Letters from Spain

by Joseph Blanco White

A Bull-day, (Dia de Toros), as it is emphatically called at Seville, stops all public and private business. On the preceding afternoon, the amphitheatre is thrown open to all sorts of people indiscriminately. Bands of military music enliven the bustling scene. The seats are occupied by such as wish to see the promenade on the arena, round which the ladies parade in their carriages, while every man seems to take pleasure in moving on the same spot where the fierce combat is to take place within a few hours. The spirits of the company are, in fact, pitched up by anticipation to the gay, noisy, and bold temper of the future sport.

Our amphitheatre is one of the largest and handsomest in Spain. A great part is built of stone; but, from want of money, the rest is wood. From ten to twelve thousand spectators may be accommodated with seats. These rise, uncovered, from an elevation of about eight feet above the arena, and are finally crowned by a gallery, from whence the wealthy behold the fights, free from the inconveniences of the weather. The lowest tier, however, is preferred by the young gentlemen, as affording a clear view of the wounds inflicted on the bull. This tier is protected by a parapet. Another strong fence, six feet high, is erected round the arena, leaving a space of about twenty, between its area and the lower seats. Openings, admitting a man sideways, are made in this fence, to allow the men on foot an escape when closely pursued by the bull. They, however, most generally leap over it, with uncommon agility. But bulls of a certain breed, will not be left behind, and literally clear the fence. Falling into the vacant space before the seats, the animal runs about till one of the gates is opened, through which he is easily drawn back to the arena.

Few among the lower classes retire to their beds on the eve of a Bull-day. From midnight they pour down the streets leading to the amphitheatre, in the most riotous and offensive manner, to be present at the Encierro—shutting-in of the bulls—which being performed at the break of day, is allowed to be seen without paying for seats. The devoted animals are conducted from their native fields to a large plain in the neighbourhood of Seville, from whence eighteen, the number exhibited daily during the feasts, are led to the amphitheatre, on the appointed day, that long confinement may not break down their fierceness. This operation has something extremely wild in its character. All the amateurs of the town are seen on horseback with their lances hastening towards Tablada, the spot where the bulls are kept at large. The herdsmen, on foot, collect the victims of the day into a drove; this they do by means of tame oxen, called Cabestros, taught to be led by a haulter, carrying, tied round their neck, a large deep-sounding bell, with a wooden clapper. What the habit of following the bells of the leaders fails to do, the cracking of the herdsmen’s slings is sure to perform, when the animals are not driven to madness. The horsemen, also, stand on all sides of the drove till they get into a round trot. Thus they proceed to within half a mile of the amphitheatre. At that distance a path is closed up on both sides, with stout poles, tied horizontally across upright stakes—a feeble rampart, indeed, against the fury of a herd of wild bulls. Yet the Sevillian mob, though fully aware of the danger, are mad enough to take pleasure in exposing themselves. The intolerable noise in my street, and the invitation of a Member of the Maestranza—a corporate association of noblemen, whose object is the breeding and breaking of horses, and who in this town enjoy the exclusive privilege of giving bull-feasts to the public—induced me, during the last season, to get up one morning with the dawn, and take my stand at the amphitheatre, where, from their private gallery, I commanded a view of the plain lying between the river Guadalquivir and that building.

