Pelota and Bull-fighting, 1909
From Spain of the Spanish by Janie Villiers-Wardell, 1909.
From: 1909 C.E. To: 1909 C.E.
Location: Plaza de toros de la Real Maestranza de Caballería de Sevilla, Seville, Spain
Note: This article has been excerpted from a larger work in the public domain and shared here due to its historical value. It may contain outdated ideas and language that do not reflect TOTA’s opinions and beliefs.
From Spain of the Spanish by Janie Villiers-Wardell, 1909.
Sports
It is customary, when treating of "Sports" in Spain, to rush forward the bull-fight. And this is comprehensible because, though it is absurd to take for granted that it is the only sport dear to the hearts of the Spaniards, it is certainly the sport of the people.
In Spain the upper classes enjoy very much the same sports as those enjoyed by people in the same position in England and in France. The men—headed by the King—are enthusiastic and skilled polo players. They—again headed by the King—are excellent all-round sportsmen.
Horse-racing does not play a very important role in Spain, but men and women alike are really good lawn-tennis players.
Pelota
And then in Spain, though not in the guise of a national sport, as in the Basque provinces, they have that most splendid of all games—Pelota.
It is difficult to understand why pelota has never taken a serious place in the affections of Englishmen, for it is as exciting as it is picturesque and difficult. In watching a well-played match of pelota one's attention never for an instant wavers: it is rivetted on the players and on the flying ball from the first second to the last.
In the Basque provinces—French as well as Spanish—pelota and dancing form the two amusements of the younger generation, and the Basque pelota players are marvellously dexterous. Chiquito de Cambo is the great champion of the Basque country, but Ayestaran and Munita are Spaniards, and almost equally clever; and then there are very many other notable players who have made their mark in Madrid, in Barcelona and in various parts of Navarre.
It has been said that pelota closely resembles the Italian game pallone, but personally I see very little resemblance. Pallone is played across a net, or at any rate across a stretched cord, and the right hand is covered with a heavy wooden glove, studded with wooden teeth and bound with iron.
Pelota, on the other hand, is played between two high walls, these walls being about 220 feet apart, and the right hand of the player is covered with a most graceful half-moon shaped chistera, made of fine basket work. At one end of the chistera there is a sort of leather glove through which the fingers are passed and straps are then tightly fastened round the wrist. Skilful players can twist these chisteras about in the most extraordinary way: the right hand only is covered, but with a quick movement of the body and a turn of the wrist every corner of the court can be guarded.
I cannot describe the game in technical terms, but, roughly speaking, a match is played by six players, three on either side. The ball is "served" by striking it against the high wall bounding one end of the court and striking it in such a way that it rebounds back amongst the players, within a certain area. One of the opposite party drives it back and so on.
It is easy to understand that everything depends on just how the ball is taken. To the ordinary onlooker all the strokes seem very much the same: the impact of ball—which weighs about four ounces—and chistera always seems terrific, and yet sometimes the ball returns so softly that it barely covers the required line, and sometimes it comes back with such force that it hits the opposite wall!
A favourite stroke of Chiquito de Cambo drives the ball with most amazing force against the wall, then lifts it high in the air, and then causes it to fall straight, within an inch or two of the second wall, behind. Another clever stroke is one which seems ferocious but which carries the ball so softly that everyone is taken by surprise.
In the Basque provinces it is the custom to have someone to sing—in Basque—the score from time to time.
The Bull Fight
I am conscious that the manner in which I intend to deal with the bull-fight will draw down upon me a good deal of criticism, and that probably of an adverse character, but I do not intend to be dismayed. I shall speak the truth—nothing more, but nothing less—as I understand it. It is always necessary to clear the decks before going into action, and so I start by bringing forward a certain grievance connected with foreign writers on the bull-fight—and by foreign I mean other than Spanish. These writers very frequently not only describe that which they do not see, but follow on by making deductions from that which they do not understand.
I have in my mind at this moment a detailed account of a bull-fight written by a well-known author in which the very entry of the cuadrillas—which never, in any circumstances, alters—is inaccurately set forth, from first to last. The picadores are described as entering with their "lances"—this writer's vivid imagination even seeing the sunlight flash on the polished steel!
The picadores never carry their pikes when entering with the cuadrillas.
