A New Zealander Looks At Bull-Fighting

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 454, 8 September 1928, Page 19

A New Zealander Looks At Bull-Fighting

Cruel National Sport of Spain Still Attracts Thousands of Excited Spectators . . . “Crock” Horses, Sacrificed to Make a Spanish Holiday.

(Written for THE SUN Try

HAROLD B. TIPLING

HERE are those who doubt that bull-fights still take place ia Spain, and to such this article should be of particular interest. I returned recently after spending nearly

er A fn al Vi I V i , I ? id and the brave sathbbU.ria S, and again they The d * sp ® rsed Ia the same manner. tin?e a Per£ r mance ls repeated four thT«. Md e . acb tlme a fresh buXl takes the aggressive. _® y 8,30 a ’ m * the show is over, and everyone makes for town and break,.fQ ' vf , the day wears °n and the al nglit draws near, one is conscious of suppressed excitement. It seems to be in the air—it is seen on the tense ta ®? s .. of tlle Passers-by, in the nervous activity of shopkeepers impatiently awaiting the time to close their doors and be off to the bull-ring. No subject other than bull-fighting is discussed. It is matadors and bulls, Picadors and horses. If the weather happens to be overcast anxious eyes ?> re n < i 0^ tinilally direc ted heavenwards. Bull-fights never take place in bad weather. Brilliant sunshine sems essential. It would be altogether too

four years on the Continent. I made several visits and witnessed some of the more important fights, seeing some from behind the scenes and others as 8Q ordinary spectator. “Bull-fighting’’ is still the national sport of Spain, and even in provincial towns very large amphitheatres built of stone and concrete are erected to accommodate the eager crowds. Bullfights are conducted on prescribed lines, and there is more or less of a sameness about them wherever seen. In the comparatively large provincial town of Pamplona, in the north of Spain, however, a novel feature is added to the day's sport. During the San Fermin festival, which is celebrated in Pamplona every year from the sixth to the eighteenth day of July,! five days are devoted to bull-fighting;, and each of these days opens with k thrilling spectacle known as Encierr<>s de Toros, a sight that can be seen jin no other part of Spagn. At seven o'clock in the morning the report of a cannon warns townsfolk and others of the release, on the outskirts of the town, of six savage fighting bulls, which are to be driven through the street 3 to the arena. The streets, of course, are cleared of vehicle traffic, and the course of the bulls over intersec ing roads is directed by stout barricades. Shop windows are protected by sh utters or boarded up Young men who intend to dodge the bulls or run before them scatter themselves along the rc ute. Near the centre of the town we see the dangerous beasts swinging round a shop corner at th s gallop, driving before them a batch of youthful wouldbe matadors, who dash through their waiting companions with red rags streaming behind. Their waiting companions, in turn, take fright at first sight of the ferocious animals, and they, too, fly for their lives. Others escape from the rush as it passes on, Some scrambling over the crowded barricades, others < limbing up to win-dow-sills, where the bulls cannot reach them, while a few of the bolder type throw themselves Jlat on the cobbleroad and sham detlth as the panting herd clatter by. In this manner nun and beast quickly pass through the streets of the town and soon reach the; arena, where the excited animals are locked up. For these are the bulls ,o he slaughtered, later in the day, in ti e bull-ring. Th ey are valuable beasts i.nd are bred specially for strength, ferocity and speed. Their next release will throw them into combat bringing lain and torment —a combat in which they will display their great courage; courage such as no other living thing possesses. Their stupendous strength will be tested and used up in a fight against overwhelming odds, a wonderful but cruel fight in which spent effort aid loss of blood will go on gradually weakening the defiant animals until, at last, they are dealt their death blows. In their dash through the town the bulls were followed by many of those who had scattered themselves along the route, thinking to practise tricks with their red rags, hut who at first sight of the animals had sought safety on the far side of the barricades. These young men now find themselves in the arena of the crowded amphitheatre, and they begin to amuse the audience, but the stage is not left to them for long. After a few minutes of tomfoolery a young bull, not yet ready for the more serious fighting, suddenly appears in a wild charge. His horns are well padded with rubber caps, but he uses them to good effect. Tossing one after another to right and left, he careers around the bull-ring. The timid soon disappear, scrambling over the five-foot ring fence like scalded cats and sometimes helped over by vicious bunts of the padded horns. The undaunted remain, waving their bullteasing rags vigorously to attract the young beast’s attention. Some of them stand up to the charge and occasionally avoid a toss by clever man ipulation of the red cloth, but others are tossed, carried on the bull’s head or trampled underfoot. The spectacle is full of action, tensely exciting and very humorous, as is testified by screams of laughter from the onlookers. The agile young animal, fresh from Pasture, makes the pace such that his strength is soon spent, and when he comes to a standstill two well-trained old “parent bulls” as they are called, trot across the ring, range themselves one on each side of him, putting a stop to further rash plunges, and in this order conduct him off the stage.

