HOW TO STUDY SPANISH CHARACTER.--BULL-FIGHTS.--PROVISION FOR THE
SPIRITUAL WELFARE OF BULL-FIGHTERS.--FIGHT BETWEEN AN ELEPHANT AND
A BULL.--EXPEDITION TO THE CAVES OF ARTÀ.
Bull-fights, although we are told they are condemned by the priests,
are still the fashion in Spain. They are the national _fiesta_, and to
see the Spanish public in their natural characteristics one must go to
these tumultuous scenes, as the "intelligent foreigner" is supposed
to go to the Derby to comprehend the nature of the free-born Briton.
The best bull-fights[34] are to be seen at Seville, that favoured
city having the first pick of the noble bulls which are bred only in
Andaluçia.
The season commences on the first Sunday after Lent, and, weather
permitting, a _funcion_ comes off each succeeding Sunday. During the
intense heat of Midsummer there is an interval, but the sports are
resumed at the end of August, continuing to the latter part of October,
after which period the cold weather seems to exercise a depressing
influence on the energy of the animal, preventing the full fury of the
bullish nature from being aroused, and so renders this hero of the
Spanish arena incapable of showing fight. The expense of each _corrida_
is about £400 in the larger cities.
The spiritual welfare of the bull-fighters is always provided for at
each _funcion_. Behind the scenes an altar is erected with burning
candles, and a priest is ever in waiting to shrive any wounded man who
may be carried dying out of the ring.
Common as may be descriptions of bull-fights to the world at large, we
believe a _corrida_, which we had an opportunity of witnessing, has
never been described before. It was a fight between an elephant and
four bulls. The proprietor of the former animal was a Frenchman, who,
inspired with the idea that such a novel combat would reinvigorate the
palling taste of the public for scenes of slaughter, had bought an
elephant, and, at an enormous outlay in loaves of bread and hay, not to
speak of fresh water, was conducting him through the Spanish dominions
with a challenge to all comers, in the way of bulls, to mortal
combat--just as gentlemen of sporting tastes, with tight trousers,
fur caps, and mufflers, go from place to place in England with a
bull-terrier, backing him to kill so many rats a day.
We soon found our way, along with a babbling crowd, to the great white
amphitheatre without the city, and seated ourselves on one of the
benches which sloped up from the arena. The spectators consisted of the
usual motley garlic-smelling multitude. All were smoking cigarillos,
and, with flashing eyes awaited the commencement of the exciting
spectacle. Within the circle below, and opposite to the doors which
admit the bull, stood a noble elephant with long white tusks. A bright
red cloth was thrown across his back, and while his small eyes seemed
to survey, with a mild expression, the scene before him, he employed
his time in breaking up loaves of bread, which, with the aid of his
trunk, he deposited safely in his huge body--an operation which he
performed apparently with much calm enjoyment.
The people of Majorca had evidently never seen an elephant before, and
many were their speculations as to the nature and characteristics of
the animal. One pretty young woman, with a _rebosiño_, lace mittens,
and night-black tresses, who was sitting next to us, had but very
confused notions as to which was the trunk and which the tail of the
strange creature at which she looked with eyes flashing with wonder and
curiosity. An excited youth cried out directly he saw it, "Caramba!
why, the beast has got two tails!"
When the large circle within the walls was filled with the swaying
crowd, and while the buzz of expectation hummed around, the blast
of a trumpet was suddenly heard, and, with a loud bang, the wooden
gates flew open, and in cantered, with lashing tail and glowing eye,
the heavy form of the bull. For a moment he arrested his course, and
looked round as if for an enemy, at the same time pawing the ground
impatiently. Almost immediately he caught sight of the strange beast on
the opposite side of the ring, dressed in the hated red cloth, quietly
munching his loaves of bread. Greek had now met Greek, and fierce was
expected to be the tug of war. As quick as lightning the levelled horns
went down, and the bull rushed in full career upon the elephant. The
struggle was short, for in three seconds the bull fell dead upon the
sand, pierced completely through the chest to his heart, having, in the
fury of his onset, impaled himself upon the long sharp tusks of his
mighty foe.