Then the banderilleros were described as entering, bearing in their hands their "darts"—quite in the style of the entry in the last act of Carmen, at Covent Garden!
The banderilleros never carry banderillas when taking part in the entrada—except on the stage.
I have picked out two inaccuracies from very many, and they are not really important; nevertheless, they help to prove the truth of my assertion that those who cannot accurately describe that at which they are looking, and that which never changes, have no possible right to make deductions from a scene which they do not understand.
The writer in question found himself very much excited by what he called "the blood lust" of the multitude, and even went so far as to state that the people present at that most wonderful bull-fight were bitterly disappointed to find that one of their favourite espadas was not actually killed before their eyes instead of being merely badly hurt.
Point of View of the Spaniard
A Spanish bronca—in vulgar parlance, a row—is a difficult affair for a foreigner to understand: especially a bronca in a bull ring. And it is a very serious matter when writers—and there have been many who have done this—interpret such broncos by the light of their own feelings. To write of what one does not understand is foolish, but not necessarily harmful; but to make deductions from what one does not understand, when such deductions present a great people in a false and abominable light, is quite another matter.
In the case to which I have just alluded, the description of the bull-fight formed part of a story, and for that reason it is not necessary to take it too seriously, as a considerable amount of licence is permitted to novelists; but again and again, seriously and with intention, writers have insisted that because the average Spaniard takes delight in the bull-fight he must therefore be grossly cruel by nature. And this does not follow. He takes delight in the bull-fight because he understands it, in every detail. Because it is in his blood to know and appreciate every point gained or lost. Because he is all the time making comparisons—with regard to the bulls, with regard to the toreros, with regard to the management of the plaza, with regard—and this very especially—to the operations of the President. The cruel incidents—and they are cruel—are to him merely incidents; they are not pleasant, but they are necessary, and "blood lust" does not prompt him when he applauds a good vara, even though the excellence of this same vara may have tempted the bull to bury his horns in the sides of an unfortunate horse.
Everything depends on the point of view of individuals as of nations. The average Englishman goes to the bull-fight expecting to see cruelties, and these he sees—and little else. The average Spaniard goes to the bull-fight to see—if possible—first-rate fighting bulls confronted with first rate toreros; and if providence be in a kindly mood he ventures to hope that a first-rate President may be thrown in!
I know many Spaniards who deplore the cruelty to the horses and who will be truly glad if—as seems more than likely—changes can be made which will do away, to some extent, with this blot on an otherwise magnificent sport. But even with things as they now are, "blood lust" has nothing whatever to do with the call for "mas caballos"—more horses—which has so often been quoted in proof of Spanish cruelty.
It is not unnatural that foreign writers should imagine that this cry means that the people in the tendidos want to see more blood spilt, because these writers—as I have already said—rarely understand even the rudiments of the science of the bull-fight.
The cry of "mas caballos" really indicates that the bull in the arena is a good fighter, for it is by his attitude towards the vara—or pike—that a bull is judged, and this from his early youth.
The Tienta
It is necessary for the ganadero—an owner of cattle—to test his young bulls while they are still running wild in the great fields, so that he may know which of them will be sufficiently brave to make a debut in a first-class plaza. And this test is made with the garrocha, or pike. If the young bull has the required spirit he will return to the charge after having received a vara; if he shows fear his chances of appearing in public, in a first-class plaza, are at an end. This testing of the young bulls is called a tienta.
From this little explanation it will be seen that if a bull has received a number of varas in the ring and if he is still inclined to charge the picadores—who are the horsemen—he must be a first-class animal: hence the cries of admiration which accompany the call for "mas caballos.”
This explanation does not make the matter any pleasanter for the horses, but it indicates the true feeling of the Spaniards. And before leaving this introduction to the often-discussed subject of the suerte de varus, the first of the three suertes connected with the killing of each bull, I must draw attention to the fact that some of the most beautiful and finished work of the espadas is accomplished at this epoch. And here again, in connection with this work, the English and Spanish view points dash. When the bull has gored an unfortunate horse the eyes and imagination of the former are rivetted on the struggling animal. At the same moment the Spaniard is closely watching every movement of the cloak, manipulated by the espada, which is deftly drawing off the bull and enabling the picador to regain his feet or his saddle. To those who understand the science of the bull-fight there is nothing more interesting than this particular play, which is frequently very elegant and adorned, of the cloak. On the skill and quickness of the espada depends the safety of the* picador*, for the latter as often as not falls right under the horns of the bull.