sordid a thing in the rain. The glittering uniforms and the gorgeous paraphenalia of the whole show would lose their glamour. Usually six bulls are killed at a fight, sometimes eight, and each bull accounts for two, three or four horses and more where horses are cheap and plentiful. At Pamplona the performance commences about 5 o’clock in the afternoon, but immediately after the mid-day meal the rush sets in. Every road then leads to the bull-ring. Every thoroughfare is thronged with eager, excited enthusiasts. Near the entrance many pedlars shout their wares. One can buy souvenirs by the bagful—highly coloured pictures of famous bulls, picadors and matadors; souvenir bulls in china, wood, and marble. Wearing their best and gayest, young and old from all parts of the province push through the entrance gates long before starting time. Even

ticket-bolders with reserved seats arrive,* early. All are anxious to be in good time. Prices range from four to eighty pesetas (2/6 to 60/-) a seat, but a good position can be had for about 10/-. The seating capacity of the amphitheatre is said to be 20,000, and before the entrance of the first bull scarcely a vacant place can be seen. A well-equipped hospital, with adequate medical staff, is situated be-

neath the seats of the building, where also is to be found a chapel and a priest. All performers visit the chapel before entering the bull-ring. A brass band plays the overture, and on cessation of the music two blackrobed individuals, superbly mounted, canter smartly across the arena, pull up before the president’s box and crave permission to conduct the fight. These have scarcely disappeared when a grand parade of matadors, picadors, toreadors and horses enter the ring, with a brilliant display of colour radiating from robes and trappings. Encircling the bull-ring a stout wooden barrier rises to a height of 5 feet. It is built to stand heavy shocks, for bull, horse, and rider together are often dashed violently against it. Attached to this barrier, and running the full length of it, is a footboard two feet from the ground, which facilitates the hop-over of pursued toreadors.

The barrier is itself encircled by a seven foot concrete wall, this being the low inside wall of the amphitheatre, and on the top of which is the first row of seats, with other rows rising behind. Between the barrier and the wall an open passage six feet wide runs right round the arena, and it is into this passage that the hard-pressed toreadors fly for safety when they jump over the barrier. After the grand parade most of the fighting men take up positions in the passage, leaving a few of their companions in the ring to face the bull. Ever on the alert, the little group of toi-eadors left in the ring know full well the danger of the bull’s first charge. With eyes directed across the arena and fixed on the heavy doors opposite, they await the onslaught. Behind those heavy doors the tormented bull rears and plunges in a little dark cell just narrow enough to prevent him. turning round. Sus-

pieious and violent, he has been trapped into this through a succession of doors, which are opened and closed from above and which lead from other and larger cells. Above the little cell a group of officials stands on a grating with the enraged animal beneath. One of them holds a long pole, and in the hollow end of this several gaily coloured ribbons are hidden. They are attached to a loosely- held wedge.

the point of which protrudes from the end of the pole. Some irritating substance, destined further to infuriate the animal, is smeared on the point of the wedge. From across the hushed arena the clear, crisp notes of a bugle herald the entrance of the lirst bull. The pole is raised. The wedge is plunged deep into the back of the writhing animal. The doors fly open. The maddened beast, with blood coursing down his flanks, bursts out in a wild rush. Half blinded by the glare of the sun, for a moment he hesitates, glaring around in search of something on which to wreak vengeance. Then, espying the little group of toreadors, he charges with all the force and speed he is capable of.

