The Story of Seville

The retinue of the matador consists of the picadores, or mounted spearmen, the banderilleros, or dart throwers, and the monos sabios, who repair the damages to the wretched horses and thrash them to their feet. The matador is clad in silk and gold, with a spangled cloak, which he wears in the parade of the fighters previous to the display. It is stated by one writer that a bull fight in Seville cost from £1100 to £1200. The value of each bull killed is about £70. The matador's fee is from £120 to £200; but this includes the fees paid by him to his cuadrilla, or troupe. The horses are valued at from £120 to £200, according to the number killed by the bull. The cost of the seats is from a peseta to three duros. Guerrita could 'command all over Spain and in the South of France almost any remuneration.' The banderilleros receive about fifty dollars, and the picadores something less than that for their share in the performance.

The glory that surrounds the matador induces a large number of Spanish youths to adopt the profession of bull-fighting. In consequence, there is a surplus of indifferent toreros and novices, who are awaiting their chance for promotion and for an appearance in the arena.

These hangers-on of the sport are to be seen in the Puerta del Sol of Madrid, and in the paseos and streets of Seville. They have a 'horsey' air, and are proficient at lounging, and chaffing the women who pass by. A little pigtail hangs from the brims of their hats, and they are fond of frilled shirts, in which they display paste studs. Every city and provincial town of Spain has its aficionados of bull-fighting. These amateurs talk learnedly upon encierros, suertes, and pases por alto. They are vain of their acquaintance with popular toreros, and they read all the literature of the beloved sport. The Historia del Toreo is better known among these 'sports' than the poems of 'Herrera the divine.' At the cafés they pore over the bull-fighting journals, El Toréo, El Enáno, and La Lidia.

Mr. H. T. Finck describes the bull fight as 'the most unsportsmanlike and cowardly spectacle I have ever seen.' This author does not believe that bull-fighting is highly dangerous. 'No man,' he writes, 'who has a sense of true sport would engage with a dozen other men against a brute that is so stupid as to expend its fury a hundred times in succession on a piece of red cloth, ignoring the man who holds it.'

The bull fight not dangerous! I can imagine the indignation of the devotees of the sport at such a suggestion. Personally, I am not in a position to affirm how great or how small is the peril to the man who finds himself alone in a ring, face to face with a savage Andalusian bull. I have, however, been told by a Spaniard, living in Madrid, that the fluttering of the red cloth certainly distracts the bull's attention from its combatant, and that the animal invariably closes its eyes when the muleta is whisked in its face. This 'fact,' given on the authority of my Spanish friend, may throw a side-light on the art of the matador. But I am certainly not prepared to say that bull-fighting is without danger to the human performers in the tournament. Many lives have been lost in the arena, and injuries are of comparatively common occurrence. On October 7, 1900, Dominguin was killed at Barcelona; two novices were wounded at Carabanchel; Parrao was injured at Granada, Telilas had his collar-bone broken at Madrid, and Bombita was wounded at the same place. Such was one day's list of mishaps in the amphitheatres of Spain.

Until infuriated by the lances and darts, many of the bulls are far from savage. There is the story of a bull in the arena, that recognised the voice of a lad, who had tended it on the plains, and came towards its friend with apparent pleasure at the re-meeting. On the other hand, there is the account of the bull of Muruve, who fought at Seville, in 1898, and carried a horse and a picador upon its horns from the barrier to the centre of the ring. A strong bull will sometimes toss a picador's saddle high in the air; yet Mr. Williams tells us that two men are required to carry the saddle. Bulls frequently leap the barrera of the arena, although the height is over five feet. 'At Málaga, some six years ago, a bull leaped over the barrier at precisely the same spot fourteen times in swift succession. At Madrid, in 1898, another cleared both barriers,' writes Mr. Williams, 'landing with his head among the spectators, but falling back into the callejón. On April 30, 1896, at Madrid, Ermitaño, the second bull of the corrida, cleared the barrier four times, jamming a carpenter between a pair of doors and severely injuring him. All the above I have myself witnessed; but other feats, perfectly authenticated, are even more remarkable.'

The Plaza de Toros at Seville is a handsome building. It was constructed to seat fourteen thousand spectators. The chief fights take place on Domingo de Resurrección, and during the week of the feria, in April. The seats are arranged in boxes (palcos), the asientos de barrera (barrier seats) and the asientos de grada. A higher price is charged for seats in the sombra, or shade; while the cheaper positions, occupied by the poorer classes, are in the sol, or sunshine.

It is fashionable to drive to the corrida behind four or six horses or mules, with gay trappings and jangling bells. Hawkers, thieves, programme vendors and beggars throng around the plaza. The half-hour of waiting, preliminary to the first combat, is enlivened by the arrival of smart people and notabilities of the city, while the orchestra plays a selection of pieces.

