POPULAR AMUSEMENTS
Nothing strikes one so much in studying the popular customs and
pleasures of Spain as the antiquity of them all. Constantly one finds
one's self back in prehistoric times, and to date only from the days
when Spain was a Roman province is almost modernity. No one can travel
through Spain, or spend any time there, without becoming aware that,
however many other forms of recreation there may be, two are universal
and all-absorbing in their hold on the widely differing
provinces--dancing and the bull-ring. In the Basque Provinces, the
national game of _pelota_, a species of tennis, played without rackets,
is still kept up, and is jealously cultivated in the larger towns, such
as Vitoria, San Sebastian, and Bilbao. In Madrid at the present time it
is played in large courts built on purpose, and attracts many strangers.
To view it, however, as a national sport, one should see it in some of
the mountain villages, where it is still the great recreation for
Sundays and religious _fiestas_. The working-classes also play at
throwing the hammer or crowbar. This is more especially the case in the
Northern provinces, where the workmen are a sound, healthy, and sober
race, enjoying simple and healthy amusements, and affording an excellent
example to those of countries considering themselves much more highly
civilised.
Pigeon-shooting, which was a great favourite with the late King Alfonso
XII., and was made fashionable among the aristocracy in Madrid by him,
is a very old sport--if it deserves the name--among the Valencians. Near
La Pechina, at Valencia, where the great _tiro de las palomas_ takes
place, was found, in 1759, an inscription: _Sodalicium vernarum colentes
Isid_. This, Ford tells us, was an ancient _cofradiá_ to Isis, which
paid for her _culto_. Cock-fighting is still practised in most of the
Spanish towns, as well as in Valencia, the regular cock-pits being
constantly frequented in Madrid; but it is looked upon as suited only to
_barrio's bajos_, and is not much, if at all, patronised even by the
middle classes. It is said by those who have seen it to be particularly
brutal; but it was never a very humanising amusement when practised by
the English nobility not such a very long time back.
Whatever amusements, however, may be popular in the towns, or in
particular provinces, the guitar and the dance are universal. So much
has been written about the Spanish national dances that an absurd idea
prevails in England that they are all very shocking and indecent. It is
necessary, however, to go very much out of one's way, and to pay a good
round sum, to witness those gypsy dances which have come down unchanged
from the remotest ages. As Ford truly says, "Their character is
completely Oriental, and analogous to the _ghawarsee_ of the Egyptians
and the Hindoo _nautch_." "The well-known statue at Naples of the Venere
Callipige is the undoubted representation of a Cadiz dancing-girl,
probably of Telethusa herself." These dances have nothing whatever in
common with the national dances as now to be seen on the Spanish stage.
They are never performed except by gypsies, in their own quarter of
Seville, and are now generally gotten up as a show for money. Men
passing through Seville go to these performances, as an exhibition of
what delighted Martial and Horace, but they do not generally discuss
them afterwards with their lady friends, and to describe one of these
more than doubtful dances as being performed by guests in a Madrid
drawing-room, as an English lady journalist did a short time ago in the
pages of a respectable paper, is one of those libels on Spain which
obtain currency here out of sheer ignorance of the country and the
people.
Wherever two or three men and women of the lower classes are to be seen
together in Spain during their play-time, there is a guitar, with
singing and dancing. The verses sung are innumerable short stanzas by
unknown authors; many, perhaps, improvised at the moment. The _jota_,
the _malaguena_, and the _seguidilla_ are combinations of music, song,
and dance; the last two bear distinct indications of Oriental origin;
each form is linked to a traditional air, with variations. The
_malaguena_ is Andalusian, and the _jota_ is Aragonese; but both are
popular in Castile. All are love-songs, most of them of great grace and
beauty. Some writers complain that some of these dance-songs are coarse
and more or less indecent; others aver that they never degenerate into
coarseness. _Quien sabe?_ Perhaps it is a case of _Honi soit qui mal y
pense_. In any case, throughout the length and breadth of Spain, outside
the wayside _venta_, or the barber's shop, in the _patios_ of inns, or
wherever holiday-makers congregate, there is the musician twanging his
guitar, there are the dancers twirling about in obvious enjoyment to the
accompaniment of the stamping, clapping, and encouraging cries of the
onlookers, and the graceful little verse, with its probably weird and
plaintive cadence:
Era tan dichoso antes
De encontrarte en mi camino!
