Every literary man who has visited Madrid, from the Chevalier de Bourgoanne to Mr Arthur Symons, has given us his impressions of the sport of bull-fighting. De Bourgoanne, in his “Travels in Spain” (1789), writes of the severity with which the spectators at the Madrid bull-fights criticised any deficiencies on the part of the toreros. Speaking of the final act of the corrida, the Chevalier states that, “if the animal immediately falls, the triumph of the conqueror is celebrated by a thousand acclamations; but if the blow be not decisive, if the bull survives and again strives to brave the fatal knife, the murmurs are not less numerous. The espada, whose address was about to be extolled to the skies, is considered only as a clumsy butcher. He instantly endeavours to recover from his disgrace, and disarm the severity of his judges.”

De Bourgoanne found the Madrileños divided in their admiration for the two celebrated espadas of that day. One coterie swore by Costillares; another avowed that Romero was the better exponent of the art of tauromachy. This extravagant enthusiasm of the Madrid populace, aroused by the bull-fight, greatly bewildered the French traveller; but he admits that, in spite of the indifference evinced by the spectators at the corrida, the Spaniard is not lacking in compassion nor “devoid of every amiable and delicate emotion.” He relates that the government was alive to “the moral and political inconvenience of that kind of frenzy,” and the economists declared that the destruction of so many robust bulls was prejudicial to agriculture. “The reigning monarch,” writes the Chevalier, “who endeavours to polish the manners of his nation and to turn its attention towards more useful objects, wishes to destroy in it an inclination in which he perceives nothing but inconvenience; but he is too wise to employ violent means.”

An American traveller, writing anonymously in 1831, says that a bull-fight always drew several thousand people to the Plaza. In the winter, states this observer, the corridas took the form of combats with young bulls, whose horns were covered with pads or balls. These bulls were called novillos embolados, and they were baited by novices and amateurs. This writer describes the tragic encounter of a notable torero, known as El Sombrerero, who was so called because he had been a hatter. El Sombrerero was the foremost espada in Spain in his time, and he was wont to perform the most valiant feats in the ring. He was once fighting an exceptionally savage bull, which swerved suddenly in a charge, and caught his opponent upon the point of his horns. The espada was lifted off, and carried from the ring in a state of insensibility. He recovered of his injuries, and resolved to abandon bull-fighting and to return to his trade of hat-making. But the small earnings of this occupation did not satisfy him, and El Sombrerero went back to the ranks of the bull-fighters. He had, however, lost his nerve, and in a fight at Granada he was hissed for his timidity in engaging a very fierce bull.

Manuel Romero was one of the most popular of toreros in 1830. He was a short, rather stout man, though well built and extremely nimble. His features had “an air of cold-blooded ferocity as became one whose business it was to incur danger and to deal death.” Romero wore a very resplendent dress in the ring, with much lace and jewellery.

Théophile Gautier describes a corrida with the zest of one who found a genuine delight in the spectacle. It is somewhat curious that men of refined instincts can look on unconcernedly at the sufferings of horses and bulls; but human nature presents such singular anomalies in abundance. Gautier relates how Sevilla, a famous picador, had his horse lifted off its legs, and tossed in the air by the bull, while the rider maintained his coolness and retained his seat in the saddle. Antonio Rodriguez was a celebrated picador of this day (1840), and Gautier pays a tribute to his valour and extraordinary agility. The favourite espadas of this date were Juan Pastor and Joaquin Rodriguez.

Is the courage of the Spanish torero declining? There are one-time aficionados of bull-fighting who declare that the art is not so exciting, scientific, and well studied as in bygone days, and yet there is scarcely any decline in the absorbing interest devoted to the corridas in all parts of the Peninsula. Prosper Mérimée, in his “Lettres à une Inconnue,” written in 1859, supports the view that bull-fighting has deteriorated. He writes: “I was present at a bull-fight on Monday, and it amused me a very little indeed. I was unlucky enough to know all too early in life what a degree of excellence this sport can attain to, and after having seen Montes, I really cannot look at his degenerate successors with any degree of pleasure. The animals have degenerated, too, as well as the men.”

No doubt there are many able exponents of bull-fighting still left in Spain, and there are writers in abundance who could probably prove that the sport is as stirring as ever. We, who have not seen Montes and Romero, and other dead heroes of the Plaza de Toros, are scarcely in a position to decide whether the bull-fighter’s art has degenerated. If the daring of the espada of to-day is called into question, it must be said that while there are men who will stand motionless as statues, and allow a furious bull to sniff at them, and others who will stand still to the rush of a bull, and receive the beast on the point of the sword, there are still fighters prepared to risk their lives in exhibitions of intrepidity. There remain some toreros who perform the perilous feat of vaulting over the bull with a pole, and many who expose themselves to a deadly thrust of the horns while planting the darts in the animal’s neck. The coolness of several of the leading professors of bull-fighting is unquestioned, and it cannot be denied that the patrons of the ring are not still exacting in their desire for hair-raising performances.