Reverte or Fuentes arrives, and is acclaimed by his admirers. The knowing aficionados, who have seen the doomed bulls in their enclosure, promise an excellent show. The seats gradually fill; there is a loud hum of conversation and a waving of fans by the señoras in the palcos. At a signal from the President of the corridas, the ring is cleared of the groups of toreros and their friends. Then the band strikes up, and the bull-fighters march out, with the matadores in front of their attendants. They salute the President. The key of the bull enclosure is thrown down, an official unlocks the door, and into the arena canters the first bull, to encounter a charge from the picador. Sometimes the bull refuses to fight. The beast is lazy, good-tempered, or dazed. Not even the darts will enrage the creature. It gazes upon its tormentors with benign amazement. This poor sport; toro must be worried into a passion. An explosive dart is thrown at the bull. The fire burns into its nerves. It is more than the most placid bull nature can endure with patience. Toro lowers its horns and rushes upon its assailants.

The spectators, men, women and children, closely watch every move and double of the fighters. A picador is thrown. The horse, with a ghastly dripping wound in its flank, rushes around the ring. It is met by the bull, gored, and tossed in the air. The wounded nag cannot regain its feet. Again and again the infuriated toro vents its rage on the struggling horse. Presently, the bull's attention is drawn from the steed, and it turns to face the gaudy matador. A thrust of a dagger ends the convulsive kicking of the dying horse.

With scientific precision, the swordsman flutters his muleta in the bull's face. At each charge the matador bounds aside, and the beast worries the red rag. At length, toro stands snorting and pawing the ground. The magnificent brute surveys his enemy with hatred, and makes another rush. Again it is thwarted. Finally, the sword is plunged deftly into the creature's viscera. Toro trembles, falls, and lies prone. The coup de grace is administered with a big knife. There is deafening applause, the strains of the band, and the dead bull is dragged from the ring by a team of mules.

'When I see children at the corrida, I sigh and think of the future of Spain,' said my Spanish friend. Such expression of opinion is almost treasonable. Long live the bull fight! Humanitarian cant is not to be taken seriously. It is not only the Spanish people who love the sport. 'There are no more enthusiastic patrons of the bull ring in Madrid,' writes Mr. H. C. Chatfield Taylor, author of The Land of the Castanet, 'than many of the foreign diplomats, and one remembers clearly the Secretary of the United States Legation, stationed in Madrid at the time of a former visit, saying that he was an annual subscriber, and had not missed a corrida during his entire term of office.'

The Life of the Fighting Bull

In Great Britain our nobility and gentle-folk breed racehorses. In Spain the aristocracy and grandees rear bulls for the ring. The breeders of bulls are termed ganaderos. Around Seville, Jerez, Huelva and Valladolid are born the toros bravos. At the age of one year the bulls selected for the arena are branded, and sent on to the plains to graze, in charge of a conocedor, who is assisted by an ayudante. When the bulls are two years of age, they are tried for the first time to prove their pluck and pugnacity. At four years old they are put into huge enclosures of good pasturage, and in time of scarcity they are fed upon vetches, maize and wheat. From five to seven toro is warrantable for the lidia. At his trial, at the age of two years, the owner of the herd invites a number of friends to the ranche. Young and clever horsemen attend these trials, and vie with one another in courage. The caballeros are armed with the garrochas, lances about twelve feet in length, with short steel points. Visitors to Seville may often see parties of mounted sportsmen returning from these tentadores, or trials.

A bull is separated from its companions. The horseman, carrying the garrocha, pursues the brute, and attempts to overturn it by a powerful thrust on the flank, delivered at full gallop. The horseman must be a bold rider, possessed of coolness and strong in the arm. If the charge is successful, toro tumbles with its feet in the air. Another rider now takes up the attack. He has a sharper spear, and is called el tentador. Should the young bull refuse to charge, it is discarded as a toro bravo, and the slaughter-house or the life of labour awaits it. The chosen bulls are then christened, and entered upon the breeder's list of warrantable animals. In due time their names appear on the brilliant placards advertising the corridas of Seville or Cadiz.

'The tentadero at the present day,' writes the authors of Wild Spain, '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.'

Travelling by rail across the wide and lonely plains of Southern and Central Spain, the stranger often sees large herds of bulls, quietly grazing in charge of an attendant, who leans upon a long wooden staff, and wears a plaid upon his shoulder. The Spanish travellers crowd to the window at the magical words los toros, and in an animated manner the points of the herd are discussed. This pleasant pastoral life lasts for five years of the bull's life, though during that time it has to endure the trial with the garrocha. The bulls are divided into three classes after the tientas, or trials, i. e., those of the first rank, the 'brave bulls'; those of the second order, the novillos, which are used by second-rate matadores and beginners, and those sentenced to death, or a life of toil. Amongst the most eminent strains of Andalusian bulls used for the ring are those of Cámara, Miura, Muruve, Pérez de la Concha, Conradi, Adalid, Ibarra, Saltillo, and Anastasio Martin.