Y, sin embargo, no siento
El haberte conocido.
I was so happy before
I had met you on my way!
And yet there is no regret
That I have learned to know you.
The _malaguena_ and the _seguidilla_, which is more complicated, are
generally seen on the stage only in Madrid, where they must charm all
who can appreciate the poetry of motion. The dance of the peasant in
Castile is always the _jota Aragonesa_. The part the tambourine and the
castanets play in these dances must be seen and heard to be understood:
they punctuate not only the music, but also the movement, the sentiment,
and the refrain. The Andaluces excel in playing on the castanets. These
are, according to Ford, the "Baetican _crusmata_ and _crotola_ of the
ancients": and _crotola_ is still a Spanish term for the tambourine.
Little children may be seen snapping their fingers or clicking two bits
of slate together, in imitation of the castanet player; but the
continuous roll, or succession of quick taps, is an art to be learned
only by practice. The castanets are made of ebony, and are generally
decorated with bunches of smart ribbons, which play a great part in the
dance.
The popular instrument in the Basque and Northern provinces is
the bagpipe, and the dances are quite different from those of
the other parts of Spain. The _zortico zorisco_, or "evolution
of eight," is danced to sound of tambourines, fifes, and a kind of
flageolet--_el silbato_, resembling the rude instruments of the
Roman Pifferari--probably of the same origin.
Theatrical representations have always been a very popular form of
recreation among the inhabitants of the Iberian continent, from the days
when the plays were acted by itinerant performers, "carrying all their
properties in a sack, the stage consisting of four wooden benches,
covered with rough boards, a blanket suspended at the back, to afford a
green-room, in which some musician sang, without accompaniment, old
ballads to enliven the proceedings." This is Cervantes's description of
the national stage in the time of his immediate predecessor, Lope de
Rueda.
The Spanish _zarzuela_ appears to have been the forerunner and origin of
all musical farce and "opera comique," only naturalised in our country
during the present generation. The theatres in all the provinces are
always full, always popular; the pieces only run for short periods, a
perpetual variety being aimed at by the managers--a thing easily to be
understood when one remembers that the same audience, at any rate in the
boxes and stalls, frequent them week in, week out. In Madrid, with a
population of five hundred thousand inhabitants, there are nineteen
theatres. With the exception of the first-class theatres, the people pay
two _reales_ (_5 d._) for each small act or piece, and the audience
changes many times during the evening, a constant stream coming and
going. Long habit and familiarity with good models have made the lower
class of playgoers critical; their judgment of a piece, or of an actor,
is always good and worth having.
The religious _fiestas_ must also count among the amusements of the
people in Spain. Whether it be the Holy Week in Seville or Toledo, the
_Romería_ of Santiago, the _Veladas_, or vigils, of the great festivals,
or the day of Corpus Christi, which takes place on the first Thursday
after Trinity Sunday--at all these the people turn out in thousands,
dressed in their smartest finery, and combine thorough enjoyment with
the performance of what they believe to be a religious duty. There is
little or no drunkenness at these open-air festivities, but much gaiety,
laughter, fluttering of fans, "throwing of sparks" from mischievous or
languishing eyes--and at the end always a bull-fight.
Here we touch the very soul of Spain. Take away the bull-rings, make an
end of the _toreros_, and Spain is no longer Spain--perhaps a country
counting more highly in the evolution of humanity as a whole, but it
will need another name if that day ever comes, of which there does not
now seem to be the remotest possibility. All that can be said is that
to-day there is a party, or there are individuals, in the country who
profess to abhor the bull-fight, and wish to see it ended; it is
doubtful if up to this time any Spaniard ever entertained such an
"outlandish" notion. The bull-fight is said to have been founded by the
Moors of Spain, although bulls were probably fought with or killed in
Roman amphitheatres. The principle on which they were founded was the
display of horsemanship, use of the lance, courage, coolness, and
dexterity--all accomplishments of the Arabs of the desert. It is
undoubtedly the latter qualities which make the sport so fascinating to
English _aficionados_, of whom there are many, and have caused the
_fiestas de toros_ to live on in the affections of the whole Spanish
people. In its earliest days, gentlemen, armed only with the _rejon_,
the short spear of the original Iberian, about four feet long, fought in
the arena with the bulls, and it was always a fair trial of skill and a
display of good horsemanship.
