Madrid: an historical description and handbook of the Spanish capital

by Albert Frederick Calvert

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.