The bull-fight as an amusement is the exclusive property of the Spaniard. It originated in Spain and has never spread beyond the limits of Spanish conquest. Perhaps it is this very exclusiveness that causes them to cling to it so tenaciously, though legislatures and governments have made vigorous efforts to abolish the brutal spectacles. It is, according to a native writer, a proof of the superiority of the Spaniard, because “the Spanish men are as much more brave than other men, as the Spanish bull is more savage and valiant than all other bulls.” Rather, it seems to me to be a survivor of the ancient gladiatorial contests, or fights between man and beast in the great amphitheatres of Rome.

I had never before, even when standing within the historic walls of the Colosseum, been able to picture in my own mind the scene of the arena crowded with combatants while the expectant multitude filled the seats in tier upon tier, until I found myself within the great bull-ring of Madrid. There was the arena, and round about were the eager throng, a crowd of fourteen thousand human beings who impatiently and anxiously awaited the sound of the bugle which would announce the opening of the spectacle of blood and brute torture. Then it was possible to understand how, in an earlier and more brutal age, the Roman populace gloated over the combats where the death of some of the participants was as much fore-doomed as the fate of the bull who enters the ring to-day with a defiant toss of his horns.

If popularity is to be judged by the amount of patronage, then the bull-fight is the most popular amusement in Mexico to-day. The national life is permeated with the sport. The Sunday bull-fight is the topic of conversation in the capital for the following week. Even the children indulge in imitations of this favourite game in their childish way. It is only on Sundays and feast days that the corrida de toros occurs. Six days shalt thou do nothing and on the seventh go to the bull-fight, runs an old Madrid saying. They probably go on the theory that a good entertainment is better on that day than any other. It is useless to argue with a Spaniard or Spanish-American about the brutality or inhumanity of these spectacles as they will immediately remind us of the prize-fights within our own borders which frequently result in death. This is a gentle hint that we should clean our own Augean stables before telling our neighbours what they should not do. Perhaps it is a rebuke that is not entirely out of place.

The Plaza de Toros is always a great, circular building of stone or wood with little pretence or ornament. It is built for the bull-fight and for no other purpose. The interior is an immense amphitheatre, with seats in tiers rising to the top where the private boxes are located. These alone have a roof, as all the rest of the structure is open to the sky. Half the seats are exposed to the bright sun and the other half are in shadow. The seats on the sol, or sunny side, generally cost only about half as much as those in the sombra, or shady part. The fights are usually advertised “if the time and weather permits.” The ring itself is an arena about a hundred feet in diameter, encircled by a high board fence with a lower barrier on the inside, which serves as a means of escape for a torero who is too closely pursued by the irate bull. Sometimes a bull will leap over this first barrier and then an exciting race follows.

An American will not soon forget the first sight of the full amphitheatre. The scene is an exciting one and there is a tension of the nerves in anticipation of what is to come. The bands play and, if there is any delay, the thousands of impatient spectators will shout and yell themselves hoarse. There is usually a cheer when the president for the occasion and his companions take their seats. At length the gates opposite the president are opened and a gaily caparisoned horseman, called the alguacil, appears. He asks permission to kill the bulls. This being granted, the president tosses him the key to the bull-pen, which he catches in his hat. He is cheered if he does catch it and hissed if he fails. The gate opens again and the gay company of bull-fighters is announced by the blast of trumpets. These men arrayed in costumes of red, yellow, green and blue silks, satins and velvets, glittering with beads, jewels and gold braid, form a brilliant spectacle as they march across the arena to salute the president, after the manner of the gladiators of old. Every one taking part in this exhibition appears in this procession, from the matador to the men with wheelbarrows and shovels who clean up the arena after each performance. I said all, but the principal character himself is reserved until later. After saluting the president the company march around the ring to receive the plaudits of the people.

The bull-fight is a tragedy in three acts. After the company have withdrawn, the door through which the bull enters is unlocked and the first act begins with a flourish of trumpets. The bull rushes out from a dark stall into the dazzling light, furious with rage and trembling in every limb. This is an intense moment and all eyes are centred upon the newcomer. As he enters, a barbed steel hook covered with flowing ribbons is placed in his shoulder. The ribbons indicate the ranch or hacienda from whence he came. Even the street urchins can recognize the colours of a hacienda which has the reputation of producing animals that are noted for their belligerent qualities.