The elephant, upon seeing the bull enter, simply kept his small eyes
fixed upon him, and stood firm and fast on his four great pillars of
legs, like some strong castle from which his tusks protruded like
spears. The shock of his meeting with the bull came with a crash that
made the very walls vibrate sensibly; and after the short but fearful
efforts of the latter, which had no more effect upon his opponent than
a wave upon a rock, the body of the assailant was hurled back, pierced
by those formidable weapons of offence with which nature has endowed
the elephant. After rebounding from the force with which he was hurled
back, the bull rolled over and settled in a broad lake of blood.
_Bravo, elefante!_ was the shout which rose enthusiastically from a
thousand throats to congratulate the elephant on the victory which
he had obtained. That peaceful but formidable animal, unmindful
of their applause, resumed the operation in which he had been
interrupted, applying himself again to the consumption of his loaves as
unconcernedly as if he had merely knocked off some troublesome fly.
From this passage of arms the enormous strength and weight of the
greatest beast of creation could in a moment be discerned. So firmly,
so steadily did he maintain his position that he scarcely moved as the
bull, vast in his own proportions, threw himself upon his opponent with
all the impetus with which rage and fury could inspire him. The amount
of exertion which the elephant expended in the affair appeared to the
onlookers to be wonderfully small. In galloped the gaudy mules, and, as
they wheeled gaily round, the iron hook at their heels was adjusted,
and the gory carcase was in an instant swept away from the arena.
Another bull was then admitted. After a pause he perceived his
opponent, and, with the blind rage of his nature, rushed furiously at
him. A cloud of dust rose in the air at the place where the two beasts
met, and a loud bellowing was heard to issue from it. A struggle, as
of giants, continued for a few seconds. When, at last, the spectators
succeeded in perceiving what had taken place, it was seen that the tusk
of the elephant had entered into the eye of the bull, and had become
fixed for a moment in the skull. The rage of the maddened beast was
fearful to behold as he rolled and fell. Leaping from the ground he
dashed his two fore-feet violently against the elephant's forehead,
but the hard substance of his skull remained uninjured. The scene was,
in fact, so horrid--though one's gaze was kept fixed upon it as by a
spell--that it will not admit of minute description.
It was a relief when the fearful contest was brought to an end. One
blow of the elephant's foot, which descended with a loud thud, beat
in the chest of the martyred bull; and, as the agonised brute reeled
sobbing to earth, his enormous enemy dropped upon him in a kneeling
posture and simply crushed him to death. Another victory! _Bravo,
elefante!_ was again shouted with more enthusiasm than before. Fresh
sand was thrown upon the bloody arena, and the surviving monster,
unhurt save by a few light flesh wounds here and there, stood once
again gloomily aside, swinging his proboscis slowly to and fro, or
blowing up the sand into little eddies as he quietly smelt with it
along the ground. Notwithstanding the horrors of the spectacle we
have, as yet, only partially described, the accessories were really
brilliant. Crowds of beautiful ladies applauded the successful
combatant. Fans were waving in all directions, and the dazzling rays of
the sun were reflected by flashing jewels and laughing eyes.
While the hubbub of excited voices mingled with the cries of
water-sellers, another blast of the trumpet pealed out, and, in a
moment, a gigantic bull rushed across the ring. As if descrying by
instinct the destroyer of his companions, he dashed impetuously upon
the elephant, with such blind ferocity that horns and tusks were
instantaneously locked together. The two beasts swayed to and fro in
the centre of the arena. The bull, making a violent effort to free
himself, plunged suddenly upwards, and the point of his horn entered
the lower jaw of his enemy. This was, apparently, the first time that
the elephant had experienced any sensation of pain, his previous wounds
having been but scratches, and disregarded in the heat of combat. But
now the fury of the enormous animal seemed fully aroused, and, giving
forth from his tossing snout a trumpeting sound, fierce, wild, and
piercing, he shook off the bull and trotted ponderously round the ring.
The panting bull, although enfeebled by exertion and dropping gore from
a great gash in his chest, stood still without flinching in the path
of the elephant as he approached him, butting down his long horns to
receive the attack. But it was seen that the small eyes of the elephant
gleamed with a red and dangerous light from beneath the broad bald
brow, and, in a moment, the long proboscis, like a writhing serpent,
was enfolded round the neck and head of the bull, dragging him down
with a crash upon the bloody sand. The gigantic brute then fell on
his knees, full upon the upturned side of his prostrate foe, who was
actually crushed to death. While the ribs were still heard cracking
under the weight of the elephant, the roar of the human multitude
mingled fearfully with the victorious trumpeting of the vengeful
monster.
