THE SPANISH FIGHTING-BULL
HIS BREEDING AND TRAINING
The normal British idea of a bull naturally derives colour from those
stolid animals one sees at home, some with a ring through the nose, and
which are only kept for stud purposes, but occasionally evince a latent
ferocity by goring to death some hapless herdsman.
Between such and the Spanish _Toro de Plaza_ there exists no sort of
analogy. The Spanish fighting-bull is bred to fight, and the keen
experience of centuries is brought to bear on the selection of the
fittest--that, moreover, not only as regards the bulls, for the cows
also are tested both for pluck and stamina before admission to the
herd-register. The result, in effect, assures that an animal as fierce
and formidable as the wildest African buffalo shall finally face the
matador.
The breeding of the fighting-bull forms in Spain a rural industry as
deeply studied and as keenly competitive as that of prize-cattle or
Derby winners in England.
At the age of one year preliminary tests are made, and promising
youngsters branded with the insignia of the herd. But it is the
completion of the second year that marks their critical period; for then
take place the trials for pluck and mettle. The brave are set aside for
the Plaza, the docile destroyed or gelded; while from the chosen lot a
further selection is made of the sires for future years.
At these two-year-old trials, or _Tentaderos_, it is customary for the
owner and his friends to assemble at the sequestered _rancho_--the event
indeed becomes a rural fête, a bright and picturesque scene, typical of
untrodden Spain and of the buoyant exuberance and dare-devil spirit of
her people.
Nowhere can the exciting scenes of the _Tentadero_ be witnessed to
greater advantage than on those wide level pasturages that extend from
Seville to the Bay of Cádiz. Here, far out on spreading _vega_ ablaze
with wild flowers, where the canicular sun flashes yet more light and
fire into the fiery veins of the Andaluz--here is enacted the first
scene in the drama of the _Toréo_. For ages these flower-strewn plains
have formed the scene of countless _tentaderos_, where the young bloods
of Andalucia, generation after generation, rival each other in feats of
derring-do, of skill, and horsemanship.
The remote _estancia_ presents a scene of unwonted revelry. All night
long its rude walls resound with boisterous hilarity--good-humour,
gaiety, and a spice of practical joking pass away the dark hours and by
daylight all are in the saddle. The young bulls have previously been
herded upon that part of the estate which affords the best level ground
for smart manoeuvre and fast riding, and the task of holding the
impetuous beasts together is allotted to skilled herdsmen armed with
long _garrochas_--four-yard lances, with blunt steel tip. All being
ready, a single bull is allowed to escape across the plain. Two horsemen
awaiting the moment, spear in hand, give chase, one on either flank. The
rider on the bull's left assists his companion by holding the animal to
a straight course. Presently the right-hand man, rising erect in his
stirrups, plants his lance on the bull's _off-flank_, near the tail, and
by one tremendous thrust, delivered at full speed, overthrows him--a
feat that bespeaks a good eye, a firm seat, and a strong arm. Some young
bulls will take two or more falls; others, on rising, will elect to
charge. The infuriated youngster finds himself faced by a second foe--a
horseman armed with a more pointed lance and who has been riding close
behind. This man is termed _el Tentador_. Straightway the bull charges,
receiving on his withers the _garrocha_ point; thrown back thus 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 essay a third or a fourth
attack, but those that freely charge _twice_ are passed as fit for the
ring.
Should a young bull _twice_ decline to charge the _Tentador_, submitting
to his overthrow and only desiring to escape, he is condemned--doomed to
death, or at best to a life of agricultural toil.
Not seldom a bull singled out from the _rodéo_ declines to escape, as
expected; but, instead, charges the nearest person, on foot or mounted,
whom he may chance to espy. Then there is a flutter in the dovecotes!
Danger can only be averted by skilled riding or a cool head, since there
is no shelter. Spanish herdsmen, however (and amateurs besides), are
adepts in the art of giving "passes" to the bull--a smart fellow, when
caught thus in the open, can keep a bull off him (using his jacket only)
for several moments, giving time for horsemen to come up to his rescue.
Even then it is no uncommon occurrence to see horseman, horse, and bull
all rolling on the turf in a common ruin. Seldom does it happen that one
of these trial-days passes without broken bones or accidents of one kind
or another.
For four to five more years, the selected bulls roam at large over the
richest pasturages of the wide unfrequented prairies. Should pasture
fail through drought or deluge, the bulls are fed on tares, vetch, or
maize, even with wheat, for their début in public must be made in the
highest possible condition. The bulls should then be not less than five,
nor more than seven years old.
