Walter M. Gallichan

'The Arabs were much given to bull-fighting, and highly skilled in the lidia, whether mounted or on foot.'—Sanchez de Nieva, El TorÉo.

SEVILLE is so renowned in the annals of the great Spanish sport of bull-fighting, that I propose to devote a chapter to a brief history and description of the 'science of tauromachia,' or the recreation of the lidia. Mr. Leonard Williams, in The Land of the Dons, is somewhat apologetic to his readers for introducing three chapters upon the bullfight and its history; but such is the enthusiasm exhibited for the pastime, that Mr. Williams states that thirty chapters, instead of three, would scarcely be disproportionate to the importance in which the corrida is esteemed by the Spanish nation. While making personal confession that I am not an aficionado, or enthusiast, of the art of bull-fighting, I will endeavour to convey to the reader a conception of the influence of the sport upon the Andalusian public, from which the moralist and sociologist may draw their conclusions.

There is an odour of Pharisaism in the British fox-hunter's denunciation of the bull fight on the score of cruelty to animals. But in defence of the hunter, it may be pointed out that he rarely sacrifices the life of his steed in order to be in at the death of a fox, and that he would certainly scorn to torture a worn-out and decrepit horse by riding it till it dropped with a ruptured heart. In bull-fighting there is no pity shown for horses. The emaciated beasts, upon which the picadores, or spearmen, are mounted, are urged at the bull, and serve as a target for its terrible horns until they are no longer able to stand upon their legs. Even when ripped open, or otherwise wounded, the bleeding, terrified creatures are sewn up, or have their wounds plugged with tow, and are again lashed and spurred to the attack.

Surely it is impossible to defend this element of the corrida. The Spaniard does not attempt to do so; he cannot easily understand the point of view that calls for such defence. All over Spain domestic animals used in the service of man are treated mostly with callous insensibility to their sufferings, and often with cruelty that appals and disgusts the stranger. What does it matter whether an old, used-up horse goes to the knacker or into the bull ring to end its days? In Spain there is no sentimental bond between the aged, faithful, hard-working horse and its owner. The horse or mule is a mere beast of burden and of draught, to be worked as hard as possible, half-fed, cursed, abused, and at all times beaten, goaded and kicked.

It would seem that a long training in warfare, the effect of harsh rule, and the terrible example of the Inquisition form a trinity of evil that has made the mass of the Spanish people indifferent to the spectacle of certain kinds of pain. That this apathy to the sufferings of human beings and brutes is compatible with strong physical courage is a fact well supported by examples in the histories of nations and individuals. It is also true that the humane man can be exceedingly courageous. Cruelty in sport has, however, characterised other European countries than Spain, which in this matter may be said to stand where we stood, ethically speaking, in the days of bull-baiting, cock-fighting and badger-drawing. The English crowd that went to see an unhappy victim of nervous irritability ducked in a dirty pond, for the offence of nagging at the goodman, was on the same level of civilisation as the mob in Spain that enjoyed the sport of arming blind men with swords, turning pigs loose among them, and urging the sightless to hack at the pigs, with the result that the men frequently injured one another instead of the porkers.

So far, then, as bulls and horses are concerned, we can only expect to find blunted feeling in Spain. And I am not sure that we need expend much sympathy upon the bull of the arena. In the ordinary fate he has to die, and it is probable that he would prefer to live the life of a fighting bull than bear the yoke and drag the cumbrous cart along dusty, scorching high roads. At all events, the bull reared for fighting has a placid existence until he is 'warrantable'; and in the excitement of his short contest with men he may suffer much less pain than we imagine. And as for the matadores, the heroes of the populace, the favourites of the aristocracy,—well, it is their affair if they and their attendants choose to risk their lives to make a Seville holiday. The human performers in the drama are not forced to fight. If one falls, he is not flogged till he rises to face the bull again, and when injured he is tended at once by skilful surgeons.