At the distant sound of the oxen’s bells, shoals of people were seen driving wildly over the plain, like clouds before a strong gale. One could read in their motions, a struggle between fear on one side, and vanity and habit on the other. Now they approached the palisade, now they ran to a more distant spot. Many climbed up the trees, while the more daring or fool-hardy, kept their station on what they esteemed a post of honour. As our view was terminated by a narrow pass between the river and the ancient tower called del Oro, or Golden, the cavalcade broke upon us with great effect. It approached at full gallop. The leading horsemen, now confined within the palisades, and having the whole herd at their heels, were obliged to run for their lives. Few, however, ventured on this desperate service, and their greatest force was in the rear. The herdsmen clinging to the necks of the oxen, in order to keep pace with the horses, appeared, to an unpractised eye, doomed to inevitable destruction. The cries of the multitude, the sound of numberless horns, made of the hollow stem of a large species of thistle, the shrill and penetrating whistling, which seems most to harass and enrage the bulls, together with the confused and rapid motion of the scene, could hardly be endured without a degree of dizziness. It often happens, that the boldest of the mob succeed in decoying a bull from the drove; but I was, this time, fortunate enough to see them safely lodged in the Toril—a small court divided into a series of compartments with drop-gates, in the form of sluices, into which they are successively goaded from a surrounding gallery, and lodged singly till the time of letting them loose upon the arena.

The custom of this town requires that a bull be given to the populace immediately after the shutting-in. The irregular fight that ensues is perfectly disgusting and shocking. The only time I have witnessed it, the area of the amphitheatre was actually crowded with people, both on horse and foot. Fortunately their numbers distracted the animal: on whatever side he charged, large masses ran before him, on which he would have made a dreadful havock, but for the multitude which drew his attention to another spot. Yet one of the crowd, evidently in a state of intoxication, who stood still before the bull, was tossed up to a great height, and fell apparently dead. He would have been gored to pieces before our eyes, had not the herdsmen and some other good fighters, drawn away the beast with their cloaks.

Such horrors are frequent at these irregular fights; yet neither the cruelty of the sport, nor the unnecessary danger to which even the most expert bull-fighters expose their lives, nor the debauch and profligacy attendant on such exhibitions, are sufficient to rouse the zeal of our fanatics against them. Our popular preachers have succeeded twice, within my recollection, in shutting up the theatre. I have myself seen a friar with a crucifix in his hand, stop at its door, at the head of an evening procession; and, during a considerable part of the performance, conjure the people, as they valued their souls, not to venture into that abode of sin; but I never heard from these holy guardians of morals the least observation against bull-fighting: and even our high-flyers in devotion—the Philippians,[23] whom we might call our Methodists, allow all, except clergymen, to attend these bloody scenes, while they deny absolution to any who do not renounce the play.

Before quitting the amphitheatre I was taken by my friend to the gallery from which the bulls were goaded into their separate stalls. As it stands only two or three feet above their heads, I could not but feel a degree of terror at such a close view of these fiery savage eyes, those desperate efforts to reach the beholders, accompanied by repeated and ferocious bellowings. There is an intelligence and nobleness in the lion that makes him look much less terrific in his den. I saw the Divisa, a bunch of ribbons tied to a barbed steel point, stuck into the bulls’ necks. It is intended to distinguish the breeds by different combinations of colours, which are stated in handbills, sold about the streets like your court-calendars before the assizes.

Ten is the appointed hour to begin the morning exhibition; and such days are fixed upon as will not, by a long church-service, prevent the attendance of the canons and prebendaries, who choose to be present; for the chapter, in a body, receive a regular invitation from the Maestranza. Such, therefore, as have secured seats, may stay at home till the tolling of the great bell announces the elevation of the host—a ceremony which takes place near the conclusion of the daily morning service.

The view of the Seville amphitheatre, when full, is very striking. Most people attend in the Andalusian dress, part of which I have already described. The colour of the men’s cloaks, which are of silk, in the fine season, varies from purple to scarlet. The short loose jackets of the men display the most lively hues, and the white veils which the females generally wear at these meetings, tell beautifully with the rest of their gay attire.

The clearing of the arena, on which a multitude lounges till the last moment, is part of the show, and has the appropriate appellation of Despejo. This is performed by a battalion of infantry. The soldiers entering at one of the gates in a column, display their ranks, at the sound of martial music, and sweep the people before them as they march across the ground. This done, the gates are closed, the soldiers perform some evolutions, in which the commanding officer is expected to shew his ingenuity, till, having placed his men in a convenient position, they disband in a moment, and hide themselves behind the fence.