The _tentadero_ at the present day brings together aristocratic
gatherings that recall the tauromachian tournaments of old. Skill in
handling the _garrocha_ and the ability to turn-over a running bull are
accomplishments held in high esteem among Spanish youth. Even the
Infantas of Spain have entered into the spirit of the sport, and have
been known themselves to wield a dexterous lance.
At length, however, the years spent in luxurious idleness on the silent
plain must come to an end. One summer morning the brave herd find
grazing in their midst sundry strangers which make themselves extremely
agreeable to the lordly champions, now in the zenith of magnificent
strength and beauty. These strangers are the _cabrestos_ (or
_cabestros_, in correct Castilian), decoy-oxen sent out to fraternise
for a few days with the fighting race preparatory to the _Encierro_, or
operation of convoying the latter to the city whereat the _corrida_ is
to take place. Each _cabresto_ has a cattle-bell suspended round its
neck in order to accustom the wild herd to follow the lead of these base
betrayers of the brave. Thus the noble bulls are lured from their native
plains through country tracks and bye-ways to the entrance of the fatal
_toril_.
[Illustration: AFTER THE STROKE.]
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_, line 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.
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
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 gleaning horns have done their work, and _Buen toro! buen toro!_
rings from twice ten thousand throats.
We have traced in brief outline the life-history of our gallant bull; we
have brought him face to face with the matador and his Toledan
blade--there we must leave him.[33] In concluding this chapter, may we
beg the generous reader, should he ever enter the historic precincts of
the Plaza, to go there with an open mind, to form his own opinion
without prejudice or bias. Let him remember that to untrained eyes there
must ever fall unseen many of the finer "passes," much of the skilled
technique and science of tauromachian art. The casual spectator
necessarily loses that; he perceives no more difficulty in the perilous
_suerte de vol-á-pié_ than in the simpler but more attractive _suerte de
recibir_, and a hundred similar details. Finally, before crystallising a
judgment, critics should endeavour to see a few second-or third-rate
_corridas_. It is at these that the relative values of the forces
opposed--brute strength and human skill--are displayed in truer and more
speaking contrast. At set bull-fights of the first-class, the latter
quality is often so marked as partly to obscure the difficulties and
dangers it surmounts. Watch _toréros_ of finished skill and the game
seems easy--as when some phenomenal batsman, well set, knocks the best
bowling in England all over the field. Yet that bowling, the expert
knows, is not easy. Nor are the bulls. At second-rate fights the forces
placed face to face are more evenly balanced; and there it is often the
bull that scores.
THE MIURA QUESTION
A raging controversy, illuminative of Tauromachia, has recently split
into two camps the bull-fighting world and agitated one-half of Spain.
The breeding of the fighting-bull is in this country a semi-æsthetic
pursuit, analogous to that of short-horns or racehorses in England, and
the possession of a notable herd the ambition of many of the grandees
and big landowners of Spain.
Among the various crack herds that of Don Eduardo Miura of Sevilla had
always occupied a prominent rank; while during recent years the power
and dashing prowess of the _Miureno_ bulls had raised that breed almost
to a level apart, invested with a halo of semi-mysterious quality.
Captures occurred at every _corrida_; man after man had gone down before
these redoubted champions, and the minds of surviving
matadors--saturated one and all with gipsy-sprung superstition--began to
attribute secret or supernatural powers to the dreaded herd. Not a
swordsman but felt unwonted qualm when meeting a _Miureno_ on the sanded
arena. Showy players with the _capa_ and the banderillos proved capable
of giving attractive exhibitions, but it was another matter when the
matador stood alone, face to face with his foe. Even second-class
_toréros_ can, with almost any bull, show off their accomplishments in
these lighter séances; but in the supreme rôle--that of killing the
bull as art demands--there is no room for half-measures or deceptions.
To valour, ability must be united. When those two qualities are not both
coupled and balanced, then one of two things happens: Either the scene
becomes a dull one, a mixture of funk and feebleness made patent all
round; or disaster is at hand. This one hears forecast in the strange
cries of this meridional people--from all sides come the shouts of
"_Hule! Hule!_" Now _Hule_ is the name of the material with which the
stretchers for the killed and wounded are covered!
At this period (summer of 1908) a combination of the bull-fighting craft
attempted a boycott of the Miura herd, or at least double pay for
killing them. This was done secretly at first, since neither would open
confession redound to the credit of the "pig-tail," nor did it promise
favourable reception by the public.
At this conjuncture a notable _corrida_ occurred at Seville--six
_Miurenos_ being listed for the fight. Ricardo Torres (Bombita II.)
despatched his first with all serenity and valour; with his second, a
magnificent animal worthy of a royal pageant, he would doubtless have
comported himself with equal skill but for an extraneous incident. Upon
rushing into the arena this bull had at once impaled a foolhardy amateur
named Pepín Rodriguez who (quite against all recognised rule) had madly
sprung into the ring. The poor fellow was borne out only in time to
receive the last religious rite.