The animals are sold from four to eight at a time, according to the status of the corrida for which they are purchased. If the distance to the ring is short, the bulls are driven by night through the country, and pastured in the daytime. They are led by peaceable cattle with bells hung from their necks. 'These intelligent beasts keep the wild ones together and out of mischief,' says Mr. Leonard Williams, 'with the same unerring watchfulness as a collie controlling a flock of sheep, and lightening to an incalculable extent the labours of the accompanying horsemen.' At night the bulls are driven into the town, the sides of the streets being barricaded. When the beasts are consigned to buyers at a long distance from the ranche, they are conveyed by rail in strong boxes.

Just before the encounter in the ring, the toros are confined in the chiqueros, dark dens with strong doors that are opened and closed by ropes pulled from above. Difficulty is often experienced in coaxing refractory animals into these cells. The operation is witnessed by aficionados, who pay a fee for the privilege.

Among the best-known garrochistas of modern times are the Señores Don Antonio Miura, Don Faustino Morube, Don Miguel Garcia, Don Guillermo Ochoteco, Don José Silva, Don Fernando Concha, Don Agusto Adalid, Don Angel Zaldos, Don Manuel Sanchez-Mira, Marques de Bogaraya, Marques de Guadalest, Don Frederico Huesca, and the Marques de Castellones. Two of the finest exponents of the art of wielding the rejón, or short lance – a weapon surviving from the early times of the lidia– are the Señores Heredia, Ledesma, and Grané. Mr. Williams says that there are not a dozen horsemen in Spain and Portugal who can successfully perform the feat of killing the bull with the rejón.

'An animated spectacle it is on the even of the corrida,' write the authors of Wild Spain, '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.'

The bull fight of Spain and Portugal is the modern form of the gladiatorial shows of ancient Rome. At Urbs Italica, the Roman city of old, is the ring wherein many victims of Pagan persecution were forced to combat with fierce beasts. It is but a step upwards from this sanguinary sport to the tournament with bulls, introduced into Andalusia by the Moors. The fascination of the horrible is the motive that impels men to witness exhibitions involving risk of human life and cruelty towards animals. Our bull-baiting with dogs was certainly not more sportsmanlike than the Spanish duels between knights, armed only with the lance or sword, and a fierce bull of the plains. Yet bull-baiting was a favourite diversion of the British nation from the time of King John until about a hundred years ago. In the reign of Elizabeth bear-baiting was a fashionable recreation in London, and there were 'Easter fierce hunts, when foaming boars fought for their heads, and lusty bulls and huge bears were baited with dogs' (Sports of England).

When public opinion began to recoil from such barbarous amusements, Windham, in the House of Commons, made a brilliant speech in defence of the sport of bull-baiting, and the Bill for its abolition was rejected. That was in 1802. Yet, no doubt, a number of our countrymen of that period were accustomed to denounce the atrocious cruelty of the Spanish bull-fighters.

Statute 5 and 6, William IV., in 1835, made bull-baiting and cock-fighting illegal. The Act enjoined 'that any person keeping or using any house, pit, or other place, for baiting or fighting any bull, bear, dog, or other animal (whether of a domestic or wild kind), or for cock-fighting, shall be liable to a penalty of £5 for every day he shall so keep and use the same.' In 1837 the provisions of this Act were extended to Ireland.

We must remember, therefore, that a high stage of culture and refinement must be attained before nations will consent to abandon cruel and dangerous contests between men and brutes, or between beasts. Even in Spain there is a growing revolt from the exhibitions of combats between bulls and other animals, which are sometimes given in the big towns. In these fights – which take place in a cage in the centre of an arena – a wretched, half-fed lion or elephant is pitted against a bull. Cock-fighting still flourishes in the Peninsula. It is popular in Seville, and like bull-fighting, the sport has its aficionados in every town and hamlet. Sunday, after Mass, is the favourite day for a display of cock-fighting. These funciones gallisticas have been described by one or two writers upon Spain, who agree that the diversion is of a degrading character.

Those among my readers who are interested in bull-fighting, its history and its anecdotes, will find a chapter on 'Tauromachia' in that fascinating work Wild Spain, by Mr. Abel Chapman and Mr. Walter J. Buck. A full account of the sport, and the most modern of all the numerous contributions to the literature of the bull ring, is that in the three special chapters of Mr. Leonard Williams's The Land of the Dons, published in 1902.