And while speaking of the picadores it may be as well to record some of the qualities which they ought to possess. They ought to be perfect horsemen; they ought to have a profound knowledge of bulls; they ought to have quick eyes, amazing courage, and herculean strength.
I have used a great many "oughts" because the picadores of the present day, unfortunately, are often lacking in many of these qualities. Given a really good picador, mounted on a strong horse, a number of varus might be given without the bull having a chance of wounding the horse, even once.
A Famous Picador
I have seen Agujetas—the last of the old line of picadores—pike all his bulls at a corrida without allowing his horses to be seriously injured. He had strength and knowledge which enabled him to push off the bull instead of allowing the latter to roll over the horse, as is so often seen at the present day. And now that I have set forth a grievance which seems to me to be sufficiently serious, let us take a general view of a corrida de taros, from its alpha to its omega.
The Easter Bull-fight at Sevilla
And because Andalusia is the home of the fighting bulls, of the most famous toreros—past and present—and of enthusiastic aficionados, let us take the Easter corrida at Sevilla as our example.
At Sevilla, on the day preceding a corrida, the great fields of Tablada loom large in the minds of aficionados, for there, carefully enclosed, may be seen the fighting destined for the morrow's show. It is delightful drive to Tablada, through Las Delicias—the "Row" of Sevilla—and across a long road which leads right into the fields.
All sorts and conditions of persons are to be seen on every side, and at Tablada the toreros appear in a costume which is at once characteristic and picturesque. For example, "Bombita"—who in private life is Ricardo Torres—might be seen in a tight-fitting suit of navy blue cloth; the trousers skin tight over the upper part of the legs and rather loose from the knees down. The jacket would be of the “Eton" shape and decorated with braids and frogs in front, and there would be a very neat little frilled shirt, with a low collar and a narrow tie. Large diamond studs would be worn, and probably several handsome diamond rings.
The crowning point of a costume such as this is the cordobés, or flat-brimmed felt hat, which in the street is invariably worn by everyone connected with the bull-fight, and also by many southern Spaniards who are admirers of the national sport. These hats are shaped like an Englishman's straw hat, but the crown is rather higher and the brim considerably wider. The cordobés is always made of felt, and it is to be seen in several different colours: in black, brown, grey, and pearl. A good many of the older toreros in Sevilla wear these hats of a dark shade of grey with the addition of a Mack cloth band round the crown. This is very taurine but undoubtedly ugly!
The Encierro
An interesting little spectacle—though it costs the onlooker a night's rest—is the encierro. At dead of night, when the streets are clear, the bulls, surrounded by their cabestros—oxen with large bells hanging to their necks—are rushed along the road to the plaza. They are conducted by men on horseback and the beasts are made to travel at top speed.
It is necessary to realise that nothing can be done with the fighting bulls without the aid of their own special cabestros. These great animals they know and are accustomed to, and these they will follow—as a rule. But the cabestros of one ganaderia could not conduct the bulls belonging to another.
I remember, two years ago, at Sevilla, some awkwardness arising out of this peculiarity. There was a gala corrida, at which six picked bulls, chosen from different ganaderias, made their appearance. And it was necessary to have six separate encierros, at different hours of the night, otherwise bulls and cabestros would have quickly become entangled in most furious warfare.
And then there is yet another little ceremony before the moment comes for the plaza to open its doors.
On the morning of the corrida the apartado takes place; or in other words, the placing of the fighting bulls in their separate toriles, ready for the afternoon. The toreros attend this ceremony and so do many aficionados.
The Plaza de Toros
The Plaza de Toros at Sevilla is one of the most picturesque in Spain. It is very wide and low, and, when full to overflowing for the Easter corrida, it presents an appearance of brilliant colour not easily forgotten. The photograph here entitled, “Entry of the Cuadrillas," does not show the plaza at Sevilla; it is a view of the plaza at Pampeluna, and I specially chose it as in this plaza Pablo Sarasate, year after year, enjoyed a great triumph. Sarasate was a native of Pampeluna and never failed to visit his old home at the time of the fiestas, each year. In this photograph the cuadrillas are saluting the palco of the President, and it was in this palco, or box, that the magnificent violinist, who was so dear to all our hearts, used to occupy the place of honour.