This is really all that one can say in reply to the charge of cruelty, and it is little enough. Bull-fighting is specifically a Spanish sport, and efforts to introduce it into other countries have failed. British and American visitors to Seville are frequently to be seen at the Plaza de Toros; and at Algeciras and La Linea, the soldiers of the British garrison, and the people of Gibraltar, are the principal supporters of the bull rings. Throughout Spain the word toro creates keen interest in all classes of society. The State, the Church and the aristocracy support the recreation of the corrida. Most of the bull rings have their chapels attached, where the performers receive the sacrament and a priestly blessing before entering the perilous arena. Ladies of the highest birth are among the breeders of fighting bulls; even some of the clerics rear beasts for the pastime, and attend the exhibitions of tauromachia. The passion for the sport is deep and apparently ineradicable in the people of Spain. Isabel the Catholic, after witnessing a sanguinary display in the ring, endeavoured to suppress bull-fighting. But not even the popular Queen could divert her subjects' interest from the absorbing sport. Moral suasion and attempted legislative methods are alike futile. The people demand the bull fight. In the very midst of war's alarms, and during civil trouble, the plazas de toros were thronged with enthusiastic spectators. Jovellanos, Charles III., SeÑor Castelar, and SeÑor Ferreras, the editor of El Correo, are among those who have protested against bull-fighting. 'Spain pays no heed to any of these agitators,' writes Mr. Leonard Williams, 'but continues unmoved the proud traditions of the arena. The superb bull ring inaugurated not long ago at Barcelona was consecrated by the clergy in procession, on the very day on which a novel of the naughty Tolstoi was thrust upon the list librorum expurgatorum.' In Spain the schoolmaster is a bankrupt, while the famous bull-fighter receives five thousand pesetas for killing two or three bulls. There are sociological inferences to be drawn from this fact.

Bull-fighting of the Past.

There is no doubt that encounters between men and bulls are of ancient origin in the Peninsula. The Moors are said to have brought bull-fighting into Spain, and there is historical proof that exhibitions of daring in worrying and attacking bulls were one of the chief recreations of the Moorish feast days. During times of truce between Moslems and Christians, displays of tauromachia were arranged by the rival leaders, and knights of both sides took part in the ring. The great Cid distinguished himself in fights with fierce bulls, and his horsemanship in the arena was widely admired. In these early days of the sport, the tournament, or lidia, was celebrated in the largest plaza of the towns. Raised seats were erected for the cavaliers and ladies, and the fÊtes were attended almost entirely by the higher classes of Andalusian and Castilian society. The combatant of the bull was mounted on a plucky Arabian horse, and armed with a lance, called the rejÓn, a weapon about five feet in length. At a signal the bull was let loose. The knight charged the beast, and endeavoured to thrust his spear-head into the neck. An expert performer sometimes killed his bull at the first thrust. When hurled from his steed by a charge of the bull, the knight was bound by the rules of the ring to face the brute on foot, with a sword. Vassals assisted their master by essaying to draw the attention of the bull, and at the right moment the knight plunged his steel into the animal's neck.

Such combats appear to have been held in Andalusia as early as the eleventh century. In one of Goya's bull-fighting sketches, we may see a Moor, with a cloak on the left arm, and a dart in the right hand, practising the suerte de banderilla. In the fifteenth century bull-fighting was recognised as the chief national sport. In 1567 Pius V. issued a threat of excommunication for all rulers who permitted bull-fighting within their realms, and for all priests who witnessed the shows. Fighters who fell in the ring were denied burial with Christian rites. The Bull of the Pope was utterly disregarded. Nobles continued to erect bull rings and to arrange corridas. The Church then exercised wonted discretion. A decree came from Salamanca that priests of a certain order might be present at bull fights, and the institution of the lidia was made semi-sacred and wholly respectable.

