They poured a bottle of
water on the shivering nape of the poor little neophyte, and its frail
life went out in its first wheezing week.
But in spite of all this a spirit of religious inquiry is growing up in
Spain, and the Church sees it and cannot prevent it. It watches the
liberal newspapers and the Protestant prayer-meetings much as the old
giant in Bunyan's dream glared at the passing pilgrims, mumbling and
muttering toothless curses. It looks as if the dead sleep of uniformity
of thought were to be broken at last, and Spain were to enter the
healthful and vivifying atmosphere of controversy.
Symptoms of a similar change may be seen in the world of politics. The
Republican party is only a year or two old, but what a vigorous and
noisy infant it is! With all its faults and errors, it seems to have the
promise of a sturdy and wholesome future. It refuses to be bound by the
memories of the past, but keeps its eyes fixed on the brighter
possibilities to come. Its journals, undeterred by the sword of Guzman
or the honor of all the Caballeros, - the men on horseback, - are
advocating such sensible measures as justice to the Antilles, and the
sale of outlying property, which costs more than it produces. Emilio
Castelar, casting behind him all the restraints of tradition, announces
as his idea of liberty "the right of all citizens to obey nothing but
the law." There is no sounder doctrine than this preached in Manchester
or Boston. If the Spanish people can be brought to see that God is
greater than the Church, and that the law is above the king, the day of
final deliverance is at hand.
TAUROMACHY
The bull-fight is the national festival of Spain. The rigid Britons have
had their fling at it for many years. The effeminate badaud of Paris
has declaimed against its barbarity. Even the aristocracy of Spain has
begun to suspect it of vulgarity and to withdraw from the arena the
light of its noble countenance. But the Spanish people still hold it to
their hearts and refuse to be weaned from it.
"As Panem et Circenses was the cry Among the Roman populace of old, So
Pan y Toros is the cry in Spain."
It is a tradition which has passed into their national existence. They
received it from nowhere. They have transmitted it nowhither except to
their own colonies. In late years an effort has been made to transplant
it, but with small success. There were a few bull-fights four years ago
at Havre. There was a sensation of curiosity which soon died away. This
year in London the experiment was tried, but was hooted out of
existence, to the great displeasure of the Spanish journals, who said
the ferocious Islanders would doubtless greatly prefer baiting to death
a half dozen Irish serfs from the estate of Lord Fritters, - a gentle
diversion in which we are led to believe the British peers pass their
leisure hours.
It is this monopoly of the bull-fight which so endears it to the Spanish
heart. It is to them conclusive proof of the vast superiority of both
the human and taurine species in Spain. The eminent torero, Pepe Illo,
said: "The love of bulls is inherent in man, especially in the Spaniard,
among which glorious people there have been bull-fights ever since bulls
were, because," adds Pepe, with that modesty which forms so charming a
trait of the Iberian character, "the Spanish men are as much more brave
than all other men, as the Spanish bull is more savage and valiant than
all other bulls."
The sport permeates the national life. I have seen it woven into the
tapestry of palaces, and rudely stamped on the handkerchief of the
peasant. It is the favorite game of children in the street. Loyal Spain
was thrilled with joy recently on reading in its Paris correspondence
that when the exiled Prince of Asturias went for a half-holiday to visit
his imperial comrade at the Tuileries, the urchins had a game of "toro"
on the terrace, admirably conducted by the little Bourbon and followed
up with great spirit by the little Montijo-Bonaparte.
The bull-fight has not always enjoyed the royal favor. Isabel the
Catholic would fain have abolished bathing and bull-fighting together.
The Spaniards, who willingly gave up their ablutions, stood stoutly by
their bulls, and the energetic queen was baffled. Again when the
Bourbons came in with Philip V., the courtiers turned up their thin
noses at the coarse diversion, and induced the king to abolish it. It
would not stay abolished, however, and Philip's successor built the
present coliseum in expiation. The spectacle has, nevertheless, lost
much of its early splendor by the hammering of time. Formerly the gayest
and bravest gentlemen of the court, mounted on the best horses in the
kingdom, went into the arena and defied the bull in the names of their
lady-loves. Now the bull is baited and slain by hired artists, and the
horses they mount are the sorriest hacks that ever went to the knacker.
One of the most brilliant shows of the kind that was ever put upon the
scene was the Festival of Bulls given by Philip IV. in honor of Charles
I.,
"When the Stuart came from far,
Led by his love's sweet pain,
To Mary, the guiding star
That shone in the heaven of Spain."
And the memory of that dazzling occasion was renewed by Ferdinand VII.
in the year of his death, when he called upon his subjects to swear
allegiance to his baby Isabel. This festival took place in the Plaza
Mayor. The king and court occupied the same balconies which Charles and
his royal friend and model had filled two centuries before.