At the precise moment when Ricardo stepped forth to meet his foe, the
murmur reached his ear--Pepín was dead, and his superstitious soul sank
down to zero at that whisper from without. When the critical moment
arrived--the popular matador stood pale, nerveless, incapable. Then the
scorn of the mighty crowd burst forth in monstrous yells. Ricardo Torres
had fallen from the pinnacle of fame to the level of a clumsy beginner.
In a moment he was disgraced, his increasing reputation ruined for ever
under the eyes of all the world--and that by a _Miureno_ bull. From that
moment the fallen star organised his colleagues in open rebellion
against the victorious breed.
The line of action adopted was to abuse and libel the incriminated herd.
It was urged that the bulls lacked the true qualities of dash and valour
and only scored by treachery; and especially insinuated that the young
bulls were expressly taught at their _tentaderos_, or trials on the open
plains, to discriminate between shadow and substance--in other words,
to seek the man and disdain the lure--this naturally making the rôle of
matador more dangerous, and double pay was demanded. To outsiders it
would appear that on the day when bulls learn this, bull-fighting must
cease.
A storm burst that raged all winter--all classes taking part. Spain was
rent in twain; press and people, high and low, joined issue in this
unseemly wrangle. We cannot here enter into detail of the various
schemes, fair and unfair, whereby the bull-fighters' guild sought to
justify their action and their demands and to prejudice the terrible
_Miurenos_ in the public eye. They were seconded by most professionals
of renown, and soon all but seven had joined the league. But the
squabble with its resultant lawsuits and sordid financial aspect finally
disgusted the public.
Needless to add, a counter-association of bull-breeders had been forced
into existence, which eventually, despite varied and particular personal
interests unworthy of definition, united the opposition. Oh! it was a
pretty quarrel and one in its essence peculiar to Spain. But it held the
whole country engaged all winter in the throes of a semi-civil war!
At the first _corrida_ of the following season--held at Alicante January
18, 1909, and graced by the presence of King Alfonso XIII. in
person--the public delivered their verdict, filling the Plaza to
overflowing, although the whole of the six champions were of the
condemned Miura breed and the matadors, Quinito and Rerre, belonged to
the recalcitrant Seven. The bull-fighters' guild had received a fatal
blow.
Such was the situation, the mental equilibrium between the fiercely
contending factions, as the crucial period approached--the Easter
_corridas_ at Seville. The _impresarios_ of that function, having full
grip of the circumstance, engaged matadors of minor repute--Pepete,
Moréno de Alcalá, and Martin Vasquez. All three, although but of second
rank, were popular and regarded as coming men.
Flaming posters announced that six champions of the Miura breed would
face the swordsmen.
The occasion was unique, and D. Eduardo Miura rose to meet it,
presenting six bulls of incomparable beauty, magnificent in fine lines,
in dash, brute-strength, and valour, yet utterly devoid (as the event
proved) of guile or lurking treachery. Such animals as these six
demanded a Romero, a Montes, or a Guerrita as equals; instead, these
young _Toréros_ who faced them, courageous though they were, lacked
calibre for such an undertaking. This _corrida_ marked an epoch, but it
acquired the proportions of a catastrophe. The bye-word that "where
there are bulls there are no matadors" became that afternoon an axiom.
A _gettatura_, or atmosphere of superstition, surrounded the bulls and
unnerved or confounded their opponents. Pepete was caught by the first
bull, Moréno de Alcalá by the fourth, while Martin Vasquez (already
thrice caught) succumbed to the fifth.
The sixth bull thus remained unopposed champion of the Plaza--not a
matador survived to face him, and it became necessary to entice an
unfought bull (by means of trained oxen) to quit the arena--an event
unprecedented in the age-long annals of Tauromachy!
A typical incident, trivial by comparison, intervened. A youthful
spectator, frenzied to madness by the scene, had seized a sword, leapt
into the ring, and ... promptly met his death.
* * * * *
Every contention of the bull-fighters' guild had been falsified, and the
association collapsed. A Sevillian paper summed up the event thus:--
The six bulls were each worthy to figure in toromaquian annals for
their beautiful stamp, their lines, weight, bravery, and caste. We
witnessed a tragedy when, on the death of the fifth bull, not a
matador remained. But had that tragedy been caused by malice,
wickedness, or treachery on the part of the bulls, surely a
declaration of martial law in this city would have been demanded by
not a few! But that was not so; each of the six competed in the
qualities of bravery, nobility, and adaptability--such bulls are
worthy of better swordsmen.