Startled by the intense light and enraged by the stinging of the steel hook, the bull stands for an instant recovering his senses. Sometimes he will paw the earth, toss the dust over his back and bellow his defiance. Around him in the ring are the capeadores, men on foot carrying red capes, and picadores, men on horses armed with lances. These latter sit motionless as statues upon their steeds that are blindfolded ready for the sacrifice.

After a moment of uncertainty, the bull dashes either at a capeador or picador. The former quickly runs to the barrier and nimbly leaps over, leaving the bull more infuriated than ever. The horse attracts his attention next and there is no way of escape for this poor, old, broken down servant of man. The picador makes no effort to save his steed, which is blindfolded so that he may not see his danger, but simply plants his blunt spear-point in the shoulder of the brute. Sometimes this will save the horse, but it does not please the audience for a certain number of horses must be sacrificed. More frequently the bull will, with a single toss of the horns, overthrow both horse and rider in a heap. The capeadores then hover around with their cloaks and distract the attention of the bull from the prostrate rider who is helpless because of his iron armour. Once I saw a rider fall on the back of the bull much to the surprise of both. It is seldom that a picador is killed, for the bull will nearly always leave him and chase a red cloak.

Fortunate, indeed, is the horse that is instantly killed. If able to walk, he is ridden around in the ring again with blood streaming from his wounds and trampling upon his own bowels. Or the poor brute may be sewed up in a crude, surgical way in order to enable him to canter around the ring a few more times. Once, only, in an experience covering several bull-fights in several countries, have I seen a horse drop dead from the first blow. The fight is not complete without the shedding of the blood of horses, and sometimes the crowd will clamour for more horses before this act is closed. There must be enough, for economy in this feature will place the people in a bad mood. The audience must be catered to, for if disappointed they are likely to demolish the ring and tear up the seats as a method of showing their displeasure. This, in itself, is sufficient to prove the debasing and brutalizing influence of this sport.

In the second act the banderilleros, men who plant the banderillas in the neck of the bull, appear in the arena. This is the most artistic and most interesting act in the entire performance, for great skill is displayed and little blood spilled. These men come in the ring without cape or any means of defence and depend entirely upon their skill and agility for safety. They are finely dressed and are usually superbly built fellows with lithe and muscular bodies. The banderillero takes with him a pair of barbed darts about two feet long and covered with fancy coloured paper with ribbon streamers. He shakes these at the bull, thus provoking an assault. Then, just when he seems to be on the bull’s horns and the novice turns his face away to avoid the scene, he plants the darts in the gory neck of the bull and steps lightly aside. These darts re-enrage the bull, who has been getting rather tired of the whole affair. He attacks whatever engages his attention. It may be only a dead horse which he will then tear open, being aroused to fury by the smell of the blood.

There are usually two of these men and each plants four darts in the bull’s neck. They must be placed in front of the shoulder and so firmly inserted that they will not be shaken out. If successful in these particulars, then the banderillero who is a favourite will receive prolonged applause and a perfect volley of complimentary comments. Even the matador himself ofttimes deigns to take part in this act. If so, he performs the act in some daring and novel way. They will sometimes sit in a chair and thus plant the darts, or take a pole and vault over the bull after placing them. Occasionally a bull is cowardly and will not fight. Then “fire” is called for and darts filled with powder which explodes in the flesh are used. This will cause the bull to dance and skip around in his agony, which is very pleasing to the audience and furnishes variety to an otherwise monotonous exhibition.

The trumpet sounds the last act. This is the duel,—the death. Everything has been done with reference to this act. The first two acts have been intended to madden the animal and tire him by the violent exercise and loss of blood. He is panting, his sides heave as though they would burst, his neck is one mass of blood over which, as if in mockery, hang the many-hued darts. The man with the sword would not stand much show with a fresh and unwearied animal. This actor is the matador, or espada, and, if known as one who kills his bulls with a single stroke of the sword, he will receive great applause on entering. He steps forward to the president’s box and makes a little speech, offering to kill the bull to the honour of Mexico. Throwing his hat to some one in the seats, (for it is considered an honour to hold any of his apparel) the hero advances sword in hand toward the bull, who, during this by-play, has been entertained by the cape-bearers again. He bears in his left hand a staff, called the muleta, over which is a red flag, and in the right a keen-edged sword. The flag serves both as a lure to the beast and a protection to the man. He is usually pale and always alert, and studies the animal for a moment to ascertain his disposition. This can not be prolonged for the audience will not brook delay. The tension of nerves is too great. As the bull makes a rush for the red flag, with head lowered, the matador plunges the keen blade into the bull’s shoulders up to the hilt. The bull staggers and dies.

