Bull Fight In Mexico City

( Originally Published 1905 )

So long as prize fighting, stage exhibitions of assassination, live pigeon shooting and fox hunting are permitted in England and America, the Anglo-Saxon race cannot with logic or consistency, charge us with brutality in the bull ring. —Emile Castelar.

THE bull ring and bull fights in Spain and Mexico are survivals of the Flavian amphitheatre, the ancient Roman circus maximus, and the gladiatorial games. In the days of the heathen, men were butchered to make a Roman holiday, but in Mexico bulls and horses are substituted for men, and slaughtered amid the vivas of cheering multitudes. Still, the people who boil living lobsters, skin eels alive, encourage prize fighting, and with hounds and horses chase a poor fox to death cannot afford to throw stones at the Mexicans.

The Romita Plaza, at which all the fights now take place, is a new ring, built in 1899. It is reached by electric cars, marked "Toros" (bulls), and the fare is ten cents. The building is an immense amphitheatre of wood, and seats eighteen thousand, the benches rising in tiers from the ring walls. The arena, or ring proper, is one hundred and fifty feet in diameter. There is no roof or awning to the building, and in the afternoon, when all fights are "pulled off," the sun throws a shadow over one-half the interior of the structure. There is quite a difference in the price of seats in the sun and shadow. The general admission for the sunny side is a dollar and a half, and the shady side four dollars.

As one approaches the plaza on the occasion of a big fight, the noise is almost deafening. All manner and variety of carriages and automobiles drive up and unload their occupants; street cars are packed, riders dressed in charro costume mounted on mettlesome bronchos, stable their mounts and lounge around till the bugle sounds. Thousands come afoot, and hundreds of boys hang around the grounds, just as they do at home when the circus comes to town.

An hour before the performance the great building begins to fill up. First, two companies of soldiers, with fixed bayonets and a businesslike appearance, enter and take up positions. They are here to keep the hoodlum element in order. In addition there are twenty or thirty policemen to prevent any disorder or disapproval of the fights, manifested in the past by throwing seats, planks, or empty bottles into the ring. As the building fills up, the crowd gets impatient, and yells out of pure:exuberance of feeling.

The fight commences promptly at the hour advertised, and continues from two to three hours, when from three to seven bulls are killed. They are fierce animals of the old Andalusian stock, raised especially for the ring.

A few minutes before the performance begins the director of the sport arrives, and with his friends takes his seat in the box exclusively reserved for his use. He is generally one of the city aldermen, and his duty is to see that the municipal regulations governing bull fighting are observed. When the director is seated a bugle is sounded, the gate barring the entrance to the fighters' quarters flies open, and a gaily dressed horseman rides in. He is the alguazil or master of the arena. Superbly mounted, he rides straight for the director's box, removes his plumed hat, and with a gracious bow asks permission for the performance to open. The key of the corral where the bulls are housed is tossed to him, and horse and rider back out of the arena. Then the band strikes up the "Bull Fighters' March" from " Carmen," and the actors file into the ring.

The alguazil on his richly caparisoned horse, leads the parade, followed by the stars of the company, the matadores, resplendent in their costumes of silk and satin, gold and velvet, wearing flowing capes of Lyonnaise silk, costing anywhere from two to five hundred dollars. These are the real bull fighters, the stars of the aggregation, and are all Spaniards, or of Spanish descent. Behind them, in brilliant costumes, proudly march the banderillores or arrow men, followed by the capadores and picadores, astride of poor, mangy, broken-down hacks. The gaudily harnessed mules, three abreast, which drag out the dead bulls and gored horses, close the cavalcade.

When the procession has made the circuit of the arena, the actors in a body salute the director, then take their positions. Suddenly, high over the shouts of the multitude is heard the blast of a bugle, the gate of the bull pen is raised, and the proud beast springs into the ring. He wears the colours of Piedras Negras, the hacienda or ranch on which he was trained for the ring. When the bull dashes into the arena, he is greeted with deafening cheers. For a moment he is dazed, the unaccustomed surroundings, the music of the band, the hurrahs of the excited spectators, root him to the ground. He pauses, looks around, bewildered, then bellows defiance to the crowd, and challenges the ring to combat.

Suddenly one of the capadores advances boldly to meet him, tauntingly waving a purple cape, the bull with lowered head and horns leaps for the flag, and the fight is on. The capadore retires, and the picadore or man on horseback, advances. He rides straight for the bull and invites his charge. He is armed with a long lance-pointed staff to protect himself and his mount from the bull's horns, but often the poor horse is disemboweled and rider and horse rolled in the sand.

The next act is a most graceful and daring spectacle. A banderillore advances to the bull, holding in each hand a tinsel-wrapped stick less than a yard long, and steel barbed. When the bull charges, the man sidesteps and plunges into the rushing animal the barbed sticks. The barbs are not thrown; they are driven in just above the shoulder-blades, and if one barb is misplaced the actor is hissed and jeered by the gallery. When the performer plunges his darts, he retires, another repeats the act, and again another till six gaily-decorated barbs are fastened in the flesh.

By this time the bull is worked up to the highest pitch of excitement and madness. He paws the earth, and bellows in his anger, and his rage is fearful to look upon. At this stage the matadore or star fighter leaves his position, and, alone, walks straight up to him. He carries a crimson flag, and is armed with a two-edged sword, keen as a razor. The silence is intense, for this act is the most dangerous and dramatic of the whole performance. Man and bull, eye to eye, stand motionless; the man, wary, watchful, and with every nerve and muscle strung to concert pitch, the bull wild with rage, but slow to move, instinctively conscious that the fight is now to the death.

The matadore moves forward, the beast breaks ground, and the fighter tauntingly waves the red flag in his face. Then the bull rushes upon him, but the man, with marvellous agility, steps aside, out of harm's way. This act the matadore repeats four or five times, and when the beast makes his final charge, the man springs into the air and buries his sword to the hilt between the shoulder-blades. If the stroke is driven true the bull drops to his knees, blood pours from mouth and nostrils, he rises, falls again, struggles once more to stand, rolls over on his side and is dead.

Half the spectators rise to their feet, cheer, and with hurrahs greet the matadore, and for the moment he is a greater hero than President Diaz. Cigars, money, bottles of tequilla, hats, and canes are flung into the ring. The bull is drawn out by the mules, the ring raked, the blood pools dusted with sand, and the first act of the tragic play is over.

At this "gran corrida extraordinaria" there were fully ten thousand spectators, and among them one-fourth were foreigners. People at home denounce the bull fights, but I regret to say that when in Mexico they are among the first to secure reserved seats. I am satisfied the bull suffers little real pain, he is too excited and enraged to feel his wounds, and when the " golpe de gracia "—the blow of mercy—is struck, the bull drops as in a slaughter-house. But the poor horses are sometimes gored to death, and this is the most brutal feature of the fight. These Spanish bull fighters are well paid. Mazantini, on his last trip to Mexico, carried away more than fifty thousand dollars as the result of his few months' performances.