There should be noticed the distinct line dividing the part of the plaza which is in shadow from that which is in full sunlight. From this will be realised the necessity of having places in the sombra side! And this difference between sunshine and shadow in the plaza de taros has supplied a name for the best known taurine newspaper in Spain—Sol y Sombra. The seats at the sol side belong specially to the people as they are cheaper than those on the sombra side.
Spanish Women at the Bull-fight
For las toros the Spanish women, especially in Sevilla, wear white mantillas over their hair and shoulders and quantities of flowers. They also exhibit their gorgeous mantones de Manila, which I shall fully describe a little later on, when speaking on the subject of dancing. They do not wear these mantones, but bring them for the purpose of spreading them out over the front of their palcos, or boxes. These exquisite shawls are very decorative, and they are richly embroidered in a thousand and one different colours. The effect is rarely lovely when a group of pretty women, in white lace mantillas, with crimson carnations pressing forward curls of dark hair at one side, lean their shapely arms on the mantones de Manila, which have been thrown carelessly over the front rail of the palco.
And when, a little later on, some favourite espada sends his superb embroidered satin cloak to this palco or that, to be taken care of, a double effect is obtained, for custom dictates that such a capa must be spread out over the front of the box, so that its gold embroideries may mingle with the silken fringes of the manton underneath.
The entry of the President, whose palco is next to that of the King, is the signal for the performance to begin, and it is necessary to pause, just for a moment, to consider the duties and power of this personage.
In taurine circles there are two sets of individuals who are nearly always said to be in the wrong: the picadores and the presidents! Of the picadors I have already said enough, but, in all fairness, it must be admitted that the position of president at a corrida of importance is not an altogether agreeable one. In the first place, it is the President who decides the exact moment at which each suerte must come to an end. It is he who decides the number of varas that each bull requires, and the moment when he has had enough of the suerte de banderillas, etc. And from the President's decision there is no escape.
At first sight his office may seem simple enough, but it is not so in reality, for he has to deal with a variety of different elements. The ganadero, naturally, wishes justice done to his bulls, and he has his own ideas as to the desirable length of each suerte. The toreros have their reputations—not to mention their lives—to consider, and, again naturally, they have their ideas on the same subject. And last—but not by any means least—the ideas of 12,000 or 14,000 aficionados have to be heard, if not considered; for Spaniards have fine carrying voices, and the most delightful occupation in life is to "torear from the tendidos!”
The Entry of the Cuadrillas
The entry of the cuadrillas has often been described, and a very fair idea of the spectacle can be gained from a close inspection of the photo here given. The alguaciles who wear velvet cloaks and feathered hats, come first, on horseback. Then the espadas—followed in line by their banderilleros—and then the picadores, on horseback. Each one salutes the President: the alguaciles receive the key of the bull's toril, which is thrown down to them from the President's box, and disappear: the toreros exchange their gorgeous satin capas for others of more ordinary material, and take up positions to await the arrival of the bull.
And here I think it will be interesting to say a few words about the costumes worn by the toreros, for it is impossible to imagine any more beautiful or becoming dress.
The Costumes of the Toreros
The costume of the espadas closely resembles that of the banderilleros, but it is, as a rule, very much richer and more expensive. These costumes consist of three garments: the short jacket—or chaquetilla: the waistcoat—or chaleco, and the knickerbockers—or taleguillas.
On looking at the portrait of Machaquito it will be found easy to follow this description.
All these three garments are made of rich satin, or silk, in beautiful shades of rose-pink, turquoise, violet, tabac, emerald, pearl-grey, white, etc., and they are exquisitely embroidered in gold or silver. The best traje de luces are made in Madrid at a cost of 1,000 pesetas—£40—or more.
And then there is the superb capote de paseo, a large round cape worn on entering and leaving the arena, also made of satin and heavily embroidered in gold; frequently little jewels are introduced amongst the embroideries of these capotes, and their average cost is another 1,000 pesetas. The torero's hat—or montera—is a picturesque arrangement of black velvet and chenil, which costs about £4, and as there is also a wide waistband of silk—the faja—which measures at least four yards, the entire cost of a costume worn in the arena cannot come to much less than £100. I give these figures because the word tawdry has sometimes been appleed to the torero's dress, and it is inapplicable.