It is wonderful to see how excited and enthusiastic the crowd becomes when the matador has made a skilful killing. They rise and cheer and wave their handkerchiefs. As he passes around the ring to receive their applause, a perfect volley of hats, coats, handkerchiefs, and cigars are thrown toward him. These are tossed back except the cigars or any money that may have been included. If the killing has been poorly made, or in a bungling manner, hisses replace cheers and boards or chairs may be thrown instead of hats and cigars. At a fight in Guatemala City I saw one matador chased out of the ring, and he did not return again during that performance. This was done after he had made three unsuccessful attempts to kill the bull and had plunged two swords into the poor, tortured animal without striking a vital spot.

Then comes the finale. Teams of gaily-decked mules are brought in to drag out the dead bull and horses. The bloody places are covered over with sawdust in order to prevent slipping. Even before the dead animals are removed, the two or three picadores appear on other sorry-looking steeds, even worse than the first ones if such a thing were possible. The trumpet sounds, the door flies open and another bull comes rushing in to meet the same fate as the first. The play begins again with the same variety of sickening incidents. Others follow in regular order until the usual number of six bulls have been dispatched. The management is usually very careful not to promise more than will be performed, for they know the temper of the audience too well. At a bull-fight in Madrid, which I attended, the management had promised ten bulls in its posters but the tickets only called for eight. After the eighth bull had been dispatched the end was announced, but the crowd refused to leave. All over the vast amphitheatre rang the cry “otro toro” (another bull), repeated over and over again in one swelling cadence with ever-increasing volume. The management was obdurate and the multitudes left muttering their maledictions.

Formerly gentlemen of the court mounted on the finest horses in the kingdom entered the arena and fought the bull like the knights of old. Now the sport has degenerated and is performed by professionals hired for the purpose. I once had the opportunity of witnessing a bull-fight by the Portuguese method. This is the bull-fight deprived of its disgusting details. It is even more exciting and dispenses with the killing of both bull and horses. The men with the red cloaks are employed just the same but the men who place the banderillas are mounted on horses. They are not broken-down hacks, but magnificent, well-trained animals and good care is taken that the bull does not make sausage meat of them. As a further protection, the points of the bull’s horns are covered with balls to prevent injury to the horses. Their sport consists in riding past the bull, and placing the darts without permitting the bull to touch the horse. It is a feat that requires great skill and a steady nerve. After the bull is thoroughly tired out, a number of oxen are driven in the ring, the exhausted bull is taken out and another one brought in to continue the sport. In any form bull-fighting is bad enough, but if a line can be drawn between degrees of evil, the method of the Portuguese is the least to be condemned.

Tauromachy has many devotees who follow the fights in all their features as the base ball fan watches the sporting page of the American newspaper. In some places the spectacles are reported in all their most minute details, even down to the number of minutes it took the bull to die after receiving the fatal stroke. The killing of bulls is a science and there are many different schools which have been founded by great masters. A renowned matador receives as much attention as the champion prize-fighter in English speaking countries. They receive great sums of money but are almost invariably improvident and save little. The fights are not unattended by danger, for deaths are not infrequent and serious injuries are a common occurrence.

Ladies attend these spectacles and seem to derive as much pleasure as those who are supposed to be made of sterner stuff. Their black eyes sparkle with excitement and they shower their appreciation upon the successful one without reserve. It is the place for dress as the opera is in other lands. All the gallantry in the Spanish nature comes to the front on the way to and at the bull-fight. The enthusiasm, the manners, the expressions—all are distinctly national.

In Mexico the light on the horizon seems to be growing brighter, and the beginning of the end of this brutal and un-American sport is apparently in sight. It is not in favour with the present officials in the national capital and in many of the state capitals. Three of the most important states absolutely forbid the bull-fights, and heavy penalties are provided for any violations of the law. Statutes to prohibit them have been enacted in the federal district on more than one occasion, but they have been as often repealed so great was the popular demand for them. The best people do not now attend the performances in the City of Mexico but this fact has made little diminution in the crowd. Their places are taken by foreigners resident there, many of whom are among the most ardent supporters of the sport. I predict that within the next decade there will be few states in the Republic of Mexico that will permit the bull-fight within their borders. Such action may curtail a profitable industry and remove a good market for worn-out horses, but these material losses will be more than compensated in the development of those elements of character which can not be measured by the low standard of mere dollars and cents.