At Valladolid, Charles I. engaged and killed a bull in the public arena. Succeeding kings and the flower of the nobility yearned to graduate in the art of bull-fighting. The sons of hidalgos resorted to the slaughter-houses of the towns to practise with cloak and sword the feints and passes of the matador. A valorous bull-fighter won his way to women's hearts and to the favour of princes. In 1617 the Pope issued a Bull announcing that the Virgin was conceived immaculately and was as pure as her divine offspring. The announcement threw Seville into a frenzy of delight. Archbishop de Castro gave a splendid service in the beautiful Cathedral. Guns boomed from the ramparts of the city, and all the church bells clanged and pealed. In the bull ring, Don Melchor de AlcÁzar, a friend of Velazquez, arranged a special display. The Don, with his dwarf and four immense negroes, gave a remarkable show of their daring to a host of spectators.

Upon the day that Fernando VII. abolished the University of Seville, he established an academy of bull-fighting in the city. The building was constructed with a small ring for the practice of students in the art of tauromachia, and contained stables, bedrooms, and other apartments. From that time Seville was regarded as the classic home of bull-fighting, and many of the most valiant fighters were trained in that city. Then arose the professional matador, or espada, the swordsman who faces the bull single-handed, when it has been worried and incensed by the picadores and the banderilleros.

Two of the first paid matadores were the brothers Juan and Pedro Palomo. They were succeeded by MartiÑez Billon, Francisco Romero and his son Juan, and JosÉ Delgado Candido, who was killed on the 24th of June 1771. The original Plaza de Toros of Seville was constructed in 1763, and from that date until the end of the century several bull rings were built in Andalusia and Castile.

'Andalusia,' write the authors of Wild Spain 'has always been, and still remains, the province where the love of the bull and all that pertains to him is most keenly cherished, and where the modern bull fight may to-day be seen in its highest perfection and development. It provides the best bull-fighters and the most valued strains of the fighting bull. It may be added that the Andalusian nobility were the last of their order to discontinue their historic pursuit; and when, during the darker days of this sport, the Royal order of the Maestranza de Sevilla was created by Philip V., it was conceded in the statutes that members of the order could hold two corridas with the long lance annually outside the city walls. Three gentlemen subsequently received titles of exalted nobility of this order in respect of brilliant performances with the lance.' JosÉ Candido, usually known as Pepe Hillo, brought about a great revival of the corrida after the Bourbons had sought to discountenance the sport of the nobility. Pepe Hillo is the title of a drama concerned with the valiant exploits of the celebrated master among matadores. Hillo, though he was said to be illiterate, drew up the rules of the sport, and even to-day he is regarded as one of the highest authorities upon the art of the bull fight.

According to Mr. Leonard Williams, Francisco Romero, of Ronda, in Andalusia, was 'the first great exponent of the modern toreo.' Romero was put to shoemaking, but he abandoned that homely trade for the profession of bull-fighter, acting first as a page to the knights who encountered the bulls. It was Romero who introduced the pass of fluttering the cloak, or red cloth, in the face of the bull, and then, at the fitting opportunity, thrusting the sword into the creature's neck. Most of the reputed matadores are of Sevillian birth. In the days of Romero and his son, Juan, who died at the age of one hundred and two, there lived the famous Sevillian toreros, the brothers Palomo, Manuel BellÓn, Lorenzo Manuel, Joaquin Rodriguez, and Pepe Hillo, or Illo.

Among the Andalusian schools of bull-fighting Ronda was renowned for daring, and Seville for coolness. The intrepidity of the Sevillian bull-fighters was remarkable. The salto del trascuerno, or jump across the head of the bull, was one of their favourite feats. Mr. Williams tells us that the most redoubtable of all the toreros of Seville was one Martin Barcaiztegui, called Martincho, a cowherd of Guipuzcoa. Martincho was a pupil of the famous JosÉ Leguregui, and his bravery excelled that of his trainer. 'His favourite accomplishment was to mount upon a table, when his legs were closely fettered with massive irons. The whole was then set opposite the toril. The bull, emerging, sighted the table, covered with a crimson cloth, and charged it, when Martincho would leap along his back from head to tail, and alight in perfect safety. The table, one presumes, went flying into splinters. On a certain occasion, at Zaragoza, Martincho, seated in a chair, killed a bull by a single thrust, using his hat as a muleta.'