It is perhaps correct to state that there is a little more sympathy for the horses than in the old days of the lidia. Many Spanish people express disgust at the sight of the mangled carcasses of the miserable, worn-out horses, which are forced to end their hard lives in this cruel manner. But your true aficionado has no scruples of pity, and he will assert that a bull does not fight at his best until he has seen blood flow.

Perhaps the greatest of all bull-fighters was Frascuelo. The Spaniards declare that no torero has taken his place. Guerra, his rival, was a fine fighter, but he has retired, and lives on his laurels at Cordova. Frascuelo was the leader of what may be called the dare-devil school of bull-fighters. He was always at close quarters with the bull, and he strove to out-do the most daring espadas of his day. Bombita, or Bombita-Chico, is a young torero of great courage and especially popular in Madrid, where he was born.

Mazzantini is now only seen occasionally in the Plaza de Toros. He is a big stalwart man, but past his prime, though he is still esteemed by his admirers as the best fighter in Spain. Conejito, who was wounded in Barcelona in 1903, is another favourite of the public. But the first exponent of bull-fighting is, in the opinion of the majority, the handsome and plucky Fuentes. This torero is not only a proficient espada; he plays all the parts in the ring except that of picador. Fuentes exercises a weird power over his bulls. He fixes the bull with his keen eyes as he approaches him, and steps backward, slowly followed by the enraged and fascinated toro, in whose neck he deliberately sticks a dart. The spell of this man’s eyes has a subtle influence which seems to utterly bewilder a bull. Again and again the bull advances to the attack, only to turn aside from the glare of the espada’s eyes.

The favourite device of Bombita is to kneel on the ground, shaking the muleta in the bull’s face. In such a position it is, of course, almost impossible for the espada to skip aside when the bull charges, and the art of the trick lies in receiving the horns upon the red cloth. Guerra, sometimes called Guerrita, used to allow the bull to pass so close to him that his side was often scratched by the point of the horn.

Every stratagem and feat of the espada in the final suerte of the ring has its technical name, such as pase de pecho, pase natural, and paso por alto, and all these tricks are closely watched and criticised by the vast concourse of spectators. Fuentes has written learnedly upon the theory and practice of his art, describing the various pases minutely. Those who are interested in the literature of the bull-ring will find a complete account of the life of the bull from the placid days of youth upon the plains, down to the last tragic scene in the Plaza, in Los Toros, an illustrated pamphlet by E. Contreras y R. de Palacio. Fuller and more advanced “tauromachian” literature may be purchased in Madrid. Among the works of note are Bedoya’s Historia del Toreo, Annales del Toréo, by Velazquez, and En la Plaza, by Pascual Millan. There are several magazines and journals much read by the devotees of the sport, such as La Lidia and El Toréo. Bull-fighting is a subject of perennial interest in Madrid, and the literatura taurina, issued in the city, would fill many book-shelves.

Pascual Millan describes the bull-fight as “a grand spectacle in which art, bravery, nobility, light, sun, colour, animation, and beauty” all play a part. This writer asserts that the theories of bull-fighting can rarely be carried into practice, as there is nothing stable or fixed in the art. Pepe-Illo, a famous espada, wrote a treatise on the conduct of the fighter in the arena, which was highly interesting; but, had his views been put into practice, they would “have excluded every bull-fighter from the arena.” Señor Millan thinks that rules are impossible; that everything done in the ring is the outcome of inspiration on the spur of the moment. Lagartijo sums up the matter thus: “Bull-fighting is very simple: you place yourself in front of the bull, the bull comes and you move away; you do not move away, then the bull moves you away. And there you are.”

The directions as to moving aside when the bull charges are plain enough, and the counsel is obvious. But in the method of avoiding the horns of the bull lies the art of the espada, and in this movement he reveals his genius, and displays adroitness, grace, and daring. No proficient performer ever allows toro to chase him about the ring. He bounds aside as the bull bears down upon him, and receives the furious attack of the beast upon the fluttering muleta. Sometimes the red cloth is waved aloft, high over the bull’s horns, causing the animal to rear upon his hind legs in a savage effort to wreak his rage on the offending muleta. An expert torero knows perfectly well that the bull directs his fury at the fluttering cloth or cloak rather than at the man who manipulates it.

The boldest of bull-fighters, Espartero, stood so pluckily in the path of a charging bull that he was more than once thrown several yards by a violent butt from the beast’s horns. This fighter used to employ his fists upon the bull’s head, and his method was always to fight at the closest quarters. It was said that Espartero suffered more fear of hunger than of death by the horns of a bull; and in his desire for fame and wealth, he continually courted tragedy in the ring and behaved with reckless daring. Espartero was killed in 1894 during a fight with the first bull of the day.

