The bull-fighter of to-day is by no means drawn from the dregs of the
people; there is, at any rate, one instance of a man of good birth and
education attaining celebrity as a professional _torero_. He risks his
life at every point of the conflict, and it is his coolness, his
courage, his dexterity in giving the _coup de grâce_ so as to cause no
suffering, that raise the audience to such a pitch of frenzied
excitement. I speak wholly from hearsay, for I have myself only
witnessed a _corrida de novillos_ - in which the bulls are never killed,
and have cushions fixed on their horns - and a curious fight between a
bull and an elephant, who might have been described as an "old
campaigner," in which there was no bloodshed, and much amusement. My
sympathies always went with the bull, - who, at least, was not consulted
in the matter of the fight, - as I have seen the popular _espada_, with
his own particular _chulo_, a mass of white satin and gold embroidery,
driving out to the bull-ring on the afternoon of a _fiesta_, bowing with
right royal grace and dignity to the plaudits of the people. I was even
accused of having given the evil eye to one well-known favourite as he
passed my balcony, when I wished, almost audibly, that the bull might
have his turn for once in a way that afternoon. And he had; for the
popular _espada_ was carried out of the ring apparently dead, the
spectators came back looking white and sick, and I felt like a very
murderess until I learned later that he was not dead. All Madrid, almost
literally, called to inquire for him daily, filling books of signatures,
as if he had been an emperor at least. Personally, I was more interested
in his courage after the event and the devotion of his _chulo_, who
never left his side, but held his hands while the injured leg was cut
off, in three separate operations, without any anæsthetic. Eventually,
he completely recovered, and was fitted with an admirable mechanical
cork limb in place of the one removed in three detachments; and my sense
of evil responsibility was quite removed when I heard that his young
wife was delighted to think that he could never enter the bull-ring as a
fighter again, and her anxieties were at an end.
[Illustration: PLAZA DE TOROS. PICADOR CAUGHT BY THE BULL]
It is quite impossible to over-estimate the popularity of the _toreros_
with the Spanish people. They are the friends and favourites of the
aristocracy, the demi-gods of the populace. You never see one of them in
the streets without an admiring circle of worshippers, who hang on every
word and gesture of the great man; and this is no cult of the hour, it
is unceasing. They are always known for their generosity, not only to
injured comrades, but to any of the poor in need. Is there a disaster by
which many are injured - flood, tempest, or railway accident? Immediately
a bull-fight is arranged for the sufferers, and the whole _cuadrilla_
will give their earnings to the cause. Not only so, but the private
charities of these popular favourites are immense, and quite unheard of
by the public. They adopt orphans, pay regular incomes to widows, as
mere parts of every-day work. They are, one and all, religious men; the
last thing they do, before entering the arena with their life in their
hands, is to confess and receive absolution in the little chapel in the
Bull-Ring, spending some time in silent prayer before the altar, while
the wife at home is burning candles to the Virgin, and offering her
prayers for his safety during the whole time that the _corrida_ lasts.
Extreme unction is always in readiness, in case of serious accident to
the _torero_, the priest (_mufti_) slipping into the chapel before the
public arrive on the scene.
Rafael Molina Lagartijo, one of the veterans of the bull-fighters, and
an extreme favourite with the people for many years, died recently,
after living for some time in comparative retirement in his native
Córdoba. Some idea of the important place which these men occupy in
Spanish society may be gathered from the numerous notices which appeared
in the newspapers of all shades of political opinion after his death. I
quote from the article which appeared in the charming little illustrated
_Blanco y Negro_, of Madrid, on the favourite of the Spanish public. In
what, to us, seems somewhat inflated language, but which is, however,
quite simple and natural to the Spaniard, the writer began his notice
thus:
"He who has heard the magic oratory of Castelar, has listened to the
singing of Gayarre, the declamation of Cabro, has read Zorilla, and
witnessed the _torear_ of Lagartijo, may say, without any kind of
reservation, that there is nothing left for him to admire!" Having thus
placed the popular bull-fighter on a level with orators, authors, and
musicians of the first rank, the writer goes on to describe the beauties
of Lagartijo's play in words which are too purely technical of the ring
to make translation possible, and adds: "He who has not seen the great
_torero_ of Córdoba in the plenitude of his power will assuredly not
comprehend why the name of Lagartijo for more than twenty years filled
_plazas_ and playbills, nor why the _aficionados_ of to-day recall, in
speaking of his death, times which can never be surpassed.... The
_toreo_ (play) of Lagartijo was always distinguished by its classic
grace, its dignity and consummate art, the absence of affectation, or
struggle for effect. In every part of the fight the figure of Rafael
fell naturally into the most graceful attitudes; and for this reason he
has always worn the rich dress of the _torero_ with the best effect. He
was the perfect and characteristic type of a _torero_, such as Spanish
fancy has always imagined it. Lagartijo died with his eyes fixed on the
image of the Virgen de los Dolores, to whom he had always confidently
committed his life of peril, and with the dignity and resignation of a
good man."