Martincho died in 1800, having survived the dangers of the arena. He lived for a time with the artist Goya, who has drawn his friend in several of his bull-fighting pictures. Costillares and Pepe Hillo were also celebrated for their reckless daring in the bull-fighting exhibitions of Seville. These heroes retired from the ring before Godoy influenced Maria Luisa to suppress the corrida. For three years there was no bull-fighting in Spain. Upon the revival of the sport under Joseph Bonaparte, Pedro Romero was appointed chief instructor of Ferdinand's academy of tauromachia at Seville. This matador died at Ronda in 1839. During his public career, he killed no less than 5,600 bulls.

Bull-fighting of the Present.

Montes now comes into prominence among the famous toreros of Andalusia. Francisco Montes fought for the first time at Madrid in 1832. He attracted the notice of Candido, of the academy of bull-fighters at Seville, and he was accepted as a pupil and granted a pension of six reales per day. Montes introduced the modern style in the art of the torero. He wrote a treatise on bull-fighting, entitled: El arte de torear Á pie y Á caballo. 'Considered to be the torero's very bible for the infallible wisdom of its precepts.'

The matador of to-day is the idol of the populace; but he is not so honoured by persons of noble birth as in the earlier times of bull-fighting. Luis Mazzantini is perhaps the greatest living torero. Guerrita has retired. Antonio Fuentes and Reverte are accomplished bull-fighters. Montes died of injuries received in the ring, in the year 1850, at the age of forty-six.

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.

The spectators, men, women and children, closely watch every move and double of the fighters. A picador is thrown. The horse, with a ghastly dripping wound in its flank, rushes around the ring. It is met by the bull, gored, and tossed in the air. The wounded nag cannot regain its feet. Again and again the infuriated toro vents its rage on the struggling horse. Presently, the bull's attention is drawn from the steed, and it turns to face the gaudy matador. A thrust of a dagger ends the convulsive kicking of the dying horse.

With scientific precision, the swordsman flutters his muleta in the bull's face. At each charge the matador bounds aside, and the beast worries the red rag. At length, toro stands snorting and pawing the ground. The magnificent brute surveys his enemy with hatred, and makes another rush. Again it is thwarted. Finally, the sword is plunged deftly into the creature's viscera. Toro trembles, falls, and lies prone. The coup de grace is administered with a big knife. There is deafening applause, the strains of the band, and the dead bull is dragged from the ring by a team of mules.

'When I see children at the corrida, I sigh and think of the future of Spain,' said my Spanish friend. Such expression of opinion is almost treasonable. Long live the bull fight! Humanitarian cant is not to be taken seriously. It is not only the Spanish people who love the sport. 'There are no more enthusiastic patrons of the bull ring in Madrid,' writes Mr. H. C. Chatfield Taylor, author of The Land of the Castanet, 'than many of the foreign diplomats, and one remembers clearly the Secretary of the United States Legation, stationed in Madrid at the time of a former visit, saying that he was an annual subscriber, and had not missed a corrida during his entire term of office.'

The Life of the Fighting Bull.

In Great Britain our nobility and gentle-folk breed racehorses. In Spain the aristocracy and grandees rear bulls for the ring. The breeders of bulls are termed ganaderos. Around Seville, Jerez, Huelva and Valladolid are born the toros bravos. At the age of one year the bulls selected for the arena are branded, and sent on to the plains to graze, in charge of a conocedor, who is assisted by an ayudante. When the bulls are two years of age, they are tried for the first time to prove their pluck and pugnacity. At four years old they are put into huge enclosures of good pasturage, and in time of scarcity they are fed upon vetches, maize and wheat. From five to seven toro is warrantable for the lidia. At his trial, at the age of two years, the owner of the herd invites a number of friends to the ranche. Young and clever horsemen attend these trials, and vie with one another in courage. The caballeros are armed with the garrochas, lances about twelve feet in length, with short steel points. Visitors to Seville may often see parties of mounted sportsmen returning from these tentadores, or trials.