* * * * *
The following morning we started at dawn straight across the island
to the town of Artá, situated on the eastern coast, forty-five miles
from Palma. We were accompanied by a guide, who had with him a
supply of blue-lights, roman-candles, and other combustibles, with
which the famous stalactite caves of Artá were to be lit up for our
gratification. We hired a little open carriage and a couple of small,
wiry horses, which carried us over the well-made road with considerable
alacrity.
In the afternoon we reached Manacor, which, next to Palma, is the
largest town in Majorca, having a population of about 12,600. It is a
very clean town, rather glaring in appearance, from the liberal use of
whitewash. In external aspect it is a cross between the Spanish and
Oriental, but, otherwise, is remarkable for nothing in particular.
Late at night we arrived at the little town of Artá, and jolted over
the rather undulating pavement of its streets. The sensation was by
no means agreeable, though, fortunately, it was of short duration,
and, therefore, was tolerated with greater patience. We slept at the
smallest and most primitive of _posadas_ imaginable! The style of
architecture it would be impossible to determine, though the building
was very simple in structure. It consisted of a heap of bricks, mortar,
dried mud, whitewash, and a board or two, with little holes scooped in
the edifice, helping to form the apartments. The supply of fresh air
was not so deficient as usual; for in the sleeping-rooms window-frames
were apparently regarded as superfluous luxuries.
After a frugal meal, we attempted to enjoy a little slumber; but it
proved to be equally frugal in amount and quality. As early as it was
possible for cocks to favour each other with their shrill responses,
there was a perfect concert of cock-crowing around the house, and, we
believe, on the top of it too. The ornithological entertainment began
and was kept up with great spirit until our guide knocked at our door
to go through the very unnecessary ceremony of calling us. It is true
we were supposed to be enjoying our repose in a _posada_, or "place of
repose," but the noises that commenced with the first dawn of morning
were so numerous and so loud as effectually to murder sleep.
We started in the early morning, after a refreshing breakfast of red
mud, called chocolate, some black bread, and no butter. After walking
across fresh prairie lands, green with sprouting corn, and over sandy
tracts interspersed with aloes and the universal olive, we began to
ascend the steep pathway at the foot of the mountains covered with dark
pine trees, dwarf oak, and arbutus, which led to the mouth of the cave.
The cave is hewn out of a vast mass of limestone, of which the hills in
this neighbourhood are composed. We toiled upwards, following the steps
of our guide, who, as well as a little boy whom he had pressed into his
service by the way, was laden with a perfect fagot of port-fires, blue
lights, and other combustibles.
Before us was a magnificent natural arch, the vaulted roof of which
rose to the height of a hundred and forty feet. By this vestibule of
nature we approached the darkening galleries tunnelled in the rock,
and leading to those mysterious caverns which concealed so much that
was beautiful in the deep bowels of the mountains. As we advanced,
the obscurity deepened, and we had to light our torches. Happening to
look back, we perceived the bright archway of light at the entrance
diminished into a luminous speck in the distance. Upon reaching a level
space, at the foot of a rude hewn staircase, we found ourselves in the
middle of a splendid hall or vaulted chamber, in which the uncertain
gleam of the torch fell faintly upon tall uncouth objects, apparently
white, though rather dim in hue, standing at intervals. Without any
extravagant exercise of the imagination, one might have pictured to
himself this chamber as the Pit of Acheron, and these gaunt shapes
as the petrified forms of those doomed to imprisonment in its gloomy
recesses.
The great pillars which adorn this noble hall are calcareous deposits,
formed by the everlasting droppings from the percolated roof above.
We picked our way further downwards over a wooden staircase, with the
natural roof rising over us into arch after arch of great beauty, but
irregular form. The guide, accompanied by the boy moving on in front
with blazing torches, looked like some demon with his attendant imp
luring us spell-bound into some vast and fatal labyrinth. One great
hall in which we found ourselves was noble and grand in appearance.