The article was illustrated with numerous portraits of Don Rafael: in
full _torero_ dress in 1886; his very last photograph; views of him in
the courtyard of his home in Córdoba, and outside the Venta San Rafael,
where he took his coffee in the evening, and others. The notice
concludes by saying that his life was completely dedicated to his
property, which he managed himself, and he was looked upon as the
guardian angel of the labourers on his farm. _Probre Rafael!_ "The
lovers of the bull-fight are lamenting the death of the _torero_, but
the poor of Córdoba mourn the loss of their 'Señor Rafael.'"
[Illustration: PLAZA DE TOROS. THE PROCESSION]
The wives of the _toreros_ are generally celebrated for their beauty,
their wit, and their devotion to their husbands - indeed, the men have a
large choice before them when choosing their helpmates for life. To
their wives is due much of the making and all the keeping up of the
elaborate and costly dress of the _torero_. They are, as someone has
said, "ferociously virtuous," and share in the open-handed generosity of
their husbands. The earnings of a successful _torero_ are very large. In
some cases, they make as much as £4000 or £5000 a year of English money,
during the height of their popularity, and retire to end their days in
their native and beloved Andalucia.
Whatever may be said by foreigners of the brutalising effect of the
Spanish popular game, it certainly has no more effect on those who
witness or practise it than fox-hunting has on Englishmen, and it is
doubtful whether there is any more cruelty in one sport than in the
other. The foxes are fostered and brought up for the sole purpose of
being harried to death, without even a semblance of fair play being
allowed to them, and if a fox-hunter risks his life it is only as a bad
rider that he does so. There is no danger and certainly no dignity in
the English sport, even if it indirectly keeps up the breed of horses.
A curious incident is related by Count Vasili as having happened in the
Bull-Ring in Madrid some years ago during a _corrida_ of Cúchares, the
celebrated _espada_. It is usual during _fiestas_ of charity to enclose
live sparrows in the _banderillas_ which it is part of the play to
affix, at great risk to the _torero_, in the shoulders of the bull; the
paper envelope bursts, and the birds are set at liberty. Crossing the
arena, one of the men carelessly hit at a bird turning wildly about in
its efforts to escape, and killed it. "In my life," says the Count, "I
have never seen such a spectacle. Ten thousand spectators, standing up,
wildly gesticulating, shouting for death on the 'cruel _torero_'; nay,
some even threw themselves into the arena, ready to lynch the heartless
creature!"
Horse-racing may now be said to have been fairly established in Spain in
most of the great centres, and the Hippodrome in Madrid is little behind
one of England's popular race-courses in its crowds, the brilliant
dresses of the ladies, and the enthusiasm evoked; but whether it will
ever supersede the really national _fiesta_ is to be doubted. The upper
classes also affect polo, tennis, and croquet, and go in a good deal for
gymnastics, fencing, and fives.
Cycling does not appear to commend itself greatly to the Spanish idea of
recreation. Bicycles are, of course, to be seen in the large and more
modern towns, but they are never very numerous, and as far as ladies are
concerned, may be said to have made no way.