When the fatal race of the French Bourbons came to the throne, and the
country was inundated with foreign favourites, the Court and the French
hangers-on of the kings turned the fashion away from the national sport,
and it gradually fell into the hands of the lower classes, professional
bull-fighters taking the place of the courtly players of old, and these
were drawn from the lowest and worst ranks of the masses; the sporting
element, to a great extent, died out, and the whole spectacle became
brutalised. _Pan y toros_ (bread and bulls) were all the people wanted,
and, crushed out of all manliness by their rulers, and taught a thirst
for cruelty and bloodshed by the example of their religious
_autos-da-fé_, the bull-fight became the revolting spectacle which
foreigners--especially the English--have been so ready to rail against
as a disgrace to the Spanish nation, while they rarely let an
opportunity escape them of assisting as interested spectators at what
they condemned so loudly, and they quite forgot their own prize-ring,
and other amusements equally brutal and disgraceful. If the _corrida de
toros_ was ever as bad as it has been described by some, it has improved
very much of late years, and most of its revolting features are
eliminated. The pack of dogs, which used to be brought in when a bull
was dangerous to the human fighters, has long been done away with. The
_media luna_, which we are told was identical with the instrument
mentioned in _Joshua_, is no longer tolerated to hamstring the
unfortunate bull; and if a horse is gored in the fair fight, there are
men especially in attendance to put him out of his misery at once. It is
doubtful whether the animal suffers more than, or as much as, the
unhappy favourites, that are sent alive, and in extremest torture, to
Amsterdam and other foreign cities, to be manufactured into essence of
meat and such-like dainties, after a life of cruelly hard work in our
omnibuses and cabs has made them no longer of use as draught animals.
The bull-fighter of to-day is by no means drawn from the dregs of the
people; there is, at any rate, one instance of a man of good birth and
education attaining celebrity as a professional _torero_. He risks his
life at every point of the conflict, and it is his coolness, his
courage, his dexterity in giving the _coup de grâce_ so as to cause no
suffering, that raise the audience to such a pitch of frenzied
excitement. I speak wholly from hearsay, for I have myself only
witnessed a _corrida de novillos_--in which the bulls are never killed,
and have cushions fixed on their horns--and a curious fight between a
bull and an elephant, who might have been described as an "old
campaigner," in which there was no bloodshed, and much amusement. My
sympathies always went with the bull,--who, at least, was not consulted
in the matter of the fight,--as I have seen the popular _espada_, with
his own particular _chulo_, a mass of white satin and gold embroidery,
driving out to the bull-ring on the afternoon of a _fiesta_, bowing with
right royal grace and dignity to the plaudits of the people. I was even
accused of having given the evil eye to one well-known favourite as he
passed my balcony, when I wished, almost audibly, that the bull might
have his turn for once in a way that afternoon. And he had; for the
popular _espada_ was carried out of the ring apparently dead, the
spectators came back looking white and sick, and I felt like a very
murderess until I learned later that he was not dead. All Madrid, almost
literally, called to inquire for him daily, filling books of signatures,
as if he had been an emperor at least. Personally, I was more interested
in his courage after the event and the devotion of his _chulo_, who
never left his side, but held his hands while the injured leg was cut
off, in three separate operations, without any anæsthetic. Eventually,
he completely recovered, and was fitted with an admirable mechanical
cork limb in place of the one removed in three detachments; and my sense
of evil responsibility was quite removed when I heard that his young
wife was delighted to think that he could never enter the bull-ring as a
fighter again, and her anxieties were at an end.
[Illustration: PLAZA DE TOROS. PICADOR CAUGHT BY THE BULL]
It is quite impossible to over-estimate the popularity of the _toreros_
with the Spanish people. They are the friends and favourites of the
aristocracy, the demi-gods of the populace. You never see one of them in
the streets without an admiring circle of worshippers, who hang on every
word and gesture of the great man; and this is no cult of the hour, it
is unceasing. They are always known for their generosity, not only to
injured comrades, but to any of the poor in need. Is there a disaster by
which many are injured--flood, tempest, or railway accident? Immediately
a bull-fight is arranged for the sufferers, and the whole _cuadrilla_
will give their earnings to the cause. Not only so, but the private
charities of these popular favourites are immense, and quite unheard of
by the public. They adopt orphans, pay regular incomes to widows, as
mere parts of every-day work. They are, one and all, religious men; the
last thing they do, before entering the arena with their life in their
hands, is to confess and receive absolution in the little chapel in the
Bull-Ring, spending some time in silent prayer before the altar, while
the wife at home is burning candles to the Virgin, and offering her
prayers for his safety during the whole time that the _corrida_ lasts.