In the middle of the gloom loomed masses of fretted white stalactite,
rising upward in spiral forms, while some tall, slender objects
appeared like the graceful stems of palm-trees capped with feathery
plumage. These were formed by the pillars, as they joined the roof,
being pushed backwards and spread out like boughs of drooping foliage.
In another chamber called the Hall of the Virgin, a marvellous effect
was produced. In the middle of the spacious concave we dimly perceived
some lofty object of a grey and misty hue. "Momento," said the guide,
"don't move;" and in another instant a blue light was kindled. No
words can describe the effect that was instantaneously produced. The
walls shone like crystal of dazzling brilliancy. The roof was like
a firmament ablaze with a million stars. The numerous columns that
supported it were adorned with a profusion of filigree work which had
some resemblance to Gothic tracery. A lofty marble-like pedestal,
apparently supporting a graceful female figure which, amidst many
folds of gauzy drapery of the most brilliant whiteness was caressing
a sleeping infant, composed a group at once beautiful, majestic, and
serene.
In the Hall of the Organ there is a great number of airy white
pillarets collected in a mass, which in the gloom natural to these
subterranean halls have some resemblance to the pipes of an organ.
Wandering about in passages that appeared almost like aisles in
nature's temple, we anticipated every moment a burst of mysterious
melody in harmony with the wonderful character of a place so rarely
seen by human eye.
The name of the Hall of the Curtain is sufficiently suggestive of what
is to be seen in the chamber so designated. A wall of dazzling white
stone is of such airy texture that it seems in the fitful glare of
the torches to be driven backwards and forwards by the wind. So, in
the Hall of the Banners, a flag appears to be drooping from its staff
and occasionally waving in the breeze. We know it is only a delusion,
but for the moment it is wonderfully like reality. As we followed our
guide in these awful caverns by stairway and corridor, through hall and
gallery, we could almost imagine that we were pacing the courts of
some buried palace of some long-forgotten Titan race.
In a magnificent vault called the Hall of the Theatre, the tiers of
boxes and rows of benches have a startling resemblance to reality. Had
spectators equally ghostly in appearance dropped in one by one, or
rushed forward in a mob, we could scarcely have been more amazed. The
secret processes of nature, the works of unrivalled beauty which it
has produced in these deep recesses, are truly marvellous beyond all
conception.
As we walked about the caves we were constantly tripped in our path
by what seemed to be innumerable petrified oranges cut into halves,
and adhering to the ground. On inspection these turned out to be
stalagmites in embryo, coagulations of the lime-droppings from the
roof, from which the water had not evaporated. They are of the
brightest orange colour, a hue which is due to the presence of iron in
solution. By the guide they were called "poached eggs."
We bade farewell to those realms of splendour with feelings we should
vainly attempt to define. Among the many objects of interest we have
visited in different lands, we never saw anything that made a deeper
impression on our minds than these silent galleries. Even the thought
that so few of our countrymen had ever visited, or even heard of them,
tended to make us explore them with more than usual interest. The
recollection of the wonders of nature hidden from all the world down in
the caves of Artá nothing can efface from our minds, though probably it
may never be our fortune again to visit them.
We had been advised to visit the caves _usque ad nauseam_, but had
paid little attention to the counsels of the local admirer. We had
listened to them as the traveller does to the exaggerated accounts
of the caves of Skye or Fingal given by the natives. When the caves
of Artá, however, burst upon our vision, their grandeur and novelty
were so startling that we were overwhelmed with astonishment and awe.
When there are so many people eager after new sensations, we would
ask, why, in the name of all that is beautiful, pure, and majestic, do
they not go to Majorca as well as to Homburg? Access to the island is
easy enough. There are two lines of steamboats to and fro--one from
Valencia, the other from Barcelona. The inhabitants are civil and
hospitable to a degree. The hotels, in this respect unlike those of
Spain, are both clean and comfortable. The scenery, as we have shown,
is so magnificent that it cannot be surpassed in Europe, and there are
several places in the island of great historical interest.
FOOTNOTE:
[34] Corridas de toros.
[Illustration: [++] Decorative Image]
[Illustration: [++] Decorative Image]