I have referred to a curious spectacle several times presented in
Madrid, chiefly in _fiestas_ for charitable purposes, where an elephant
was introduced into the Bull-Ring to fight, in place of the usual
_cuadrilla_ of men. This was an old elephant named Pizarro, a great
favourite of many years' standing with the Madrileños. He was an
enormous animal, but one of his tusks had been broken off about a third
from the tip, so that he had only one to use in warfare or as
protection. He was tethered in the centre of the arena, by one of his
hind legs, to a stump about twelve inches high. Then the bulls were let
out one at a time. Meanwhile, Pizarro was amusing himself by eating
oranges which were showered on him by his admirers on the benches. With
the greatest coolness he continued his repast, picking up orange after
orange with his trunk, all that he was careful to do being to keep his
face to the bull, turning slowly as his enemy galloped round the ring
trying to take him in flank. At last the bull prepared to charge;
Pizarro packed away his trunk between his tusks, and quietly waited the
onslaught. The bull rushed at him furiously; but the huge animal, quite
good-naturedly and a little with the air of pitying contempt, simply
turned aside the attack with his one complete horn, and as soon as the
bull withdrew, a little nonplussed, went on picking up and eating his
oranges as before. Bull after bull gave up the contest as impossible,
and contentedly went out between the _cabestros_ sent in to fetch
them. At last one more persistent or courageous than the others came
bounding in. Pizarro realised at once that for the moment he must pause
in eating his dessert; but he became aware at the same time that in
turning round to face the successive bulls, he had gradually wound
himself up close to the stump, and had no room to back so as to receive
the attack. The most interesting incident in the whole affray was to
watch the elephant find out, by swinging his tethered leg, first in one
direction and then in another, how to free himself. This he did, first
by swinging his leg round and round over the stump, then by walking
slowly round and round, always facing the bull, and drawing his cord
farther and farther until he was perfectly free: then he was careful
only to turn as on a pivot, keeping the rope at a stretch. Finally the
bull charged at him with great fury; stepping slightly aside, Pizarro
caught him up sideways on his tusks, and held him up in the air,
perfectly impotent and mad with rage. When he considered the puny
creature had been sufficiently shown his inferiority, he gently put him
down, and the astonished and humbled bull declined further contest. The
fighting bulls of Spain are wonderfully small in comparison with English
animals, it should be said.
[Illustration: DRAGGING OUT THE DEAD BULL]
Every night, after his turn at the circus was over poor old Pizarro used
to walk home alone under my balcony, open his stable door with his own
latch-key, or at least his trunk, and put himself to bed like any
Christian.
One of the most fashionable amusements in Madrid is to attend on the
morning of the bull-fight while the _espadas_ choose the particular
bulls they wish to have as enemy, and affix their colours, the large
rosette of ribbon which shows which of the _toreros_ the bull is to meet
in deadly conflict. The bulls are then placed in their iron cages in the
order in which they are to enter the arena. The fashionable ladies and
other _aficionados_ of the sport then drive back to Madrid to luncheon
and to prepare for the entertainment of the afternoon.
CHAPTER VIII
THE PRESS AND ITS LEADERS
Perhaps there are few countries where the influence of the Press is
greater than in Spain, and this is largely due to the fact that while
the journals are read by everyone, for a great number of the people they
form the only literature. The free library is not yet universal in the
country, though, doubtless, in the near future it may become general. In
the meantime, every imaginable shade of political opinion has its organ;
even the Bull-Ring has at least two excellently illustrated newspapers:
and the extra sheets, printed hastily and sold immediately after the
_corrida_ has terminated, have an enormous sale. Deserving of mention is
the curious little paper known as the "Night-cap of Madrid," because it
is supposed to be impossible for anyone to go to rest until he has read
the late edition, which comes out not long before midnight. It is said
to have no politics, and only pretends to give all the news of the
world. There are many illustrated papers, both comic and serious. The
charmingly artistic little _Blanco y Negro_, beautifully gotten up, is
at the head of all the more dignified illustrated journals of the
country. There are no kiosks; the papers are sold by children or by old
women in the streets, and the Madrid night is rent by the appalling
cries of these itinerant vendors of literature. For the Spanish
newspaper is always literature, which is a good deal more than can be
said for some of the English halfpenny Press. Whatever may be the
politics of the particular journal, its _Castellano_ is perfect; perhaps
a little stilted or pompous, but always dignified and well-written.