With vivid ribbons streaming from that torturing wedge and dust flying from his hoofs, he thunders on a tower of strength, malice, and hatred. Nothing can stand up to this first unholy charge, and as he dashes towards the toreadors they scatter in all directions. Instantly selecting one, he gives chase. But the pursued makes for the barrier and jumps it, missing the needle pointed horns by inches. Foiled at his first attempt, the bull swings round in a cloud of dust to carry out his murderous intentions on the others. The chase now develops into a succession of short, sharp charges, and the intended victims all disappear at the critical moment. The bull, in a paroxysm of rage, viciously paws the ground, bellows, and tears chunks of wood off the fence with his horns. A bull breaking a horn in this manner is regarded as particularly dangerous. They say in Spain that a wound inflicted by the broken horn of a bull is never healed. Turning from the fence, the bull sees a scarlet cloth waving at the other side of the ring. He is off like

a shot out of a gun. This time the quarry does not disappear, but awaits the charge with surprising coolness. Holding the red cloth before him, the toreador closely watches every movement of the animal. With amazing speed it is on him. The magnificent head is lowered for a mighty thrust, but, anticipating the actual moment of contact, the toreador, rising on his toes, adroitly swings the cloth to one side and his body to the other. At close quarters with lowered head the bull sees only the cloak, and his

horns follow and toss it, and it only. Skidding round on his haunches, he is back to the attack in a moment, but the toreador repeats the stratagem with equal success. Seven or eight toreadors are in the ring at this time, and they each take several charges. The bull’s temper is not improved by his failure to secure a victim, and the blood trickling from his flanks has not yet weakened him to any appreciable extent. His attacks are as savage and as vigorous as ever.

j bull, but he sticks to his victim, and j finally crashes horse, rider and himself j into the barrier. The picador is I thrown or dragged over the fence and | into safety. The bull withdraws his horns and prepares for another thrust. The white legs and belly of j the horse are now red with blood, and [ as the bull releases him he tumbles | to the ground—dead. | With unabated fury the bull rushes ! on the dead body and commences to I gore it. but a red cloak boldly pushed

and he keeps his tormentors very busy indeed. While the bull continues to occupy himself in this manner three or four picadors quietly enter at the opposite side of the ring. Their horses have the appearance of having seen better days, but they certainly deserve a more merciful death than that which is about to be dealt to them. The picadors are obviously well padded, and they wear steel leggings stuffed with straw. Making free use of the spur, they urge their bony steeds into position at various points of the arena, compelling them to toe a white line which runs parallel to the barrier at some twenty-five feet from it. The slaughter of the horses is horrible to see and horrible to relate, but to picture the "sport” of bull-fighting as it really is, this feature as well as others must be described more or less in detail, suppressing only certain revolting things which occur more as the result of the conflict than as an intended part of it. These odious things happen in the arena in full view of the onlookers as well as behind the scenes.

under his nose lures him into a chase after the flying toreador. Finding his efforts unavailing with these nimble gentlemen, he soon turns to the next horse and throws it violently to the ground. Horse and rider scramble to their feet, and while the bull is occupied with the red cloth, the picador is pushed into the saddle. The horse stands trembling with a ghastly wound in the flank, from which the blood flows copiously to the ground, and in this pitiable condition the poor, defenceless brute dumbly receives the next charge. This time those cruel

The horses now being in position, the toreadors escape from the bull as opportunity presents, and the furious animal careers around the ring, still searching for a first victim. His flaming eye alights on a miserablelooking white horse mounted by another of those elusive tormentors in glittering coats. The rider swerves the horse so that its right side will receive the attack (to assist this movement the right eye of the horse is always bandaged), and as the bull rushes into striking distance he raises his long heavy lance and drives the

horns inflict a hideous wound in the I belly, and again horse and rider are thrown down violently. The bull’s attention being directed elsewhere, the picador is dragged away and lifted ! over the fence, while the horse is I urged to rise, and is led quickly from j the bull-ring. These bloody events move fast, and before the injured picador is passed over the barrier another horse (perhaps the last), receives his death-blow. The dead horses lie where they .all, and the place resembles a shambles. With the shocking spectacle of the I horses over and done with, a toreador appears at a distant part of the arena. I He prances about, waving two colour- j ed spears four feet or so in length, j Undaunted and unappeased, the bull immediately takes up the challenge j and dashes towards this fresh menace j with renewed vigour. This time he l does not charge in a straight line, for j the toreador, always facing the bull, commences to skip away in a sidewise I movement, and the charge therefore is made in a curved line. Still fol- [ lowing this direction, the bull over- [ takes his enemy and lowers his head for the toss. It seems a clear issue !