A bull is separated from its companions. The horseman, carrying the garrocha, pursues the brute, and attempts to overturn it by a powerful thrust on the flank, delivered at full gallop. The horseman must be a bold rider, possessed of coolness and strong in the arm. If the charge is successful, toro tumbles with its feet in the air. Another rider now takes up the attack. He has a sharper spear, and is called el tentador. Should the young bull refuse to charge, it is discarded as a toro bravo, and the slaughter-house or the life of labour awaits it. The chosen bulls are then christened, and entered upon the breeder's list of warrantable animals. In due time their names appear on the brilliant placards advertising the corridas of Seville or Cadiz.

'The tentadero at the present day,' writes the authors of Wild Spain, 'affords opportunity for aristocratic gatherings, that recall the tauromachian tournaments of old. Even the Infantas of Spain enter into the spirit of the sport, and have been known themselves to wield the garrocha with good effect, as was, a few months ago, the case at a brilliant fÊte champÊtre on the Sevillian vegas, when the Condesa de Paris and her daughter, Princess Elena, each overthrew a sturdy two-year-old; the Infanta Eulalia riding Á ancas, or pillion-fashion, with an Andalucian nobleman, among the merriest of a merry party.'

Travelling by rail across the wide and lonely plains of Southern and Central Spain, the stranger often sees large herds of bulls, quietly grazing in charge of an attendant, who leans upon a long wooden staff, and wears a plaid upon his shoulder. The Spanish travellers crowd to the window at the magical words los toros, and in an animated manner the points of the herd are discussed. This pleasant pastoral life lasts for five years of the bull's life, though during that time it has to endure the trial with the garrocha. The bulls are divided into three classes after the tientas, or trials, i.e., those of the first rank, the 'brave bulls'; those of the second order, the novillos, which are used by second-rate matadores and beginners, and those sentenced to death, or a life of toil. Amongst the most eminent strains of Andalusian bulls used for the ring are those of CÁmara, Miura, Muruve, PÉrez de la Concha, Conradi, Adalid, Ibarra, Saltillo, and Anastasio Martin.

The animals are sold from four to eight at a time, according to the status of the corrida for which they are purchased. If the distance to the ring is short, the bulls are driven by night through the country, and pastured in the daytime. They are led by peaceable cattle with bells hung from their necks. 'These intelligent beasts keep the wild ones together and out of mischief,' says Mr. Leonard Williams, 'with the same unerring watchfulness as a collie controlling a flock of sheep, and lightening to an incalculable extent the labours of the accompanying horsemen.' At night the bulls are driven into the town, the sides of the streets being barricaded. When the beasts are consigned to buyers at a long distance from the ranche, they are conveyed by rail in strong boxes.

Just before the encounter in the ring, the toros are confined in the chiqueros, dark dens with strong doors that are opened and closed by ropes pulled from above. Difficulty is often experienced in coaxing refractory animals into these cells. The operation is witnessed by aficionados, who pay a fee for the privilege.

Among the best-known garrochistas of modern times are the SeÑores Don Antonio Miura, Don Faustino Morube, Don Miguel Garcia, Don Guillermo Ochoteco, Don JosÉ Silva, Don Fernando Concha, Don Agusto Adalid, Don Angel Zaldos, Don Manuel Sanchez-Mira, Marques de Bogaraya, Marques de Guadalest, Don Frederico Huesca, and the Marques de Castellones. Two of the finest exponents of the art of wielding the rejÓn, or short lance—a weapon surviving from the early times of the lidia—are the SeÑores Heredia, Ledesma, and GranÉ. Mr. Williams says that there are not a dozen horsemen in Spain and Portugal who can successfully perform the feat of killing the bull with the rejÓn.