The journalists of Madrid have a special facility for saying with an air
of extreme innocence what they, for various reasons, do not care to
express quite openly. Allegories, little romances, stories of fact full
of clever words of "double sense" make known to the initiated, or those
who know how to read between the lines, much that might otherwise awaken
the disagreeable notice of the censor, when there is one. There is an
air of good-natured raillery which takes off the edge of political
rancour, and keeps up the amenities and the dignity of the Spanish
Press. Only the other day one of the leading English journals pointed
out what a dignified part the Press of Madrid, of every shade of
politics, had played in the recent effort made by some foreign
newspapers - of a class which so far does not exist in Spain - to make
mischief and awaken national jealousy between England and Spain on the
subject of the works now being carried out by the English Government at
Gibraltar. The Spanish newspapers, of all shades of opinion, have made
it abundantly evident that their country entertains no unworthy
suspicion of England's good faith, and has not the smallest intention of
being led into strained or otherwise than perfectly friendly relations
with their old allies of the Peninsular War, to gratify the rabid enmity
of a section of a Press foreign to both countries. This is, perhaps, the
more remarkable because a certain amount of misunderstanding of England
exists among some elements of the Spanish Press.
The Liberal party in Spain is, in fact, the party of progress, and the
nation has at last awakened from its condition of slavery under unworthy
rulers, and is practically united in its determination to return to its
place among the nations of Europe.
There are many shades of Liberalism, and even Republicanism, but, as
will be seen in another place, the real welfare of the people, and not
the success of a mere political party, is the underlying motive of all,
however wild and unpractical may be some of the dreams for the carrying
out of these ideas of universal progress. It is impossible for a
Spaniard to conceive of maligning or belittling his own country for
merely party purposes; and, therefore, when he finds an English
newspaper calling itself "Liberal" he imagines the word to have the same
signification it has in his own country. So it has come to pass that
many of the worst misrepresentations - to use a very mild term - of a
portion of the English Press have been reproduced in Spanish newspapers,
and believed by their readers.
Among the principal newspapers, in a crowd of less important ones, _La
Época_, Conservative and dynastic ranks first; this is the journal of
the aristocrats, of the "upper ten thousand," or those who aspire to be
so, and it ranks as the _doyen_ of the whole Press. Its circulation is
not so large as that of some of the other papers, but its clientèle is
supposed to be of the best. _El Nacional_ is also Conservative, but
belonging to the party of Romero Robledo. What the exact politics of
that variation of Conservatism might be, it is difficult, I might almost
say impossible, for a stranger to say. If you were told nothing about
it, and took it up accidentally to read of current events, you would
certainly suppose it to be independent, with a decidedly Liberal
tendency. Still it calls itself Conservative.
_El Correo_ is Liberal, of the special type of Sagasta, the present
Prime Minister. _El Español_, which also gives one the impression of
independence, is Liberal after the manner of Gemaro. _El Heraldo_,
calling itself _Diario Independente_, is credited with being the Liberal
organ of Canalijas. _El Liberal_ and _El Pais_ are Republican, and _El
Correo Español_ is Carlist, or clerical. This paper appears to be looked
upon a good deal in the nature of a joke by its colleagues, and
quotations from it are always accompanied by notes of exclamation.
_La Correspondéncia de España_ is a paper all by itself, an invention of
Spanish journalism, and its unprecedented success is due to many of its
quite unique peculiarities. Its originator, now a millionaire, is proud
of relating that he arrived in Madrid with two dollars in his pocket. He
it was who conceived the brilliant idea of founding a journal which
should be the special organ of all. "_Diario politico independiente, y
de noticias: Eco imparcial de la opinion y de la prensa_," he calls it,
and the fourth page, devoted to advertisements, would make the fortune
of ten others. His boast was that it had no editor, paid no writers, and
employed no correspondents. It simply possessed a certain number of
"caterers" for news, who thrust themselves everywhere, picking up
morsels of news - good, bad, and indifferent, for the most part scribbled
in pencil and thrown into a receptacle from which they are drawn in any
order, or none, and handed to the printer as "copy"; coming out in
short, detached paragraphs of uneven length, ranging from three lines to
twenty. Extracts from foreign newspapers, official news, provincial
reports, money matters, religious announcements, accidents, everything
comes out pell-mell - absolutely all "the voices of the flying day," in
Madrid and everywhere else, in one jumble, without order or sequence,
one paragraph frequently being a direct contradiction to another in the
same sheet. There are three editions during the day, but the
"Night-cap," which sums up them all, appears about ten o'clock or later,
and it is scarcely an exaggeration to say that it is bought by almost
every householder in the city.