Guerra retired in 1899, and his leave-taking was a source of much regret among the aficionados of bull-fighting, who declared that he was the last of the great toreros. Pascual Millan, the chronicler of modern bull-fighting, asserts that the successors of Guerra cannot be compared with him for refinement and grace in their displays. He gives prominence to Antonio Fuentes, “the only one who came into the ring with some foundation, bringing a certain personal note which raised him a few inches above the common level.” Among the living exponents of the art of the espada may be mentioned Torerito, Torres, Reverte, Ronal, Algabeño, and above all, “Bombita.”

The corrida may seem to assume an undue importance in the life of Spain. It is, however, to be regarded as a reflection of the Spanish character, and bull-fighting in Madrid cannot be dismissed as a mere recreation of the mob. Bull-fighting is taken seriously among a serious-minded people, who regard it as one of the great institutions of the country. It is a survival of the warlike temper, a manifestation of the love of courage and the admiration for endurance, and it remains as the last vestige of the traditions of the age of chivalry in Spain.

This intense enthusiasm, this profound interest in the killing of bulls is bewildering to the foreigner, who cannot accept the sport in such a serious spirit. It is almost as grave a matter as a canon of the Church whether an espada wields the sword in accordance with the tradition of the ring. The writers upon bull-fighting are divided into schools of critics and eulogists, who dissect every pase minutely, or extol the “æsthetics” of a finished artist with the darts or the sword. There are volumes of serious literature upon the lidia, which amaze the stranger who peruses them. We have nothing like it in the sporting literature of England. Our books upon hunting or racing are not written with all the earnestness and fervour of treatises on matters of faith; but the taurine monographs of Spain are composed in the temper of piety, and the rules of the ring are set down as though they were the articles of a creed. When a famous jockey appears in the street, he is not mobbed by a crowd of admirers; but the espada in Spain is acclaimed everywhere as a great hero and the darling of the people.

Bull-fighting is a deep-rooted passion of the people of Spain, and it has to be reckoned with in any examination of the Spanish character. Its ethics and its sociological significance cannot be discussed here. We must accept the corrida, whether we approve of it or not, as one of the chief institutions of the capital of Spain. Madrid is the Mecca of the bull-fighter.

X

CAFÉ LIFE OF THE MADRILEÑOS

The cafés are comfortable, and they provide for different classes of customers. They are never decorated in a resplendent manner; but, as Gautier observed, “this want of splendour is amply compensated by the excellence and variety of the refreshments.” Gautier mentions the Café de Levante among others, and this is still a favourite resort of men-about-town. In the Calle de Alcalá are three representative coffee-houses, the Café de Madrid, the Café Suizo, and the Café de Fornos. The Café Inglés is in the Calle de Sevilla. The houses of refreshment in the Puerta del Sol are the resort of all types of Madrid character, from the diplomat to the professional swindler. From nine o’clock in the evening until two in the morning these cafés are thronged. The customary beverage is café con leche (coffee with milk) or black coffee, with a drop of cognac. Light wines and spirits are also provided, but these are used sparingly by the majority of the Madrileños, for, whatever may be the faults of the Spaniard, immoderation in the use of alcohol is certainly not one of them.

To attract the attention of the waiters at the cafés, you clap your hands, or make a hissing sound between your closed teeth. The coffee is usually excellent, and the spirit is brought to you in a bottle marked with measures. The crowds in the Madrid cafés lack the picturesqueness of those in some of the smaller towns of Castile, Murcia, and Andalusia, where the dress of the provinces is still worn. You will see no majas in the capital; the grisettes of Madrid cannot be distinguished from the rest of the female population. The capa is, however, still worn by men of almost all ranks, and these, and the broad-brimmed hats, give a touch of the romantic to the throngs in the coffee-houses of the Puerta del Sol.

There are wine-shops and taverns in Madrid, but the seats are not luxurious, and there is no display of carved mahogany and engraved glass, and no separation of the classes. The “accommodation” may be somewhat rude; still the wine is good and cheap, and the tone and atmosphere of the posada are more wholesome than those of the London public-house. A glass of the wine of the country can be bought for a penny in these taverns, and the finest wines cost only a few pence the glass. Immense wine-barrels flank the walls, and there is an array of spirit and fruit syrup bottles behind the counter.

The chief hotels of Madrid are the Hotel de la Paz, Hotel del Universo, the Roma, and the Hotel de Paris. They are centrally situated, and fairly well appointed. The meals are almuerzo and comida, corresponding to luncheon and dinner. There is no meal in Spain resembling the hearty English breakfast. The Spaniard takes a cup of chocolate and a dry roll upon rising, and goes about his business or his pleasure until eleven or twelve o’clock, when almuerzo, the first real meal of the day, is served.

Some of the Spanish dishes are only palatable to English people after a taste for them has been sedulously cultivated. Many of the viands are flavoured with garlic. The menu for comida consists of soup, fish, an egg dish, meat, sometimes a puchero or stew, and cakes and fruit. Table wine is usually provided free of charge. Every man smokes in the dining-room, both during and after meals.

Among the best restaurants are the Fornos, the Italiano and the Inglés.

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