'An animated spectacle it is on the even of the corrida,' write the authors of Wild Spain, 'when amidst clouds of dust and clang of bells, the tame oxen and wild bulls are driven forward by galloping horsemen and levelled garrochas. The excited populace, already intoxicated with bull-fever and the anticipation of the coming corridas, lining the way to the Plaza, careless if in the enthusiasm for the morrow they risk some awkward rips to-day.

'Once inside the lofty walls of the toril, it is easy to withdraw the treacherous cabestros, and one by one to tempt the bulls each into a small separate cell, the chiquero, the door of which will to-morrow fall before his eyes. Then, rushing upon the arena, he finds himself confronted and encircled by surging tiers of yelling humanity, while the crash of trumpets and glare of moving colours madden his brain. Then the gaudy horsemen, with menacing lances, recall his day of trial on the distant plain, horsemen now doubly hateful in their brilliant glittering tinsel. No wonder the noble brute rushes with magnificent fury to the charge.'

The bull fight of Spain and Portugal is the modern form of the gladiatorial shows of ancient Rome. At Urbs Italica, the Roman city of old, is the ring wherein many victims of Pagan persecution were forced to combat with fierce beasts. It is but a step upwards from this sanguinary sport to the tournament with bulls, introduced into Andalusia by the Moors. The fascination of the horrible is the motive that impels men to witness exhibitions involving risk of human life and cruelty towards animals. Our bull-baiting with dogs was certainly not more sportsmanlike than the Spanish duels between knights, armed only with the lance or sword, and a fierce bull of the plains. Yet bull-baiting was a favourite diversion of the British nation from the time of King John until about a hundred years ago. In the reign of Elizabeth bear-baiting was a fashionable recreation in London, and there were 'Easter fierce hunts, when foaming boars fought for their heads, and lusty bulls and huge bears were baited with dogs' (Sports of England).

When public opinion began to recoil from such barbarous amusements, Windham, in the House of Commons, made a brilliant speech in defence of the sport of bull-baiting, and the Bill for its abolition was rejected. That was in 1802. Yet, no doubt, a number of our countrymen of that period were accustomed to denounce the atrocious cruelty of the Spanish bull-fighters.

Statute 5 and 6, William IV., in 1835, made bull-baiting and cock-fighting illegal. The Act enjoined 'that any person keeping or using any house, pit, or other place, for baiting or fighting any bull, bear, dog, or other animal (whether of a domestic or wild kind), or for cock-fighting, shall be liable to a penalty of £5 for every day he shall so keep and use the same.' In 1837 the provisions of this Act were extended to Ireland.

We must remember, therefore, that a high stage of culture and refinement must be attained before nations will consent to abandon cruel and dangerous contests between men and brutes, or between beasts. Even in Spain there is a growing revolt from the exhibitions of combats between bulls and other animals, which are sometimes given in the big towns. In these fights—which take place in a cage in the centre of an arena—a wretched, half-fed lion or elephant is pitted against a bull. Cock-fighting still flourishes in the Peninsula. It is popular in Seville, and like bull-fighting, the sport has its aficionados in every town and hamlet. Sunday, after Mass, is the favourite day for a display of cock-fighting. These funciones gallisticas have been described by one or two writers upon Spain, who agree that the diversion is of a degrading character.

Those among my readers who are interested in bull-fighting, its history and its anecdotes, will find a chapter on 'Tauromachia' in that fascinating work Wild Spain, by Mr. Abel Chapman and Mr. Walter J. Buck. A full account of the sport, and the most modern of all the numerous contributions to the literature of the bull ring, is that in the three special chapters of Mr. Leonard Williams's The Land of the Dons, published in 1902.