point home well behind the upper side I this time I there is no baffling red of the beast’s neck. cloth to contend with now; but at ! the critical moment the wary Spaniard, Stung to madness, the bull, with a ( v >-ith spears held high ready to strike, heavy thud, plunges his horns into the ! abruptly breaks from the line of flight, belly of the horse, and with a mighty With one tiny side-step back in the heave lifts horse and rider off j opposite direction, he rises on his toes the ground, pushing and carrying like a toe-dancer, gracefully curves his them towards the barrier. Power- j lithe body away from the bull and less to free himself, the horse kicks neatly and firmly buries the point of and writhes, while the picador makes his spears between the shoulders of frantic efforts to keep his seat. Torea- the animal. The curving of the body dors run here and there with theii j saves the life of this dexterous perred cloaks, trying to disengage the j former, for in swinging past the gory

' head misses him only by inches. Seeming to suffer excruciating pain, the i bull pauses in the attack for the first j time. For a few moments he prances around, bellowing with pain and rag-, and tossing his head this way and that lin a vain endeavour to dislodge the | swaying spears. Then with head erect and nose iu ; the air, he sets off iu a fierce trot ! around the arena. Snorting as he ; goes and turning his head from side | to side, he searches for whom he may

rend. Another spear-thrusting expert meets his fiery eyes, and with blood trickling from his many wounds, but ever ready for battle, the bull again takes up the charge and is again dealt with as before. His strength is now fast running out, and the notes of a bugle rising above the tumult announce the last act. The man of the hour—tin- hero of the multitude—now appears. Amid wild appla\ise, the matador, in all his finery, enters the ring with proud gait and upright bearing. With a magnifi-

cent sweep of his black hat he bows almost to the ground, acknowledging in true Spanish style the plaudits of his assembled countrymen. Quickly engaging the bull, the matador performs such rapid passes witn the red cloak and conducts the contest at such close quarters and at such a pace that the bewildered animal, twisting and turning this way and that is brought to his knees time and again. The pace soon tells, and the poor brute can no longer respond immediately to the red cloak. Instead he seems to fortify his fast failing fighting powers by the exercise of greater cunning, and he becomes more dangerous than ever. Standing before the matador for a minute or so at a time, and perhaps only three or four feet distant from him, the bull eyes his antagonist closely and throws himself forward only when an opening, or a supposed opening, presents itself. At a moment such as this, with the beast ready to throw himself forward, the matador takes the cioth in his left hand and with his right cautiously raises a long, thin rapier. Drawing back his arm ready to strike, he runs his eye along the shining blade and takes aim. In breathless silence man and beast await the opportunity to slay. The rapier must pass above those murderous horns and enter at a given spot between the shoulders. The feat is only accomplished by the exercise of great skill and daring, and is accompanied by grave danger. Dike his victim, the matador is facing death; if the bull charges now he will be caught at a great disadvantage. Cautiously shuffling from side to side, the combatants strive for position or advantage. At last the man sees his opportunity and with a slight movement of the cloth brings the beast’s head nearer the ground. The moment has arrived the matador braces himself for the lunge, throws himself forward, and with a lightninglike thrust buries the weapon to its very hilt. The bull is dead, and the matador adds another success to his long list of victories. Not always, however, does the fight end so successfully. Usually several swords are plunged into the animal's body before he is killed. It is not unusual to see a bull dislodge a badly placed sword and with a vigorous toss send it flying into the air to the danger of onlookers and performers alike. The matadors are not always successful with their swords, and the bull is then put to death by other means. A matador delivering an unskilful sword thrust is hissed and menaced by the crowd to such an extent that he sometimes loses his nerve, and a poor thrust means facing the bull and again going through that dangerous process of getting the animal into ! position. Matadors are often badly i wounded and sometimes killed.