The origin and antiquity of bull-fighting in Spain is a subject that has engaged the minds of many writers, and led to much research and interminable discussion. It is most probable that those who incline to the opinion that this pastime was instituted by the Romans are in the right, though there is undoubted evidence that the Moors, if they did not introduce the corrida, or lidia, adopted it, and carried bull-fighting to perfection. The sport, however, seems to accord more with the character of the Roman than the Moorish conquerors of Spain, for the Romans possessed a passion for scenes of combat in the arena between gladiators and fierce animals, whereas there is no such strong testimony to show that the Moors took an equal delight in these feats of the circus.

The taurilia of the Romans resembled the fights with bulls that may be witnessed to-day in every large town of Spain. Whatever may have been the origin of these contests, it is certain that, since the days of the Moors, the bull-fight has endured as the chief recreation of all classes of the population. There is in no other country any sport that can be compared with it in importance and in the sway of its fascination upon the public. The passion for horse-racing in England is not general, and the diversion owes its popularity in a large degree to the chances of gambling which it offers. Eliminate betting from the turf, and you will find that those who “follow racing” simply from an enthusiasm for rearing and running horses, and those who enjoy the amusement from the mere pleasure of watching competitions in speed between horses form an almost insignificant minority. In this country where horse-racing is regarded as a national pastime, the proportion of the populace that takes any interest in the breeding of the horses, the technique of riding, and racing per se is greatly restricted. But this is not the case with bull-fighting in Spain. Here every one from the noble to the mule-driver is learned in all the rules of the game, keenly critical of the exploits of the performers in the ring, and ever ready to talk with fervour upon the absorbing topic.

The hold which this pastime has upon the Spanish imagination is so strong that it is a part of the national character, as deep-seated as the sentiments of piety and loyalty, and as powerful as the feeling of patriotism. King or peasant, man or woman, every native of Spain is a lover of the corrida; every child plays at bull-fighting as soon as he can walk; and every youth, who would be thought manly and a true son of Spain, yearns to emulate the courage and the dexterity of the espada.

Hundreds of volumes have been written in Spain upon the art of bull-fighting, the history of the ring, the lives of eminent toreros, and the records of famous arenas. Bull-fighting has produced an array of ardent chroniclers, poets, and hosts of journalists, and it has quickened the brush or pencil of artists from before the time of Goya down to Zuloaga.

The breeding of bulls for the ring may be described as one of the national industries of Spain. Noblemen endeavour to keep up the breed and the fighting qualities of bulls, and the rearing of bulls is the proper occupation of a gentleman. The beautiful Duchess of Alba, the friend of Goya, was an enthusiastic admirer of the sport, and a breeder of bulls. The vacadas or breeding establishments of Andalusia produce the finest fighting bulls. They are considered fit for the combat, or warrantable, at the age of five years, when their value averages about £50 each. Over a thousand of these highly-bred animals are killed in the bull-rings of Spain annually, while the number of horses gored to death is very much larger.

In the old days bull-fights were mimic representations of warfare, in which the true caballero aspired to take part and to distinguish himself. The toreros were amateurs belonging to high families, and several of the kings of Spain were expert exponents of the art of the espada. Accidents and deaths in the arena were of common occurrence, sometimes several knights were killed during a single performance. At all royal fÊtes a bull-fight was part of the amusement provided. If a prince was born, or married, the event was celebrated by a grand display of bull-fighting, while the coronation of a sovereign was always made the occasion for a brilliant spectacle in the ring. In Madrid these fights were held in the Plaza Mayor, a big quadrangle in the centre of the city. The plaza is surrounded by houses of several storeys high, having balconies and an arcade. The Panaderia, or Royal Bakery, served as a royal stand, and here the Court assembled in the balconies to witness the feats of the grandees, who engaged the fierce bulls with lances. No one of vulgar rank was permitted to take part in the contest.