CHAPTER XV

Information for the Visitor

MOST English visitors to Seville travel by way of Paris, Irún, the Spanish frontier town, and Madrid. By this route the interesting towns of Vittoria, Burgos, Valladolid and Segovia may be visited should the tourist's time permit. Many travellers break their journey at Madrid, spend a day or two in that city, and proceed by the night-express to Seville. For comfort, it is advisable to take the south express train de luxe from the Quai D'Orsay, Paris. This train is made up of first-class carriages only, and provided with sleeping berths, for which there is an extra charge. By the ordinary express trains the journey is slower, and the traveller has to provide his sleeping accommodation in the shape of rugs and pillows. A pillow may be hired at most of the large Spanish railway stations for one peseta, i. e., sevenpence half-penny in British money.

Railway travelling in Spain is not luxurious. The first-class compartments are usually stuffy, and at night they are ill-lighted, while the second-class carriages will not compare with the English third-class. Compartments of the tercera clase (third-class) are uncomfortable and cushionless. They may be used for short day journeys in Spain by the stranger who wishes to come into touch with the people. As a rule, the third-class passengers are quite orderly in behaviour, and the foreigner need not fear to travel with them. Still, from the point of view of comfort, the Spanish third-class cannot be recommended, especially to ladies.

The journey by rail from Madrid is across the monotonous plains of La Mancha, made world-famous by the exploits of Don Quixote, through interminable olive gardens, wide grass meadows, and by groups of bare and fantastic rocks, to ancient Córdova. Thence we reach the fertile land of Andalusia, follow the windings of the clay-stained Guadalquivir, and come into the district of the cactus and almond tree, and a semi-tropical climate.

Before leaving the railway station square, the stranger must submit to the inspection of his luggage by the customs' officers (consumos), who are on the watch for taxed articles. Usually the search is a mere formality, as English visitors are rarely regarded as 'suspects.' Assure the officer that you have nothing to sell, and he will in most instances refrain from overhauling your baggage.

Hotel omnibuses, cabs and outside porters await the arrival of every train at the Estación de Cordoba. The fare for a one-horse carriage to any part of Seville, with one or two passengers, is a peseta, and for each piece of luggage the charge is from half-a-peseta to a peseta. The driver expects a propina ('tip') of at least half-a-peseta. Avoid hotel touts and loafers who crowd outside the railway station.

Hotels.– The majority of English and American visitors stay at the Hôtel de Madrid, at the corner of the Plaza del Pacifico. It is a large house, with a court in the Moorish style, adorned with palms. The position is central. The boarding terms are from about twelve pesetas per day, but the charge is from about fifteen pesetas in the spring season. The Hôtel de Paris is also in the Plaza del Pacifico. Here the tariff is about ten pesetas per diem, and the cuisine is of the first-class Spanish order.

Smaller, but comfortable, hostelries are Hôtel de Roma and the Hôtel Europa, with a pension tariff of ten pesetas. If the visitor desires to see something of the life of Spanish people of the middle-class, he will prefer to take up his quarters in one of the minor hotels. Such a house is that of Juan Zamanillo, Hôtel de la Victoria, in the Plaza Nueva. The charge here is from five pesetas a day, which includes a comfortable bedroom, with clean linen and mosquito curtains to the bed, luncheon (almuerzo), and dinner (comida). The Victoria is frequented by English artists, and the proprietor is accustomed to English guests. The head waiter is an intelligent man. In hotels of this order the sanitary arrangements are Spanish. Even in the first-class houses of Spain these arrangements need improvement. On the other hand, the rooms are scrupulously clean, the cuisine very fair, and the bedrooms comfortable.

At most of the hotels there is an extra charge for the early breakfast (desayuno), which consists of a cup of chocolate, flavoured with cinnamon, or of café con leche (coffee with milk), and a small roll without butter. Many Spaniards take a cup of coffee in their bedrooms about half-past eight in the morning, and do not eat until luncheon, which is usually served in Seville from eleven till one. Visitors who are accustomed to a substantial breakfast often find themselves somewhat faint by the hour of almuerzo. The two meals are much alike in their courses. Soup, fish, meat or poultry, salad, cream cheese of Burgos, fried potatoes, various kinds of cakes and fruit are served at luncheon and dinner. The table wine is provided free of charge, but it is often of a very inferior quality, and should be used sparingly, especially in hot weather. A cheap, palatable wine is the Rioja. Mineral waters can be had at all the hotels and cafés.

At the Spanish houses, as distinguished from the hotels mostly frequented by foreigners, Andalusian dishes form the chief part of the menu. Shad, sea-bream and codfish, garnished with onions, are served cold. Pollo con arroz (fowl with rice), and curried rice, with cockles and sausages, are favourite dishes. One course is usually composed of stewed mutton, or beefsteaks grilled. The meal begins with eggs, boiled, poached, or made into savoury omelettes. Those visitors who do not enjoy the flavour of garlic should say to the waiter, "No ajo, sirvase," i. e., "No garlic, if you please," before ordering an omelette. In the larger hotels the cookery is usually French, with an occasional dish of the country.