The Story of Seville

by Walter M. Gallichan

To show the favour formerly extended to the torero, we may quote the story of Lavi and Queen Isabel II. Lavi was a Romany by birth, and a bold matador of his day. During a royal corrida, the gipsy pluckily tore out the moña, or bunch of ribbons in the bull's neck, and advanced towards the Queen. 'Here,' he cried, 'this is the first moña your majesty has had the honour of receiving at my hands!'

The retinue of the matador consists of the picadores, or mounted spearmen, the banderilleros, or dart throwers, and the monos sabios, who repair the damages to the wretched horses and thrash them to their feet. The matador is clad in silk and gold, with a spangled cloak, which he wears in the parade of the fighters previous to the display. It is stated by one writer that a bull fight in Seville cost from £1100 to £1200. The value of each bull killed is about £70. The matador's fee is from £120 to £200; but this includes the fees paid by him to his cuadrilla, or troupe. The horses are valued at from £120 to £200, according to the number killed by the bull. The cost of the seats is from a peseta to three duros. Guerrita could 'command all over Spain and in the South of France almost any remuneration.' The banderilleros receive about fifty dollars, and the picadores something less than that for their share in the performance.

The glory that surrounds the matador induces a large number of Spanish youths to adopt the profession of bull-fighting. In consequence, there is a surplus of indifferent toreros and novices, who are awaiting their chance for promotion and for an appearance in the arena.

These hangers-on of the sport are to be seen in the Puerta del Sol of Madrid, and in the paseos and streets of Seville. They have a 'horsey' air, and are proficient at lounging, and chaffing the women who pass by. A little pigtail hangs from the brims of their hats, and they are fond of frilled shirts, in which they display paste studs. Every city and provincial town of Spain has its aficionados of bull-fighting. These amateurs talk learnedly upon encierros, suertes, and pases por alto. They are vain of their acquaintance with popular toreros, and they read all the literature of the beloved sport. The Historia del Toreo is better known among these 'sports' than the poems of 'Herrera the divine.' At the cafés they pore over the bull-fighting journals, El Toréo, El Enáno, and La Lidia.

Mr. H. T. Finck describes the bull fight as 'the most unsportsmanlike and cowardly spectacle I have ever seen.' This author does not believe that bull-fighting is highly dangerous. 'No man,' he writes, 'who has a sense of true sport would engage with a dozen other men against a brute that is so stupid as to expend its fury a hundred times in succession on a piece of red cloth, ignoring the man who holds it.'

The bull fight not dangerous! I can imagine the indignation of the devotees of the sport at such a suggestion. Personally, I am not in a position to affirm how great or how small is the peril to the man who finds himself alone in a ring, face to face with a savage Andalusian bull. I have, however, been told by a Spaniard, living in Madrid, that the fluttering of the red cloth certainly distracts the bull's attention from its combatant, and that the animal invariably closes its eyes when the muleta is whisked in its face. This 'fact,' given on the authority of my Spanish friend, may throw a side-light on the art of the matador. But I am certainly not prepared to say that bull-fighting is without danger to the human performers in the tournament. Many lives have been lost in the arena, and injuries are of comparatively common occurrence. On October 7, 1900, Dominguin was killed at Barcelona; two novices were wounded at Carabanchel; Parrao was injured at Granada, Telilas had his collar-bone broken at Madrid, and Bombita was wounded at the same place. Such was one day's list of mishaps in the amphitheatres of Spain.

Until infuriated by the lances and darts, many of the bulls are far from savage. There is the story of a bull in the arena, that recognised the voice of a lad, who had tended it on the plains, and came towards its friend with apparent pleasure at the re-meeting. On the other hand, there is the account of the bull of Muruve, who fought at Seville, in 1898, and carried a horse and a picador upon its horns from the barrier to the centre of the ring. A strong bull will sometimes toss a picador's saddle high in the air; yet Mr. Williams tells us that two men are required to carry the saddle. Bulls frequently leap the barrera of the arena, although the height is over five feet. 'At Málaga, some six years ago, a bull leaped over the barrier at precisely the same spot fourteen times in swift succession. At Madrid, in 1898, another cleared both barriers,' writes Mr. Williams, 'landing with his head among the spectators, but falling back into the callejón. On April 30, 1896, at Madrid, Ermitaño, the second bull of the corrida, cleared the barrier four times, jamming a carpenter between a pair of doors and severely injuring him. All the above I have myself witnessed; but other feats, perfectly authenticated, are even more remarkable.'

The Plaza de Toros at Seville is a handsome building. It was constructed to seat fourteen thousand spectators. The chief fights take place on Domingo de Resurrección, and during the week of the feria, in April. The seats are arranged in boxes (palcos), the asientos de barrera (barrier seats) and the asientos de grada. A higher price is charged for seats in the sombra, or shade; while the cheaper positions, occupied by the poorer classes, are in the sol, or sunshine.

It is fashionable to drive to the corrida behind four or six horses or mules, with gay trappings and jangling bells. Hawkers, thieves, programme vendors and beggars throng around the plaza. The half-hour of waiting, preliminary to the first combat, is enlivened by the arrival of smart people and notabilities of the city, while the orchestra plays a selection of pieces.

Reverte or Fuentes arrives, and is acclaimed by his admirers. The knowing aficionados, who have seen the doomed bulls in their enclosure, promise an excellent show. The seats gradually fill; there is a loud hum of conversation and a waving of fans by the señoras in the palcos. At a signal from the President of the corridas, the ring is cleared of the groups of toreros and their friends. Then the band strikes up, and the bull-fighters march out, with the matadores in front of their attendants. They salute the President. The key of the bull enclosure is thrown down, an official unlocks the door, and into the arena canters the first bull, to encounter a charge from the picador. Sometimes the bull refuses to fight. The beast is lazy, good-tempered, or dazed. Not even the darts will enrage the creature. It gazes upon its tormentors with benign amazement. This poor sport; toro must be worried into a passion. An explosive dart is thrown at the bull. The fire burns into its nerves. It is more than the most placid bull nature can endure with patience. Toro lowers its horns and rushes upon its assailants.