When everyone is in his place and when the President gives the signal, the door of the toril is opened and the first bull rushes into the arena. And from this moment the whole attention of the toreros, especially of the, is directed on the animal. What may be his temper, his character, his peculiarities? For the difference between bulls is amazing.
Just to take a few examples of different aptitudes: the bull which has entered the ring may be boyante, which means that he will be brilliant and easy to torear. Or he may be de sentido, which means that he will be cunning, what the toreros call "un bicho de cuidao." Or he may be bravucon, which means that he will attack willingly but without resolution, and also that he will attack the man rather than the cloak.
There are very many other differences of character, but we must pass on to differences of eyesight—a point of enormous importance. Many bulls have defective eyesight, and these animals are called burriciegos: amongst such bulls as these there are many classes. Bulls that see well at a short distance: bulls that see well at a long distance: bulls with uneven sight—one eye good and the other defective, etc., etc.
An intuitive knowledge of bulls is one of the most valuable gifts the gods can bestow on a torero, Rafael Guerra possessed it to an extraordinary degree. It used to be said that the moment Guerra saw a bull entering the arena he knew pretty well everything there was to be known about it.
The Miura Bulls
At the risk of delaying too long at the very beginning of the corrida I should like to say a few words on the subject of a very famous breed of bulls, whose peculiarities have recently set the taurine cirdes of Spain by the ears. And these are the bulls belonging to the ganaderia of Don Eduardo Miura of Sevilla. So peculiar is the temper of the miuras that "trusts" have been brought into existence because of them, and the newspapers have been full of the pros and cons of the case. With these “trusts” we are not here concerned, but the temper of the miuras is worthy of study. They are individualists of an exaggerated order!
Each bull seems possessed of a strong personal character. He may be splendidly brave, or cranky beyond words, or sullen or frankly devilish. And it is because of the individuality of these particular bulls that the aficionados always speak of a miura corrida with excitement and delight, even though the miura corridas are rarely specially brilliant. They are interesting to those who understand the game because ordinary tactics are of little use, and even the most experienced torero cannot hope to know what a miura may take it into his head to do at any moment and in any circumstances.
The “Suerte de Varas”
I have already spoken of the suerte de varus, the first of the three suertes necessary for the killing of each bull, but I have not described it exactly. This suerte, which is interesting to the Spaniard because of the great demands it makes on the toreros, is invariably offensive to foreign eyes: and it could not be otherwise.
The picadores—generally three—mounted on wretched horses, are placed at regular points round the arena and each one in turn comes forward and does all in his power to induce the bull to attack him.
The man gets his long pike firmly into position under his arm and, leaning forward, taunts the bull.
When the animal charges, the picador pikes him in the shoulder and—when he can—pushes the animal off. What really happens, nine times in ten, is that the bull gores the horse and throws it down, the picador frequently getting a most dangerous fall. At this moment the espada skilfully draws off the bull with his cloak, and the picador is lifted to his legs and, if the horse is not too badly injured, into his saddle.
The cruelty of this suerte is, in some bull rings, greatly diminished by the fact that the horses are instantly killed when they are badly injured. And most emphatically there ought to be a law commanding this to be done—always. With the puntilla, or short dagger, the horse can be put out of pain in a moment, and there is no acceptable reason why a little money should be saved at the expense of a wounded animal.
As I have already said, a good picador can do much to shield his horse; but, unhappily, nowadays good picadores are few and far between.
When the President thinks that enough varas have been given—three is an ordinary number—he waves his hand-kerchief and a bugle plays the cambio de suertes. The picadores leave the ring and the moment has come for the suerte de banderillas, the most graceful and attractive part of the whole performance. In this suerte the espadas take no part: they stand, or sit, at the barriers and wait for the final scene.
The “Suerte de Banderillas”
The banderillas, which are handed in over the barriers when required, are wooden sticks of about 65 centimetres in length, covered with lengths of coloured paper, and having at one end an enlarged fish-hook.
