength and beauty. The strangers grazing with them are the cabrestos (or cabestros, in correct Castilian), the decoy-oxen sent out to fraternize for a few days with the fighting race, preparatory to the encierro, or operation of conveying the latter to the town where the corrida takes place. Each cabestro has a large cattle-bell, of the usual Spanish type, suspended round its neck, in order to accustom the wild herd to follow the lead of these base betrayers of the brave. Shortly the noble bulls will be lured in their company away from their native plains, through country paths and byeways, to the entrance of the fatal toril.

An animated spectacle it is on the eve of the corrida, when, amidst clouds of dust and clang of bells, the tame oxen and wild bulls are driven forward by galloping horsemen and levelled garrochas. The excited populace, already intoxicated with bull-fever and the anticipation of the coming corridas, lining the way to the Plaza, careless if in the enthusiasm for the morrow they risk some awkward rips to-day.

Once inside the lofty walls of the toril, it is easy to withdraw the treacherous cabestros, and one by one to tempt the bulls each into a small separate cell, the chiquero, the door of which will to-morrow fall before his eyes. Then, rushing upon the arena, he finds himself confronted and encircled by surging tiers of yelling humanity, while the crash of trumpets and glare of moving colours madden his brain. Then the gaudy horsemen, with menacing lances, recall his day of trial on the distant plain, horsemen now doubly hateful in their brilliant glittering tinsel. No wonder the noble brute rushes with magnificent fury to the charge.

A BULL-FIGHTER.

What a spectacle is presented by the Plaza at this moment!—one without parallel in the modern world. The vast amphitheatre, crowded to the last seat in every row and tier, is held for some seconds in breathless suspense: above, the glorious azure canopy of an Andalucian summer sky: below, on the yellow arena, rushes forth the bull, fresh from his distant prairie, amazed yet undaunted by the unwonted sight and the bewildering blaze of colour which surrounds him. For one brief moment the vast mass of excited humanity sits spell-bound: the clamour of myriads is stilled. Then the pent-up cry bursts forth in frantic volume, for the gleaming horns have done their work, and buen toro! buen toro! rings from twice ten thousand throats.

The bull-rings are mostly the property of private persons, though some are owned by corporations, others by charitable institutions, and the like. The bull-fights themselves, however, are always in the hands of an empresario, who hires the building at a rent, supplies the bulls and troupe, and takes the whole arrangements in his own hands and for his own account.

The cost of a modern bull-fight in Andalucia ranges from £1,100 to £1,200. Six bulls are usually killed, their value averaging £70. The Espada, or Matador, receives on the day from £120 to £200, including the services of his cuadrilla or troupe, which consists of two picadors, three banderilleros, and a cachetero. As there are always two matadors with their respective cuadrillas engaged, this makes in all fourteen bull-fighters. The cost of the horses is about £120 to £200, a variable quantity, depending so much on the temper and quality of the bulls. Against this, there are from ten to twenty thousand seats to be let in the ring, the prices of which vary from a peseta or two in the Sol or sunny side, up to a couple of dollars or more in the Sombra.[17]

The president of the corrida is usually the alcalde or mayor of the town—sometimes the civil governor of the province, always some person of weight and authority, though the alcalde is responsible for the orderly conduct of the corrida, even should he delegate the presidential chair to some one of higher authority. He is required to examine the bulls before the fight: that is, to see that they bear the brand of the herd advertised, and have no visible defect; then he must inspect the horses; even the banderillas and the garrochas, the points of which latter must be shortened as autumn approaches. Till the alcalde appears in his tribune, the fight may not commence, and during the spectacle he orders the incoming of each bull, the time which the picadors shall occupy with their lances: he directs the trumpets of his attendant heralds to sound the changes in the fight, when banderilleros succeed picadors, and for the final scene, when the matador steps alone upon the arena, with scarlet cloak and gleaming sword.

AN ESPADA, OR MATADOR.

It will thus be seen that the presidential function involves a fairly deep knowledge of all the arts and etiquette of tauromachian science. Under intelligent direction, accidents in the ring and tumults amongst dissatisfied multitudes are avoided—without it, the reverse.

We have now traced in brief outline the life-history of our gallant bull; we have brought him face to face with Frascuelo and his Toledan blade; there we must leave him. But, in concluding this chapter, may we beg the generous reader, should he ever enter the historic circle of the plaza, to go there with an open mind—without prejudice, and unbiassed by the floods of invective which have ever been let loose upon the Spanish bull-fight.

Let critics remember, if only in extenuation, what the spectacle represents to Spain—a national festival, the love of which we have shown to be ineradicable, ingrained in Spanish nature by centuries of custom and tradition. Let them reflect, too, that those brutal domestic scenes which disgrace so many a home among the poor of other lands are, in the land of the bull-fighter, unknown. Lastly, let them remember that upon untrained eyes there must fall flat many of the finer passes, much of the elaborate technique and science of tauromachian art: points which are instantly seized and appreciated by Spanish experts—and in Spain all are experts. This is lost to the casual spectator, who perceives less difficulty in the perilous vol-á-pié than in the simpler, though more attractive, suerte de recibir, and a thousand other technical details.