Skill in handling the garrocha, and the ability to turn over a running bull, are accomplishments in high esteem amongst Spanish youth. Names now famous in politics or diplomacy (Don Luis Albereda, for example, late Spanish Minister at St. James's, the Duke of San Lorenzo, and many more), are still mentioned in Andalucia as past experts in the records of this southern diversion—a fame analogous to that of our foremost steeple-chase riders at home.[16]
The tentadero at the present day 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.
At length, however, the years spent in luxurious idleness on the silent plains must come to an end. One summer morning the brave herd find grazing in their midst some strange animals, which appear to make themselves extremely agreeable to the lordly champions, now in the zenith of magnificent strength and beauty. The strangers grazing with them are the cabrestos (or cabestros, in correct Castilian), the decoy-oxen sent out to fraternize for a few days with the fighting race, preparatory to the encierro, or operation of conveying the latter to the town where the corrida takes place. Each cabestro has a large cattle-bell, of the usual Spanish type, suspended round its neck, in order to accustom the wild herd to follow the lead of these base betrayers of the brave. Shortly the noble bulls will be lured in their company away from their native plains, through country paths and byeways, to the entrance of the fatal toril.
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, 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.
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 the 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 gleaming horns have done their work, and buen toro! buen toro! rings from twice ten thousand throats.
The bull-rings are mostly the property of private persons, though some are owned by corporations, others by charitable institutions, and the like. The bull-fights themselves, however, are always in the hands of an empresario, who hires the building at a rent, supplies the bulls and troupe, and takes the whole arrangements in his own hands and for his own account.
The cost of a modern bull-fight in Andalucia ranges from £1,100 to £1,200. Six bulls are usually killed, their value averaging £70. The Espada, or Matador, receives on the day from £120 to £200, including the services of his cuadrilla or troupe, which consists of two picadors, three banderilleros, and a cachetero. As there are always two matadors with their respective cuadrillas engaged, this makes in all fourteen bull-fighters. The cost of the horses is about £120 to £200, a variable quantity, depending so much on the temper and quality of the bulls. Against this, there are from ten to twenty thousand seats to be let in the ring, the prices of which vary from a peseta or two in the Sol or sunny side, up to a couple of dollars or more in the Sombra.[17]