A writer on the Philippines, after showing the antiquity of cock-fighting, and tracing its history through most of the civilized nations of the world, thus concludes:—“In Spain there is a notable affection for cock-fights, and great is the care with which the birds are trained to the combat. In America this amusement is a dominant passion, and the Filipinos are not a whit behind the Americans. Nay, here the passion is a delirium, and no law can check the number or the duration of the fights, accompanied by slaughter of the combatants, which may be well called perfidious” (i.e. in violation of protecting regulations). “In other places they sharpen the spurs of the cocks. In the Philippines they are armed with razors, and chance more than skill decides the contest. Every day countless numbers perish, but the race is not diminished. There is hardly a locality which has not more cocks than human inhabitants. On the Puente Grande of Manila, at between four and five A.M., hundreds and hundreds of ‘the shrill clarions’ are heard on all sides, and from vast distances; it is a string of signals passed from mouth to mouth, from the port of Bangui, in North Ilocos, to Manog, the southernmost point of Albay. There are cocks in every house, at every corner, at the foot of every tree, along the quays and shores, on the prows of every coasting ship, and, as if the living were not enough, they are sculptured, they are painted and charcoaled (not artistically) on every wall for public admiration, and public admiration recognizes the portraiture, though the information is not placed there—as by the painter of old—to announce, ‘This is a cock.’”
The following is a translation of an advertisement from a Manila newspaper:—”Principal Cock-fight of Tondo.—The subscriber informs the public that on all cock-fighting days a great crowd from all parts, nearly half of them Chinese, attend, so that on a single day there are from 90 to 100 combats, and this not only from the convenience of the place, which is made of tiles, but because the doubloons (onzas) which circulate there are honest doubloons (son de recibo).—Dalmacio Oligario.”
It is considered a discourtesy to touch an Indian’s game-cock, and permission is always asked to examine a favourite bird. He is the object of many a caress; he eats, crows, and sleeps in the arms of his master; and, whatever else may be forgotten, the cock is in continual remembrance. I have found him celebrated in verse in terms the most affectionate. A cock that has been frequently victorious is subjected to the most minute criticism, in order to discover by external marks what may serve to characterize his merits. The scales of his legs are counted, their form and distribution, the bent of the rings on the spurs, and whether the two spurs resemble each other; the shape of the toes and their nails, the number and colours of the wing-feathers (eleven being the favourite quantity); white eyes are preferred to chesnut; a short comb falling over the eye and beak is a recommendation. Cocks of different colours bear different names—white, puti; red, pula; white with black spots, talisain; red body and black tail and wings, bulic or taguiguin; black, casilien, or maitin; black and white, binabay; ash-colour, abuen; black and white, having black legs, tagaguin; and many others. The wild cock is called labuyo.
Of cock-fighting I translate Buzeta’s description:—“The Indians have an inveterate passion for the sport, which occupies the first place in their amusements. The cock is the first object of their care, their general companion, which accompanies them even to the church-door, and is fastened to a bamboo plug outside, when they enter for the service of the mass. For no money will they dispose of a favourite bird. Some possess as many as half-a-dozen of these inappreciable treasures, for whose service they seem principally to live.
“Every pueblo has its gallera, or amphitheatre, for the cock-fights, from which the government draws a considerable revenue. The galleras are large buildings constructed of palm-trunks, bamboo, and nipa leaves, consisting of a hall, lighted from windows in the roof. In the centre is a stage, raised about five feet high, surrounded by bamboo galleries, which are reached by the spectators, who pay according to the adjacency and convenience of the seats. The gallera is generally crowded. The Indian enters with his cock under his arm; he caresses the favourite, places him on the ground, lifts him up again, smooths his feathers, talks to him, blows his cigar-smoke over him, and, pressing him to his breast, tells him to fight bravely. The cock generally crows aloud in defiance and in pride. His rival appears, a sharpened spur, or rather two-edged knife, or razor, is fastened to the natural spur of the bird, and after being for some time presented to each other the sign of combat is given, which is carried on with extraordinary excitement, until an alguacil announces that the betting is closed. The announcement is followed by universal silence. The owners of the cocks withdraw at another signal, and the combatants contemplate each other, their feathers agitated and erect; they bend their necks, shake their heads, and spring upon one another; the fight continues until one is mortally wounded and falls. The conqueror springs upon him, and crows in token of victory; but it is not unusual for the wounded cock to rise and turn upon his victor. If the victor should fly (as is sometimes the case), he is condemned to ignominious death; his feathers are plucked, and he is suspended almost naked on the outside of the gallera. The wounds of the living bird are staunched by an infusion of tobacco leaves in cocoa-nut wine. He becomes from that hour a favourite to be betted on, and if disabled for future frays, he is carefully provided for by his master. There are cock-doctors and receiving-houses devoted to the healing of their wounds.
GALLERA, OR COCK-PIT.
“In the neighbourhood of the gallera are stalls, where wines, sweetmeats, chocolate, and other refreshments, are sold, prepared by Indians and Chinese. A whole day is devoted to the combat, and even the charms of the siesta are forgotten, and the Indian often returns to his home after sunset a wretched and a ruined man.”
The Indians were sometimes desirous that we should witness the exhibition, and brought their favourite cocks to be admired; but I had little curiosity to witness such a display, picturesque as it was no doubt—more picturesque than humane.
Don Ildefonso de Aragon passes this severe judgment upon the sport:—“Perpetual idlers,” the Indians, “they go from cockpit to cockpit, those universities of every vice, which the owners think themselves privileged to keep constantly open and accessible; hence they come forth consummate masters of roguery, jugglery, frauds, ready for acts of violence in private and in public, in town and in country.”