Extreme unction is always in readiness, in case of serious accident to
the _torero_, the priest (_mufti_) slipping into the chapel before the
public arrive on the scene.
Rafael Molina Lagartijo, one of the veterans of the bull-fighters, and
an extreme favourite with the people for many years, died recently,
after living for some time in comparative retirement in his native
Córdoba. Some idea of the important place which these men occupy in
Spanish society may be gathered from the numerous notices which appeared
in the newspapers of all shades of political opinion after his death. I
quote from the article which appeared in the charming little illustrated
_Blanco y Negro_, of Madrid, on the favourite of the Spanish public. In
what, to us, seems somewhat inflated language, but which is, however,
quite simple and natural to the Spaniard, the writer began his notice
thus:
"He who has heard the magic oratory of Castelar, has listened to the
singing of Gayarre, the declamation of Cabro, has read Zorilla, and
witnessed the _torear_ of Lagartijo, may say, without any kind of
reservation, that there is nothing left for him to admire!" Having thus
placed the popular bull-fighter on a level with orators, authors, and
musicians of the first rank, the writer goes on to describe the beauties
of Lagartijo's play in words which are too purely technical of the ring
to make translation possible, and adds: "He who has not seen the great
_torero_ of Córdoba in the plenitude of his power will assuredly not
comprehend why the name of Lagartijo for more than twenty years filled
_plazas_ and playbills, nor why the _aficionados_ of to-day recall, in
speaking of his death, times which can never be surpassed.... The
_toreo_ (play) of Lagartijo was always distinguished by its classic
grace, its dignity and consummate art, the absence of affectation, or
struggle for effect. In every part of the fight the figure of Rafael
fell naturally into the most graceful attitudes; and for this reason he
has always worn the rich dress of the _torero_ with the best effect. He
was the perfect and characteristic type of a _torero_, such as Spanish
fancy has always imagined it. Lagartijo died with his eyes fixed on the
image of the Virgen de los Dolores, to whom he had always confidently
committed his life of peril, and with the dignity and resignation of a
good man."
The article was illustrated with numerous portraits of Don Rafael: in
full _torero_ dress in 1886; his very last photograph; views of him in
the courtyard of his home in Córdoba, and outside the Venta San Rafael,
where he took his coffee in the evening, and others. The notice
concludes by saying that his life was completely dedicated to his
property, which he managed himself, and he was looked upon as the
guardian angel of the labourers on his farm. _Probre Rafael!_ "The
lovers of the bull-fight are lamenting the death of the _torero_, but
the poor of Córdoba mourn the loss of their 'Señor Rafael.'"
[Illustration: PLAZA DE TOROS. THE PROCESSION]
The wives of the _toreros_ are generally celebrated for their beauty,
their wit, and their devotion to their husbands--indeed, the men have a
large choice before them when choosing their helpmates for life. To
their wives is due much of the making and all the keeping up of the
elaborate and costly dress of the _torero_. They are, as someone has
said, "ferociously virtuous," and share in the open-handed generosity of
their husbands. The earnings of a successful _torero_ are very large. In
some cases, they make as much as £4000 or £5000 a year of English money,
during the height of their popularity, and retire to end their days in
their native and beloved Andalucia.
Whatever may be said by foreigners of the brutalising effect of the
Spanish popular game, it certainly has no more effect on those who
witness or practise it than fox-hunting has on Englishmen, and it is
doubtful whether there is any more cruelty in one sport than in the
other. The foxes are fostered and brought up for the sole purpose of
being harried to death, without even a semblance of fair play being
allowed to them, and if a fox-hunter risks his life it is only as a bad
rider that he does so. There is no danger and certainly no dignity in
the English sport, even if it indirectly keeps up the breed of horses.