The nature of the _Correspondéncia_ has changed very little since its
earliest days. It is a little more dignified, condescends even to short
articles on current subjects of interest, but it is the same universal
provider of news and gossip as ever. It goes with the times; so far as
it has any leanings at all, it is with the Government of the hour; but
it is for the most part quite impersonal, and it makes itself agreeable
to all parties alike. Santa Ana, the clever initiator of this new and
highly successful adventure in journalism, has two other very prosperous
commercial enterprises in his hands - the manufacture of paper for
printing and the supply of natural flowers. He himself is an enormous
and indefatigable worker, personally looks after his various businesses,
especially the _Correspondéncia_, and, mindful of his own early
difficulties, he has created benefit societies for his workmen.
He who, being a foreigner, would attempt to understand Spanish politics,
deserves to be classed with the bravest leaders of forlorn hopes. In the
first place, it is doubtful whether Spaniards understand them
themselves, although they talk, for the most part, of nothing
else - except bulls. Whenever and wherever two or three men or boys are
gathered together, you may be quite certain as to the subject of their
conversation - that is, if they show signs of excitement and interest in
the matter under discussion. Each man you meet gives you the whole
matter in a nut-shell: he has studied politics ever since he was able to
talk; all the other innumerable parties besides his own are _nada_! he
can tell you exactly what is wrong with his country, and, what is more,
exactly how it may all be made right. The only thing which puzzles one
is that all the nut-shells are different, and, as there are an unlimited
number of them, all that one carefully learns to-day has to be as
carefully unlearned to-morrow, and a fresh adjustment made of one's
political spectacles. After all, however, this is very much what would
happen in any country if we were in turn to sit at the feet of
successive teachers, and try to bring their doctrines into any kind of
accord. The peculiarity in Spain lies rather in the multiplicity of
private political opinions and the energy with which they are expressed,
and in the fact that they are all honest.
Emerson has somewhere said that "inconsistency is the bugbear of little
minds." The Spanish politician has evidently not a little mind, for he
has no fear whatever of inconsistency, nor, in fact, of making a
_volte-face_ whenever he sees any reason for doing so. There are
Conservatives, Liberals, Republicans, Radicals, Socialists, as in other
countries, but there are, besides all these, an infinite number of
shades and tones of each political belief, each represented, as we have
seen, by a newspaper of its own, and, for the most part, bearing the
name of one man. It would seem, then, that you have only to make
yourself acquainted with the opinions, or rather with the political
acts, of that one man, and there you are! Vain and fond fancy! He has
been a rabid Republican, perhaps, or he has belonged, at least, to the
party which put up in Madrid in conspicuous letters, "The bastard race
of the Bourbons is for ever fallen. Fit punishment of their obstinacy!"
but you will find him to-day lending all the force of his paper to the
support of the Queen Regent, and at the same time allying himself with
the various classes of Republicans, even to the followers of Zorilla,
who have, at any rate till now, been consistent enemies and haters of
the Bourbon.
Señor Don Romero Robledo, one among the politicians of the day who
possess the gift of perfect oratory, so common among his countrymen, is
an example of this puzzling "open mind." He appeared first in the
character of revolutionist in 1868; then he became the Minister of the
Interior in Amadeo's short reign, held somewhat aloof from the wild
experiment in a republic of Castelar, joined the party of Don Alfonso on
the eve of its success, and supported Cánovas del Castillo in his
somewhat retrograde policy in the restoration of the very Bourbon whom
he had announced as "banished for ever," and, in fact, by his admirable
genius for organising his party, enabled the Government of Cánovas to
continue to exist. It is said of him that he "buys men as one would buy