These wooden sticks have to be placed, perfectly symmetrically, in pairs and as close together as possible on the shoulders of the bull.
The suerte de banderillas is one of great difficulty and of exceeding grace. The bull is in swift motion, and the man is obliged to approach very close. There are many different methods of planting the banderillas. Al cuarteo is the most usual, although it is only possible when the bull is specially brave, and the quiebro is the most difficult.
To banderillear al cuarteo the man stands at a certain distance in front of the bull and calls the animal's attention. As soon as the bull has seen him they both start running, the bull in a straight line and the man in a semicircle. At the moment of meeting, the bull lowers his head to toss, and the banderillas are firmly planted.
In the quiebro—which was invented by the great Gordito—the man stands perfectly still, his feet together, sometimes on a handkerchief: he attracts the attention of the bull by bending forward on one side and when the furious animal rushes in this direction he quickly stands upright and plants the banderillas as the animal passes. Other usual methods of planting the banderillas are la media vuelta, al recorte, and defrente.
In connection with the suerte de banderillas it is clear to me that one important change ought to be made. Banderillas de fuego ought never to be used. These banderillas have a sort of firework arrangement attached to them, and they are used sometimes when a bull is completely manso, or cowardly. That is to say, when he has refused to charge the picadares.
These banderillas may fairly be said to be relics of barbarism, but it is not necessary to attack them on the grounds of cruelty, for it is perfectly evident that they are useless and unfair. Unfair to the bull, to the toreros, to the manager of the plaza, and to the audience.
In going to a bull-fight one pays to see good fighting bulls. Now banderillas de fuego never yet made a good fighting bull of a toro manso. They turn him into an evil-tempered beast, savage or sullen according to his nature. And such an animal is a great source of danger to the toreros, besides being a most unpleasant spectacle for the onlookers.
In my opinion if a bull turns out to be manso—sufficiently so to call for banderillas de fuego—he should be conducted out of the ring by the cabestros and another bull substituted—at the expense of the ganadero. It would be hard on the latter, certainly, but obviously he is the only person who has any way of knowing the qualities of a bull which he himself has bred.
The Suerte de Matar
When the arena is cleared for the final scene, the suerte de matar, the espada stands underneath the palco of the King or President, and makes a little speech in which he dedicates his bull. The final words of this chapter will give an idea of this classic dedication! He then throws his montera over the barriers, and slowly advances, muleta and sword in hand, towards the animal. The muleta is a large piece of red cloth folded in two and draped over a stick; it is practically a large red flag. The muleta is used to concentrate the attention of the bull on the espada, and various “passes” are intended to bring the animal into proper conditions for the death-stroke.
To the unaccustomed eye the passes of the muleta all seem very much alike. But in reality very much depends on just how these “passes" are made. It is for the espada, who by this time ought to know his bull, to decide whether little or much of the red cloth is to be presented to the bull: whether the muleta is to be withdrawn under his head or over his horns; whether it is to be withdrawn quickly or slowly. Each "pass" has some particular effect on the animal, and if the right ones be not chosen the estocada, or final stroke of the sword, will not be a brilliant one.
The first and simplest of these movements of the muleta is the pose natural. The most complicated and dangerous is the pose de pecho. In all the passes of the muleta the torero ought to stand very close to the bull and as motionless as possible.
If, unfortunately, he should show an inclination to draw back or to move aside, a thousand voices remind him of the fact that "dancing" is out of place in the bull ring!
At the moment when the espada considers the bull in a favourable position for the estocada, nothing remains for him except to give the death-blow—and to give it correctly. And here lies the difficulty!
For it is not merely a case of killing the bull; it is absolutely necessary that it should be killed according to rule. Of all the estocadas—and there are many—the most difficult is the recibiendo. The man stands perfectly motionless, holding the sword on a level with the shoulders of the bull: he attracts the animal with the muleta, with the left hand, and allows it to run on the sword.
The extreme difficulty of this estocada can easily be understood, and it is a curious fact that the torero of the present day who, almost alone, excels in it is a young sevillano named Martin Vasquez. This torero, who has only lately entered the arena, is a native of Alcala, a picturesque village outside Sevilla, and he is considered one of the best of the younger generation.
Wardell, Janie Villiers. Spain of the Spanish. Charles Scribner's Sons, 1909.
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