A curious incident is related by Count Vasili as having happened in the
Bull-Ring in Madrid some years ago during a _corrida_ of Cúchares, the
celebrated _espada_. It is usual during _fiestas_ of charity to enclose
live sparrows in the _banderillas_ which it is part of the play to
affix, at great risk to the _torero_, in the shoulders of the bull; the
paper envelope bursts, and the birds are set at liberty. Crossing the
arena, one of the men carelessly hit at a bird turning wildly about in
its efforts to escape, and killed it. "In my life," says the Count, "I
have never seen such a spectacle. Ten thousand spectators, standing up,
wildly gesticulating, shouting for death on the 'cruel _torero_'; nay,
some even threw themselves into the arena, ready to lynch the heartless
creature!"
Horse-racing may now be said to have been fairly established in Spain in
most of the great centres, and the Hippodrome in Madrid is little behind
one of England's popular race-courses in its crowds, the brilliant
dresses of the ladies, and the enthusiasm evoked; but whether it will
ever supersede the really national _fiesta_ is to be doubted. The upper
classes also affect polo, tennis, and croquet, and go in a good deal for
gymnastics, fencing, and fives.
Cycling does not appear to commend itself greatly to the Spanish idea of
recreation. Bicycles are, of course, to be seen in the large and more
modern towns, but they are never very numerous, and as far as ladies are
concerned, may be said to have made no way.
I have referred to a curious spectacle several times presented in
Madrid, chiefly in _fiestas_ for charitable purposes, where an elephant
was introduced into the Bull-Ring to fight, in place of the usual
_cuadrilla_ of men. This was an old elephant named Pizarro, a great
favourite of many years' standing with the Madrileños. He was an
enormous animal, but one of his tusks had been broken off about a third
from the tip, so that he had only one to use in warfare or as
protection. He was tethered in the centre of the arena, by one of his
hind legs, to a stump about twelve inches high. Then the bulls were let
out one at a time. Meanwhile, Pizarro was amusing himself by eating
oranges which were showered on him by his admirers on the benches. With
the greatest coolness he continued his repast, picking up orange after
orange with his trunk, all that he was careful to do being to keep his
face to the bull, turning slowly as his enemy galloped round the ring
trying to take him in flank. At last the bull prepared to charge;
Pizarro packed away his trunk between his tusks, and quietly waited the
onslaught. The bull rushed at him furiously; but the huge animal, quite
good-naturedly and a little with the air of pitying contempt, simply
turned aside the attack with his one complete horn, and as soon as the
bull withdrew, a little nonplussed, went on picking up and eating his
oranges as before. Bull after bull gave up the contest as impossible,
and contentedly went out between the _cabestros_ sent in to fetch
them. At last one more persistent or courageous than the others came
bounding in. Pizarro realised at once that for the moment he must pause
in eating his dessert; but he became aware at the same time that in
turning round to face the successive bulls, he had gradually wound
himself up close to the stump, and had no room to back so as to receive
the attack. The most interesting incident in the whole affray was to
watch the elephant find out, by swinging his tethered leg, first in one
direction and then in another, how to free himself. This he did, first
by swinging his leg round and round over the stump, then by walking
slowly round and round, always facing the bull, and drawing his cord
farther and farther until he was perfectly free: then he was careful
only to turn as on a pivot, keeping the rope at a stretch. Finally the
bull charged at him with great fury; stepping slightly aside, Pizarro
caught him up sideways on his tusks, and held him up in the air,
perfectly impotent and mad with rage. When he considered the puny
creature had been sufficiently shown his inferiority, he gently put him
down, and the astonished and humbled bull declined further contest. The
fighting bulls of Spain are wonderfully small in comparison with English
animals, it should be said.
[Illustration: DRAGGING OUT THE DEAD BULL]
Every night, after his turn at the circus was over poor old Pizarro used
to walk home alone under my balcony, open his stable door with his own
latch-key, or at least his trunk, and put himself to bed like any
Christian.
One of the most fashionable amusements in Madrid is to attend on the
morning of the bull-fight while the _espadas_ choose the particular
bulls they wish to have as enemy, and affix their colours, the large
rosette of ribbon which shows which of the _toreros_ the bull is to meet
in deadly conflict. The bulls are then placed in their iron cages in the
order in which they are to enter the arena. The fashionable ladies and
other _aficionados_ of the sport then drive back to Madrid to luncheon
and to prepare for the entertainment of the afternoon.