In the early days the torero sometimes encountered the bull with a spear, on foot, as may be seen in old bull-fighting prints. The use of horses in the ring came later. Dogs were often set upon the bulls, to incense them, and up to the year 1840 bears and other animals were introduced into the ring. These combats have been abandoned. In the old bull-fighting bills we read of “a grand fight between a big elephant and two big bulls.” The dogs were of proven courage, and bred for strength and endurance. They often succeeded in pinning the bull by the nose, and holding his head down; but frequently they lost their lives on the points of his horns. ThÉophile Gautier, in “Wanderings in Spain,” describes this bull-baiting by dogs.

Despite the passion which the Spaniard has always exhibited for the bull-fight, the amusement has been more than once condemned by the Church and State. But such edicts and acts have been withdrawn, and the crowd has once more thronged the amphitheatre. Pope Pius V. issued a proclamation against bull-fighting in the year 1567, but in 1576 Pope Clement VIII. revoked the measure. At a much later date the corrida was interdicted by Godoy, but the sport was again revived, and continues to flourish at the present time. The opponents of the ring to-day are in a minority, but their number is slowly increasing, and there seems to be something in the nature of a humanitarian crusade against the sport. One or two publicists are certainly opposed to the pastime.

Nevertheless, tauromachy will die very slowly in Spain. Bull-fighting holds the popular imagination as by a powerful spell, and it is a deep-rooted institution of the country, revered by high and low. Only at the Plaza de Toros does the Spaniard lose his restraint and gravity, and shout and cheer until he is hoarse. The poorest mendicant in Madrid will go without food for a day, to get a seat at the fight. And what can diminish the admiration of the populace for the torero? Is he not the idol of the aristocracy, the hero of the people? He earns more than a Minister of State, and infinitely more than a great writer. When he kills a bull with a clever thrust, or smilingly receives the furious onslaught of the beast upon his dangling capa, the Plaza de Toros shakes with the vociferations of the multitude. Flattered by hidalgos, courted by handsome doÑas, applauded by the crowd—the popular espada is the greatest man in Spain. Crowds assemble around his hotel, to acclaim him as he comes forth clad for the fray, in his glitter of tinsel, and glory of silk, plush and diamonds.

From six to eight bulls are baited and killed at each entertainment. Gautier says that, when he attended a bull-fight in Madrid, eight bulls and fourteen horses were done to death, and a chulo slightly wounded. On feast days, in the eighteenth century, as many as six bulls were killed in the morning and twelve in the afternoon.

The training place or “university” of bull-fighters is at Seville, and the most daring of the schools of toreros are of the South of Spain. Madrid is the scene of the espada’s triumph, or of his defeat, for though the spectators at the corrida are ever ready to lavish applause upon the clever performer with the lance or sword, they are cruelly critical, and show little mercy towards the timorous or bungling artist. Even the famous Bombita, the Madrid favourite, has known that ominous stillness that succeeds an ill-rendered thrust at a bull of unusual agility. The public will load Fuentes with their gold, and cheer him to the echo when he displays his coolness and dexterity, but the same public will not hesitate to hiss the best espada who ever stepped into the ring, when he commits an impropriety or misses the opportunity of an instant to deliver a thrust of the blade.

As in the old days of the tournament, fair ladies smile upon and favour the bold torero. There are instances of the exactions of these high-born patronesses of the sport, which have resulted in death for the espada who courted their approbation. It is recorded that a royal lady was so fascinated by an exceptionally agile feat performed by a torero that she wished to see it repeated. The desire was conveyed to the performer. “It is more than my life is worth,” he said. “It is the wish of the lady,” returned the messenger. Bowing low, the torero said: “I dedicate my life to Her Royal Highness.” Again the bull charged; but this time the unlucky athlete was caught on the horns of the beast, whence he was removed—a corpse.

It is the custom in England to speak of the espada and of bull-fighters collectively as “matadors.” The word is altogether inappropriate to the sport. We hear of young gentlemen attending fancy dress balls in London, attired as “a Spanish matador,” or as a “toreador.” A bull-fighter in Spain is a torero in the general sense, though the word really means one who engages the bull on foot. The performer with the sword, the most important functionary in the ring, is known as the espada; and the man who charges the animal on horseback, with a spear or lance as a weapon, is called a picador. Throwers of the darts are termed banderilleros; wavers of the gaudy cloaks, and the assistants of the espadas, are called chulos. These are the grades of toreros in their order of precedence.